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azureashes · 4 years

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Sukuna’s Curse

TW: NONCON, VIOLENCE, BLOOD AND GORE

Summary: Some cruel fate bound you to Sukuna's side. You could not escape. You weren't sure you wanted to.

Sukuna x Reader

Wordcount: 10 K

Rating: Explicit, MINORS DNI

I don’t know if this is even any good at this point owing to the fact that I’m dead tired, BUT I wanted to finish this off, so here it is.

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But this time, something was off. The taste was almost tame in comparison - mild. Even the sensation of swallowing wasn’t quite the same, squishy and slimy instead of roughly scratching his esophagus all the way down. If he hadn’t been so eager to just get it over with the way he always was, to make it as short and painless as possible - he might have noticed something was off. He might have pointed it out to Gojo, to the principal, to anyone before swallowing the ominous, blotchy blue-green scrap of flesh they had given him.

It didn’t taste like one of Sukuna’s fingers.

Yuuji always tried to drop the disgusting, decrepit digit as close to his throat as possible so that he wouldn’t have to taste the bitter, corrosive flavor that burned on his tongue like decaying flesh - but he couldn’t avoid it entirely. There was always a lingering acidic remnant that stayed in his mouth long after he had swallowed one of the curse’s fingers.

He might have spared you your fate.

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He was bored.

It was boring in Itadori Yuuji’s subconscious. The boy was as empty-headed as he seemed and the scheming King of Curses could only look on as the fool fell into one trap after another, made misstep after misstep while he stumbled his way forward, trying to navigate the Jujutsu sorcerer’s life.

It was a cringeworthy affair.

Sukuna had laid his plans carefully and could only drum his fingers on his throne of skulls restlessly as he waited for them to come to fruition. But he was never as dangerous as he was when he was bored. When he had energy to spare and time to kill. When he was on the lookout for some sport, some prey that could satisfy his instinct to hunt, something to toy with, to devour.

When you arrived out of nowhere, coughing your lungs out, on hands and knees in the bloodied water surrounding the area - your limbs shaking as you struggled to support yourself, weak with what must have been centuries of disuse, his eyes glittered with malicious anticipation.

For once, the idiot had done something right.

You coughed and hacked as if seeking to free your body from something it had long grown unaccustomed to - breath. Life. Motion. Thought. Terrible, terrible things.

You recalled your last, conscious thought when faced with an aging, balding monk. The strange man had carried with him a rosary around his neck and attached to the string of beads was what had oddly resembled an ogre’s thumb. You hadn’t the slightest clue what the monk had wanted from you until he sealed you into the ogre’s thumb - an intentional, cruel irony on the buddhist’s part.

“Go to your master, demon!” He had shrieked.

Master.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you shuddered at the very thought. The monk must have thought he was being clever. Sealing you in a fashion resembling the way the King of Curses had been sealed, but Sukuna was not your master.

You had scarcely been freed of the terrifying demon’s presence, barely been able to dream of a life outside of his paralyzing, horrifying shadow that the accursed monk had appeared to seal you away to a slumber of many thousand years.

No matter.You were free now.

By some miracle, the seal had been broken and you would live in a world where Sukuna had been sealed away somewhere far from you. You would stay away from humans and jujutsu sorcerers and society as a whole. Find a deserted scrap of nature, and live out your days among the plants and animals in peace somewhere.

That was a good plan, you told yourself, straining to breathe slowly and deeply, your eyes still pressed shut because seeing anything at all was overwhelming to your senses after their long rest. It would be alright. Your suffering was over.

“Well, well, well.”

The voice sent a shiver down your spine. You would recognize it anywhere. The deep baritone that seemed to make your very bones rattle.

“What do we have here?” Uncomfortably warm breath brushed against the shell of your ear as he spoke on a hiss.

You saw him clearly in your mind’s eye, his image brought into sharp relief, triggered by the sound of his awful voice that sent a flood of unadulterated, gut-wrenching terror through your body. Your body’s reaction to him was one of instinct, a reaction learned.

It was possible to forget one’s love and similarly, to neglect one’s hatred. But one could never forget what one truly feared. Fear was not stored in hearts or minds, but contained in the body itself. In every inch of your skin, every ounce of your flesh. Fear was intermingled with your blood, a part of your very being. Your mind may have slept, and you, a curse, had no need for your superfluous heart - but your body remembered. Your body would always remember.

When you finally dared to turn, the sight that met your eyes was precisely the one your mind had conjured. He sat perched on a mountain of skulls, some fresh and whole, some decayed and crumbling, but you knew they represented only a fraction of the lives the curse had taken. He was draped in a robe that seemed made for royalty, or perhaps it only seemed that way because of the individual they clothed. The King of Curses exuded an aura that was every bit that of the king he was known as. His hair was pale-pink, his eyes narrowed and sharp, the scarlet irises the very shade of the deluge of blood you had seen him spill in your lifetime. Much of it yours.

Black markings traced his form - on his face, his wrists, his arms, just like you remembered, and the sharp, long black nails on his hands made you shiver with the memory of how easily they could draw blood, puncturing through your skin like it was paper.

“S- Sukuna-sama…” Your barely audible whisper, wavering with sheer horror rang in his ears like the sweetest praise. He liked you already.

When he had spoken, it had sounded as if he had been just behind you, and so you were stunned to see him at such a distance. The corners of his lips were curved in a smirk, his sharp canines peeking through as he lounged on his grotesque throne, his head leaning languidly against the knuckles of his right hand. He looked amused.

Amused was good, you thought numbly, trying to reason with yourself through your terror. His amusement manifested itself in some cruel mockery of mercy on occasion. It was his boredom that terrified you. The things he had done to you when bored defied imagination.

You shuddered and your mouth opened and closed wordlessly, incapable of producing sound, incapable of taking breath. The minute you had thought yourself free of him you had been taken captive, and the minute you had been released from your captivity, you were confronted, once again, with your worst nightmare. There seemed to be no escaping for you. You were hounded by the worst fortune the universe had deemed fit to produce.

You were a minor curse, born of the grudge of the inhabitants of a village that had been wiped out by none other than the King of Curses himself. The dying breaths and resentment of those villagers had accumulated with bitter hatred and you came to be. For reasons, you could not fathom - perhaps because the villagers’ grudge was rooted in righteous human indignance - you maintained a form like that of a mortal woman and had scarcely any powers that you knew of. Mortals could hear you cry, you knew. But that was the extent of your abilities, and you had no desire to spend an eternity haunting hapless humans.

By virtue of your birth, you were compelled to seek Sukuna out, desiring revenge, the force of the villagers’ dark emotions driving you forward. But the minute you had come face to face with him, your resolve had abandoned you. Your cursed energy flickered like the flame of a candle in the midst of a hurricane and you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you were out of your depth.

You had sought to escape, but he had seen you. Had begged for forgiveness, but he did not know the meaning of the word. You had screamed for mercy, and he had laughed, asking you to repeat the entreaty - but louder. He had shivered in pleasure at the sound. You would never forget it.

But his eyes now were merely aglow in mirth and anticipation - not recognition. There was a chance, however slim, that he had not recognized you. Indeed, despite tormenting you for centuries, much time seemed to have passed since then, and he had never truly held you in any form of regard even when you had been by his side. You were a thing to him, never a person. Something to relieve the boredom. An unbreakable toy - the very best kind. And as with all things unbreakable, he had tested that claim in every way possible.

“My, my…” he drawled, a chuckle rumbling from his chest. “You recognize me?”

And it was those words, more than anything else, that gave you hope. If he did not remember you, perhaps you could escape. Perhaps you could find freedom. Perhaps you could offer him something worth your release.

You did not even attempt to voice an answer - you were having enough difficulty breathing - and were afraid to provoke recognition. Your eyes darted around the area, taking in your surroundings, but there seemed to be nothing but the watery blood pooled on the ground which you were currently on all fours in - the throne of skulls, and surrounding that, a thick mist veiling whatever lay beyond.

You knew from experience that you could not hope to outrun him, but what other option did you have but to try? What could you possibly do to save yourself?

“Not answering?”A voice murmured in your ear again, “Rude.”

You whirled around to face him with a gasp, sure you would find him hovering just over you and fell to the ground with a splash, drenching your clothes in bloody water.

Panting, your eyes searched for him, but were surprised to find that he was nowhere near you, still reclining on his throne with that same bemused smirk.

You collected yourself as best you could, and turned to face him as you lowered your head in humility, bowing low in the hopes that your hair would hide your face from view. Feed into his ego, you told yourself. That was your only hope. Show him how terrified you were, how great you believed him to be - with any luck, he might just eat it up and let you go.

But when had luck ever been on your side? Not once, from the moment you were born.

“Please accept my apologies,” you choked out in a raspy voice, hoarse from disuse. “Where exists the fool who does not recognize the great King of Curses?” You took a deep breath, and cleared your throat, forcing yourself to go on. “My Lord, please forgive my disrespect, this humble servant dared not speak in your presence.”

You spoke in a low voice, hoping to disguise it as much as possible.

“Oh?” there was an echo of ominous amusement in the single syllable that did not bode well for you.

“I meant not to intrude, Great King. Please,” your forehead hovered just above the water as your palms met in front of you, your arms trembled too violently to truly carry your weight. “Please allow me to leave.”

A sinister chuckle fell from his lips. “You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Please,” you repeated in a tremulous voice, unable to utter anything but the simple word.

He hummed in mirth, your desperate plea little more than a joke to him. “Asking me for mercy, you must not know me as well as you had me believe.”

When you refused to answer, he smirked at your quivering form, “Do you know where you are right now?”

Hesitantly, you slowly raised your head to take in your surroundings again. You’ve never been in a place like this. Was it some kind of innate domain?

A sensation swept over you, little more than a whiff of air, and suddenly your gaze fell on a pair of black Tabi clad feet in Zori sandals. Before you could move, protest, or even think you felt the weight of the rough, thick sole of one of the sandals on the back of your head.

You should have known better than to cry out, after everything you had been through. Your instinct should have told you to hold your breath rather than waste it on a scream and so, you could only curse yourself for a fool when your sharp cry was cut off on the gurgling sound of your face being pressed into the shallow, sanguine water you knelt in. You pressed your mouth shut, panic seizing your limbs as you thrashed and sought to free yourself. The more you struggled, the more weight Sukuna placed on the back of your head, leaning forward now, one forearm draped across his knee as he chuckled at your plight.

“I warned you once already,” he spoke over the splashing sounds of your struggles. “That it is rude not to answer when spoken to.” He watched your desperate flailing with an aloof air.

“Having fun?” He teased, watching your movements slow, your limbs growing still as your consciousness started to fade. “Now, now… giving up already? Don’t be such a poor sport.”

He stepped back, freeing you, but you lacked the strength to lift your head. He tutted in disapproval and, nudging your shoulder with a toe of sandal, flipped you over with enough force to send your body flying several feet.

You coughed and sputtered for air, lifting yourself into a seated position with trembling arms.

It was beginning. He didn’t care what you had to say, or what you felt. He only wanted to amuse himself, and he knew no limits in doing so.

Slow footsteps approached and the very heart in your chest froze over with fear. You clenched your eyes shut like a bird of prey in the face of the most fearsome predator.

He knelt down in front of you, peering into your face and you stared more determinedly at the ground, letting your hair veil your features. “Well,” he sneered. “Don’t be boring.”

You lifted your gaze despite yourself, that phrase could not mean anything good for you.

“Run.”

The command served simultaneously as permission, and you staggered to your feet as you stumbled away from him - seeking distance from the most terrifying being you had ever known. Millennia at his side would not suffice for you to grasp the extent of his depravity, the limits of the lengths he would be willing to go to torment you.

The sound of your footsteps splashing through the water echoed throughout the realm as you raced away from him, hoping, praying that you would be allowed to escape - that you could somehow, just once - live a day away from Sukuna. Just one day where you didn’t need to guard each breath like a dragon guarded his treasure.

You slipped past the thick mist, refusing to allow yourself to feel trepidation in the face of the unknown, running faster and faster until the fog passed by in a blur but you only pushed yourself even harder to escape - each step was a step further away from Sukuna, a step towards security. Although you could not hear him in pursuit, that fact gave you no peace - he could be as silent and sure-footed as a panther when he so desired.

When you felt the mist thin, some small relief tingled in the back of your head. Maybe, by some miracle, he would allow you to escape? Perhaps he was bored of you and your presence. Perhaps he wanted to be on his own. It wasn’t unthinkable, was it? Freedom beckoned.

You crashed into a tall, solid figure and nearly lost your footing. You looked up in horror, to find Sukuna grinning down at you, arms crossed over his chest. Beside him, the throne of skulls, and surrounding the two of you - the same crimson water. You raised a hand to your mouth to stifle a sob. This couldn’t be happening.

You forced yourself to your feet and turned on your heel to race back into the mist but this time, you didn’t get far. Sukuna caught you by the hair, jerking your head backwards. You cried out in alarm, but he only smirked in response, pulling your head further back.

“You had your chance, little one, but you ran right back into my arms,” he chuckled. “Guess this is where you want to be, hm?”

You sputtered protests, denials, on a thin, desperate wail, tears pooled in your eyes and streamed down your face as he jerked your head further back, bringing your gaze to his own.

He seemed taken aback, for a fraction of an instant, as his eyes widened.

“ You .” The single syllable was spoken in accusation, recognition - and surprise.

He released his hold on your hair and stepped back with a laugh. He pressed a hand to his forehead and shook his head, amused beyond measure. He waved a hand at you.

“You wanted to run? Go ahead. Run.”

Unable to understand why recognizing you had prompted such an unprecedented act of mercy, you wasted not another moment and dashed back into the mist - only to step back into the clearing moments later. You turned back into the fog again - and again and again, but no matter how many times you ran from the clearing, every path led right back to Sukuna’s side. Each time you stepped back into the clearing, Sukuna smirked at you, waiting patiently.

By the fifth time you stepped into the clearing you pressed your hands to your temples and sank to your knees with a scream. There was no way out.

Sukuna stalked towards you and you made no attempt to evade when he reached out and cupped your chin, lifting your eyes towards his own blood-red irises, a grin on his lips as his eyes traced your features. Sobs trembled from your lips as tears streamed from your eyes, streaking down your cheeks, dripping from his fingers and falling to the scarlet waters below.

“Now, there’s a familiar face,” he crooned. “You sure have some sorry luck. But you’re the one who came to me first, wasn’t it?”

“The village -” you stammered. “It was the villagers - I didn’t - I wouldn’t -”

“ Didn’t, wouldn’t ,” he mocked. “Breathe deep now, nice and slow, let’s hear your pathetic excuses, shall we?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to stem the tears, struggling to regulate your breathing, before you mumbled, “The villagers’ resentment sent me, I would have never dared. Sukuna-sama, you know I would never have dared stand before you.”

“Village?” he scraped one long, black fingernail down the side of your face. “What village?”

He didn’t remember. Of course he didn’t. That village he had ruined - only one of many to him, apparently - would scarcely register in his mind.

“Forgive me,” you voiced instead in a hushed whisper. “I did not intend any disrespect.”

“No,” he smirked in agreement, and there was something ruthless and cutting in the expression. “And yet you ended up here again. There has to be something to it, no? Isn’t that what they call ‘fate’?”

It was. That was precisely what they would call it. The cruelest fate there was.

His lips curved further into a sneer, his sharp canines glimmering in the dim light, as his eyes lit up with a diabolical expression. “It was you, wasn’t it? You were the one who betrayed me. The reason I was sealed.”

Horror flooded through you. A Sukuna who wanted to amuse himself with you was terrifying, but a Sukuna who wanted to punish you, to get revenge on you, would be worse than hell itself. You couldn’t allow him to believe it!

“Sukuna-sama!” You clung to his arm, meeting his gaze imploringly. “I would never betray you! Please, I - !” You could make any number of wild claims - you could claim to be loyal to him, you could claim to love him, you could claim to respect him - but only one claim would actually soothe his nerves and please him, that much, at least, you knew.

“I fear you far too much to ever betray you!”

“Is that so?” he drew back, and kicked one of the skulls lying beside him into the air and caught it smoothly in one hand, his long, black nails contrasting against the pale grey of the animal skull. Breaking off one of the animal’s horns, he turned it in his fingers thoughtfully, as if considering it from all angles, before that crimson gaze turned back to pierce right through you.

“Prove it.” He tossed the sharp horn towards you and you caught it unthinkingly.

“Gouge out your eye, and I’ll believe you weren’t the one who sold me out.”

“My - my eye?” You blinked at him, praying he wasn’t serious - but you knew better. He leaned against the tower of skulls and crossed his arms, bored.

You stared at the horn in horror. How could you gouge out your own eye? You felt those familiar tremors afflicting your hand and you reached up with a second hand to better steady yourself.

“Is that too much for you?” He crossed over towards you and trailed one sharp fingernail lazily down your throat, before flitting over your collarbones. His finger slipped between the folds of your robe before resting just above your heart. Sukuna pressed against the skin there and a dribble of blood leaked down your chest as a sharp fingernail broke through the skin.

“Pierce your heart, then. Punish the lying organ and I’ll be satisfied.”

Your lip trembled in horror. Take out your eye, suffer immense pain, and live - or pierce your heart and die?

“Well, what’ll it be?”

You lifted the curved horn in your hand and trailed the pad of your thumb over the ridges of the bone. Testing the tip, you noted with some small relief that it was fairly sharp. Living meant living through more of Sukuna’s torture. Dying was clearly the better option.

You bit your lip and squeezed your eyes shut, gripping the horn firmly in your fist, ignoring the way your hand trembled. There were worse things Sukuna could do to you. There were always worse things he could do.

You lifted your hand high into the air and refused to acknowledge the way your entire arm quivered violently. If you lost your nerve, and didn’t pierce deeply enough the first time - would you have to do it again? It was better to have to do it just the once - who knew if you could collect yourself enough for a second attempt?

That meant using all of your strength. Even as you worked through your thoughts, battling your mind’s instinct of self-preservation, your arm remained in the air for what felt like hours as you struggled to build up the nerve to do what he had asked.

“Don’t keep me waiting,” Sukuna yawned, lifting a hand to his mouth. “Or would you rather just confess and accept punishment instead?”

You would not. Whatever he had in store for you, it was surely worse than what you were being ordered to do. Your hand plunged downwards and the tip of the horn pierced through skin and flesh, before being deflected by your bones. You screamed in agony as the horn fell from your grip and blood gushed from your wound.

Your ribs. Your ribs had been in the way. And now you would have to do it all over again.

You pressed both hands to the wound in an attempt to stem the blood as a pained, undying scream pierced through the air, seemingly endlessly. Sukuna winced as he cleared his ear with an index finger as if blocking out the annoying noise.

“Well, don’t give up.” He gestured to the horn poking out of the water. “You almost made it. Come on, you can do it.”

You stared at him in horror, blood still gushing forth between your fingers. Even as your mind obediently worked out how to continue. Now that you knew where your ribs were, it would only be one further attempt, slightly above the bone, and this ordeal would be behind you.

Just one more time.

Once more, and he would see you as a toy again, possibly, but no longer an enemy. Once again. Clenching your teeth against the pain, you reached with trembling fingers for the horn, blood streaming forth more fervently as you bent down.

You did not allow yourself time to think or hesitate, knowing you would lose your nerve if you did. Shutting off your mind, you pierced the horn straight into your own heart and blinding, mind-shattering pain burst through your body. Blood dripped from your lips as you stumbled backwards, lost your footing and collapsed into the water.

There was a buzzing in your ears associated with your fading consciousness as blood gushed out of the wound with every beat of your heart, interrupted only by shrill laughter. Blinking through the blurry haze, you saw Sukuna doubled over with laughter, nearly in hysterics.

“You actually did it! You idiot!” His shoulders shook with mirth, and he wiped a tear from his eye. “Did you seriously think you could ever be important enough to betray me? Do you honestly think anything you could do could result in me being sealed? Are you a simpleton?”

He cackled endlessly, his cold, shrill laughter ringing in your ears as you bled out. “What a fool…” he chuckled, crossing over to you. “What do you think you are? Entertaining illusions of self-importance.”

He was still laughing, even as he reached down to cup your face, squeezing your cheeks and turning your face from side to side. “What an idiot,” he snickered.

You were going so numb, you couldn’t even feel his fingers on your face, and his cruel expression was fading from view. Maybe you were an idiot, but at least now you would finally be dead. Dead and free of him. That wasn’t so bad, you thought to yourself. It was the first and last kindness he had ever done for you.

His face was blurring in and out of your vision, and you were waiting for the moment it would settle to black. The moment you would never have to see his face again, but the blurriness receded and his face reappeared in startling clarity. This was wrong, it was all wrong. Why were you seeing him? Even in death? Was there a hell after all, and had you gone to it?

You slowly grew conscious of Sukuna’s hand on your chest and his cursed energy flooding into you, sealing the wound you had gouged open, closing the flesh you had stabbed apart, healing the organ that refused to let you die.

“No,” you sobbed. “No, no, no, please…” You lifted weary hands to your face and wept miserably, your shoulders shaking. “Please, just let me die.”

Sukuna tutted in response, “Where’s the fun in that? Don’t disappoint me now, you were doing so well.”

You were alive again. Your body healed. Only your mind was still addled by the pain you had forced it through. You blinked up at Sukuna and couldn’t find the strength to bring yourself to move.

He cocked his head to the side as he observed you. “What should I do with you?” His smirk was slow and salacious. “I think you’ve earned yourself a reward.” Another low chuckle rumbled from his chest.

You couldn’t find words to answer him as he tugged at the silk belt holding your robes closed until the layers of fabric loosened and fell apart. His eyes roamed down your chest, over the swell of your breasts, the dip of your navel, he traced one sharp, long fingernail along your ribs. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He muttered, “Have you been keeping yourself for me?”

You didn’t know why the unspoken implication, the assumption that you might have intimately known anyone at all other than Sukuna in the duration of your miserable existence made your skin crawl. You swallowed thickly. “I was sealed,” you stammered in response. “Same as you.”

He snorted at that. “You really do have the worst luck. I almost feel bad for you.”

He trailed a single finger up your breast, grazing past the nipple in a mockery of a caress. “Then again, you could think you were made for me. Born from that stupid village’s grudge. Being sealed away with me and finally waking up, only to come right back to my side. You’re my plaything aren’t you?”

You whimpered in response. Not wanting to confirm his statement and make him even more reluctant to ever release you, but also not wanting to deny it and provoke punishment. “You remember the village?” You asked breathlessly instead, staring numbly up at the gargantuan ribcage spread out as some kind of makeshift ceiling. His earlier behavior had given you the impression he had forgotten entirely. Or maybe it had simply taken him some time to recall when your twisted relationship had begun.

“Of course I do,” he sneered. “I remember everyone I’ve killed. It’s only normal to cling to good memories.”

Your eyes slipped towards him. Was that true? Was that really how he felt? You felt foolish even doubting it. After everything that had happened to you, nothing should surprise you anymore.

You felt a hand close around your throat and lift you up into the air. You were too weak to resist, and not foolish enough to attempt it. You could only watch him from beneath a veil of thick lashes as he tugged your robes from your shoulders, allowing them to fall to the ground and soak up the bloodied water.

You shuddered in his grip. There was nothing you could do but allow him to have his way with you. If you were quiet enough, pliant enough, perhaps there was a chance you could avoid the worst of the pain you knew he liked to inflict.

His gaze was no longer on your tormented expression as you gasped for air, but devouring every inch of flesh exposed to his seeking gaze. It had been centuries since he had last seen you. Before he had been sealed, he had made no bones about taking what he wanted from whoever he wanted, but there had always been something peculiar about you.

Was it the fear in your eyes that never seemed to diminish no matter how many times he took you? Was it the submissive way you gave yourself up to him, hoping for mercy although you should have known him well enough to know that he scoffed at the very idea? Or was it something else entirely? Was it the familiarity? Mortal women could only take so much before the life went out of them. He never returned to them, he wouldn’t have even if that had been an option. Even if there had been something left of their mangled bodies to fuck. Why return to something old and used when there was always new, live prey on the horizon? Dead women didn’t scream, dead women weren’t afraid.

But you.

You never feared him any less, no matter how long he had held you prisoner. Your screams never died out. He could push you farther than he had ever pushed anyone else and not only would you not die, but you would only submit to him ever more determinedly. As if that had ever done you any good before.

Home was a foolish, mortal concept, he could never understand the appeal of, but as his claws traced along your flesh, inadvertently drawing blood wherever he was careless, he had to admit that there was something intoxicating about the return to the familiar. About reclaiming a body that he knew well. A body, he noted with dim satisfaction, that had never known anyone’s touch but his own.

You might be nothing more than a plaything for his amusement, but you were his all the same. He really ought to reward Itadori for so thoroughly alleviating his boredom.

Despite how willing you had been to die only moments earlier, you weakly raised a hand to his forearm, resting it there in a desperate, wordless plea for breath.

He glanced briefly at your tear-filled eyes, your rosy lips parted for air that would not come, and your reddening complexion - before ignoring you entirely and continuing his exploration of your body. Two hands pried his own robes open as a third came up to fondle your breast, pinching the nipple cruelly between his fingers, causing a pained squeak to leave your lips with what little air you could manage.

Your eyes rolled back in your head and Sukuna sighed, “Air is such a ridiculous thing to depend on.” He licked upwards against your nipple and noted how you shuddered in his grip, before going limp. “Hey. Hang on a little longer. Aren’t you supposed to be a curse?”

Curse or no, you were losing consciousness and that would not do. It just wasn’t the same when you weren’t begging him to stop and screaming when he refused to listen. Clawing to get away from him, and shuddering violently when you orgasmed against your will. No, he could not have you unconscious.

Reluctantly, he released your throat and caught you by the waist when you slumped forward, your chin resting on his shoulder despite yourself. It was a mockery of affection. It looked almost romantic, if one did not consider the circumstances.

“Oi,” he chided you. “Isn’t this just cute?”

He trailed a black talon up your spine and you shuddered against him. You knew it was utter stupidity and probably disrespect to lean on him this way, but you were having difficulty collecting yourself. After your near death experience and the oxygen deprivation, your limbs tingled as sensation slowly returned. You only needed to pull yourself together and apologize. That was all. Just as soon as you found the strength to.

But his body was so warm and solid. So firm. When he wasn’t hurting you, you were reminded of the fact that his presence was the only constant you had ever known. Wasn’t he almost like your home at this point? His touch filled you with trepidation, made you tremble violently, made your heart riot fitfully in your chest in fear of the pain that would doubtless follow and yet - for that split second before the pain began… wasn’t there something almost comforting about his touch? You wished there was a way to prolong the interim. The fleeting moment between being deprived of his touch and being impaled by it. That fleeting instant was almost pleasant.

He guided your thighs around his waist and you crossed your legs around him obediently, fearful of what he might do to you if you failed to comply. The memory of being impaled to a wall so he might more easily have his way with you was still fresh in your mind.

His hand dug into your hair and jerked your head brutally backwards, looking down on you through narrowed, mischievous eyes. The other pair of eyes was shut, dormant on his cheekbones. You caught your breath, fearful of what would follow. He had said he wanted to reward you, but there was never a clear distinction between reward and punishment with Sukuna.

“You aren’t going soft on me now, are you? I’m expecting a lot from you.” His low murmur made you shudder involuntarily as his warm breath caressed your face. He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just by your ear. “Don’t disappoint me.”

You gasped as you felt something warm and wet against your womanhood, only realizing in that moment that, in the way you were clinging to him, your most intimate area was pushed up against his stomach shamelessly. In horror, you dropped your gaze to find a horizontal slit had opened across his abdomen and that a large tongue, dripping with saliva had appeared and was probing your nether regions, pushing urgently past your lips to explore you thoroughly.

Sukuna observed your reactions with amusement as the tongue prodded harshly against your clit and journeyed up and down in its explorations before poking past the tight ring of muscle at your entrance. You clung more tightly to Sukuna’s neck as the impossibly thick tongue lapped at your inner walls, eager and insistent, thrusting further in than you would have thought possible. With more vehemence than you could remember.

“Surprised?” Sukuna chuckled. “My, aren’t you forgetful.”

You bit your lip to keep from crying out in pleasure as the tongue wriggled its way further inside of you, poking at your cervix. You could not hope to distance yourself from it without falling and you were certain that would provoke Sukuna’s displeasure, so you held onto him desperately and allowed yourself to be molested by his tongue, biting your lip as you held out until it bled.

Sukuna’s hands roamed your body all the while, your lust-dazed mind could barely follow along, barely registering where he touched you as the coil of heat tightened within your body with every insistent thrust of his tongue. Sukuna lifted your chin and licked away the blood collecting on your lower lip. Your irises were blown wide with lust as you clung to his shoulders, and he trailed his thumb over your lip.

“If you hold back your voice,” he chastised in a voice that was both threatening and seductive - like thick, black poison. “I’ll have no choice but to make you scream.” A lone, sharp black fingernail trailed down the nape of your neck, breaking the surface of your skin ever so slightly. A clear warning.

“Sukuna-sama…” you mewled, both in complaint and in surrender.

His hands toyed with your breasts, long nails scraping over your areolae. One hand rolled a pert nipple between his fingers with deceptive gentleness, before pinching it mercilessly, painfully. A mouth had appeared on his other hand and sucked harshly on your breast, not letting up in the slightest until you feared he would break the skin and leave you bleeding. The other two hands squeezed your buttocks as you writhed against him in response to his ministrations. His grip was bruising and cruel, you could feel blood pool and trickle down your skin where his claws had pierced your flesh.

You moaned out his name repeatedly, not daring to fall silent for fear of the consequences it could bring as the tongue within you curled upwards, roughly stroking a spongy patch of flesh within you that made you lightheaded, each movement of the thick, wet muscle straining your inner walls. The heat pulsing through your body intensified by the second, driving you higher and higher until you crashed and fell, his name leaving your lips in a breathless cry. Your inner walls convulsed and spasmed around the tongue still burrowed deep within you.

“Hurrying on ahead on your own, are you?” Sukuna accused, but he didn’t seem displeased. At least, you hoped he wasn’t.

You had not sufficiently descended from your high to be fully conscious of your surroundings, still clinging weakly to Sukuna’s neck when he took hold of your hips and pulled you away from himself, you felt his thick tongue slip out from between your legs and inhaled sharply at the loss of contact. Before you could so much as think, however, Sukuna tossed you bodily backwards, causing you to land roughly on the tower of animal skulls.

You cried out in pain as the many horns poked and pierced you in various places, you couldn’t even number your injuries, so scattered was your mind. Sukuna cocked his head to the side and watched your blood drip out over the pale bones and admired the contrast.

You held still, like a rabbit in the face of a lion, as he stalked closer with all the grace of an experienced predator. “Why is your blood this way?” he mused, watching it streak down your skin in rivulets.

“Pretty.”

You gaped at him. You felt warm and lightheaded at the compliment. It was your blood, you reminded yourself. Not you. Your blood that he found pretty. How out of your mind must you be, to be so foolishly flattered by that statement. But you were. There was no denying it. It dulled the pain, to know he was enjoying the sight.

He let his robes fall to the floor as he approached you further still. Your eyes trailed down his form, before stopping with horror at the girth between his legs. How could you have forgotten that ? He was larger than you, stronger than you, faster than you - you had never had a chance of escaping him in the past. You shuddered as you recalled the first time he had impaled you - no other word did the act justice - you recalled how you had bled, your flesh torn from the intrusion. A similar horror caused you to whimper in fear now, unable to tear your eyes away as he stroked his thick cock confidently, not even his large hands able to completely close around its thickness. Nudging your ankle with the toe of his sandal, he nodded at you. “Spread your legs for me.”

You should have complied. You knew it. It would have made everything easier if he didn’t need to be rough with you. If he didn’t punish you. But the fear of having something so huge shoved between your legs, of tearing you up again the way you had multiple times in the past, you couldn’t help but squirm, squeezing your thighs together as your mouth went dry and your lips parted, seeking words that might invoke mercy.

“Sukuna-sama, please, I…” but you didn’t know what else to say and so you gazed up at him, your eyes filling with tears, as you struggled to speak around the choked sobs threatening to tear free from your throat.

Sukuna smirked, but his eyes flashed dangerously. “Look around you,” he instructed. “What is keeping you from becoming one of them?”

You turned your head to the side obediently, your gaze skimming over countless skulls, some animal, some human, but most of the skulls merely remnants from other curses.

“You amuse me,” Sukuna drawled, towering over you. “That is all you have to your name.”

The implication was clear, that he would not hesitate to tear your head from your body and add your skull to his collection the moment you ceased to be amusing.

You swallowed thickly and forced yourself to separate your trembling thighs. To make yourself available to him. Your hands gripping at anything to better steady yourself, you were horrified to find a smooth skull beneath your seeking palms but held on anyway.

Two hands gripped your inner thighs and shoved them apart roughly, causing you to cry out in surprise and discomfort. With a sneer, Sukuna descended upon you, a third hand closing around your throat and applying controlled pressure. Judging by the fact that you could still breathe, you knew he was holding back, and as you met his ruthlessly gleaming eyes, you understood the game he would be playing. Air would be the reward, and whether or not you were permitted to breathe, would depend on how well you did.

As he applied more pressure to your throat you forced your legs wider, desperate to appear compliant, and the hand on your throat loosened.

“Clever little thing,” Sukuna purred, and the praise swept through your veins like liquid honey.

The last of his free hands found its way between your thighs and you held your breath in fear that one of those sharp claws would tear open your skin. When he toyed with your bundle of nerves, you wanted to scream in terror, knowing how badly he could hurt you with a twitch of his fingers and how little he would think of it. You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting him to continue, not wanting him to stop.

Sukuna drank in every one of your expressions greedily. Whether your eyes were unfocused with lust, or wide with terror, each emotion of yours was equally satiating to him. If he was more partial to your fear that did not mean he could not appreciate his own skill in driving you to pleasure despite your open terror.

When his long, thick fingers pushed past your entrance, you sucked in a cold breath. Forgetting yourself, you breathed his name on a reverent exhale that was almost worship. He did not slow, or pause, preparing your body for him with an almost methodic rhythm. But if your eyes hadn’t been squeezed shut in that moment, you would have spied the confusion flitting briefly through his crimson irises. Would have seen the curious way he regarded you.

He positioned himself at your entrance and you felt his member prodding your core. The haze of lust cleared instantly, giving way to blind terror. There was no way he would fit. Regardless of the fact that he had, many times before. Forgetting yourself, cold dread settled in your stomach and you scrambled backwards, trying to inch away from him as you shook your head.

Sukuna’s gaze lifted to yours and his eyes narrowed in displeasure. Two hands gripped your thighs more firmly, as the pressure of a third hand intensified on your neck in a cruel reminder of how fully you were at his mercy. But fear had overcome your mind and you could not talk yourself down.

“No, no, no, no…” you whimpered pitifully. “Please, please don’t - “

Before you could speak another word, Sukuna ruthlessly pulled on your thighs, bringing your entire body towards him and impaling you on his member without warning. A shrill scream echoed through the realm as a painful fullness, the feeling of your walls being forced to stretch wider than should be physically possible overwhelmed your body.

“Stop! Stop, please, I’m going to -”

But there was no stopping, nor had he ever intended to. If anything, your pained cries only spurred him on. You realized suddenly that his hold on your neck had not tightened, and that the only reason for that could be because he enjoyed your screaming, because he liked you begging. That he liked it almost as much as he relished denying you the mercy you wept for.

The realization set you to tears and you held onto his thick wrist as thrust into you, your whole body sinking deeper into the mountain of skulls with each thrust until you feared you would be buried alive.

“Sukuna-sama…” you sobbed, knowing your cries were falling on deaf ears.

He hummed in approval, and ran a hand through his hair as he smirked at you. “Go on, don’t stop. Let it all out.”

And your fears were confirmed. He got off on your screams. He got off on your pain. You had always known it, but your long sleep must have dulled your senses. You wept incessantly, wiping at your tears as he continued pounding into you, for all his efforts, still only halfway there. You were sure he was going to split you in two. Sure you would not survive this. You could feel your lining stretched thin and pulsing against him in protest. This could not end well. As much as you told yourself you had survived this, many times before, you could not help but feel that the stretch was unbearable, unreal - impossible.

Sukuna’s grip on your thighs provided the leverage needed to reach the depth he sought, as he wondered how many more whimpers and confused moans he could tear from you. He wondered if he could make you cry enough to wash the blood from the skulls beneath you. He pulled you in towards himself as he thrust into you again and again and again. Almost there. So close.

As he yanked on your thighs brutally once more, a distinct, sickening popping sound met your ears along with a blinding, searing pain that raced through your hip.

Your eyes shot wide open as a shrill, agonized scream burst from your throat. Even Sukuna paused in his relentless abuse of your core and that fact - more than anything else - terrified you.

Shaking with dread you looked down, only to find your left leg hanging uselessly from your side. You looked up at Sukuna in horror, as if asking him what to do, but he did not meet your eyes, staring curiously at your leg instead. He poked at your leg and it shifted lifelessly at his touch, causing a branding pain to shoot through you anew. You bit your lip and stifled an agonized shriek of pain.

“Sukuna-sama…” you pleaded miserably, sweat beading on your forehead.

He shoved lightly at your leg again, jostling it somewhat harder than the first time and a shriek of pain exploded from you as you pressed a hand to your mouth, groaning in agony.

Now his gaze did lift towards you as a slow smirk spread across his lips.

“P- please,” you begged, your eyes lifted towards his imploringly. “Please, help me.”

��Mmm,” he mused, and you could almost see the gears turning in his head as he continued where he had left off, although at a slower pace. “One thing at a time, sweetheart.”

Your mind was already fuzzy from the immense, unbearable pain coursing through your body. The term of endearment only addled your senses further. Sweetheart? It was your pain, you assumed. Every new height of pain you endured for his sake, the fonder he seemed to grow of you. You glanced down at your useless leg again. You gritted your teeth. You could take it.

“Hang in there,” he teased, pushing slowly but firmly into you, the movement causing fresh agony to course through you. He hovered over you, bringing his lips close to your ear, he angled his head towards you and took your earlobe gently between his teeth. The touch was so tame and affectionate it sent shivers down your spine. You almost couldn’t believe it was Sukuna’s mouth on your ear. Your earlobe slipped from his teeth as he parted his lips to whisper words of encouragement. “ Ganbare, ganbare. ” He murmured into your ear as he pushed further into your core.

You bit your lip, sweat trailing down your face, and searched his eyes questioningly. The message was clear - take him, take the pain, and he would reward you. He would be proud of you. That alone could be worth it, if he would look at you with pride and admiration, the high of receiving his acknowledgement would be worth it all, wouldn’t it?

You nodded.

His eyes lit up with glee, his grin widening even further, as a low chuckle rumbled from his chest. Where would he ever find someone else like you? Willing to take whatever he threw at you? With the sweetest screams he had ever heard, whimpering his name like a kicked puppy? You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself without him. It was a good thing you had found your way back to him. This was how it was meant to be. You would be lost out there on your own. Probably get yourself killed in the blink of an eye by some more powerful curses or some fumbling Jujutsu sorcerers. No, the best place for you to be was right by his side.

Sure, he might break you sometimes, but he would always be sure to put you back together again after. Could the same be said for anyone else? Surely not. After all, you were made for him. Everything about your existence revolved around him. Maybe that was why he tolerated your presence, allowed your existence.

He hammered into you with abandon now, two cruel hands all but crushing your breasts in his merciless grip, as a third squeezed your windpipe allowing you only enough air to cry out in agony, as the fourth hand held your right hip in place - some small mercy to minimize the pain in your left leg - as he rammed into you.

You groaned in pain, gritting your teeth and struggling to hold back the pained cries as your walls slowly, finally, began adjusting to him. The searing pain in your leg rattled your senses, but the pleasure now beginning to course through your veins befuddled your mind until you didn’t know what was what. You couldn’t truly tell the pleasure from the pain - both were blindingly intense, both were driving you out of your mind.

Sukuna’s rhythm intensified, faster, harder, more deranged as he seemed to want to pound right through you and you were certain you would lose consciousness from the dizzying combination of terrible sensation as you heard the sickening sound of skulls tumbling from the towering pile and falling to the waters below as he drove you deeper and deeper into the mountain of bone until your view was obscured by the many skulls that had fallen over you - burying you alive, just as you had feared they would.

The fear, the pain, the pleasure of Sukuna within you, the coiling spiral of heat that only intensified with each thrust, the knowledge of how close he was to you. How the King of Curses relished tormenting you, how he tested you, how special you were to him, in your own way, was a dizzying concoction of delirious euphoria that cast you over the edge of ecstasy, despite yourself, just as Sukuna’s pace stuttered, having reached his climax himself, spilling masses of thick, hot liquid deep inside of you. You felt full, sated, on some cloud far removed from the unending pain and the constant threat of death.

You struggled to catch your breath, to orientate yourself, completely forgetting why you could not see. You felt sharp, long fingernails graze past your hip and a jolt of pain passed through you as the bone settled back into place and the surrounding flesh slowly healed, causing your pain to fade into nothingness. Sukuna’s fingers lingered, tracing lazy circles on your hip, sending his cursed energy into your body long after your injury was fully healed.

At length, he drew back, taking hold of your hand and pulling you out of the pile of bone you had found yourself trapped under. You fell against his chest and he stroked your hair behind your ear, murmuring sweet nothings into your ear that were so uncharacteristic you could scarcely believe what you were hearing.

“Good girl,” he whispered, his nails trailing along your scalp, digging through your hair. His lips met your jawline, trailing hot, bruising kisses along your flesh. Your whole body trembled at the affection you were so utterly ill-prepared for, so wholly unaccustomed to. “You’ve been such a good girl, haven’t you?”

You did not know what to think, or what to say. In that moment, escape was the farthest thing from your mind. You wished he would go on holding you that way, stroking your hair, running a hand up and down your back as he whispered praise into your ear that made you want to melt into a puddle.

Leave Sukuna? Never. Why would you want to?

He didn’t stop. His lips found all your weaknesses as he held you up. Two strong arms, supporting your weight while the other two roamed your body, clearly intent on rewarding you, for once, and not seeking his own pleasure. You felt as if you were a guest in your own body, so foreign was the experience. His seeking mouth on your body, leaving dark bruises everywhere it lingered, a second mouth smirking open on the hand he had pressed between your legs. A third hand massaging the nape of your neck.

You were putty in his hands. You had never known that Sukuna was capable of providing such pleasure. You trembled from head to toe as your mind dimly registered a disconcerting thought. What could you possibly do to earn this reward again? What wouldn’t you do to earn this reward again?

He pulled one orgasm after another from you, not waiting for you to come down from the peak of ecstasy before continuing with his ministrations sending you tumbling headfirst into another. It was a different kind of torture, but one you couldn’t bring yourself to resent in the slightest.

When he entered you again, patiently, slowly, allowing you to adjust to him bit by bit, you were stunned to find that Sukuna was even capable of taking you in this fashion. It wasn’t his style, you realized. It was simply a courtesy to you, for having taken the pain so well.

The words good girl rained down repeatedly on your ears until you almost believed them, until you realized that, after this, you would do anything to hear them again.

He took you again and again, until you went limp in his arms, prompting a chuckle from his lips. Something about your complete submission had touched him in an uncharacteristic way. And his desire to reward you, well… Sukuna was one who did as he pleased. And if he wanted to be gentle with you for once, why shouldn’t he? The two of you hadn’t seen each other in quite some time, but now that he thought about it, it was a good thing you had been released into his Domain. You belonged with him, clearly. His unbreakable toy. His good girl.

Slowly but surely, he was coming back to his full strength, and when he broke out of here, he would keep you by his side. He wouldn’t limit himself to you, goodness no, but he would keep the others away from you, and allow you to be close to him, the way he did not allow anyone else to be. Because you would go to lengths for him that others would balk at. And who would he be if he did not reward such loyalty?

He stroked your cheek with one long, sharp black finger as he observed your sleeping features with an aloof, thoughtful expression. There was something about you he couldn’t place. A sensation you awakened within him that he did not recognize. He wondered, briefly, if it posed a danger to him, before shaking his head and deciding no, someone as weak as you could never be dangerous for him.

It never occurred to him that he had missed you.

When you awoke at last, Sukuna was once again draped in that white robe, a black shawl wrapped around his neck. He leaned back in his throne, his chin resting against the knuckles of his right hand. You were draped across his lap, fully naked, as his left hand toyed with your hair. He did not seem to acknowledge or even notice your presence as he argued with someone you could not see.

The low, dangerous hum of his voice as he spoke deadly threats you knew he had every intention of carrying out, sent a shudder down your spine, drawing his attention.

His eyes shifted towards you, even as he continued curling a lock of your hair around his index finger and spoke with someone beyond this realm, someone you did not know.

“Don’t waste my time, brat. Why should I help you?”

He was not speaking to you, even though his narrowed eyes were drinking you in. You heard a plea in response, an agonized cry for help, that the person beyond had friends who were dying, that innocent people would be doomed if Sukuna refused his aid.

Sukuna’s eyes caressed every exposed inch of flesh before muttering a gruff response.

“People that weak deserve to die. And if you’re too weak to protect them, then you deserve to watch it happen.”

Sukuna traced a finger across your collarbones and down the valley of your breasts as he spoke. You could feel your heart racing in your chest at his touch.

“I’m busy, brat.” He barked, cutting off the connection. Sukuna turned his attention towards you, and you felt you were surely burning alive under his gaze.

But the boy’s voice returned, echoing throughout the domain. Sukuna growled in his throat in displeasure and you could not help but be concerned for the boy’s fate. He cast you one last, lingering look that seemed to indicate that you should wait for him, that he would return shortly, that he was far from done with you.

You nodded in understanding, and when you felt him slip away, you remained motionless on his throne, eagerly awaiting the moment he would reappear and find you, just as he had left you. Absolutely faithful to the letter and spirit of his command. Waiting to amuse him, to entertain him, to be the very plaything he had claimed you were. Ever faithfully by his side.

After all, where else would you go?

#sukuna x reader #tw noncon #sukuna #jjk #sukuna smut

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wizkiddx · 3 years

Note

If your request are open, vouldd you then make something where reader is thicc and is scared to sit on Tom's lap, but Tom doesn't mind at all, he just adores you no matter what.

a/n just a friendly remind EVERYONE is the best version of themselves no matter what, you do you, for you <33

I hope this is okay anon, sorry don't feel like this is v good so im sorry x

warnings: body image/weight issues / low self esteem / implied SMUT

//////////////////////////////////////

Awkward. That’s what it was. You didn’t intend for it to be this way… god you hated it so much and even if you somewhat blamed yourself- nothing could diffuse the awkward air in the room. It was stupid too, you had been with Tom for a month now. And it wasn’t like your whole evening had been this awkward and hellish, in fact, quite the opposite.

Date night had consisted of Tom cooking attempting a fancy steak and homemade fries meal for you both. While it had looked a lot less impressive than Tom’s plans (a sad looking lump of meat)- it had still been the perfect evening. Especially since given Tom’s public persona, neither of you dared to go out for dinner together - arguably a shitty attempt at cooking was more fun though.

You’d honestly never felt more special, more free or at ease than this evening. Until you and Tom had both moved to the sitting room (which he’d forced a stubborn Harry out of) for a movie night. He had gone to the loo whilst you prepared for the movie, only re-entering the room when your back was turned to read the back of the old DVD case. Seizing his opportunity with a mischievous smirk, Tom crept up behind you, wrapping his arms round your waist and then pulling the two of you down to the sofa- both your bodies spinning in an uncoordinated manner as your shrieked.

You’d landed on top of him, your chest and belly pressed up against his and you instantly hated it.

Your relationship with your own body image was possibly the most complicated and toxic relationship you’d had in your life. To be honest, you’d never felt super comfortable in his own skin; but last year after you’d put on a little extra weight, the nagging voice in your head became impossible to ignore. And it made everything more difficult. It ruled out half the fashionable high street shops- who seem to only cater to people of a certain build. It meant you would much rather sweat your ass off in boiling heat, than dare to take your jacket off and expose what you thought to be ‘far from the ideal’ body type.

But worst off it made intimacy impossible.

Just like now, as you felt your were crushing Tom’s chest, quickly scrambling upwards and landing on the opposite side of the sofa. Tom wasn’t blind or ignorant, he’d seen the flash of fear as you’d desperately climbed away from him; he saw the defeated look as you sat dead ahead, refusing to look at him and awaiting him to start the movie. What he was less sure on though, was how to handle it. The last thing he wanted to do was make you feel uncomfortable and question you. Which is why he quickly leaned over and grabbed the remote to hit play.

Thats how the opening scenes of ‘Crazy, stupid, love’ started. Both of you sitting awkwardly upright, like you were in school, eyes solely looking straight ahead. The atmosphere was tense to say the least, your breath hitching at the slightest movement Tom made- from what you could see out the corner of your eye. Which of course, he noticed.

So, without much pre-planning in his head, Tom hit pause on the remote and instantly turned to you, seeing your confused gaze. He neeeded to say this.

“You know you’re so beautiful.” He said it so astutely, so point-blanc and so seriously you had a harder time than normal brushing it off.

“Tom no I-“

“No I’m serious. You are so beautiful and it hurts me that you don’t see what I see. Alright?”

“no I-“ You were gulping like a fish, stammering between the two words before Tom cut you off again, voicce louder this time.

“I said alright? As in do you understand?” He sighed, tone softening as the confusion and embarrassment on your face said it all. “I’m serious Y/n. I get that you have issues with some parts of yourself and I’m not going to cure that in one night but… I want, no, I need you to know how beautiful I think you are.”

“It’s not your fault.” Rather you answered a different question entirely, one you had made up in your head.

“But I want it to be my business to help you fix. I know its your journey but I want to be there. Will you let me?”

“You’re getting all this because of one rugby tackle awkward moment?”

“No, but I do want you to feel comfortable with me, okay?”

“Okay.” Your voice was barely above a whisper but Tom heard and replied with a breathy laugh, which made you pull your gaze up from picking at your fingers. And sure enough, he was sporting the warmest and kindest smile, the type that gave you no choice but to return, like it was infectious.

“How about we start…” He held his hands out which you took, eyebrows furrowing as he pulled you further and further towards him. “-with me showing you just how beautiful you are.” His voice was intoxicating, almost distracting you from the fact he kept pulling you over him on the sofa, to the point you had to move your knees and kneel eitherside of his legs to keep balance. Once your face was barely centimetres from his, both your eyes flitting between eyes and lips - Tom shifted his hands to your waist and slowly applied a downward pressure.

Your breath hitched because you knew what he was asking you to do. He wanted you to sit completely on his lap, which terrified you.

But then he whispered a ‘dont worry’ and hooked his lips against yours. The movements slow and sensual, as you got lost in the moment, lost in the warmth that radiated from the boy.

Too lost to notice, to care, or to be conscious of your weight against his legs. Because really… did it matter? When you had a boy in front of you who liked loved every single part of you.

Your worth wasn’t defined by Tom, but he did do a hell of a lot to see you for what you really were.

~~~~~~~let me know what u think <33 ~~~~~~~~~

tag ist: @thefernandasantana @lovehollandy12 @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter @hollandfanficlove

#tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland #tom holland blurb #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tomholland #peter parker

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confessionsof-a-writing-freak · 3 years

Text

I Don't Wanna Be a Memory

Summary:

And it isn’t your fault! It’s not! You don’t want me anymore, and that’s fine, but my omega hasn’t forgotten, and my heart won’t forgive you for not loving me anymore. So stop. Stop saying my name like you still want me. Because every time you do, I feel like you’ve come back to me, but you haven’t- you won’t! And it’s killing me, Buck.”

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33385405

Rating: Explicit

Ship: James 'Bucky' Barnes/Steve Rogers

Additional tags: A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha bucky!, Omega Steve!

Bucky’s voice is the single most dangerous weapon he possesses.

Not the guns, or the knives, or even the years of government-issued muscle memory in hand-to-hand combat could compare the carnage that rubbles and quakes the earth when he says Steve's name.

“Stevie,” Low and silky. Full of authority-full of alpha. But still understanding the difference in rank despite the apparent superiority in designation. Never challenging or speaking down, but fuck did it make Steve want to sink to his knees and watch Bucky fall apart due to his mouth for a change.

“Steve?”

Okay, maybe not the entire earth, but Steve’s world sure feels like it’s been turned on its axis.

“...Steve.”

The worst part of it all is Bucky has no idea. No clue. No motivation! He simply exists and speaks like that with no intention of letting his voice get all severe and appetizing for the purpose of getting Steve’s omega excited for Bucky's alpha.

It’s especially distracting during missions.

Steve’s heart races, his conscious thought nowhere to be found as he conjures up impossible scenarios involving his reformed assassin best friend and naked cuddling.

The second they boarded the Quinjet, Steve had torn the earpiece away as if it had burned him.

Can you imagine leading a team or keeping them safe when every so often your second in command asks for your position, voice rough as he asks Steve for orders?!

Can anyone really blame him for getting lost in the phantom sensations of Bucky saying his name like a secret no one else deserves to know?

He didn’t think so.

That being said, all the control he can muster in order to actually complete a mission evaporates into the wind the moment the dance between life and death comes to a close; every suppressed, shameless fantasy unleashed and unforgiving as they consume his every thought.

Steve is abruptly pulled from his most recent daydream when a cool metal hand taps the back of his wrist twice, “You with us, Steve? I’ve been calling your name for a minute now.”

Quickly, Steve straightens his back and squares his shoulders, meeting stormy grey eyes.

“Sorry, Buck. Had a lot on my mind.”, He says with more confidence than he actually has.

It’s not really a lie. He does have a lot on his mind, all the ways he can find himself face down, ass up on the other man’s bed. Drooling and crying and breathing in Buckys scent with every breath he takes.

Of course, he can’t very well say that, can he?

He was lucky the S.H.I.E.L.D issued, super soldier approved suppressants made him nearly null. He can’t fathom the level of embarrassment that would claim him if Buck- or the whole damn plane for that matter- could scent the desperation, horny inside of him.

Bucky shifts closer, grey eyes softening the tiniest bit with concern, “Is everything alright?”

No.

“Yes, of course, “ He lies, “Just thinking about battle techniques is all. Scouts honor!” Steve makes an odd, incorrect gesture as a mock salute.

Bucky allows a small huff of air Steve recognizes as his poor imitation of a chuckle. There’s a moment of fuzzy pride that nearly causes Steve to purr; happy he brought a smile to the alpha’s face before his stomach drops clear down to his toes as murmured laughter rumbles too close to a growl in Buckys chest.

“My memory may be shit, Stevie, but I know for damn sure you weren’t no boy scout.”

Aaaand there it is.

Stevie.

Steves omega stirs and preens before the captain shoves them back down. Resenting the butterflies crying out in his belly and the urge to beg Bucky to just say his name over and over and over…

“Steve?”, This time, the concern isn’t quite as subtle, “Are you sure you’re alright, pal?” Bucky takes a step closer towards the blonde, drawing out skittish blue eyes, lowering his voice in case anyone was listening.

Again, the omega clears his throat and squares his shoulders.

“Did you want to tell me something, Sargent?”

Bucky opens his mouth, defiance dancing on his tastebuds before something makes him snap it shut, offering a curt nod, “Yes, Captain.” His voice strained, everything he wants to say lodged in his throat.

“I just wanted to let you know that we should be landing in less than 15 minutes.”

Like before, Bucky opens his mouth to say something but thinks better of it. Choosing instead to take a seat beside his captain, slipping his arms through the provided harness. He gives Steve a pointed look, “We should probably buckle up.”

For a moment, Steve is taken back to the war. When his body was just beginning to react to the serum and the increased suppressants. (The government had taken every percussion necessary to ensure the public wouldn’t know Captain America was an omega.)

After Steve became ‘big’ and outranked Bucky in the military, the brunette never did anything but follow him into the fire. Loyal and boundless. Never questioning his strategies or actions unless it put him in direct danger. That didn’t mean he could keep himself from telling Steve what to do. He just found different ways to do it.

Suggesting tasks, like putting on seatbelts, for instance. Strapping extra weapons to his ankles before handing one to Steve and forcing it into his hands even when the blonde would roll his eyes, whispering his disapproval so only he would hear.

Never raising his voice or permitting his tone to deepen or his scent to take on that spicy, electric feel that never failed to make Steve bare his neck. Never stepping out of line. Never disrespecting or demeaning Steves title. Always in charge anyway.

Bucky doesn’t utter a single command or request, but Steve buckles up anyhow. Drinking in the small, hardly there smile that Bucky offers to the air in front of him, not even meeting Steve’s gaze. And the omega hates the happiness, the relief he feels at satisfying Bucky.

Hates that Bucky doesn’t even have to tell him what to do for him to obey. Hates that he has to obey, even though Bucky doesn’t need him to anymore.

He doesn’t need him anymore...

Bucky still hasn’t said a word when they land, but it’s not like Steve gave him much of an opportunity.

Things have been strained between them since Steve began pulling away. Avoiding Bucky’s calls and limiting their time together.

It was just easier that way. Miserable and lonely, but easier.

The moment the Quinjet is stationary, the supersoldier is up on his feet and stomping down the runway, leaving the Avengers and Bucky behind him.

He needs to breathe.

He can’t breathe!

If he didn’t know any better, he would say he was having an asthma attack. It feels like an asthma attack.

Steve’s eyes sting with unshed tears, taking large gulps of air into his lungs, and it burns!

He arrives at his door by the grace of God, not remembering entering the tower or if he passed anyone on his way.

“Jarvis. Door.” He gasps. Actual fear starting to seep into his bones.

“Yes, Captain Rogers,” The AI responds, the oversized steel doors swinging open.

Distantly, Steve hears the door shut behind him and feels himself settle against a wall. He pushes his back against the surface and tries to even out his breathing. Revisiting everything he can remember about how to resolve an asthma attack.

After several attempts, he stumbles into a somewhat consistent breathing pattern, his chest heaving at a slower rate.

In through the nose. Out through the mouth. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. In through the nose…

It’s not working!

Steve’s heartbeat only hammers against his chest and neck quicker, his breathing sharply turning back into hyperventilation.

It’s then that he realizes he isn’t having an asthma attack at all. He’s having a panic attack.

Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.

In through the nose. Out through the mouth. InthroughthenoseOutthroughthemouth.

Why isn’t this working!?

The blonde clenches his eyes shut, a sob fighting its way past trembling lips. He feels so alone. So unwanted, Unwarranted.

He thinks back to the 40s- back to him and Bucky. After the serum, during the war. Hidden behind the cover of night and an abandoned building at the far end of Base. The first time since the change, his heart felt like it would crawl its way up Steves throat and swan dive right off his tongue.

Struggling to ease the fogginess in his mind, Steve remembers strong arms wrapped around his waist. Cool metal poking his nose as he bumped Bucky’s dog tags with each of his movements, scenting warm flesh.

Bucky’s voice is rumbling demands, his voice leaving no room for argument while every word was also laced with patience and love. Scent projecting love, understanding, I’m here, you’re safe.

“In through your nose. Out through your mouth. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.”

He repeats the mantra until Steve’s Omega obeyed his alpha, sucking in lung fulls of oxygen and releasing it in time with Buckys orders.

The memory of bombs and gunshots lost behind the sound of Bucky’s voice.

In through your nose. Out through your mouth. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.

He conjures up the memory of Buckys voice, coated in alpha command, urging him to breathe evenly. Fingers digging into Steve’s flushed skin, grounding him.

His alpha always knows what he needs...

Steve misses him.

Misses more than just the raw irrefutable attraction that got them into more trouble than it should have growing up. But he misses the rest of him too.

Misses the smirks and the long nights dreaming of what the future would bring. He misses Bucky’s laugh. God, he can hardly remember what it sounds like now.

Steve misses the way he would kiss. Gently. Chaste. Rough. Long. Kiss him in private and kiss him places that weren’t safe. On the stoop in front of their apartment, before the sun would come up and wandering eyes could catch them. Or alone in their bedroom, lips starting on his eyelids, across purple bruises, then down to his chest. Swallowing the omega’s moans and grinning into his mouth before settling beside him and chuckling deep into his ear, the last thing Steve would hear before sleep would overcome him. He misses the way Bucky would say his name like a prayer, wrap his lips around every letter like a caress, eyes sparkling with their love.

He misses knowing he’ll never be alone.

His heart thunders in his ears, chest feeling seconds away from crumbling in on itself as he thinks maybe it was easier when he believed the alpha was dead. Before he found out Bucky was alive, he mourned the man who loved him. Now, he grieves the love he’s lost. The alpha- his alpha-standing beside him without an ounce of affection or desire in his eyes.

Bucky wasn’t mourning the loss of Steve because he didn’t want Steve. Not anymore.

He clearly remembered enough. He may remember it all. However, knowing didn’t mean he had any intention of returning to what they had.

But even if every memory was gone, if the omega mattered at all, Bucky would remember him- his soul! If Steve himself were robbed of his past and they were just meeting again for the first time, he knew his soul would remember Buckys. Would want to know him all over, not needing to understand why!

The tears are falling before Steve has the chance to notice. A jagged whine barreling past his lips. All the weight of devastation and loneliness finally falling onto his shoulders.

Bucky had met him again. But he didn’t need him the same. Didn’t know his Omega; he didn’t want his heart.

Steve slumps further against the wall, blonde hair drenched in sweat, hands clawing at his chest, trying fruitlessly to manage his racing heart.

Closing his eyes, the omega summons an image of Bucky smiling reassuringly, soothing him as he tells him what to do.

In through your nose. Out through your mouth. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.

Okay… okay. That’s better.

“It hurts to think of you,” The omega confesses to no one, the tears running past his chin onto his suit. But I need you, “And I can’t breathe without you.”

“In through your nose. Out through your mouth. In through your nose. Out through your mouth. I’ve got you, Stevie. In and out. That’s it. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.”

Steve allows himself to sink deeper into his fantasy, swearing he could actually feel Bucky's hands running down his back and through his hair.

“I’ve got you, Stevie.”

It’s the last thing Steve hears before he passes out.

***

Steve is warm.

Steve’s bed has always been too soft, even after Sam suggested a firmer mattress. While helpful, he still couldn’t manage anything better than a fitful half-sleep most nights. He knew why, but in an effort to avoid further misery, he chooses not to dwell too much on that matter.

Aside from the too-soft mattress and the alpha missing from his bed, the omega was never warm enough. He shivered and reached out for body heat too far from his reach. But…

Steve is warm...

For a moment, he swears arms are around him.

And for a moment, he doesn’t care who they belong to. Because he isn’t shivering, for once. Isn’t suffering through another cold sweat, and the omega constantly pacing within him is actually settled. He hasn’t been this comfortable since the previous century, so whoever the hell is beside him can very well stay where they are, as long as he can keep this feeling.

It’s with another breath, he feels consciousness slowly creep up on him.

He almost laughs at the thought of being comfortable in anyone else’s arms. Of course, Bucky should have been his first thought, but honestly, at this point, Bucky willingly in his bed was a cruel dream.

Bucky must be using the same blockers Steve does. His Omega can’t scent him even this close, but who else’s arms fit so perfectly around him?

It’s the closest they’ve been at all since rescuing Bucky from Hydra, and Steve hated it as much as he loved it.

He wants to go back to sleep. Wants to bask in the warmth Bucky offers and pretend they’re back in their tiny apartment in Brooklyn. Struggling to make ends meet and unplagued by the horrors of war. Hidden from the world behind wilting wallpaper, sharing sweet kisses and bruising grips.

But this isn’t 1939. Bucky doesn’t share his bed...or his affections.

He would give anything to go back. He’d give anything to have his alpha again.

“I didn’t know you still had panic attacks.”, of course, Bucky noticed he wasn’t asleep anymore.

Steve feels him shift away, the arm around his waist, already feather-light, hardly there.

The omega within him whines, not wanting him to pull away. No, he wants him to climb on top of him. To drop all of his weight onto Steve’s hopeless body, make him stay in place. Unable to move until Bucky tells him he can...

Steve clenches his eyes tightly, suppressing his every unrelenting instinct from manifesting into something that will only push Bucky further away. And he needs him. Steve needs him, even if it is killing him.

“Yeah, well, there’s a lot you don’t know about, Buck.”, the omega remarks, his back still firmly pressed to Bucky’s chest.

Bucky may be ready to move, but Steve certainly isn’t. It’s not like the Alpha will say anything. Steve is far from perfect, despite whatever bullshit the news wants to feed the public. Steve is flawed and can be as selfish as anyone else. There are times where he permits his gaze to linger longer than it should, hands lazily pulling back when they should’ve never left his side, to begin with, or say Buckys name in the dead of night, surrounded by nothing but darkness and the sticky evidence of his spent weaknesses.

In private or in front of the alpha, Steve has toed the line of what is appropriate between friends and behavior shared between lovers.

Bucky has never reacted to any of it. Robotic and perfect all at once. His responses are exactly what they’re supposed to be, feeling false all the same.

Never contesting. Never reacting. As if Steve doesn’t ache for him.

It’s then that the confusion begins to twist at the recess of the omega’s mind.

“Why are you in my bed, Buck?” And how can I keep you here?

There’s a beat of silence, Bucky’s breath even beside Steve’s ear. It almost feels rehearsed, as if Bucky is concentrating on his breathing. Steve shakes the thought away before he can fool himself for the millionth time something is there that has proven again and again to be long ago dead.

“I was worried about you,” Bucky eventually admits, the arm just barely resting on Steve’s hip returning to its previous pressure, fingers hot and electrifying as they accidentally meet bare flesh peeking beneath Steve’s sleep shirt.

Sleep shirt?

“Did you change my clothes?” Steve says without thinking, saying anything to stop himself from moaning. He can’t remember the last time Buckys hands were this close to his body without explosions and frantic shouts playing in the background.

He turns his neck enough to meet Bucky’s clouded grey gaze.

A gasp falls from his lips instinctively, his own eyes widening on their own accord, taking in the receding blood red only just beginning to fade from the alpha’s eyes.

Just like that, Bucky is removing his arm entirely, releasing the Omega and taking all of that delicious warmth with him.

Bucky stays on the bed, though. His back resting against the headboard.

Steve just narrowly stops himself from shouting, ‘No! Stay, please!’, his heart pounding in his ears and his hands burning with the desire to reach out and drag the other man in.

Instead, he swallows his cries and urges his weary muscles into a sitting position, facing away from the former assassin.

While Steve was changed into something more comfortable than his uniform, the omega notices Bucky remains in his clunky tactical gear, down to his boots.

He had no intention of staying, Rogers. Take deep breaths, and give him an out.

He just needs to go.

The blonde is good at pretending. Well, most days anyway, he can fake a smile when the world is falling apart; he can pretend to be happy. But what he can’t seem to do anymore is pretend that he isn’t painfully in love with the man currently sitting on his bed, not a single reminisce of what they once were hanging between them.

He can’t manage a smile or a whisper of optimism when everything good has been taken from him. He knows what’s expected of him, but there are days when the sorrow is crippling, and he feels weaker than he ever did as that little guy from Brooklyn.

Clearly, no more talking is going to happen. And Steve isn’t emotionally stable enough right now to act as if he doesn’t want the alpha to bathe him in his scent, forcing the lingering panic, unwell, lonely away.

He moves to stand when,

“Rest.”

The order is sharp and certainly unintentional.

The shiver that races down Steve’s spine is violent, and his body locks up, ready to obey.

Turning his neck again, Steve catches the profile of the alphas annoyingly handsome face. His eyes are closed, brow pinched in concentration.

Steve stands slowly, hands shaking. It’s sickening how dreadfully good that single word made him feel. Floaty and sated. His blood, always raging, rushing, and crying out, settles within him, preparing to be taken care of.

The logical part of him reminds the omega they’ve been here before. Bucky will do something so woefully familiar, he dilutes himself into thinking he’s still wanted.

It’s never the case.

Steve keeps the hope from his tone when he challenges, “Excuse me?” Waiting for another command with bated breath.

“You should probably rest, Cap,” Bucky folds his arms across his broad chest, still ignoring Steve’s previous question as well as his gaze.

Forcing a smirk that makes him want to throw up, Steve teases, “Are you avoiding my question, Sargent?”

“Steve,” Bucky objects, voice chastizing.

Something uneasy burrows into Steve’s stomach, his body rejecting the discontent emanating off Bucky's skin.

He shrugs away the urge to whine, instead offering an ingenuine chuckle, “Jeez, I’m fine. Why so serious, Buck?”

Bucky stands, eyes hard, glaring right into Steve’s soul. The blonde sucks in a harsh breath, his fingers tingling and breath shallow.

Bucky’s eyes are red.

“Why so serious? “ The alpha growls, not moving from his spot beside Steve’s bed. The distance separating them not making sense in contrast to the intimate edge heavy in the air. It would be comical if not for the current sparking the negative space.

“We’re just gonna pretend like I didn’t find you seconds from passing out less than an hour ago? Is that something casual, am I supposed to just ignore it?”

Steve’s plastic smile fades, a tired expression painting his sharp features, “Yes. That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.” He sighs, scrubbing his face in frustration, “Ignore it. Like you ignore everything else, Bucky...Just go.”

“What’s tha ‘posed to mean?”

“It means I’m sorry you had to see that, but you don’t have to worry about it.”

“See what? You being irresponsible?”

The thin scrap of patience the omega has evaporates; actually, it burns the fuck up, raging as loud as Steve’s fury, “Irresponsible!?”

The anger shoots through Steve like a wildfire, his temperature rising and his hands balling into fists. If the Alpha didn’t know any better, he’d think Steve was going to punch him.

Even so, he doesn’t back down. Instead, he takes a single step towards the blonde, body tight and rigid. Voice booming when he sneers, “Yes, goddamn it! Irresponsible.”

“Fuck you, Bucky!” Steve shouts, “Who the hell are you to lecture me on being irresponsible?”

“I’m your… I’m your second in command, and if you were struggling with PTSD, you should have told me something! Instead of me following you to your rooms and basically threatening Jarvis into letting me in. You were pale, Steve. Snow White ain’t got shit on how you looked- you were nearly blue! And I’m sorry for stepping in. We can blame it on your biology, but you finally managed to relax when my alpha came forward. It’s irresponsible to let yourself get to that point when you could have come to me- or, or anyone in the avengers for help.”

“You’re sorry,” Steve scoffs, “ You’re sorry you had to help me.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Oh, but it’s what you said, isn’t it?” The Omega is nearly in hysterics. Half sad laughs, the only thing keeping him from crying.

“Steve...”

Buckys voice is now soaked in concern, the anger lost behind wisps of worried seeping from his concealed scent. Which serves only to break Steve further.

“Stevie.” Bucky repeats, wondering if Steve was spiraling into another panic attack.

He is only two steps away from him in a second, twitching, never touching but always close.

Steve feels another shock rack his entire body. His name falling from Bucky’s lips so effortlessly. The authority he holds swallowing every syllable. The sheer force of it nearly brings the omega to his knees.

Steve's heart pounds against his chest, like his heart is trying to escape. Running both hands across his face, then over tufts of blonde hair, his hands meeting behind his neck craned up towards the sky. Praying to anyone up there with mercy that Bucky will just leave. He keeps his arms where they arm before he can do something stupid like reach out.

“Bucky, why are you so concerned about it?” Steve’s eyes are still trained to the ceiling.

Steve knows he’s playing with fire. Playing with his own emotions, but sometimes he can swear he lives for it.

Bucky hesitates, watching Steve with careful eyes. “Because…You are our Captain and my best friend. If you need help, I am going to help you.”

The finality in his tone almost sounds like an alpha command, but his words contradict any sense of attraction or desire.

Another huff, gaze and arms dropping, “I’ll be fine once you leave.” Steve counters, harsher than he intended.

But fuck if he cares. Bucky doesn’t want him. He deserves to be a little angry. If he can’t grieve him, he can at least have this!

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing!” He snaps, “Just leave, James.”

“James? Oh, I’m James now?”

Steve could care less if he’s hurt his feelings. He’s had enough. His heart hurts, and his head aches. He is done playing this ‘I’m okay with everything’ game.

He is not okay with this, Dammit!

His heart is broken. Shattered. Irreplaceable. And he’s just supposed to be okay with that? He’s supposed to be Bucky’s friend and make jokes and smile when he is dying inside? Crying for his alpha- for stability when he feels like his whole world has been rocked?

Well, he’s had enough. He’s behaved for 2 years. He’s done!

Clenching blue eyes shut, Steve feels every carefully constructed wall of deception crumple at their feet.

“I don’t have time for this. Just leave so that I can breathe! I can’t breathe with you here!”

“Stevie…”

“Please,” the omega whimpers, all the fight leaving his body, long pale fingers running through sleep tousled hair, pulling at the roots, “Just stop.”

“Stop what? I can’t stop doing something if I don’t know what it is I’m doing!”

It’s Bucky’s turn to be panicked. In two strides, he’s in front of Steve, feeling the alarm creep up his chest, a flash of something sharpening eerie grey.

“Steve! Answer m-” Bucky lifts his hands as if to reach out for the other man but catches himself before metal could find flesh, “Will you tell me what I am doing wrong?”

Steve wants to cry and scream and rip that stupid mental arm out of its socket just so he can slap Bucky with it.

“Stop!” He repeats desperately, “Just stop! Stop saying my name! Stop talking to me like-like…”

“Like what!?”

Taking a calming breath, Steve forces himself to meet the alpha’s eyes, “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to give you orders and never receive a protest in return?”

There’s a beat of silence accompanied by a blank expression. Steves heart shouting in his chest.

“...What?”

Steve continues, “Telling you what to do and how to do it. At least before you would fight me, yell at me. Make it easier to breathe.”

“Steve, what the fuck are you talkin’ about? You’re my boss. I’m s’posed ta take orders from ya.” Steve just about weeps when the Brooklyn accent begins to peek through, just as it usually does when Bucky is confused.

“Well, I’m not just your boss!”, Steve hears himself say, “I’m not just your boss. I’m also an omega. And I want you to tell me what to do. Your voice is like it’s permanently in alpha command, and I want you to fucking command me! Because I’m not just your boss. I’m not just an omega. I’m your fucking omega! And I can’t stand you saying my name like your seconds away from telling me to get down on my knees because you never do! And it isn’t your fault! It’s not! You don’t want me anymore, and that’s fine, but my omega hasn’t forgotten, and my heart won’t forgive you for not loving me anymore. So stop. Stop saying my name like you still want me. Because every time you do, for precisely one second, I feel like you’ve come back to me, but you haven’t- you won’t! And it’s killing me, Buck.”

Steve’s eyes are misted with tears, his chest heaving and skin flushed with embarrassment and shame, “Please… Just don’t say my name, or I’m just gonna break.”

The words pour from his lips, and he wants to disappear. He wishes the ground would just swallow him whole and save him from Bucky’s response.

Steve trembles beneath stormy grey, choosing instead to watch the ground. His omega whining and clawing at the back of his mind.

“I can’t do this anymore, Bucky.” He murmurs, waiting for the outrage or worse; the indifference-the clunk of footsteps walking away from the mess he’s made. The life they had. The man he no longer loves.

Steve hasn’t found his eyes again. Won’t move his head. He doesn’t care how submissive it makes him look because he’s spent most of his life searching for steel grey eyes in crowds and across rooms. Seeking them out in the dark, the only beacon of light he would see most days. And now… Now those eyes that kept him so safe when the world was crumbling around them made him feel like winter on a summer day, cold and alone, only seconds from melting into nothing.

He’s not sure how much time passes without a word between them. He waits another moment before surrendering a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, shaking his head and turning to leave.

He didn’t know where he was going, but he couldn’t stay here.

Like lightning, Bucky’s right hand snaps forward, catching the omega’s wrist before he can make it far, and just like electricity, a jolt of fire scorches where their skin meets.

As one would an old friend, Steve invites the sensation to consume him, feeling every nerve respond to Bucky, it’s like he was brought back to life, and he wants nothing more than to cry because he knows it won’t last. He knows as soon as the alpha lets go, he’ll return to reality as only half a man. Something-someone always missing from him.

“Steve.”, his breath hitches, and his hands shake. A whisper of a scent he’s all but forgotten seeps into the room, but it’s gone before Steve can determine if it’s only a memory.

Steve’s name rolls off of Bucky’s tongue too easily. Too pretty. Too dark. Too much!

Jesus!

Hadn’t he been clear enough the first fucking time? How else exactly was he supposed to phrase it; ‘Don’t say my name, or I’ll break from how horny it makes me?’

“Steve,” The alpha repeats.

Steve feels another pang of electricity shoot to his fingertips, itching with the need to just touch, “Bucky, I think you should leave.”

He doesn’t want him to. But when was the last time Steve got what he wanted.

“Now,” He adds after another second passes. Bucky's feet were firmly placed on the ground, not a single muscle prepared to even twitch.

The room is blanketed in heavy silence before, “No.”

Steve feels as if the wind has been knocked out of him. His lips part in surprise, brow furrowed as his heart begins to pick up the pace.

“Excuse me?”

“I hate that I can’t scent you,” The alpha announces, talking slow, calculated steps forward, eradicating any space brave enough to separate them,

“I hate that I can’t tell where you are during missions.” Suddenly Bucky’s grip loosens, yet it doesn’t move far. He runs his hand up Steve’s forearm, fingertips dragging across perfect porcelain skin, not stopping until the palm of his flesh hand rests on Steve’s neck.

“I picture what it would feel like to sink my teeth into your neck and keep you there, with my fangs in your flesh, drawing blood from your skin and moans from your lips. I dream of you whimpering, “ He whispers harshly, eyes trained to Steve’s neck.

The omega’s eyes flutter closed, lips trembling around the alpha’s name, “Bucky,”

Ignoring the blonde, the other man continues, not quite done yet, “I defend those thoughts by saying to myself, it’s all so that I can feel you. So I can feel where you are when we’re in the field. So I won’t worry as much, won’t get distracted. But I know it’s just half of it. I know I want to tell you to take those damn blockers off. To wash it away, or let me lick it away with my tongue-whichever came first.”

“I hate that I want to fall asleep with you curled above my chest because you’ll be warmer that way. And for whatever reason, I remember you always being cold before bed. I want to demand you buckle up and wear extra layers. I want you to fight me a little. I want you to tell me to shut up but get all soft when I give you a hard look. Like, you are now, with my chest touching yours, hands at your neck and waist. Your heart stuttering against me. I want you to tease me because you want me to get annoyed so that I tell you to shut your mouth and put it to good use. I hate that I want to do all these things, but I can’t. Because you don’t want me to...”

Blue pop open, held hostage by grey. Bucky is everywhere. His face is so close Steve can feel every breath the alpha takes fan over his eyelashes. His eyes tracking over the curve of pink lips and soft skin. Left arm curled around Steve’s waist, metal grip unmoving. His other hand still firmly placed over his scent gland, Bucky’s long fingers spread over the column of flesh, thumb running back and forth along the length of it, causing goosebumps to follow his trail of fire.

Steve moans at the sensation, baring his neck so Bucky has the access he would need. His legs nearly giving out beneath him, but the arm at his waist won’t let him fall.

“Are you telling me that you want me to?” Bucky presses. His voice is sharp and promising. The hand around Steve’s neck, a light pressure the omega finds himself pushing into.

“Steve! Look at me. Look at me, omega.”

The blonde hadn’t noticed his eyes fluttering shut again, the sensation of being held, of having so much alpha- his alpha right there in front of him. Soaking him in his scent. Not a true claim or even a scent mark, but this is more than he ever thought he would ever get again.

Bucky’s words have barely registered for the omega; he lost the ability to comprehend English the instant Buckys hands found his body. But he reacts to the order, all the same, seeing the steely, beautiful grey (beginning to tint red again) he has known since he was a boy.

Slowly, so slowly, Steve begins to piece together the things Bucky has confessed, his eyes once more welling with tears.

Patiently, Bucky waits for the understanding to reflect in sapphire eyes, speaking only when he knows the omega can now retain information.

“Are you telling me you want me to touch you, Stevie?” Bucky murmurs, staring at Steve’s bottom lip.

“Yes,” He breathes, just barely audible without an ounce of hesitation.

The next thing Steve knew, Bucky had him against a wall. His nose buried in his neck and his hands rounding his ass, using his shoulders to pin Steve to the wall and lift his legs until the omega joined the program and wrapped his legs around Bucky’s waist. Bucky’s hardening cock pushing into his hip.

“Oh shit, Buck!”

“ I have to say your name,” Bucky growls, grinding into his omega.

“As much as I can, even if it doesn’t work in the conversation, because it’s the closest I can get you in my mouth. It tastes like heaven, and memories I can’t decipher are real or just fantasy they- Oh, fuck baby. Yeah, Stevie- They don’t compare to this- Keep moving, just like that, babydoll.”

Steve ruts against Buckys friction, his eyes closed tightly, whatever was left of their blockers bleeding out, replacing the neutral aroma in the room with their combined scents, desperation, and slick.

“God, Bucky. I missed you so much. I’ve been so alone.”

Buckys mouth finds Steve’s trembling lips, nothing subtle or slow about his movements. The alpha’s tongue swallows the moans tumbling past Steve’s lips. Hands gripping his waist tighter.

The sun bursts behind their eyes. Blood rushing and hearts bumping to twice their regular speed. For different people, people who aren’t Steve and Bucky, a first kiss after so long should probably be slow and tentative, something soft and building. But they aren’t different people. They are too broken and too powerful and undeniably deserving people who have had nothing to count on besides one another their entire conscious lives. To entertain even a second of not indulging in hard, fast, desperate supersedes unthinkable and settles somewhere over cruel.

“Never again, Stevie. I ain’t leaving you alone” another thrust, “Ever, “ another bruising kiss, “Again.”

Bucky’s cock strains against his uniform, desperate for Steve’s hole. Steve is a withering whimpering mess, drunk on Buckys scent and high on all the delicious friction causing his weeping cunt to flutter, uncomfortably empty.

After several more minutes of making out, Bucky moves them back to the bed, lying Steve out on the mattress. He only has a fraction of a second to admire the work of art that is Steve Rogers sprawled out and waiting to be fucked when Steve’s hands are at his neck, pulling him back in.

His lips move against the alpha’s sloppily, sucking on his bottom lip until the ex-assassin growls impatiently, searching for his mate’s tongue. His mate…

His mate. Steve thinks he may cry as the sheer relief almost painfully washes over him. All of the uncertainty and shame of being unwanted melts away, and all that surrounds him is the vibrating want, mine, love, love, love from the man above him, trailing scorching hot kisses down his neck.

“I wanna be ‘side you, baby. Please, Steve. Let me, ugh, please, babydoll. Can I-”

“Yes!” steve interrupts, “Yes, Alpha, you never have to ask! I’ll do whatever you ask, oh just touch me, Bucky, alpha, my alpha, touch me-”

“Shh, “ Bucky chuckles, stopping the omega’s rambling. He runs his flesh hand through disheveled blonde hair, dragging his nails through Steve’s scalp and marveling at the hiss the omega releases, “I’ve got you, Stevie. All I needed was a lil consent, then all bets are off, aren’t they? ‘Cause you’re mine now, aren’t you, baby?”

“Always have been, jerk. I never stopped.”

“Good. Now, stop touching me.”

With a whimper, Steve can’t stop his hands from frantically clawing every inch of Bucky he can access.

“Now, babydoll, don’t you wanna be good for me?”

Still clutching one hand around Bucky's thick, muscular biceps, the other pulling at the strands of dark brown hair helplessly, “I can be good,” the omega babbles, “I’ll be good, Alpha. So good, I can be good, so so good. Please-”

“ Then listen to what I am telling you. I won’t repeat myself again, Steve. It’s my turn now. I wanna get my mouth on you, and I can’t do that if you keep pullin’ me back up to kiss. So stop touching.”

The moan that stutters past Steve’s lips would be embarrassing if not for how fucking fantastic it feels for Bucky’s alpha command to slam into him. Paralyzing him in place. Hands falling unceremoniously at his sides.

Crystal blues brimming with tears, he feels safe for the first time since coming out of the ice- he feels familiar. Not somewhere foreign with no understanding of anything besides, fight this, kill that. This is different. This is them. This is intimacy- their intimacy.

There’s trust swimming within the negative spaces Bucky extends, and he knows, to his core, he can let go. Steve surrenders all his false smiles and exhausting positivity. This is home. Bucky is home. He doesn’t have to put up a front because his alpha has it handled.

Steve isn’t Captain America or some beacon of hope. He’s just Steve, Stevie. Bucky's Omega.

He’s unsure how much time passes or where it went, to begin with, but his body sinks deeper into his mattress, feeling entirely boneless.

“You okay, baby?” Bucky’s husky voice breaks through the fog, “I lost you for a second there.”

Steve feels himself come back, callused hands running through damp blonde hair.

“Mmm,” he hums.

“You spaced a little, Stevie. You’re so beautiful when you get all soft for me. But you’re back now, aren’t you? Look at you. So perfect. Pretty, perfect omega-mine. Kept your hands at your side the whole time too. Such a good boy. You’re gonna keep your hands right where they are, Stevie. Don’t you move a fucking inch. I’m going to lick you open now, babydoll. And you’re gonna come on my tongue as many times as I want you to. Because I’ve gone 70 years without you, and I’m goddamned starved” Bucky’s voice goes from soft praise to near feral growls. His voice sending nothing but jolts of electricity down Steve’s spine, another wave of slick slipping down his thighs.

Before the ‘please’ has the opportunity to touch Steve's mouth, Bucky's hot, slick tongue finds his pulse point, just mere inches from his mating gland.

“Bucky!”

“I want this off!”, The ex-assassin grunts, in one swift move yanking the crisp white shirt from Steve's chest.

“Oh!”

Bucky backs up to lean on his knees, eyes tracking over pinkening skin. Steve’s own gaze glides over now exposed skin. Steve tries to finger out when he removed his clothes but falls short.

After so long without Buckys tenderly harsh commands, falling into space came a little easier than he would have thought. Overwhelmed by the unanticipated satisfaction.

“Open your eyes.”

When had Steve closed his eyes again?

“There you are, dolly. Keep those pretty eyes on me, okay? Always on me, baby.”

Rough, mouthwateringly calloused hands find the waistband of Steve’s pants and yank down in one fluid motion.

The blonde hisses for a moment at the sudden cold air biting his skin, but it only lasts a moment before he’s screaming.

“Fuck!” Steve throws his head back in favor of making sounds even a prostitute would blush at.

One moment Bucky’s on his knees, eyes predatory and sinful, calculating all the things he could do to the man shivering beneath his gaze, the next finds him throat deep, swallowing down Steve’s sweet omega cock, slurping up his precum and getting high off the scent of slick so close to his nose.

Steve can’t breathe.

God! It’s too much. It’s so good. It’s too good!

Steve can feel the familiar pull of an orgasm tugging inside of him. The corners of his closed vision whitening out around the black, lacking the energy to even feel embarrassed by how quickly he’s reached his pinnacle.

Pulling off agonizingly slow, Bucky lets his tongue harshly lick along Steve’s little shaft and twirl over his tip, remembering- fucking remembering! All the sounds and glazed looks elicited from the man below him in the past.

Grey eyes flick up hungrily, ravenous for a look into perfect crystal eyes; he can remember the glazed debauched expression that could devour Steve’s pupils, but it’s not enough!

He wants the real thing.

He wants something tangible and alive in his hands he can never again confuse with desire. Something he’s sure happened, a gift Steve is willingly offering instead of a snarled half-memory he can’t allow himself to believe.

“I-ugh! I’m gonna-“Steve stutters, toes curling and knees bending, framing Bucky's face between his thighs. His hands twitch beside him, but he doesn’t dare move them.

“Oh!”

It should have been a cry of ecstasy.

Should have been the Yellow River Flood; relentless and relieving. No survivors.

Instead, Steve is left with his chest heaving violently. Gasping for air just as he did when he was small.

The omega hears Bucky tutting before he manages to pry his eyes open. Immediately recognizing his mistake before the words fall from cum slick lips.

“Oh, baby. You were doing so good.”

“Nno! Buck, please!”

“Shhh, What did I say, dolly?” Bucky replaces his mouth with one strong hand, lazily jerking at Steve’s straining cock.

He’s smirking when Steve hisses beneath him and hums in approval when his hands stay at his sides.

“F-Faster! Please, Buck! Goddamn it, stop teasing’ me.”

“What did I say, Stevie?” Bucky repeats sharply. His movements slowing further.

Steve’s omega cries.

“You wanna cum, baby doll? “

“Yes!”

“Then what do you have to do?“

Steve’s mind has gone to mush. He thrusts his hips up, chasing after Bucky's friction. Hands struggling against the bedsheets.

“Still, omega!”

Bucky's voice is rough as sandpaper, sounding as on edge as Steve feels. A firm metal hand presses into the omega’s hip holding him in place.

“Be good, Stevie.” The alpha asserts firmly, scent growing muskier with every heavenly noise gasped and groaned from Steve’s sinful lips.

“If you wanna cum, what is it you have to do?”

Bucky rubs a metal thumb soothingly over a sinfully sharp hip bone before trailing his fingers over Steve’s quivering thigh.

Grey eyes nearly roll into the back of his head, “Fuck, baby, you’re so soft. C’mon, don’t you want me to touch you?”

“Yes! Please, fuckin touch me, you jerk!”

Chuckling darkly to himself, Bucky watches Steve with bated breath, and all at once, he feels like his mind had never left. Like an addict, he was never over his addiction; he just forgot how good it was. And like the degenerate addict he apparently was, he sucks in deep breaths, sucking in as much of Steve’s aroused scent that his lungs can handle.

All it took was one hit of Steve- his omega- and he had fallen into himself, more of who he was than any memory had offered.

Steve is his clarity and his habit. The one thing that will always bring him back because Steve is home.

And he’s gonna make him feel good. He’s gonna make up for all he put his omega through, and he’s gonna enjoy every second of it.

Every moan, every shiver, every cry. He’s gonna hold him and bruise him because Steve is his, and that’s how the omega likes it. Bucky’s omega. Bucky's Sweetheart. Bucky’s mate.

The ex-assassin lets his fingers trail lower, his other hand still just barely moving over Steve’s pulsing cock.

The first touch of cool metal meeting Steve’s hole causes the blonde to nearly jump off the bed.

“Buck!”

Steve thinks he’s gonna die.

He feels every cell in his body vibrating with a hot, hopeless sensation. Slick pours out of him the second Bucky’s teasing, perfect, godforsaken pinky circles Steve’s core. His lungs and eyes are burning, nearly out of breath, and only capable of volunteering a broken sob when that fucking pinky just barely pushes in.

“Please,” he whispers jaggedly.

He’ll be good for bucky. He’ll keep his hands at his side. He’ll do what he says even without the command, the fogginess of his brain settling deep enough that any request will register as a command anyway.

That’s just how Steve is wired.

Designed to submit to Buck’s direction.

He knows what Bucky wants, but to physically pry his eyes open at that moment was easier said than done. He struggled to determine whether or not he’s trying to starve off a quickly approaching orgasm or trying to chase one.

Whatever the answer, Bucky doesn’t let him reach it.

The alpha’s dark, whiskey voice sounds as wrecked as Steve feels.

“What. Do. I. Want?” Bucky growls impatiently. Another wave of slick dribbles from the omega wetting the sheets beneath them.

Think, steve! Give alpha what he wants! You can be good. I can be good…. What does he want again?

“My…ugh! M-My eyes.”

Finally, fucking finally, Bucky pushes a finger into Steve’s hole. Fast and absolutely delicious.

Just when he thought Bucky would stop playing games, he realizes the ringing in his ears is replaced by the alpha tutting above him.

“Very close, baby, but not quite.”, Buckys finger starts to draw out slowly; what little fullness Steve has is threatened, and the distressed mewl Steve makes in protest causes the alpha to chuckle darkly.

“P-pretty! Keep my pretty eyes on you! Only on you!” his eyes snap open frenzied, finding a swirl of grey and red zeroed in on him.

In a millisecond, Steve has two metal fingers thrusting into his hole. His back arches on the mattress, fingers nearly numb as they grip the sheets tighter, but his eyes don’t close again.

“That’s right, baby. Only on me.”

“Oh! Yes!”

“Fuck! You’re so tight, Stevie.”, Bucky groans, lowering himself as to mouth along Steve’s jaw, nipping his skin between tentative licks.

“Pl-Ease! Oh, yes... Please, Buck.”

“Please what, Stevie? Use your words.”

Steve’s mind is a simple stream of 3 thoughts, Touch me. Fuck me. Love me!; all of which he can only vocalize as, “Oh please, please. Bucky!”

Working a third finger along with the other two, Bucky hisses with Steve at the stretch his hole gives.

So fucking tight, the alpha thinks to himself, I don’t know how I’ll survive it, but I’m gonna fuck this omega so gooood.

“Words, Steve. Or I’ll start thinking you don’t want me t’touch ya at’all. Huh, maybe I should stop...”

“No! God, Buck, don’t stop, don’t ever stop!”

“Then tell me what you want. What a’you begging for, Doll?” Bucky trails the tips of his fingers over Steve’s ribs, rounding at his back, “is it my fingers? Sliding through all your slick? Or is it my mouth?”

“Yes!”

Bucky chuckles,” That’s not really an answer, Stevie.” His voice gets darker each time he says the omegas name like he knows. Actually, the bastard does know! He knows exactly what he’s doing.

The prospect of teasing seems to pull him just the tiniest bit to the side of coherent, a snarky remark falling from his lips as easily as the desperate pleas had moments before.

“You havin’ fun, Buck?” Steve pants, “Seems like you’re having a little too much fun.”

“Aw no, baby. I’m having the exact right amount of fun. Aren’t we?”

“ ‘We’ are a lotta peop-le!! Oh shit!” pushing his fingers in deeper, Bucky just brushes against Steve’s prostate. A sinister and smug smile curling his lips upward.

“Words, Stevie. Tell me what you want. And I’ll give it to you, omegamine. Just tell me.”

Steve’s chest flushes more as the words tingle on his tongue. Bucky's nearly feral tone betrays his suave and calm demeanor.

He’s just as desperate to be buried deep in Steve’s hole as Steve is to have him there.

Bucky’s fingers push more firmly against Steve’s prostate, and the omega nearly sees stars.

“Sing for me” Almost like an echo, Steve hears Buckys words like gospel.

It’s a command he’s most familiar with. He knows just what ‘ song’ Bucky wants ….

“Daddy!” Steve hisses around a fourth finger. The words punching out of him before he could stop them.

“ I wondered if that was just fantasy,” the alpha mumbles. Eyes darkening a rich crimson. An ever-present growl rumbling in his chest.

Bucky leans over, letting his fingers get even deeper, dragging against Steve’s special spot with every new thrust. With red eyes and diminishing control, the alpha drinks in every pant and whine that drips past kiss-bruised lips and bouncing off the walls of Steve’s room.

Bucky drops his nose into Steve’s scent gland, swiping his tongue over the swelling tissue for a better taste.

“You smell so fucking good, baby. Like mate.”

“Buck…” Steve gasps, feeling overwhelmed. Any moans he could possibly wish to suppress are yanked from his chest with every move the alpha makes. Sounds too rowdy even for porn echoing in his small dark room.

Bucky can’t get enough of it, stuttering an accidental thrust into Steve’s hip when the omega whines in a delightfully sweet way, the scent of slick and alluring sounds steve makes nearly choking him.

Fuck, I hope Tony has these rooms soundproofed. Steve uses his last brain cell to think.

Bucky's metal fingers continue to work him open, preparing him for his big alpha cock fast and rough and exactly how he likes it, but his other hand still moves sluggishly over Steve’s, slowly purpling prick. Tightening and stopping entirely every so often as to starve off Steve’s orgasm.

“Bucky, please!”

Fuck, Bucky thinks, I hope everybody can hear him, fuckin; hear us,

The blonde knows all he has to do is tell Bucky ‘Fuck me’ maybe add on ‘Daddy’ to further wreck him like it did back in the days if he even still likes that. But as much as Steve likes Bucky telling him what to do, he loves to defy him into aggression, twice as much.

“Say it again,” Bucky mumbles against the omegas scent gland, unable to move a millimeter.

The laugh that tumbles past Steve’s lips is quickly swallowed by Buckys tongue shoved down his throat. Pearly white teeth pulling back only to stress a bite on his bottom lip, not stopping until a faint taste of metal joins the deliriously delicious taste of Buckys omega.

“Again, omega. Say it again.”

With another brush against his prostate, Stev’s vision begins to blur, but he won’t close his eyes, no matter how much he wants them to,

“Alpha!”

Steve is a debauched disaster. A puddle of liquid fire and Bucky wanted to fucking burn.

“You know that’s not what I want to hear, babydoll. But I’m feeling generous, so let’s make a deal, yeah? You say what I want, and I’ll tell my precious boy how good he is. How good you feel around my fingers swallowin’ my fingers so fuckin’ good. And I’ll say your name as much as you want. That’s what you were beggin’ for, wasn’t it?” Bucky rambles, fingers pumping quicker into Steve, hand starving off the omegas dick, tugging over the length with dangerous precision.

“You want me to say your name, dontcha dolly? Tell you you’re being good. Everything Daddy needs. My good, beautiful Stevie.”

Buckys cock presses into the mattress, the slightest friction sending magic to tingle over his skin. His knot calls out for Steve’s sopping wet pussy, fluttering around his fingers. The sensation alone is a mutual torture all on its own.

It would be so fucking easy to slide home into Steve’s awaiting heat. So fucking easy!

Not yet, he reminds himself.

No, he wants something first, and he’s gonna get it.

Outside of the bedroom, the thought of ever using his alpha tone with Steve is unthinkable. There isn’t a scenario out there that could justify taking away his omegas free will.

But here-like this. Sweaty and drooling and filthy, reeking of mate and sex, the tone combines with his voice as if that’s the only way there is to speak.

“Say it again, Steve. Now!”

“Daddy! Daddy, fuck me! Please,pleasepleaseplease”

Gently, the alpha removed his fingers. Steve’s mouth opens to cry, but before he can focus too much on the dreadful emptiness, Bucly is buried to the hilt in Steve’s ass.

“Ah!” Steve shouts, throwing his head back and moving his hands to grip at Bucky’s shoulders for the first time since being told not to move them an inch.

He quickly realizes his mistake, and in a fearful attempt to keep Bucky inside of him, confident he wouldn’t survive another moment of his teasing, his alpha’s voice rumbles past the panic.

“Touch me. Wherever you want, Stevie.”

The sigh of relief is an afterthought, long nimble finger trail over both metal and flesh shoulders, a satisfying wave pushing into the realm of too damn good. Being allowed to touch after being denied was always such an experience. Reverse touch starved. Bucky has the go-ahead to do with him as he wishes. Meanwhile, every instinct within the omega seeks Bucky out. His skin, his mouth, his scent. He wants to feel his alpha under his fingers as much as he wants to bounce on Buckys, but he can’t. He has to lay there and fight against the urge to suck hickeys onto every surface of skin he can find.

Pulling on stands of dark chestnut-colored hair, Steve tries to adjust to the girth inside of him.

“Move.”, the omega whispers harshly after a few moments.

Bucky doesn’t need much prompting; he knows Steve can take it, and more than that, any remaining sting that prepping might have missed, Steve fucking aches for.

“As you wish.”

It’s like a dam break. A flood, unforgiving, and exactly what they each fuckin need!

Bucky's shallow, calculated thrusts soon quicken, taking on a brutal pace.

He slams his cock home and grinds deep before pulling nearly entirely out and slamming back in. Again and again and again. Returning quicker every time he finds himself back inside Steve’s velvet-soft heat.

Words are lost on the omega, choosing to indulge rather on feral groans and guttural whines, meeting every thrust and dragging sharp nails across Bucky's shoulders.

It’s all so much. Like a storm, heavy and pounding in their ears. And it all makes so much sense.

They’re a natural disaster. Bucky kisses like a hurricane, all lips, tongue, and teeth. Steve moves and squeezes his walls around Bucky's cock, no rhyme or reason to his actions, just passion, just I have to have this.

Kisses pouring down upon kisses like rain, soaking them in love, and Steve nearly cries.

He never thought he’d have this again.

The ex-assassin is a bit more vocal.

He can feel his release creeping up, desire warm and urgent low in his belly. But cumming before Steve is absolutely not an option. Half the fun was watching the poster child for purity throw his head back in ecstasy, beggin for ruin with Buckys name on his lips. And he’d be damned if he's gonna miss it in the cloud of his own pleasure.

“D-Deeper!” Steve whimpers, pulling Bucky closer by the nape of his neck.

The hand that had been knotted in Steve’s own hair follows suit of the palm firmly placed over one sharp hip bone.

Gripping him with enough pressure to bruise, Bucky bends over Steve’s lithe build and takes hold of one muscular thigh, nearly folding the blonde in half as he settles Steve’s leg over his flesh shoulder.

“Fuck!” Steve cries, Bucky's cock sliding that much deeper, hitting his prostate with nearly every thrust.

Bucky groans at the new position, one large hand kneading and pulling at Steve's ass, tugging him back with the snap of his hips. His other hand runs over the omegas sweaty, slick body, sliding a finger over a single hard nipple before securing his fingers around Steve’s neck. Palm pushing into his scent gland.

It is a little more than light pressure, but it gives its desired effect; Steve’s eyes go from unfocused and glassy to piercing. More black than blue, pupils blown, but Bucky still catches the glint of gold mingling about, exactly what he’d been waiting for.

There you are, omegamine, he thinks.

“Ugh, yes, fuck! You like that, don’t you. Like me pushing you down. Like me pounding into your sweet pussy. But it’s not really yours is it, baby?”

“Gnnn”

“Answer me. Who’s pussy is this, Steve?”

“Y-yours, Daddy. I’m yours.”

“Mine.” The alpha growls, yet another wave of slick passing Steve’s thighs. “My omega. My good boy. Listened so good, doll.”

“Fuck, Buck. Alpha, my alpha. I missed you, I missed you so fuking much. I missed your big alpha cock. So good to me. I wanna be good, Daddy. Tell me how to be good.”

“You wanna be good?”

“Yes!”

“You’re already so good for me. Perfect omega. Pretty, perfect thing.”

“I can be-ugh yes!! I can...nnnn….be better.” The omega stutters between kisses, “Wanna be the best boy.”

“Yeah?”

“Please, Alpha. Knot me!”

“Okay, baby. Listen closely, hmm?”

“Keep still.” In two mostly smooth movements, Bucky is lying on his back, Steve’s lean frame now straddling the alpha, lifting him by the waist; Bucky sinks Steve further on his cock.

“Ride me.”

As if without his permission, Steve’s moving above the bigger man.

Thick thighs feel even wider between Steve’s slightly smaller ones. Bucky’s hands come to Steve’s waist, helping him grind down harder, deeper.

Steve can’t keep his gaze from trailing down to where they’re connected. His hole swallowing 6 to 7 inches of monster alpha cock, and he could just cry for how hot it is to see them connected like this.

I wanna be locked to you. I want your knot!

“Eyes, Stevie!” Bucky snarls with another hash snap of his hips, impaling Steve further and hitting his prostate. The omega falls over, making sure to lock blue with grey.

Abandoning their vice grip on the alphas thighs, Steve steadies himself with one hand over his lover's heart, fingertips brushing the mating gland by his neck as the other grips the headboard above the bed, wood splintering under every shock of pleasure jolting through Steve in response to each of Bucky's strident thrusts.

“Oh, oh! D-Daddy. I’m gonna, I’m gonna cum!”

“Now that I’ve got you back, we won’t be leaving this room for much, Stevie. I want you on your knees sucking my big alpha cock. Licking up the evidence of what you do to me. I’ll hold you by your neck and force-feed it to you just like you like it.”

“B-Buck-eyy!”

“Yeah, baby, say my name. You’re beautiful. Angelic. A work of. Fucking. Art.” He punctuates his words with a sharp jerking of Steve’s body above him. Pulling his center as close as he can get him, knot swelling mercilessly and snagging on Steve’s rim.

Steve feels pleasure like he’s never felt before. Words slurred and hardly coherent,

“‘Wan’ yur k’nnot!”

He sounds drunk.

Bucky loves it!

“Not until you cum, baby doll. You first, then Daddy. Good boys get their rewards, and this is-” using Steve as a ragdoll, Bucky manhandles him into circular motions, twisting and penetrating the omegas sweet spot with wild precision.

One hand (Steve couldn’t even tell you which, mind too fuzzy and too loaded with his quickly approaching orgasm) presses into the omegas gorgeous tits before sweeping down to tug on Steve’s crying cock, pre-cum dribbling from its bright red head.

Steve cums with a shout, back arching and eyes struggling to stay open, finally shut. His vision whites out with pleasure, but he can’t bring himself to remember anything outside of this bliss. No world lived outside of these walls. Just him, his alpha, and all the pleasure Bucky brings him.

“Ohhh, Allphaa,”

“Yours. Yes! Oh, you feel- God so fucking tight, Stevie. Look ‘atchyou. Milking my cock, pussy squeezing my knot, beggin for it. Daddy’s gonna give it to you.”

“Gimme,” he whispers weakly.

He doesn’t feel Bucky flip him over or the hands pushing both his legs over Bucky’s shoulders, but the moment Bucky starts pumping in and out again, his body jolts awake, and all Steve wants is to make his alpha cum.

“Daddy’s gonna cum right inside your tight, perfect pussy. Yeah, Stevie. ugh!”

“Wan’ be...hmm.”, he tries to form words, but they die on his tongue, not coming down fast enough to entertain even a murmur of conversation.

Another 30 seconds passing before he has enough brain cells to return his gaze to stormy grey.

As always, Bucky’s eyes are already on him.

“That's all you got, Daddy?” The blonde snarks between pants, another orgasm building in his belly, toes curling, and his half-soft prick smushed and pulsating against Bucky's abs.

Bucky laughs around a moan, pulling Steve into another kiss before giving one, two, three more thrusts, shouting out a string of praise as his knot pops inside of his omega.

Steve’s heavy punched out sigh joins the shuddered fluttering of his hole, another wave of release escaping him.

The room fills with pants and sloppy kisses. Each man nosing along their scent glands, finding where a bond mark would go and lapping over it lovingly.

In the 40s, hiding their love was a matter of survival, and a surrender of their need to properly mate. They didn’t have to hide here. They could love each other and bite each other someday. Unified in the one way they spent most of their lives thinking they’d never have.

They Lie there, tied together even after Bucky’s knot goes down. Thoughts of taking that step-marking each other, on the tip of both of their tongues.

They lie there, bathing in the calm after the storm.

Sometime afterward:

After another round and many minutes of lazily making out, the pair rest beside each other, touching the other man wherever he could reach, tracing nonsense patterns into heated flesh and feeling happier than either had in 70 years.

“What were you sayin’, y’know before we… Y’know”, Steve blushes as if he wasn’t just face down ass up drooling over Tony’s Egyptian cotton sheets.

“Before you started crying for my knot, and I fucked you 6 ways from Sunday?”

“You’re a fucking jerk!”

“Nah, I’m just fucking a jerk.”, The alpha smiles, joy like nothing he’s been able to remember trips over his heart.

“I’m serious, Buck. Before we...did it”

“Ha!”

A sharp smack falls onto Buckys bare chest, “Fine! Before you came like a geyser up my ass-”

“Steve!” Bucky barks a laugh, loving the pink blush dusting over Steve’s cheeks despite the faux aggravation he was attempting to express.

“Will ya quit interrupting me? You fucking alphas are so rude!”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry, Stevie. What were you saying?” Bucky concedes, the shit-eating grin doing nothing for the butterflies swarming the omega’s insides.

“You were saying that you couldn’t decipher real from what’s fake?”

Sighing, Bucky cards his fingers through Steve’s hair, not stopping, when the omega turns onto his stomach, exposing his back and facing the brunette. Bucky smiles down at the omega letting his hand slide down to his spine, tracing the smooth pale skin with the tip of his finger.

It’s freeing, liberating even, to let his hands and eyes roam wherever they want. After so many years of separation, then being reunited only to build unnecessary obstacles designed for the sole purpose of self-sabotaging, somehow they’ve found themselves again in the other man’s arms.

Bucky bends down to press a gentle kiss on Steve’s shoulder, loving the way the omega shivers beneath his lips.

I could just eat him alive…

“Buuuuck,” Steve shakes his head, smiling at the alpha underneath long lashes.

“Sorry, baby, you just look so sexy.”

“Oh, do I? Maybe it has a little to do with all the naked skin?”

Smiling goofily, Bucky allows his voice to get al sweet, “C’mere, smartass.”

Bucky pulls a yelping Steve into his lap, effectively laying the slender omega over his broad alpha chest.

The feeling is exhilarating. Bucky feels his stomach swoop and heart skip a beat, feeling more accomplished in this solitary moment entangled with Steve than in months of SHIELD work.

Steve grins despite himself. Settling against Bucky's chest, folding his hands in front of him and resting his chin onto his knuckles. Suddenly thrilled by the position.

He can stare into Bucky's eyes forever, and he has a sneaking suspicion the alpha won’t protest.

Cold metal fingers trail down Steve’s spine, eliciting a gentle quiver from the blonde man, shamelessly beaming beneath the attention.

“I remember how scared I would get in the winter.”

Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion, lying his head down onto his forearms and urging the larger man with his eyes to continue.

“I love that I can make you shiver now. But I think it would’ve just about wrecked me with worry back then.”

Bucky's flesh hand curls across Steve’s exposed waist, letting his heat seal into his fingers. His eyes close in relief. Like he’s remembered something… or rather; reminded himself of something.

“ I remember the worry best. The sleepless nights and evenings spent bent over pews, praying no one could hear your name falling from my lips because then they’d know… Know how much I wanted you. Wanted you to live. Wanted you to love me. Wanted you to be my omega. I remember going to work at the docks and feeling the bike rise in my throat as we talked about chasing tail when all that I fucking wanted was to make it through my shift and run my way home to you.”

Steve smiles fondly at Bucky. His head remains rested in the crook of his right elbow but reaches forward with his left to trail patterns on Bucky’s scent gland. Trailing back from his neck to his cheek, he will never understand how helpful he is just by existing.

“ I remember wanting you. I know there has never been a moment in which I existed, and I didn’t love you, even under hydra. Even when they told me- made me go after you. They had to wipe me twice before I stopped fighting… I should’ve kept fighting.”

“Buck-“ Steve’s tone is soft and reprimanding in the way only Steve Rogers could manage, but it’s not enough. The tears build behind grey and crimson. Shame burning him from the inside.

Bucky shakes his head, trying to shake away Steve’s tender touch.

Leaning forward, Steve ignores the alphas dismissal, warm petal-soft lips find Buckys, and he presses his weight deeper into his alpha.

“I’m here. With you. You stopped, Buck. You never, not for a second, stopped fighting! That wasn’t you.” Steve’s tone was loving and firm in the way only Steve Rogers could ever manage- or could ever feel for Bucky Barnes.

Bucky's eyes find crystal blue, and for a moment, he’s thrust back into his mind, his heart thrashing and growling, crying Not him! Not Steve. Stop! God damn it! You’re hurting him! We can’t hurt him!

For a moment, Steve’s sweet pink cheeks are bruised and bleeding, split by Russian metal and the free will Bucky was robbed of.

“Bucky!” Steve whispers harshly, just on the edge of frantic, “ C’mon, alpha. Don’t leave me alone again.”

“I’m here.”, Bucky chokes out, “ I’m here, baby. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

They hold each other for, neither of them speaking. Foreheads pressed together between grabby hands pushing firmly against heated flesh.

A reminder…

I’m alive. You’re okay. We’re together.

“ I remember those things; that panic of possibly losing you, very easily,” Bucky continues, “ And then… it started as flashes. Split seconds. But god, did I chase after them. It would be something minimal at first. You lying down on the bed or smiling at me over a sketchbook. But then they changed, and your head was thrown back, and the things you were drawing were us-naked. And I started hating myself because my fucking crush on you was filtering in on my memories of you, and it wasn’t fair. It felt real, but I knew it wasn’t or-“

“But they are real, Buck. We’ve always been us. This way! Laws be damned! We loved each other, and no one was gonna tell us we couldn’t have that!”

“It didn’t matter, though,” Bucky adds.

Steve shoots up off his chest, kneeling on the mattress, and as naked as the day he was born. More hurt than he thought he could ever be in his alphas arms, “ Of course it did. How could you say that? Wha-”

Bucky sits up quickly, reaching out, but Steve swiftly evades him, feeling colder than Brooklyn in February.

“Steve-“

“No! How could you say that? It matters! We matter. You matter. I fucking matter, Bucky! I lost you. You died! You fell off that train, and my alpha died!” he cries,

“I flew that plane into the ocean not because Captain America’s nobility prevails, I did it because l was grieving and life wasn’t worth living without you.”

“Steve-“

“No! Shut. Up.” Steve growls, but it sounds more like a whine.

“I died too, Buck. And woke up to a life I didn’t want either. Not just like you. I know what you went through was unthinkably cruel. But living without you was a prison sentence. And I had no choice but to wear red, white, and blue in place of orange and serve out my life miserably and without you. And that mattered.”

“I know, Stevie, I know. I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant, baby.”

“Then how else did you mean it?”

“There were things that I saw or remembered-whatever! But neither matter because fantasy is something that can never happen, and if it’s a memory, it will never happen again.”

Steve can feel his heart breaking in his chest. Angry and more than a little offended, he can practically feel the anguish emanating from his alpha’s skin.

“Because you wouldn’t want the blood-soaked into my hands to touch you. To touch your pretty perfect body, so I say your name, and I can’t stop because my alpha is always just before feral, and you are the only thing keeping Me on the side of sane. I know you matter. You’re the only thing on this entire fucked up bullshit infested planet that matters!”

“But the thought of losing you based on things I simply wanted and not what you needed from me? It didn’t matter- nothing mattered beyond you. I thought you wanted Bucky Barnes, the closeted best friend. I couldn’t trust myself to believe you wanted me in the 40s, and I couldn’t hope that if you had, you’d want me still.”

“You’re an idiot,” Steve sighs, eyes misting, but he lets himself be drawn in by strong, vulnerable arms.

“...I think I understand what you mean, though.”

“Yeah?”

“I wanted to say I miss you ao many times. But then I just...couldn’t. I thought it wouldn’t change anything, so I just kept pretending I didn’t. But then there are days when I wake up, and the fact that it’s without you won’t let me pretend anymore.”

“Now, who’s the idiot?” Bucky chuckles, brushing strands of hair from those hypnotizing blue eyes.

Bucky lets the Sympathy, understanding pool from his scent and settle over Steve like a warm blanket.

Smiling, Steve takes the comfort from his alpha in stride, “Of course, I talk like an idiot, Buck. How else are you ‘posed to understand me?”

Huffing a quick laugh, the ex-assassin feels all the love for this omega shine in a smile, “You’re such a fuckin’ punk, y’know that little omega?”

“ I’m your fuckin’ Punk, and besides, I’m not so little anymore.”

Whatever faithless semblance of decency they had left swiftly deteriorates as Bucky fully settles Steve into his lap, lying back into the cushions and pulling the duvet over them both.

He presses a soft kiss on Steve’s forehead and whispers with as much meaning he can muster, “You’re perfect, omegamine. Fuckin’ perfect! Perfect for me, you hear?”

Steve releases a joyful giggle,” I hear. Are we going to sleep, Alpha?”

“Yep!”

Snuggling deeper into the alpha’s chest, Steve feels content for the first time in what feels like forever, loving how perfectly he still fits in Bucky's arms, even all beefed up by the serum. Not a single gap between them.

“You comfortable, sweetheart?” Bucky asks happily. Certainly hearing and feeling Steve’s pleased purring.

“ I’m warm,” The omega mumbles, exhaustion barreling into him.

“Good. Sleep, Stevie. We'll talk more in the morning.”

Steve doesn’t respond, just nuzzles into his alpha more until his nose is close enough to the source of the brunette’s scent, humming satisfaction as he sniffs pleasantly.

“I never thought I’d get to have this. That you’d be in my arms like this. I thought I’d spend the rest of my life just pining after you-loving you. I love you, omegamine. I love you so much.”

Steve replies in soft snores, but Bucky doesn’t care. He presses a kiss to the top of ruffled blonde hair and falls asleep with a smile on his face.

He doesn't mind that Steve fell asleep because nothing else matters besides his blue-eyed beauty. Not when he has this. Not when Steve is soft and asleep and warm. He has the rest of his life to tell his omega he loves him.

One thing is for sure.

Bucky will never stop saying Steve’s name.

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hogwartsfirebolt · 3 years

Text

A ticket to ruin (or Do Not, under Any Circumstance, agree to pretend you're dating your boss, oh my god)

It’s becoming increasingly clear that I’ve made a mistake, though it would be inaccurate to say I didn’t see it coming. As remarkably skilled as I am at self-deception, this particular lie is outrageous even for me.

And maybe I chose this, but what was the alternative? There was nothing else to be done.

That’s also a lie. I did not have to. I agreed freely, of my own volition, and was not coerced, even if Harry’s pleading eyes and lovely smile made it feel inevitable. He’s my boss, but it was me who said yes.

It feels as though the newspaper burns through my fingertips when I pick it up at the corner shop after breakfast. The lady selling it squints at me, possibly recognizing me from that godawful photograph that’s been everywhere today, the one that looks like every single one of my dreams and is, consequently, my worst nightmare.

“Potter’s new beau?” The headline reads. It could be worse. It is worse, online. When I checked this morning, Twitter was saying “Potter caught snogging a member of his crew,” which is at least true, and it was also saying, “Potter in love?” which is without the shadow of a doubt the worst thing I have ever read in my life.

If life has taught me anything, it’s that everyone buys their own ticket to ruin.

With the newspaper tucked underneath my arm, I make my way into the office, taking time to school my features into something that doesn’t feel like I’m wearing my heart all over my face, but it’s useless, when the whole world knows.

And, oh god, I don’t want to, but I take a peek at that photo again and grit my teeth so I don’t let out the shriek crawling up my throat. Shame and I, we go way back, made acquaintances when I was very young, but somehow this feels like every humiliating experience in my life thrown into a jar, shaken, and let out to swarm my chest.

The Photograph. “Potter’s new beau?” the headline screams. Harry, with his distinct hair, the leather jacket, the self-assured stance. And me by his side, shockingly pale, gazing up at him in what can only be described as motherfucking adoration. I look elated at having his attention on me, I look smitten.

If he’s seen this, Harry must be thinking I’m the actor of the goddamn century. He’s lucky he doesn’t have to live with the knowledge of what I was feeling in the moment depicted in The Photograph. Lucky he doesn’t know that, when he said, “I can see a pap, come here, let me kiss you,” my heart leapt, somersaulted, cartwheeled, backflipped, did a handstand with swinging feet.

The second picture shows the actual kiss, but thank god for small mercies, because my back is to the camera. I don’t know what I looked like at that moment, and I definitely never want to find out.

I fold the newspaper again when I step out of the elevator and into the open floor of the Harry Potter Management Offices. As soon as the Juniors spot me, the entire floor goes dead silent. I can practically read the he’s fucking our star as a collective speech bubble above their heads, and wish fervently for death as I make my way to the very back of the office, into Harry’s favorite meeting room.

He’s there, of course, and looks up with a smile so blinding I have to stop myself from stepping back from it.

“Morning, D, have you seen this?” He points at the different newspapers and magazines he’s laid out on the table, sounding supremely amused. “It worked, huh? This one’s my favorite.” He picks up an article with The Photo covering the entire front page, and a headline that says Potter, the heartbreaker, back in the game.

I clear my throat to avoid screaming.

“Yes, it worked.”

“This should get the label off my back for a bit, at least until the deal is settled and I’m back at the studio to record No Dwelling.” He stops, locks eyes with me, and I’m taken back to that moment one week ago, when he asked for the favor, and then, upon getting an I’m only your assistant for an answer, said I was one of the people he trusted the most in the world. “Do you think we can go out again today? Maybe for drinks in Soho? Paps always hang around that new bar, Fuel.”

I swallow. “I’m not sure I’m free.”

“Well, are you?”

Of course I am free for him, all my time is for him. I still take out my cell phone and make a show of checking my calendar before nodding. “We can go after your photo shoot for the Hermès fragrance. That’s at four.”

“Ah crap, I’d forgotten about that.” He makes a face, pursing the lips I know the feel of against mine and runs a hand through the hair I know the texture of against my fingers.

It’s been four days. I’ve made the worst mistake of my life.

“Let’s cancel,” he whispers, leaning close to conspire. I want to pull away; I want to lean so much closer that I disappear into him.

“We’ve canceled twice,” I murmur somehow, though I have no conscious idea of where I’ve left my voice, and if I’m answering it’s only out of three years of practice at having this heart attack of a man next to me every waking moment. His eyes shine, as they do every time he’s playing instigator with me.

“Come on, Draco, let’s go to the market. We can buy sandwiches, get our picture taken while we hold hands or something.”

I’ve been given a deadline to correct my public image, Harry said that fateful day, I promised the label that I could prove that the girl who claims she’s having my baby is a scam, but I don’t know how to.

He said, I think if we pretend we’ve been dating for a long time, that could distract them and give me an alibi. Will you do it? Please say you’ll do it.

He is the most convincing man I know, a force of nature made up of ridiculous good looks and charm that should be punishable by law. I didn’t even think to say no, even though the self-preservation alarms were going off in my head, saying, you absolute fucking idiot, you can’t do this, you’re in love with him.

But here I am, doing it, and he wants to play hooky as if we were in school.

He must see something in my face because his splits into the earth-shattering grin that throws entire stadiums into a frenzy when he flashes it in the middle of a show. “Awesome, text the representative, and let’s go.”

Still, I try. “What makes you think I’ll do that?”

“I want you to?” It’s not even a question, with that smug cock of his eyebrow. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

I’ve always known I’m buying my own ticket to ruin. With Harry, it almost doesn’t matter the outcome. Every second spent near him makes me burn bright with a light-soaked joy that seems pulled right out of a poetry book.

It’s worth it, the ruin. Even if I get one kiss, even if it’s for the cameras, even if I’m only ever his assistant, even if it never happens again. It’s him, and it’s worth it.

I text the representative.

This is my gift to @peachpety for the Wheel of Drarry Exhange. My dear peach 🍑💖, I had so much fun creating this for you, I really hope you enjoy it!!! Infinite thanks to @fw00shy for the beta and the convo about celebs ✨

#drarry #drarry fic #draco malfoy #harry potter #mine #mywriting #wheel of drarry mini exchange

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sergeanthopeless · 3 years

Text

female Byleth S-supports ranked best to worst

(keeping my personal feelings about the pairings themselves to a minimum)

(Gilbert and Alois omitted, since those are platonic S-supports)

(warning: long post)

1. Seteth

This S-support is about as romantic as it can get. This thing just makes my heart flutter every. dang. time. and it’s easily the best S-support in the whole game for female Byleth. There’s a REASON why a lot of people hop aboard the Setleth train after witnessing this masterpiece.

Sure, Seteth lectures his way in and out of the proposal, but let’s be real, if it was any different it would be out of character, and acting the responsible advisor is just part of his charm. Plus, he pledges utter devotion to Byleth for the rest of his existence, and we essentially get wedding vows out of this one. It doesn’t get better than that!

He’s so self-assured during this S-support, and that’s sexy. But he is patient and affectionate with her, and takes the time to make sure there’s no room for confusion. He clarifies that his feelings are not those of duty (which is a problem with some other S-supports), or an interest in perpetuating a Nabatean or Crest-rich bloodline. It’s very clear that he just wants her, and that’s it. But where others put Byleth on a pedestal, this S-support feels like an exchange between equals.

Byleth’s reaction to this one is particularly noteworthy — there’s an unusual amount of emotional expression from Byleth during this S-support, INCLUDING A FRIGGIN BLUSH! Byleth does NOT blush often during these supports. Plus, Byleth asks Seteth to promise that he’ll follow wherever she goes. Unlike some of the other S-supports, it’s very clear that she’s invested in him and wants him.

Favorite quotes:

“I cannot conceive of a world without you in it.”

“I love you, deeply. Will you marry me?”

“From this day forward, I will always be at your side. Through good or ill fortune. Through the greatest of joys and the worst of woes. No matter how daunting the task, I will be there.”

“Courage, my love. Let us go forth and face the world - together.”

2. Hubert

I was genuinely caught off-guard with Hubert, especially since I haven’t played Crimson Flower yet and have gotten all of my impressions of Hubert from the fandom. A pleasant surprise, though, and pleasant enough to snag the #2 best S-support!

He starts with advisor nagging, which is no surprise since that’s his character. However, he doesn’t take too long to get to the point of the conversation, and everything is straightforward yet sweet. It’s very cute how he flustered he gets in the beginning, and his self-consciousness about his suitability as a husband is really sweet. But what really clinched this for me was the privilege of seeing a BLUSHY HUBERT! This surprisingly lovable psychopath gets so dang worked up and excited over Byleth giving him a ring and proposing to him right back.

Favorite quotes:

“[I’d] rather you be with me rather than some dubious individual.” (Yes, I altered the quote, but let’s be real, he wasn’t talking about Edelgard there.)

“I once thought killing you would be a great challenge, but the real difficulty was declaring my love.”

3. Ignatz

This S-support starts with an angry Ignatz, which had me worried. Ignatz is one of those characters where I expected his apparent youthfulness to cause a problem in his S-support (it definitely causes problems in other S-supports), even though he’s actually 17 at the start of game like Felix, Dimitri, Claude, Raphael, Ferdinand, and Edelgard. So I was pleasantly surprised by the sheer maturity of his proposal!

While he’s definitely self-conscious and doesn’t even expect Byleth to accept his proposal, it says a lot that Ignatz still had the guts to do the proposing. While he expresses surpassing admiration toward Byleth as someone who supported him through troubled times, he’s not dependent or subservient. Yes, there is a prominent fixation on Byleth’s beauty, but he’s an artist, so I think that adds more meaning to what would otherwise be an extremely shallow point to make during an S-support.

Favorite quotes:

“You are my goddess.”

“You soothed my troubled soul.”

“My beloved goddess.”

“I want to love you for all eternity.”

“I love you with all my soul.”

Hoo boy, this boy’s got a serious SILVER TONGUE on him! *fans self*

4. Lorenz

Regardless of how you feel about Lorenz, you’ve gotta admit this is a pretty flawless proposal. He reminisces about and apologizes for the trouble he used to cause as a youth, has a smooth transition into the presentation of the ring, and then his composure falls apart when Byleth reveals she’s been wise to him all along. He’s such a perfectionist, and his determination to propose perfectly is very consistent with his character. But I also appreciate that he made sure of Byleth’s feelings before actually asking her to marry him (ring presentation aside).

This S-support makes it very clear just how much Lorenz admires Byleth, which I feel is extremely important in context of his character. He can be incredibly self-centered to the point of being downright irritating, so the fact that he’s now talking about her and is focused entirely on her shows the sincerity of his feelings and how much Lorenz has grown as a person.

The bit at the end where he gets overexcited and uses his full name is hilarious, but I’m glad the S-support doesn’t end there, which would have taken away from it. Instead, it ends with Lorenz swearing to make Byleth happy and work with her in making the world a better place. Equal partners!

The last thing that really made this S-support for me was the voice acting. The broken voice, trembling, and stammering really added emotional depth to Lorenz’s character in this critical moment, and really brought everything to the next level in terms of overall impact.

Favorite quote: “Pedigree and status are no longer priorities for me. I now know that what matters most is the worth of an individual’s soul.”

5. Felix

The moment I noticed that this S-support was taking place at the training grounds, I knew it was going to be good. And it goes exactly as you would expect with our favorite tsundere, flustered and deflecting and all, but the sheer effort that he ends up putting into it is so endearing. And I adore how Byleth messes with him the whole time.

It starts rough, let’s be real. He just hands the ring to Byleth and tells her to “take this.” Oh, Felix. This poor boy is so. friggin. hopeless. You can practically hear his thought process leading up to this point. “How do I make sure Byleth never leaves?... Ah, marriage — yes, that’ll lock her in!” *facepalm*

But Felix’s body language is what really makes this S-support, starting with the finger point and then ending with the kabedon. Plus, we get a glimpse of something very rare: blushy Felix!

Favorite quotes:

“Fight me for the rest of my life.”

“I want you to be my wife. Please say yes. Let’s get married and stay together until we die. I love you.”

6. Balthus

I really didn’t know what to expect with this one, although to be honest, what expectations I did have were fairly low. Yet despite his faults, Balthus managed to scrape together a rather charming S-support! His nervousness and stuttering is adorable for such a big, tough-talking guy, and I love that we actually get an impatient “Just say it already,” from Byleth.

It was nice to see Byleth’s good influence on Balthus, although I’m not a fan of the woman-redeems-man trope. And considering that Balthus asks for up to 5 years to get his act together…that wasn’t exactly a point in his favor.

What made this S-support for me was all of the classic lines. Balthus isn’t necessarily a smooth talker, but it would be wrong to say that he doesn’t know how to talk to a woman. The proposal itself had me ROLLING: “Marry me, pal!” The voice acting was flawless, particularly when he said, “my love.” Balthus, I’ll say this on Byleth’s behalf: please stop trying so hard. And never say that again.

Favorite quotes:

“It’s time to take the biggest gamble of my life.”

“Comfort be damned! I need you by my side. Always.”

“Let’s get hitched right away! I know a guy.”

“To look after you...and be brave enough to let you look after me. that’s what marriage is all about, right?”

S-support portraits shouldn’t really matter here, but I’m going out on a limb here and saying that Balthus’ portrait is the best one of all Byleth’s S-supports.

7. Dorothea

I have a lot of Dorothea feels, okay? She’s my baby girl. And by this point in the game, she’s so jaded and used to disappointment that it just breaks my heart. So when Byleth proposes to her, you can hear the genuine emotion in her voice. She’s so in love with Byleth, but clearly talked herself out of it long before this moment. “You won the war. You could pick anyone in the world. Why would you…?”

And then she’s so happy. It’s not fancy, but her pure happiness really makes this for me. The hopeless romantic finally getting her happy ending is just really lovely.

Favorite quote: “I starred in so many operas where I captured the heart of my beloved. But I never dreamed that it would feel this wonderful when it actually happened.”

8. Ferdinand

Oh boy, Ferdie. There wasn’t much of a preamble, and the presentation of the ring wasn’t anything special. He’s still full of himself: “You hear noble Ferdinand von Aegir declare his love for you, and all you say is, ‘I understand’?” and this S-support is more focused on him than it is on Byleth, which is exactly the opposite of what happened with Lorenz’s S-support, even though they’re similar characters.

That being said, this S-support has its moments. We get a good reaction out of him (even though it’s over the top), and we get a sign of his personal growth when he reins himself in. The trembling and feeling faint is very cute (10/10), and considering his ambitious nature, him saying that he considers winning Byleth’s heart to be one of his greatest accomplishments is sweet, as is the way he dreams about their future.

In other words, this one starts rough, but ends sweet.

Favorite quote: “I need you as much as I need my next breath — more, even.”

9. Dedue

Can we just appreciate that Dedue chose to leave Dimitri for Byleth? That is so meaningful. Dedue spends the entire game unhealthily attached to Dimitri, and finally he finds something that he chooses for himself. Of course, there is the concern that he will become unhealthily attached to Byleth, but I don’t get that impression from his S-support.

There are so many wonderful little details in this S-support. The tiny, modest ring. The straightforward proposal. Both of them gazing at each other in loving, comfortable silence afterward. Byleth’s blush. And DEDUE’S LAUGH. Just. the laugh. It’s important.

Finally, Dedue invites Byleth to come with him to visit Duscur. TAKE NOTES, CLAUDE!! Anyway…

10. Edelgard

*takes a deep breath and sets aside my feelings about Edelgard’s stance on the Children of the Goddess*

Alright, so this S-support is significant because it’s one of the few where you can tell that there is genuine affection on Byleth’s end. She really takes charge of the proposal, going so far as to use Edelgard’s nickname, “El,” to convey affection and intimacy.

At first I was concerned when I heard Edelgard say, “This ring…thank you, my dearest friend,” and I was like HOLD UP – did Byleth just get friendzoned?? But Edelgard clarifies by expressing that she has romantic feelings too, which saves the scene. But while sweet, the rest of the S-support focuses on Edelgard’s ambitions and generally lacks romance. Fitting for her character? Yes. A satisfying S-support? Not really.

11. Dimitri

It’s clear from the beginning of this S-support that Dimitri and Byleth have become close friends. I appreciate the way they talk about their wounds, and although talking about Dimitri’s nightmares is far darker than I expected from an S-support, it shows just how much Dimitri has improved.

What disappointed me about this S-support is the lack of emotion on both sides. Sure, the “my beloved” pet name is wonderful. And sure, Byleth isn’t very emotional as a rule. But Byleth shows more emotional in other S-supports. And there is not nearly enough of a reaction on Dimitri’s side. Come on, dude. You’ve been aggressively simping over Byleth since Day 1, and you’re just taking this proposal in stride?? You should be unconscious right now.

12. Mercedes

I’m so proud of how far Mercedes has come at this point. She’s determined to live in a way that makes her happy, outside of her Crest or anyone else’s expectations. That being said, a lot of this S-support feels more like it could have been an A+ support.

Major points to Mercedes to being the one to do the proposing. A lot of people mistake her kind nature for being demure, which is not the case. She is bold, speaks her mind, and knows what she wants. And in this case, that’s Byleth. Her proposal is gentle and respectful, if a bit bland, and her reaction to Byleth’s acceptance is absolutely adorable. She’s so happy yet insecure, and I wish there was more communication from Byleth to reassure her.

13. Hanneman

Hanneman is an academic through and through, and his nature as a scholar comes through strongly in his S-support. He tries to approach things pragmatically, almost ruins things by talking about Byleth’s role in his research, but fortunately realizes that’s the wrong way to do it and takes a new approach with more feeling. It’s very similar to Linhardt’s S-support, but less self-centered and overall better. Hanneman treats Byleth as an equal, and shows enthusiasm in his own way.

Overall, this is an extremely pragmatic S-support, but it’s not without its charms. That being said, it definitely requires an interpretation of Byleth’s character where she has developed a taste for academia.

Favorite quotes:

“I suppose there’s no reason to hold ourselves back any longer.”

“I don’t want the power of your Crest - I want you.”

“I can’t wait to see the results of this undertaking.”

14. Yuri

This S-support is very consistent with Yuri’s character. The scene opens with Yuri trying to repay his “debt” to Byleth, which definitely lacks in romantic vibes, but works in context. It’s nice to see Yuri nervous and out of composure, but I admit I had been expecting…more…from him with how charming he’s supposed to be. Then again, like Sylvain, maybe the fact that he’s dropped the façade is supposed to make it meaningful. At least he blushes! Blushy Yuri is something I didn’t know I needed. The bit at the end where he whispers his true name in her ear is very nice, too.

But yikes…Yuri talks about his death. And considering that in most of the routes, Byleth ends up being most likely essentially immortal, this hits HARD. She is definitely facing the death of her lover in a few decades at most, and that is not something she wants to think about during a proposal.

Favorite quote: “In return for this ring, I ask for you.”

15. Raphael

Raphael is a pretty clueless, non-romantic kind of guy. But the sudden proposal is very cute. Considering how awful he is at expressing himself, it works really well with his character to simply have him jump right in and get it over with.

That being said, I couldn’t help but feel that his reasoning for getting married was just a little loose. He always wants to be with Byleth and expresses that he wants to serve as her knight. Uh, you realize you can do that without marrying her right, bud? Byleth didn’t seem to be very into this proposal either, although she does have a wonderful little smile in the S-support portrait, which makes up for that. I love how the portrait emphasizes Raph’s size and strength by having him lift her up bridal style. It’s an actually flattering portrayal of him, too.

Favorite quote: “And…I’ll love you. Forever and ever. And ever!”

16. Sylvain

Ah yes, Sylvain. Our favorite train wreck. The good news is that he’s finally taking charge of his life, and I like that he’s straightforward in this S-support rather than flirtatious, which means that you know he’s being sincere. It’s cute to see him genuinely happy, and his statement that “I’m going to spend the rest of our lives together trying to make you happy,” is very good.

However, the “If you told me you never wanted me to look at another woman, I’d go blind for you” is going too far. I know it addresses his skirt-chasing character, but I just don’t know if they could have a healthy relationship. I know this is rating the support scene, not the ship itself, but I don’t think that’s a positive indicator for the future.

17. Claude

This S-support gives me so many bad vibes. Yes, he expresses his love for Byleth as well as his utmost confidence in her, but dude, actions matter more than words, and your actions speak VOLUMES. He’s the only one to just run off at the end of the S-support, and while I understand his reasoning — I really do — it’s clear that his own agenda and ambitions will always come before Byleth.

This is what I heard: “Right now, Fodlan is like a newborn... so that’s why I’m leaving, so you have to do all the hard stuff yourself. See ya, sucker!!” Ah yes. Prime husband and father material there. Obviously.

“I’m sorry that I won’t be by your side at such an important event...” Uh huh, yeah right. You’re obviously itching to get out of there.

I’m sorry, Claude stans, but giving Byleth an engagement ring and then running away for who knows how long is LAME.

18. Jeritza

The first thing that struck me about this S-support is the fact that it takes place in the Agarthan HQ, Shambhala. This is super meaningful because it means that Byleth and Jeritza go there together to use their killing prowess to take out Those Who Slither in the Dark post-Crimson Flower. It’s a nice way to tie up the route. The portrait is super dynamic and unique, too. That being said…

He’s still fixated on killing Byleth. If that’s your thing, then hey, I can’t judge. At least we all know that if he hasn’t killed her by now, it’s never going to happen. It’s such an empty threat it’s probably an inside joke by now. But Jeritza’s clearly still figuring out his feelings, which means I’m not sure it really counts as an S-support (it would have made a better A+ support imho). There are also things about this pairing and S-support that have some serious implications for who Byleth has become by this point and what the future is likely to look like. Good storytelling, yes, but as an S-support…not my favorite.

Favorite quotes:

“It is you alone who can slay the demon inside me.”

“To the very depths of hell, I will tumble down with you.”

19. Linhardt

This S-support falls flat for me. It’s like Hanneman’s, but worse because it’s super self-centered. I feel like it’s a really bad summary of Linhardt’s character because so much more could have been done with it. Linhardt has lots of good traits, and this S-support ignores all of them. Instead, we have a one-dimensional S-support that focuses on Linhardt’s laziness and penchant for napping. He’s so self-centered and consumed by his own interests, so saying that he wants to study Byleth for the rest of his life makes her more like an accessory to his life plans rather than a central component. At least when Hanneman says he wants to study Byleth, he makes it very clear that he loves her and wants her as a person.

And the line where he says "I didn’t honestly think you’d reject me” is just…wow. Much disappoint. If I were Byleth I would turn him down on the spot just for saying that.

20. Ashe

Ashe’s S-support comes off to me like he’s pledging himself to her as a vassal more than actually proposing. Yes, he does take initiative and does the proposing, which is consistent with the fact that Ashe is a gutsy little guy. But he’s so stuck on being helpful that the S-support ends up feeling immature. Plus, Byleth doesn’t seem very enthusiastic about the proposal compared to other S-supports, and overall Ashe’s worship of Byleth comes off as more dependent than romantic.

21. Caspar

We’ve reached the bottom four S-supports, starting with this disaster. Caspar is juvenile, reckless, and oblivious. (Don’t get me wrong — I adore his character and see him like a little brother.) Byleth has to take charge of the proposal, which is not a problem in itself, but then Caspar confesses that he hasn’t even thought about marrying Byleth — or anyone at all! asaslkjasdflk FAIL

At least the victory shout is kind of cute…if painfully cheesy.

And they get worse from here…

22. Rhea

I don’t have a lot to say here. I know I said that I would keep my personal feelings about the pairings themselves out of this, but I feel like there are certain things about this particular pairing that need to be addressed along with this S support.

Age gap aside (because frankly with immortals, age doesn’t really matter anymore), Rhea CREATED Byleth’s mother, essentially making herself Byleth’s grandmother. Incest vibes, yo. Plus, she fully intended to sacrifice Byleth’s life in order to bring back Sothis — which, granted, is a sentiment that wears off, and Jeritza is just as bad in terms of original intent to kill Byleth. This makes any kind of romantic revelation on Rhea’s side just…weird.

There are some good quotes in this S-support, and we get a ton of reveals about Rhea’s character development in a short amount of time. She’s self-conscious of her other form as a dragon, she acknowledges the wrongs she did in the past, and she expresses a desire to repent. She acknowledges the pivotal role that Byleth has played through her choices and accomplishments, rather than attributing them to fate and the “flow of time.” But honestly this would be more appropriate as a final scene at the end of the game, not a romantic S-support.

23. Cyril

Oh boy. Where do I start with this one? It’s so bad...

This boy is BABY. 19 years old after the war? Sure. Attractive design? Yes. But still, he. is. BABY. And the S-support portrait makes it so much worse by making him look freaking TEN.

And he’s so, so oblivious. Even worse than Caspar. He barely has a personality as a character outside of being committed to the servant mentality, and he has had no opportunity to discover himself as a freaking person outside of his obsession with Rhea. It should be illegal to even consider this kid for S-support. One thing would be if it was platonic, like Alois or Gilbert, but Byleth gives him the ring, and that means it’s supposed to be romantic.

Plus, Cyril says that he loves Byleth, but it’s super casual and comes off more like familial or friendship love rather than romantic love. Unless I missed something, I don’t think Byleth ever says that she loves Cyril in their S-support. And the end is just the worst: “Love ya, see ya in the morning.” That’s IT???? There is absolutely no indication of a mature relationship, and that’s just scary and gross.

I just…really hate this S-support. There’s only one S-support that’s worse…

24. Sothis

Forget everything that I said about keeping my feelings about particular pairings out of this ranking. This is a TRULY CURSED S-SUPPORT.

I don’t care that Sothis is technically a goddess whose age is beyond counting or mortal comprehension. All that matters is she looks like a child. She is lolibait. And to top it all off, she doesn’t even have physical form (thank goodness) — she’s just an apparition in Byleth’s head!

And this quote? “I love you deeply! Overwhelmingly! passionately! Ours is a love without an end!” I only have two words: PEAK CRINGE.

It would be one thing if Sothis came back in her adult form. Or better yet, if she had always been in her adult form as portrayed in the fresco in the reception hall. You can do something with that. But that’s not the case, Sothis is portrayed as a pre-pubescent child in both appearance and personality, and that’s just pedophilia vibes, y’all. I can’t believe this is a sincere S-support option.

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that-was-anticlimactic · 4 years

Note

Yes hi, I'd love to know more about your tourettes sokka hc if you're up for it 👀 I'm starving for tourettes hcs so 👀

Oh boy oh boy oh boy!! I can talk about this SO MUCH (I will warn now, there will be some Zukka in this) okay so I guess I’ll start at the beginning...

Sokka was six when he started showing symptoms

It started with just some motor tics but everyone kind of just attributed it to this kid has a lot of energy ahhh

It became more noticeable when he kept almost killing himself with weapons because of his tics and slight carelessness

That’s one reason why he loves boomerang so much, none of the other weapons felt right to him and they would always get in the way of his tics, but he could throw boomerang and it would come back to him so he could keep throwing it and it made him feel calm

Then, Sokka started saying stuff that he didn’t mean to say, but again, everyone was just like hyper kid because it’s not like he was doing anything wrong

But they realized something was up when Sokka started yelling “FIRE NATION” without intending to and sending the whole tribe in a panic

So, Hakoda took Sokka to a nearby trustworthy Earth Kingdom village and that’s where Sokka got diagnosed with Tourette’s (and ADHD)

One of the things with Sokka is touch, like, he feels like touch is constricting and restraining sometimes. The problem is, he LOVES touch, he is a touchy person, but when someone touches him without telling him first or asking him, he doesn’t like it.

Sometimes he mentally shuts down when it happens, sometimes he tics more, the reaction depends on his anxiety levels and who touched him and when and where

The only people he gave a pass to was Kya and Katara. He didn’t even like it when Hakoda put a hand on his shoulder.

It was weird, he could feel the difference when Katara and Kya touched him compared to anyone else and he felt bad because he wanted his dad to hug him, but it felt so wrong

So, Sokka loves touch, but he likes to initiate it

So, moving forward, Sokka and Katara meet Aang, he’s the Avatar, they join and you know, there’s Aang the Avatar, Katara the Waterbender, and Sokka the guy with Tourette’s on the team

At least, that’s how they are known amongst the Fire Nation

Going undercover is so fun for Sokka, but he also has to be really conscious of what he’s doing and what he says and trying to suppress

It takes a lot out of him, but he knows he literally has to do it or he could get caught or expose them and Aang or Katara could get caught

On occasion, he has tic attacks (and for those who don’t know, they’re essentially a really bad TS day or moment where your tics are more consistent and seem to hurt more or you just have like an unending moment of tics where you just can’t stop for a little while. They are usually caused by anxiety or overstimulation or something like that, but they differ for everyone with TS)

The first time it happened in front of Aang, the sweet child panicked because he didn’t really understand what was happening and why Sokka was doing that and really what TS was

Katara is an angel, seriously. She is so sweet to Sokka when this happens and she knows exactly how to ground him and help him get through it

(Seriously, Sokka appreciates her so much. She is genuinely the one exception and anytime she wants a hug or any kind of touch she is allowed to do it)

the first time it happens in front of Toph when she joins is in Bitter Work when Sokka was in the hole

Just looking at Sokka in the whole sends my anxiety up because he literally can’t move! So like, imagine being in a hole for like five hours+ and needing to move like physically and you can feel the sensation in your body and it hurts and burns and tingles but you can’t. Sokka is not having a good time

So, Toph drags him out of the hole and is freaked out because she can’t see what’s happening and it’s scary because Sokka is making noises and hyperventilating and his heart rate is through the roof and Aang ran to get Katara and she can’t touch him because when she pulled him out of the hole he shrieked

She’s cool with it after that, she doesn’t think of him any less or anything, but it terrified her the first time because no one told her he had TS because they forgot to mention it and she couldn’t see what was happening

We all know that Sokka loves Suki and the Kyoshi Warriors with his whole entire heart and once they kicked his butt and helped him learn that sexism is bad, they were so fun to work with?? They taught him their style, obviously, but they also helped him incorporate his TS into it and how to use it to his advantage, something he had been struggling with his whole life

One of the things Sokka loved most about Yue is that she never even mentioned his sounds or movements she just let him do it without questioning him and that doesn’t happen a lot

I feel like Sokka having TS would make his time with Piandao even kore meaningful because he really struggles to keep his hands still so sword fighting does not come naturally to him

Piandao loves it though because it just makes Sokka even more clever and resourceful and he takes his time with Sokka, helping him as much as he can and never getting angry or anything when he can’t stand still

He also added more to what Sokka learned from the Kyoshi Warriors about incorporating his TS into his fighting and using it to his advantage

Not only was his sword an extension of his arm, but his TS was an extension as well

Did Toph and Aang help Sokka incorporate his tics into their scams? Yes, yes they did

Zuko joining the team was weird for Sokka because they kind of just clicked and he realized that they both have a weird thing with touch

On the balloon to Boiling Rock, Sokka is just comfortable around Zuko and his tics are like “cool yeah, have a break” and so he doesn’t tic and Zuko just “why aren’t you ticcing?”

and Sokka is ??? “Huh?”

and Zuko “You usually tic but you aren’t now. Why?”

and Sokka essentially explains that TS is weird and random and sometimes it happens, sometimes it doesn’t, but he’s really comfortable and calm so his body is like “ye, let’s chill for now”

and Zuko is like “oh. that’s good. I kinda miss it though”

and Sokka d i e s because what?? Someone likes his tics enough to miss them? Like, they don’t annoy Zuko and he doesn’t tune them out?

and the bender goes on to explain that he likes the noises, they remind him that he is doing the right thing and that he’s here and he didn’t hurt team Avatar and they’re just comfortable / pleasing to the ear

and Sokka DIES

but then Zuko is like mmm maybe you should stay in the balloon and I’ll go to Boiling Rock and Sokka got pissed because he thinks Zuko said it because he’s a nonbender and he starts panicking and ticcing and Zuko panics and kind of just grabs his hand and Sokka... Sokka doesn’t hate it? Like, it feels nice and doesn’t agitate him?

but Zuko was like no I mean because everyone in the Fire Nation guard knows about the guy on team Avatar with TS and I don’t want you to get hurt

At one point in the prison courtyard, Sokka verbally tics really loudly about the moon and some guards hear and head to where they are so Zuko covers for him by screaming about how much he loves the moon

One of the worst moments in Sokka’s life was when Toph was falling and he grabbed her, but he wanted to tic and he knew that if he did, Toph would fall and die and he couldn’t do that, he couldn’t

(he still has nightmares about it happening)

when Sokka becomes an ambassador, some people are pissed because well 1) Watertribe 2) he’s a child 3) they suck 4) they think he’s distracting with his tics and Zuko is not here for it so he will destroy them

Like one time (after they started dating) Zuko overheard some councilors mocking Sokka’s tics and he got PISSED like so pissed and he went off and the found Sokka and hugged him because he is allowed to

oh! Sokka and Zuko’s thing is like hand-holding okay? They both kind of hate it because weird touch stuff, but it’s okay when they do it to each other?? Like, it feels right and like they’re completed and whole and it’s nice

before they start dating, they kind of do it a lot. Like, night before Zuko’s coronation, Sokka finds Zuko and he’s freaking out because what if he ends up like his dad and Sokka kind of just... grabs his hand and they sit there

Sokka is panicking because chronic pain and the cold of home makes it worse and Zuko finds him crying in the library and just... holds his hand

Zuko keeps little things on him all the time like paperclips and paper and writing utensils and things that click and buttons and stuff so if Sokka looks stressed during a meeting he can slip something under the table to him so he can play with it

Sokka also draws a lot during meetings, like, he doesn’t look at anyone throughout the whole meeting, even when he talks. He is able to focus more and pay more attention when he is doing something with his hands so he draws and doodles and sometimes takes notes

Sometimes he just writes the same word or sentence over and over again throughout the whole meeting

Sokka has sensory issues and a lot of noise stresses him out

It’s kind of the opposite of Zuko’s sensory issues? Like, Zuko doesn’t like loud noises and Sokka doesn’t like kind of static-y noises, like... when things sound muffled or muted or people are talking kind of quietly over each other

(Zuko definitely gives Sokka massages when his tics hurt a lot)

Random, but after awhile “yip yip” became a verbal tic of Sokka’s. Sometimes, he would say “you need to yip yip” and then he’d apologize to Appa and tell him that he’s yipping just fine

Toph is kind of like Zuko in how she likes Sokka’s verbal tics

She can’t see-see, but hearing his tics is nice sometimes, especially when she worries

She likes falling asleep to some of his tics

Even though Katara and Zuko are allowed to touch him whenever they want, more often than not they ask first because friendship is magic

Suki is lovely, okay? Like, just her presence is enough to make him feel better and she approaches helping him in a different way, she just talks to him and asks him questions to help him take his mind off of it

Sokka really doesn’t hate his TS, like, yeah, sometimes it pisses him off more than he can even explain, but it’s a part of him and as much as he cherishes when he can sit still, it’s wrong, it’s not him? He sits weirdly in chairs and changes his position every two minutes, he rocks his legs in his sleep, he sometimes even finds his own tics grounding...

Over time and with help from his friends, he learned to not be ashamed and that having TS didn’t make him ant less of a warrior

also, he, Toph, and Zuko are the disabled club✌🏻(and it makes them feel better sometimes in their own little way)

I have a lot more I could say but this is already pretty long, so I’ll end this sweet with Katara is amazing and Sokka’s relationship with her is wonderful and she knows how to help him with his tics in the way that Zuko does and can help center him like no one else and Sokka just loves her so much

Okay! Ah! That was kind of a lot but I hope you like them! Anyone can feel free to add more to this or lemme know if you have any ideas!

Thank you for the ask! I enjoyed writing these:)

#avatar the last airbender #Sokka #sokka avatar #zukka #Zuko #Katara #zukka but tourettes and a healthy dose of angst #but what if... sokka has tourettes #Tourette’s syndrome #Sokka with Tourette’s #self projection? who is she🤭#atla headcanons #atla #atla sokka #corey rambles:)#corey tics:)

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giorno-plays-piano · 4 years

Note

I would like a request for Steve Demon, something very dark and hot, thank you! 😈❤️

Hi darling! Thank you for your patience 🙏💖 This story was inspired by Slavic witch legends and VN Demonheart!

Oh, my love, don't forsake me

Pairing: demon!Steve Rogers x witch!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, dark magic, dubcon, witch!Nakia, mentions of violence.

Words: 1670.

___________________

You remembered your first encounter with him well. It had been your first Walpurgis Night when Nakia presented you to a coven: you had been taken through an initiation ritual to become a true witch, and all of you danced and drank and laughed, jumping through grand fire and burning your clothes till you all had been naked, only jewelry - necklaces, earrings and bracelets - left on your bodies.

It was then when demons had arrived, many of them flying directly to their witches and starting dancing with them, picking them up and letting them ride them high up in the sky as if they were horned horses, and you froze on your spot, watching their red bodies glowing.

"You will choose your demon lover today." Nakia whispered to you, smiling to her own mighty demon, his shoulders wide and muscular, his gaunt wings so large he could cover ten people with each. "There are several of those who are free."

"Today?" You asked her nervously, watching those demons without a witch on their backs. "But I thought I would be given time to let them know better."

You knew no one but Nakia, and the thought of choosing your demon right this very moment seemed a bit frightening to you. The witch was choosing her demon lover for eternity - unless both her and him would decide to separate, but it was highly unlikely as the bond they built had always been hard to break. How could you do it without knowing a demon first? Today you could make the worst mistake in your entire life - and afterlife, considering that your soul would travel back to Hell with your demon by your side.

"Don't fret over little things." The witch flashed you a wide smile, her flawless skin glowing softly in the dim light coming from the fire meters away from you. "You will be fine. Look at them! Who is the one you want the most?"

She motioned to the demons flying up in the air, their wings flapping, and you realized you could actually see what was beneath the loincloth of some of them, your face growing unbearably hot. How indecent! Why didn't they wear something more concealing?

"Because they are showing new witches what they got to offer." Your mentor laughed at your bemused expression, and you chuckled, thinking how you were standing naked in front of them with just a think golden necklace on, the only valuable jewelry you had. "Don't be shy, dear. Look, look at them! Ask me if you see someone attractive, and I will tell you everything I know."

Oh dear, it was probably the most embarrassing thing you had ever done, but you couldn't miss your only opportunity to know more about your future lover. Besides, you didn’t become a witch to spend your days caring about morals and decency, did you? You were going to sin till the very end of your life, and today could be a nice starting point. In the end, a physical body and all its parts were nothing to be ashamed of.

Watching several men, their skin scarlet, floating above the grand fire and laughing along the other couples, you tried focusing on those who you thought looked the strongest and sheepishly whispering to Nakia. You felt a little distressed her own lover had to wait for you, but the demon only grinned at you, baring his pearly white teeth, and bowed his head a little, visibly agreeing to wait longer. Maybe they weren’t all as scary as you imagined? You certainly hoped so, pointing to several demons and asking your mentor about them.

“This one? This is Tony, he’s a clever but vicious sort.”

“Aren’t they all?”

Turning her face to you, Nakia gently caressed your head as if you were her child. “No, darling. Not to us. But you are right, I doubt Tony would be the right choice for you. Maybe young Peter? It is his first Walpurgis Night, but he’s of age. Or Brock, that demon over there? Oh no, look at this ruthless barbarian...”

However, before you had time to look at the man she had pointing at, another demon suddenly crossed your way, and you stilled when he looked directly at you, his large crimson wings blocking the view for both Nakia and you. He stood out from the crowd with his glowing golden hair and immense wings that were bigger than even Nakia’s lover, and you frown when the demon landed on his goat hooves, aggressively ripping his loincloth away and baring his flesh in front of you. Your face grew hot at his shameless display, and searched for your mentor’s hand, clutching it in yours like a child, truly. What was that? Did you make the demon upset? Had you broken some rule you didn’t know about?

Nervously glancing at Nakia’s lover you saw him distressed, too, but he didn’t move further to protect you, standing on his place. Was it because there was no true danger or because he simply couldn’t protect his witch against the monster in front of you?

“Who is he?” Your whisper was barely audible as you trembled, clinging to Nakia, and she wrapped her warm arm around your shoulders, leaning closer to your ear.

“Steven of Triskelion. Do not be scared, my darling, he isn’t here to hurt you. I wonder why he’s courting you so... passionately, though.”

“Courting me?”

“Oh yes, my dear. Look at him, putting himself on display like that for a young witch. His desire for you must be strong.”

Softly waving at her lover and seeing him relaxing, Nakia gently pushed you in front, encouraging you to come closer to the demon whose gaze was so intense you were worried he would make a hole in you. Oh, you needed to talk to him. Probably. You weren’t sure, but by the look on the witch’s face you guessed the demon in front of you wasn’t necessarily a bad choice. Judging by his enormous form and his thick, veiny cock in between his muscled legs, maybe he really weren’t.

Suddenly feeling very self-conscious in front of him, you tried smiling and prevent yourself from covering your body with your hands - he had just shown himself completely naked to you, and it would be disrespectful of you to do otherwise. You certainly didn’t want to upset a demon like him.

“Hello, Sir. It is a pleasure to meet you.” You said politely, hoping he wouldn’t mind the way you talked to him. Should you bow to him? Offer him your hand? Kiss his cheek? No, no, you wouldn’t dare.

For a second you thought he was going to hit you, but you knew a demon would never do that to a witch, especially with a whole coven present. They’d ban him from ever pairing with any of them, stripping him of a possibly ally and lover. Only the most insane demons would try doing something as reckless and disrespectful, but they weren’t allowed to Walpurgis Night celebrations. Thank... Devil?

The demon suddenly chuckled, baring his sharp fangs, “You don’t have to be so polite with me, little witch. I am sorry for intimidating you for it was not my intention. Come closer.”

Liar! He loved the effect he had on you, you didn’t have to get inside his horned head to see it. Was he of patronizing kind? Maybe. It wasn’t the worst one among demons straight from Hell, and you smiled at him, putting your arm in his as he drew you closer to him, his other arm softly cupping your chin. His crimson body was radiating heat, and you enjoyed it when demon made you lean onto his wide chest. Despite being somewhat shy about the whole encounter, you were starting to warming up, demon’s touch having a strange effect on you.

“Allow me to give you this.” The man murmured into your ear, and you felt the heaviness of a string of pearls on your neck, touching it with your fingers and watching the demon with wide eyes.

Of course, you have heard of witches receiving gifts from their demonic lovers, but Steve was still a stranger to you. Was it right to accept something so expensive from him? While you tried looking for Nakia to ask her advice, the demon wrapped his large gaunt wings around you two, preventing you from searching for your friend, and forcefully turned your face to him, claiming your lips as if he wanted to devour you. You had no time to react before his huge tongue got inside your mouth, his clawed hand running up your rib cage and cupping your breasts as you whimpered against him, his body blazing hot. He didn’t give you a second to get accustomed to the kiss before spreading his wings and flapping them as he unceremoniously grabbed you by the hips and flew up, taking you with him. You let out a little mewl, clinging to Steve for life. What was he doing?!

“Don’t be scared, kitten. I’m not asking you to ride on my back just yet.” The demon’s voice was soft, but you could see his grin getting wider, and a part of you was nervous at his somewhat aggressive courting. “But wouldn’t you like it? I can be a powerful ally for a witch and a gentle lover for an innocent kitten like you.”

“Be careful, dear. Steve became bitter after his witch has left him to return to God,” Nakia’s voice said in your head, and you frowned, knowing the demon most certainly heard her, too.

She left him for God? What, how was this even possible?

Demon’s grin turned wicked as he kissed your forehead, getting higher and higher as other demons and witches danced below you. “It’s true, darling. That’s why after you choose me to be your lover I will carve your heart out of your chest and keep it with me.”

_____________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @iheartsebandchris @lovelydarkdaydream @soleil-dor @illyrianprincess

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #yandere #captain america #requests #mcu #mcu fanfiction

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kuroopaisen · 4 years

Text

tiny love || 14

➵ as tooru’s younger sister, falling in love with iwaizumi hajime is easy. your feelings aren’t ignored, either. after finally telling him the truth, there’s a lot of tension in the air.

warnings: f!reader

wc: 2k

m.list | ch. 13 ↞ ch. 14 ↠ ch. 15

Try as you might, you just couldn’t pay attention to your lecture.

The lecturer droned on in the archetypal slow drawl, slowly clicking through their powerpoint for each new point. Thank God they had the decency to upload the PDF after the lecture – you’d just take all the important notes from that.

Getting back to some sense of normalcy, back to the thrum of everyday life, was supposed to take your mind off things. But it didn’t. Tooru, Hajime, the whole damn mess – it still wavered in the back of your mind, flickering in and out of conscious thought.

It was almost impossible to ignore.

“Give him time,” Iwaizumi had said, exhausted. “It’s up to him now.”

He was right. You knew that. But it didn’t make you feel any better.

Your phone buzzed in your lap. Frowning, you looked down and turned the screen upwards.

Everything stopped. Your eyes shot wide, your heart beating erratically to the tempo of the ringing.

You gathered your things up in an instant and fled from the lecture hall as unobtrusively as possible, hands trembling as you jabbed at the ‘answer call’ icon.

The girls’ bathroom seemed to be empty as you rushed through the doors and sought out the closest cubicle. You held the phone up to your ear as you sat down on the toilet lid, breathless.

“Hello?”

A silence answered you. Had you been too late? Just missed it? Would it be amiss to call back immed—

“Hey.” Tooru’s voice was tight, sharp, unfamiliar.

“Hey,” you echoed, a queasy uneasiness settling in your stomach. Why was he calling you now? Why hadn’t he warned you?

You hadn’t been given any time to prepare.

Maybe he’d done that on purpose. Maybe he was trying to catch you off-guard.

“Did you… did you want to talk?” You asked.

Some part of you still wanted to fight, to get all scrappy and shout again. You didn’t want to grovel, to beg him for forgiveness, to rebuke anything you’d said prior.

But you didn’t want to throw this all away, either. He’s still your brother; even if he’s a brat, even if he’s selfish, even if he’s inconsiderate.

“Yeah,” he swallowed.

You bit the inside of your cheek, totally at a loss of what to say next.

God, this was so awkward. You’d never had this much trouble talking to your brother before. Well, trouble, maybe, but discomfort… It’s almost worse than the anger. At least there’s something to say during the fire. There’s just ash in the aftermath.

“I just…” Tooru sighed. You could visualise him gripping his hair with frustration, or touching his forehead with the tips of his fingers. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Ah.

That was the question, wasn’t it?

If you’d just said something all those years ago, maybe you could’ve avoided this entire debacle. But how were you supposed to know? You didn’t know anything when you were in high school.

You hadn’t known that you’d be sitting in your university’s bathroom, halfway across the world from home, feeling like you were about to spew your guts out because the thought of talking to your brother terrified you so damn much.

The only time you’d ever been scared of Tooru was when Hajime was involved. But scared of what?

“I… I thought you’d be mad,” you mumbled.

It sounded silly now. Scared of Tooru? Scared of your own damn brother? Pathetic.

But you weren’t the only one.

“And Iwaizumi, he…” It was all a blur, but you could remember one thing. The fear of disapproval.

Iwaizumi had been terrified that Tooru would disapprove. Worst of all, he’d been afraid that Tooru would misunderstand it all.

“He told me that one of the other guys on the team asked about me,” you said quietly, “and that you got really mad.”

Tooru laughed. “What, he thought I’d disapprove of him just because I didn’t want Yahaba getting anywhere near my sister?”

“I heard you got pretty mad,” you mumbled. In truth, you were still kind of pissed about that. Tooru had no say in who you did and didn’t date – much less who had a right to a relationship with you.

Although, you felt you’d made that much clear the last time you’d spoken to him.

“And let me guess,” Tooru sighed after a long moment, “Iwaizumi didn’t want to create a big mess and pit us against each other and break a bunch of hearts.”

“Mhm,” you nodded slowly.

“Sounds about right…” Tooru grumbled.

“He also was worried that you’d think…” You swallowed roughly, the words sticking to your throat. “That you’d think he was messing around with me.”

It was the worst thing he’d said. The implication that he wasn’t serious, that it was all a game to him; of everything he’d said that awful day, that’d hurt the most.

“Messing around with you?” Tooru scoffed. “Like he’s the type of guy to do that…”

There was comfort in hearing those words. But they have a different pallor from the last time you’d spoken with him; had Hajime’s words moved him so much? What had been said between them? You hadn’t asked out of fear, but maybe you should’ve…

“You sounded pretty angry the other day,” you mumbled.

“Yeah, but…”

There was still a terseness in his voice, an edge that he couldn’t soften.

He was trying. Hard. He wasn’t hiding how he felt, but he was… containing it. Was he coddling you?

No. No, he was trying to be reasonable. You couldn’t fault him for that, at least.

“Look… I’m not going to sit here and pretend I’m not mad,” Tooru sighed.

Your gut twisted, your instincts screaming at you to hang up, to avoid Tooru for the rest of time, to do anything you could to avoid that anger. You’d faced it once; you never wanted to face it again.

But Tooru didn’t raise his voice. If he really was still mad, he was stymieing it gently, keeping it contained.

“I just…” His words were quiet, barely audible. “I just want to understand what went wrong.”

Your thoughts skidded to a halt. “What went wrong?”

That’s… a big question. A really big question. One with all sorts of caveats, countless nooks and crannies to fall into and get lost in. Hell, you weren’t even sure if the two of you had the same interpretation of that question.

“Well… neither of you told me, right? But from the sounds of it, you got pretty hurt.”

That felt like an understatement. But what would Tooru know? What could Tooru know?

“I… I don’t know, Tooru,” you sighed. You were no longer the kid you were back then. “Hajime made the decisions but I… I just went along with it. I didn’t… advocate for myself, I guess.”

You couldn’t blame yourself for that. There you were, infatuated with your older brother’s friend, and terrified of making a mess.

And that’d been considerate of you. There was no reason to be upset with yourself for thinking about others.

But you’d forgotten yourself, letting your own feelings get shoved aside for a ‘maybe’. ‘Maybe’ you’d break up. ‘Maybe’ Tooru would be mad. ‘Maybe’ it’d cause a mess. How were you supposed to live your life protecting other people from possibilities, from problems that hadn’t even taken root?

A ‘maybe’ meant you could prepare. Meant you could make promises, make vows, make sure that the outcome wouldn’t be as bad as any of you feared. As much as you could.

“I think Iwaizumi was more scared than I was,” you admitted.

Perhaps it’s not your secret to tell; frankly, you don’t really know if it’s true. But you knew Iwaizumi, and you knew his heart.

You hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but it felt like the truth. Maybe he’d had more to lose than you. Maybe he was worried that his relationship with Tooru would never recover. You had the safety net of being a family member; someone he’d have to forgive one day, even if the mere act of dating his friend seemed like an insurmountable transgression to him.

Iwaizumi didn’t have that security.

Tooru was quiet for a long moment before sighing. “What, did he feel like he was betraying me or something?”

Your stomach twisted at his choice of words.

“Not… not that I ‘own’ you,” he mumbled, as though tripping over what he just said. “But, you know… teenage brains and all that. They’re not exactly reasonable.”

You bit your lip, frowning. “I mean, I can’t be sure… You’d have to ask him about that.”

“Right…” Tooru sighed for what felt like the thousandth time this conversation. Well, at least he wasn’t shouting.

“Can I ask you a question?” Tooru asked, surprisingly apprehensive.

“Sure.”

“Did you ever hate me for it?’

The question shot through you with a jolt.

The unfortunate truth was yes. In a way, you had. It was hard not to feel some kind of bitterness towards him – for being so bright, for being so ambitious. And of course, for what happened with Iwaizumi. It felt like you’d lived half your life in a shadow, unable to distinguish yourself as anything other than ‘Tooru’s younger sister.’

But there was no way to say that. Not when it’s complicated. Not when it’s your brother.

“Nevermind,” Tooru said, clearing his throat. “Look, just… keep me in the loop from now on, okay?”

You grimaced. “You want to know all the details?”

“Of course not!” He damn near shrieked. “Just… you know. If you break up, or if you get engaged… stuff like that.”

Your face flushed hot. “Tooru—”

“Okay, that’s all!” He hummed. “See you later!”

“Wait, Toor—”

The phone buzzed against your ear, a sure sign that Tooru had taken his leave. You sighed, letting all the tension that’d gathered in your chest dissipate in your breath.

That was… weird.

But not unwelcome. Not unwelcome at all. Everything was uncertain; maybe Tooru would change his mind. Maybe he’d decide that, actually, he hated the idea of this and he’d disown you if you kept dating Iwaizumi.

But right then, sitting in your tiny university cubicle, you realised something.

It was all in your hands, now. You could choose the way forward.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Hajime!” You called as you rushed through your front door, bag in tow.

“Yeah?” He was standing in the kitchen, clad only in a pair of grey sweatpants as he unpacked the dishwasher.

You didn’t even take the time to marvel at the sight. The only thing on your mind was rushing towards him and throwing your arms around his neck.

“Everything okay?” He chuckled, placing a firm hand on your back.

“Mhm,” you hummed into his neck, revelling in his warmth. He was always so warm; your own man-sized furnace. Did his sheer amount of muscle mass have something to do with that?

“You’re back early,” he said after a moment.

“Oh, yeah,” you grinned, tilting your head back to look at him. “I left my lecture early.”

Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow at you.

“It’s fine,” you giggled, “I’ll just watch it later.”

Iwaizumi sighed, tutting under his breath as he leant in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. You knew he didn’t have the heart to actually scold you; not when your arms were wrapped around him.

You hummed into the kiss, slipping one of your hands into his hair.

It was nice, being with him like this. There was nothing to worry about anymore; you didn’t need to hide this. You didn’t need to push your feelings to the side and hope you’d just get over them. Finally, finally, it was okay to feel this way. To bare your heart without any shame.

It was one thing to stand up for yourself, to assert your right to do what you wanted.

But knowing that the one thing that’d always been holding you back, that’d taken your feelings hostage for God knew how long…

Everything just felt lighter.

#iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x you #iwazumi scenarios #iwaizumi hajime scenarios #tiny love #this is a Disaster but hey #it's out there now

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cipheress-to-k-pop · 4 years

Note

Pls could you do a Bad Ben x reader?

Why I Hate Bellwood

Pairing: (Bad) Ben Tennyson x Reader

Warnings: Sexual assault and harassment themes

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: You don’t think there’s anything redeemable or good about Ben Tennyson until he saves you from a dangerous situation.

You hated living in Bellwood. It was the worst place to be and you couldn’t even imagine how it was a functioning city. It was a town rampant with criminals and villains. In a place where the crime rate not only sky-rocketed each week but also where no one gave any damn to change it.

They even had their own super-powered thief. Of course.

Coincidentally, the town you hated the most also happened to be the place where you were transferred to. Maybe it was because your supervisor wanted to send the most capable and competent student there. Or maybe it was because you ran your mouth and chewed out her daughter (who had a severe case of princess syndrome).

You and your big mouth.

You had a small studio apartment that could barely fit a bed and that made you feel claustrophobic. Even though you wanted a bigger place, this was the only apartment you could find that was in your price range and in the safer parts of town. Relatively speaking.

Even though you made a conscious effort to stay out of trouble, it seemed to present itself to you on a silver platter. Or more accurately, a stolen silver platter. The trouble you were talking about was Ben Tennyson himself, the friendly neighbourhood criminal.

It was absurd to think that a boy your age could have his entire town at his mercy because of a fancy watch but it was true. He was terrifying, and more importantly, unstoppable. So, you tried your hardest to stay out of his sight, and out of his way.

Unfortunately, that seemed like it wouldn’t happen either. Not even a week after you had moved, you had found out that the crazy crime lord that you had been trying to avoid was living in the apartment next to yours. And not only were you neighbours, but you could see right into his room through the window.

Not like you tried. You had been too afraid to even open the window.

How could this be the safest place in town if this maniac was living right across from you?

Although when you asked the other women in the building, they had told you that was the whole point. Ben Tennyson was a ruthless maniac and known criminal. That’s why no sane person would come into a mile of his home.

All they had to do was avoid him like the plague and so would the other criminals.

And in the psychotic, irrational fashion that was accustomed to Bellwood, that actually made sense. And knowing that Ben was living right across from you was a sign of extreme comfort but also fear.

Would he kill you if you snored too loudly in the night? Or if you kept the lights on in the night and disturbed him?

The fear you had made you want to fall beneath his radar and go completely unnoticed by him. You would stay out of his sight and completely out of his life until you completed your work and could return home.

That had been the plan.

Until one day you had been returning from your classes a little later than usual. It was already dark out and there were fewer cars out on the roads. Walking through the streets alone made an eery feeling settle in your veins and you pumped your legs faster, breaking out into a run.

Just as the busy intersection came into your sights, somebody stepped in front of you and you stopped instinctively. Even though you shouldn’t have. It was a broad man, who had tattoos covering his arms up until his neck. He grinned widely at you, but it was a sick smile that made you gulp and back away.

You didn’t take your eyes off him, scared that he was going to make a sudden move. But just as you began backing away, you collided into someone and when you turned around, ice settled in your veins to see another man smirking at you.

You were immediately frozen in fear, breaths shortening in your chest when his hands came towards you. You wanted to run away from there. But they seemed to realize what your plan was.

They grabbed you, hands digging painfully into your arms and you yelped, resisting in their grip.

“Oh, now sweetheart, don’t fight, it’s not gonna be fun for you if you do.”

Tears started burning your eyes and panic burned through your chest, “Let—Let me go.”

They didn’t reply, only chuckling in response but their grip got tighter when you started thrashing. Your mind went blank, reducing to instincts and you began screaming as tears escaped your eyes.

The men’s faces hardened and they started dragging you with them, not fazed by your rapid kicking and squeezing your throat when you started screaming and crying again.

You had never been so scared in your entire life. They got closer to a dark alley and your breaths shortened, crying out and begging against the hand slapped over your mouth but they didn’t hear or they didn’t care.

Just as they pulled you into the shadows of the alley, there was a bright flash of light from its depths. Your eyes burned from the brightness but you still didn’t close them, scared that something would happen in the second you did.

Because you kept them peeled open, you were able to make out the silhouette of some creature before the light faded. It moved too quickly for your eyes to process, especially in your state of fear, but in a second, the pressure of the men pressed to your front and back had disappeared.

The figures were knocked over like small boys and you heard the sounds of their grunts. Even though you felt immense relief, you were still frozen. You didn’t even bother moving from your place when the creature came to stand in front of you.

“Who the fuck dares to mess with us.” One of them growled, standing up. You couldn’t see anything in the dark and you just chose to grip tightly onto the straps on your back, clenching your jaw tightly.

The bright light came back and you glanced up to see the figure get reduced to a boy. He held up his watch, it glowing in the night and you finally saw his face. He was glaring darkly at the men, lips turned in a frightening scowl.

“Who the fuck dares to mess with a defenceless woman.” He spat and they froze, realizing who they were talking to.

“Holy shit, it’s Ben Tennyson.”

He glared at them, seeing the way they were turned, probably about to make a break for it, “If you even think of running, I will hunt you down like the dogs you are.”

He then turned to you, holding up the watch to your face. You finally got a good look at his face, dark hair and deep green eyes. His face was innocent and charming, even though you knew he was rougher around the edges. Even then, he looked safe, like he’d protect you.

You, on the other hand, looked like a mess. Eyes red and tears streaming down your cheeks, your clothes were dishevelled and your hair because of the way they yanked it.

Ben’s jaw tightened, noting the way you were still sobbing quietly into your hand but when his eyes handed on the bruises around your neck, you saw the unadulterated rage that boiled over on his face.

He turned into another alien, pinning the two men against the wall by their necks. They choked, gasping for the breath that got knocked out of them but Ben didn’t care, his grip only got tighter when they started begging.

“You didn’t hear her when she was crying? You didn’t stop when she was in pain? Then why the fuck should I?” He spat and you felt mixed emotions. For a second, you were relieved and flattered he was sticking up for you. And then you were reminded of the way these men were overpowering you mere minutes before.

Even though you didn’t have a reason to be afraid now, the terror still returned and your knees buckled, sending you to the ground as a choked sob left your lips.

Ben glanced back at you, eyes softening just for a second before he turned back to the monsters that were left at his mercy. They cowered at his gaze and tried mangling out some pleas through the grip he had on their throats but he felt disgusted to even be touching them.

“If you even touch another woman like that in my town, I will rip your fingers off and feed them to you. The only reason I’m letting you go is so that you can spread the word to other lowlifes like you.” He spoke lowly, loosening his grip and they fell to the floor, nodding and apologizing.

They tried to come closer to you, to apologize but you cowered, backing away with a whimper and Ben growled at them before pointing at you, “Her especially. If I ever see you within 50 feet of her, I won’t be so kind.”

They nodded wordlessly before running away, tails tucked between their legs and only when the sound of their footsteps completely disappeared were you finally able to breath.

Ben gently knelt in front of you. He made no move to touch you, only watching as you lifted your head to meet his eyes and your chest cleared. You felt unbelievable relief looking at him.

Before you could control yourself, you started sobbing uncontrollably, launching yourself into his arms and throwing yours around his neck. He stiffened for a minute before relaxing, gently holding your body against his, knowing that you just needed to be comforted.

Eventually, your cries lulled down and you were left feeling exhausted, but he still didn’t let go.

“I thought you were supposed to be the bad guy?” You asked breathlessly and he smirked at you.

“I am, but I have some class. Touching someone against their consent is beneath me.” He said it with so much disgust in his voice that you believed him. You always thought he was just like them, a lowlife and mangy criminal, but looking at him now, he was much more honourable than you realized.

“Come on, I wanna get back home.”

Even though he was holding out his hand for you to take, you still couldn’t move from your place on the floor, staring up at him with wide eyes. You thought he was supposed to be a criminal. Why was he being so good to you?

“Ask me something.” He said suddenly and you flinched. Ben looked down at you and pursed his lips. He knew you needed to get your mind off whatever just happened.

“What?”

“I’m giving you permission to ask me something. Anything. You’re getting a really rare chance here.”

Of course, a million and one questions were going through your head. Why did he help you? Was he really a bad guy? Was he a misunderstood person? Like Robin Hood?

Even with so many thoughts rushing through your head, when you opened your mouth, the only thing that slipped out was, “Is it true you walk around in your apartment without your shirt?”

You had heard about it from the girl who lived in the apartment before you and had been too scared to look out the window to prove her right or wrong. You don’t know why you were so curious about it, just because you wondered whether he was comfortable enough to roam around without his shirt on or whether he really didn’t care.

Ben smirked at you, “Why? Interested in the view?”

Your face went red, “No, I just heard it from someone.”

“My hand is getting tired.”

You looked at his hand again, still held out for you to take. Gingerly, you slipped your palm into his and he held onto your hand firmly, pulling you to your feet. You were still tense, looking around suspiciously and huddling a little closer to him.

“Let’s go, no one’s gonna be stupid enough to come near you while I’m here.”

“I can trust you right?”

He sent you a smirk that made you uneasy and flustered at the same time, “At your own risk.”

Looking down at your intertwined hands, you figured you might just take it.

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

#Ben tennyson x reader #Ben tennyson imagines #Ben 10 x reader #Ben 10 #ben 10 original series #ben 10 ultimate alien #ben 10 uaf #ben 10 alien force #Ben 10 af #Ben tennyson headcanon #Alternate ben #Bad ben x reader #ben 10 omniverse #ben tua #ben ten alien force #ben ten omniverse #ben ten ultimate alien #ben tennyson

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deaththesyd · 3 years

Text

To The Brink Of Confession: Chapter 1, "He's not ugly"

I'd like to blame @mytanuki-kun for one of their works inspiring this side project that is now in the way of my Kisame week progress. As frustrating as this is, I'm having fun with this one and I'm excited to write my first true multi-chapter fic, even if it doesn't fit with the rest of my works and their timeline.

Summary: At first, she had shrugged it off as him simply being worn out from all the social interaction, but if that was the case, why was he only avoiding her?

At first, she had let it slide. Being super friendly and interacting with people was draining after all, and being forced to live in close quarters with such a loud group was sure to take its toll on even the most extroverted people. His avoidance lasted the entire rest of his time spent in her world, but she didn’t worry. As usual, a month passed by before she herself was teleported away into the foreign world of Jutsu, violence, and ninja. She even shook off her doubts when instead of her usual escorts, she was picked up by Kakuzu and Hidan, being told that the others were all preoccupied with important missions, ones that she would only be a distraction from. Entertaining as she found the duo and their antics, she couldn’t exactly hide her disappointment from the silver-haired loudmouth she had grown to consider a friend.

“What’s with all the moping, huh?” He said loudly, stood in front of her, face lowered to look her directly in the eyes as she had been watching the ground as she walked. Blocking her path forward, she stopped to look up at him, forcing herself to push down her thoughts and play them off as nothing. Surprising as it may be, Hidan wasn’t entirely self-absorbed and happened to be pretty talented at sensing other's emotions, a skill that he very rarely made use of. Not that it was really all that hard to see that something was up with her. Always easy to read, an open book, she was the worst liar and easily the most sincere person he had met. He seriously couldn’t stand her mood lately, it was worried and upsetting. Mixed with Kakuzu’s ongoing anger at everything and everyone, the irritating emotions were mixing and giving Hidan a headache. There were only two ways he could think of to fix this, either piss off Kakuzu to relieve his built-up stress and risk an explosive and painful response, or play concerned friend and get the woman lagging behind them to return to her normal upbeat self. Contemplating both options, the least painful option seemed the best bet.

“It’s not nothing, I can tell, so don’t bother lying, you’re shit at it anyway,” he cut her off as she tried to reply.

She tried anyway. “Really though,” she said, smiling almost convincingly, “I’m just lost in thought, we’ve been walking all day, can you blame me for tuning out?” Waving him off, she sidestepped him to follow after Kakuzu, who had not stopped for them and was quickly leaving them behind.

Knowing that the likelihood of being separated from Kakuzu was high if they didn’t keep up with the old man, he didn’t hold her back but stayed by her side to press for a proper response. “I said not to fucking lie,” he spoke casually knowing that anything truly harsh would only shut her up further, “you’ve been like this ever since you got here, it’s not just you being tired of walking.”

Sighing, she replied, “Ok, you’re right that I’m not just tired, but it’s nothing, really. I just need to manage it by myself.” No longer lying was a step forward, but she kept her lips tight on whatever it was. She was stubborn, but Hidan was persistent.

“What’s with you being all shy all of a sudden? You’re always so fucking talkative no one but Fishface can get you to be quiet,” he complained, almost missing how she reacted at the mention of the tall swordsmen. He grinned, seemed like he had a hook. “Awe, is this about your little crush on the big guy? Did you ask him out and he chickened out?” He laughed cruelly.

It wasn’t much of a secret that she had feelings for Kisame, she wasn’t very good at hiding how he caught her eye, often spacing out while watching him train, and making any excuse to get his attention. Everyone at some point had noticed the flush to her face around him, or the fond look in her eyes as she looked up at him. To most, it wasn’t anything to focus on. Kakuzu and Sasori couldn’t care less about it, as long as she wasn’t being obnoxious, Itachi seemed to keep a careful watch over her and her interactions with his partner, his reasons were unknown to Hidan who couldn’t care less about the Uchiha. Deidara and Hidan made sure to poke fun and tease her at any opportunity, making sure to keep their taunts from the man of her affections, trying to draw out their entertainment as long as they could. After months of this, she had become accustomed to the mostly friendly jeering from the two and had begun to poke fun at herself as well. It seemed she had resigned herself to watching from afar and keeping her flirting to a level that was easily mistaken for friendly conversation by the oblivious man.

Years of being acquainted with Kisame had only given Hidan a surface-level knowledge of the man, but recently he had noticed just how unconfident truly was of his looks, something he of course zeroed in on immediately. 6 foot whatever and hulking over even Kakuzu, it was hilarious to him that the member of the legendary Swordsmen of the Mist was both self-conscious over his fishy appearance, and his years of training as a ninja had not taught him to notice the obvious signs that a woman was into him. How anyone could be so unaware, yet so skilled was beyond him.

Her face saddened at his words, her brow furrowing, and her eyes cast themselves to the ground again. “I haven’t said anything, but I think he might have caught on,” she said quietly.

Despite her clearly upset confession, he grinned. “Way to go! Fishface finally figured out how to see above water, wondered if his brain was just waterlogged,” he snickered, excited that he could finally openly pick on him over the subject, but she didn’t smile and remind him to be nice like she normally did when he made digs at the sharkman. Clearly not a good sign then.

“I think he’s avoiding me,” she said, looking defeatedly at her shuffling feet. Now that made no sense.

Not long after it was clear to everyone but Kisame that she had an attraction to the tall man, it became more and more obvious that it was reciprocated. As much as she stared at him, he stared at her. Less openly, probably why it had taken everyone a while longer to see it, but it was well known that the two were complete idiots that had no clue the other was just as interested as they were. Part of Hidan had wanted to tell them immediately, embarrass them and make a scene out of it all, but another part of him had held onto their frustrations and fed off of it as a much more drawn-out entertainment source. Deidara was in on it too, saying that as much as he wanted to set off an explosive show by forcing their feelings out into the open, he also wanted there to be a build-up. In the meantime, they got to tease their fishy accomplice as much as they could get away with without pissing him off and alerting the other half of the pining duo. The fact that Kisame was avoiding her after finding out she felt the same was not what anyone had expected. For once in his life, Hidan was pissed at the drama of it. He would not admit that he was actually looking forward to the two becoming a couple.

“Bet he’s just scared that someone thinks his ugly mug is hot and is worried for your sanity,” he laughed. Her hand smacked him halfheartedly.

“He’s not ugly.” She said sternly, “Although with how forward I’ve been, he may have been creeped out,” she smiled, but there was a twinge of pain on her face that Hidan couldn’t help but notice. It pissed him off, his whole religion was about inflicting pain and death for his God, but seeing her genuinely upset gave him a feeling of frustration on her behalf.

“There’s no way he’s creeped out by your creepy staring,” he found himself attempting to reassure her, feeling as though he was betraying his and Deidara’s whole scheme. “He’s clearly just as much a creepy stalker as you are.”

Unsure that she had heard him correctly, she looked up to see Hidan avoiding eye contact, looking off the side of the road, ignoring her reaction purposely. “I don’t see how he’s the stalker,” she laughed humorlessly, “When he’s the one avoiding me.”

“Of course you don’t, you’re just as fucking blind as he is,” he muttered. Her sudden giggle made him look at her in suspicion. “The hell’s so funny?”

She brought a hand to try and stifle her laughter before she spoke, “What’s got you all grumpy now? Upset someones not crushing back on you?” She teased, eyes darting to look at the silent man trudging forward ahead of them, then back at Hidan.

The glare he shot her only made her giggles slightly louder. “What the fuck are you gettin’ at?” He spat, daring her to continue.

Humming whimsically, she spoke, “I just think that maybe you’re projecting some of your own frustrations onto someone else.”

He should have chosen to piss off Kakuzu. She may have been the lesser of two evils at a first glance, but the ability she had to force him into subjects he would rather avoid was something he had forgotten to account for in his earlier decision. Unlike the completely requited yet oblivious relationship between her and Kisame, Hidan’s own feelings were something he tried to ignore whenever possible. It was just a shitty joke she had made, something about how Hidan should leave her alone since he was really just trying to make the old man jealous. Something he should have shaken off with a normal insult towards the old miser, yet he had frozen, caught off guard by the accuracy. That was the one and only time he had ever allowed himself to come out to someone and let them live. It was shameful in the church to have feelings of devotion for anyone but Jashin, yet wanting someone that couldn’t produce more followers was even more so. Adamantly, he refused his feelings towards the man, but since that day she had treated his explicit flirting as nothing more than a show.

Embarrassed as he was, his comeback held no bite, and her teasing and further avoidance of the earlier topic increased. Eventually, it turned into a loud argument that reached Kakuzu’s ears, who ended their annoying discussion by threatening them both. She was easier to scare, but whatever they had been squabbling about had made Hidan more feisty than normal.

“Fuck off you old dick! There’s plenty of politer ways to ask to be included in a conversation,” came the danger prodding taunt from the young man. It was hard to guess why, but the older man’s fuse was shorter than usual, and the woman yelped as a dark arm split off from the man's torso to grab the face of the loudmouthed man right beside her. Flailing wildly and ineffectively he was dragged along the ground, yanked by the harsh grip of the intolerant man. Green eyes surrounded by red sclera flashed at her, warning her she would be next if she didn’t follow quietly. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she did just that.

#hidan #kakuzu #kisame #kisame x reader #mild swearing #upset that im writing this instead of kisame prompts #I wrote this just to clear my head and now im writing a multichapter fic wtf #Changed the title cause I hated it

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yoonjinkooked · 3 years

Text

CHEMISTRY | JHS (3)

PART 3 - ONE KISS

(pls ignore my old URL, i’m too lazy to change it now RIP)

DRABBLE SERIES, TONS OF SHORT LITTLE CHAPTERS.

SERIES MASTERLIST Pairing: Hoseok / Reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: FWB, university AU, smut (a bit of a slowburn)

Warnings: cursing, alcohol, hot Hoseok who knows what he wants, kissing (is that a warning), the deal is almost made, JK has a bad music taste (not really tho)

Word Count: 5k

Summary: After a few years of being immune to Jung Hoseok’s charms, you suddenly fall into them, head first. All it takes is one night, too much alcohol and a lot of balls.

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts since OCTOBER and i finally edited it today because I can’t f-ing get Jung Hoseok out of my head. Sigh. Let me know what you think! I’m balancing this story with others and I hope I’ll have an update for you soon!

As the days passed one by one you knew that the luxury of avoiding Hoseok is going to escape your grasp soon. Frankly, it’s a miracle you’ve been able to avoid him as long as you have and with Yoongi’s birthday this weekend, you know your lucky streak will break soon.

You didn’t expect it to break before that, not really. But here you were, minding your own business, studying on campus in a makeshift picnic setting and taking in the first proper rays of sunshine of the year, when he popped up from the tree behind you, very clearly cornering you.

And scaring the living daylights out of you too, as you end up clutching your chest and cursing at him while he laughed his ass off at the sight of you freaked out. “You nearly killed me, you idiot. Was it worth it?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” he laughs as he plops down on the grass next to you, completely casual, as if nothing between you has changed. To be fair, perhaps it hasn’t, in his eyes. “Let’s be honest here Y/N, I had to ambush you. You’ve been avoiding me for days,” he emphasises and although you wish you could call him out for being overly dramatic, you couldn’t. Leave it to Jung Hoseok to not beat around the bush and call you out directly.

“It wasn’t that bad,” you mumble, not even bothering to try and deny. That makes him laugh, a sound that sounds so misplaced in your current setting. It feels wrong to openly discuss the awkwardness that has formed between you while he is literally laughing at it.

“You ran out of the cafeteria the other day so fast, Namjoon is still calling you Speedy Gonzales,” he jokes, laughing harder when you curse that traitor under your breath. At least he is joking around with you. You wish he would ignore it altogether, but it could be worse.

“I’m sorry,” you let out a groan, consciously avoiding making direct eye contact with him. “You know I can get awkward like this. It’s not your fault, it’s… all me.”

“Y/N, come on,” he leans closer to you and nudges your shoulder with his. “It’s me you’re talking to. There’s not a single reason to avoid me. We are both consensual adults who wanted to make out at a party. It’s as simple as that.”

This time, you turn and give him a good look, unsurprised to find a content smile on his face. He is bright and positive just like he always is, to the point of it being both annoying and overbearing at times. He has always been a great friend but there were times when his positivity and energy were too much for a grumpy ol’ potato of a person that you are 24/7. Now, however, you are glad for it. Unlike you, he obviously wasn’t beating himself too much about what had happened between you.

“So, what you’re saying is that you’re not feeling awkward and I shouldn’t either?” you ask.

“Exactly,” he shrugs. “You are… one hell of a kisser,” his eyes widen in a way that makes it seem like he is shocked by how good of a kisser you are.

“Hoseok, please,” you hiss at him, not even caring if he was telling you the truth or lying to spare your confidence. You are embarrassed and he knows it well.

“I mean it!” he laughs, amused by your sudden shyness – it’s a side of you your friends are not used to seeing, simply because you don’t normally do shit you’re ashamed of, at least not when they are directly involved. And if you do, more often than not, you own up to your bullshit. You’ve had your fair share of moments that would normally be counted as humiliating, only to brush them off casually and move on with your life. Not this one, though.

“You need to stop,” you laugh awkwardly, hoping that this conversation will simply end. “I was drunk, I came onto you way too strong and I am pretty sure I used way too much tongue.”

“If you think that I didn’t find it hot how confident you were that night, I’m afraid you don’t know me well,” he bites back. You are instantly shocked, not imagining him taking the conversation in that direction and also shocked by the nature of his admission too - Hoseok always struck you as more of a hunter than prey. You didn’t exactly keep track of his hook-ups but you were fairly sure that he was the one who initiated them more often than not. “And for the record, it was the perfect amount of tongue.”

Oh good lord. If you knew he would say the things he is saying, you would have tried desperately to avoid him for… well, the rest of your life, really.

“Please stop before I dig a hole for myself, right here, right now.”

“Why are you acting so shy about this Y/N?” he is laughing, once again nudging you with your shoulder, which only makes it more obvious to you how close you are sitting next to each other. Before, you wouldn’t bat an eye. Now, it’s driving you mad. “You know me, I don’t bite. Not unless you want me to, that is,” he adds cheekily.

“Oh, I noticed, my neck had a lovely little souvenir,” you reply before you could realize what you were even saying. There’s no way he’ll let it go now and the worst part is, you don’t even want him to. You’re saying that you do but in reality, you yourself are finding ways to deepen the conversation. This whole thing is crazy and… wrong! “Why are you making it sound like you want to do it again?” you whine, wishing he would just be up for forgetting about it.

“Well… I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

You turn your head towards him so fast, you strain your neck and wince in pain, reaching at it with your hand. “Are you okay?” he asks, wide-eyed and worried, as he watches you rub your neck and grimace in pain.

“Am I okay? Are you okay?” you counter, completely floored by the words that left his mouth seconds ago. You have avoided him because you’re an awkward idiot, not because you thought that he’d be up for a re-run. “Did you just suggest what I think you suggested?”

“To be fair, I didn’t suggest it, I simply said that I wouldn’t be opposed to it,” he shrugs.

“Hoseok,” you glare at him, making him laugh. Even now, he laughs.

“I mean… why not?” he shrugs casually and all you can do is stare and blink dumbly at him, reminding yourself that you’re supposed to breathe, too. “If that party showed us anything, it’s that we definitely have chemistry that… goes beyond friendship. I’m not looking for anything serious and as far as I know, you aren’t either,” he continues and after a few seconds of silence, you realize that he’s waiting for some sort of a response from you. Unsure of what to say, you simply nod your head - after all, it is true. You are not looking for a relationship, not after the last two ended in tears and you drowned in vodka and chocolate ice cream. “Why not… take advantage of the opportunity?”

“I’m gonna need you to elaborate on what that opportunity is,” you’re not sure why you are even asking him that, when you know damn well what he is implying. You suppose that it would settle the last remains of doubt if you were to hear him say it more directly.

“Two single, and if I may add, incredibly good looking, friends who want, or in our case, don’t want the same things,” he cocks his head to the side, a small smile on his face. He looks way too cute for someone who is suggesting you sex with no added obligations. If you are not terribly mistaken and he has something else entirely on his mind. “Why not take advantage of the situation? And the chemistry - holy hell Y/N, you know we have it.”

He’s… absolutely right. Despite being drunk, you can clearly remember how… feverish you felt that night. You just wanted to keep kissing him, annoyed when you had to part for one second to simply breathe. If you had one more drink in you or if there had been fewer people around you, you’re not sure if the night would end with the two of you fully clothed. You have amazing chemistry as friends and you felt the sexual side of it that night. It would be stupid to deny it when you know well how rare it is to simply click with someone in the manner that the two of you had clicked that night.

“We do… but we’re also friends. And you know how shitty deals like these can end,” you point out the obvious. There are millions of books and movies about how ‘friends with benefits’ is a horrible, terrible idea because there’s an incredibly high chance of it ending in tears. “One of us could end up taking that chemistry to the next level and catch feelings. I’m not good in chemistry – I’m an art history major for a reason,” you joke, relieved when it actually makes him chuckle.

“That’s a good point. But we’re also really good friends, Y/N. We know each other well and we talk. If it would become too much for one of us, we could simply… talk. And I’m not suggesting anything… specific. I’m not here saying we should hook up until one of us decides they want to move on,” he tells you.

“Dude, you’re confusing as fuck,” you sigh, laughing along with him. “What are you suggesting then?”

“I’m just saying,” he grunts as he stands up, pausing to wipe down his jeans, while you make a conscious effort of not looking down because... thighs. “The next time you’re drunk, horny or bored, or even all of the above, you know where to find me.”

He looks down at you, the smile gracing his face slowly turning into the tiniest of smirks, before he gives you a wink. And with that, he simply turns around and walks away, leaving you with your mouth open, looking like a complete idiot while you try to figure out what the fuck just happened.

Nah, you know damn well what just happened. You have enough dating and flirting escapades behind you to recognize the look of someone who’d be happy to fuck you. The particular someone being Jung Hoseok is what is leaving you absolutely shocked and at a loss for words. As honored as you are and as much as the offer is… incredibly tempting, this is not something you can decide on the spot.

No, because you’re a dumbass. Of course you can’t decide this on the spot but you could decide in a matter of seconds that you want to stick your tongue down his throat and let him grab your ass while you grind on him as if your life depended on it. You weren’t expecting this turn of events and unsurprisingly, you have no idea what you should do about it. It’s tempting, in all the wrong ways, but it is also making alarm bells in your head go off. It could easily end in tears - the real question is, would it be worth it?

It took three full songs for you to start wondering if you have stepped through a time machine when you’ve entered Seokjin’s house. How Jungkook managed to convince Yoongi to let him DJ at his birthday party was a mystery that you at first ignored, but by the time he played that one Nicole Scherzinger and 50 Cent song, you’ve decided to investigate. “How much did you pay him to let you DJ?” you laugh at your friend, who looks up at you and grins, dancing in place with his trusty neon green Beats around his neck.

“Come here baby, hey be my baby, hey be my baby,” he sings at you, making you roll your eyes.

“Fuck Jungkook, please don’t drop out of school, you need that degree more than you know,” you say as you offer a comforting pat on his back.

“For your information, the theme of the party is ‘guilty pleasure’,” he announces with a proud smile. “And Nicole just so happens to be mine.”

“You and me both,” you admit with a huff, turning around to scan the room in the search of Jin - you’ve been looking for him for the past couple of minutes, with no luck. “Did you see Seokjin? He went to make me a drink with the gin from his expensive stash, but it’s been like… half an hour?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook nods, pointing behind you. “He’s right there with Hobi.”

Those were the only words you needed to hear in order to know what you must do next – hide. You did not bother checking, you did not look back – you simply dropped down to the ground and plopped your ass right next to Jungkook’s feet. “Y/N, what the hell are you doing?” your friend laughs, looking down at you in disbelief. “Are you still hiding from Hobi?”

“No, I’m sitting here because the view of your thighs is nice,” you roll your eyes. “Of course I’m hiding from Hobi! I’m not mentally prepared to deal with him right now. Although, you do have weirdly muscular thighs,” you add absentmindedly - what is it with them and thighs? First Hoseok, now him - do they only do leg days when they hit the gym?

“Stop,” Jungkook laughs down at you. “Are you seriously planning on running from him forever?”

“Not forever,” you shrug casually. “Until the end of the year, maybe.”

“I mean, I can’t stop you… but you do realize that if he finds you here, it’s going to look like you were giving me a blowjob or something?” he pointed out, eliciting another casual shrug from you.

“Good. He’ll think I’m busy and leave me alone,” you offer Jungkook an angelic smile. He knows better than to push you – when you want to, you can be stubborn as all hell and sadly, Jungkook’s has plenty of experience with being on the receiving end of said stubbornness.

You know what he’s thinking – you can tell from the way he shakes his head and decides to ignore your presence by his feet while he focuses his attention to that god-awful playlist of his – you know exactly what he’s thinking and he has a point. You’re pathetic. A coward. An idiot.

You have shamelessly lied to yourself earlier tonight, as you were getting ready for the party. You’ve told yourself, repeatedly, that you are ready to face Jung Hoseok, despite not knowing what your answer is to his suggestion from a few days ago. You have convinced yourself that you were ready to face him. Seeing as you're hiding behind a damn desk, just meters away from him, it’s pretty obvious that you are not.

He hasn’t left your head in days, to the point of even appearing in your dreams, even if he was just on the sidelines. For years, you have been blind to all the gifts Jung Hoseok has to give, and now they’re slapping you in the face all day long.

You want him, that much you’re ready to admit. Definitely to yourself, perhaps even to him. But are you willing to put an entire friendship on the line and go through with that desire? That’s not a question you know the answer to. For the time being, you will just… keep on hiding behind the makeshift DJ booth, until Jungkook informs you that the coast is clear.

“We’re drinking that whiskey tomorrow, got it?” Yoongi asks, referring to the birthday gift you’ve given him earlier, which he had to hide in one of Seokjin’s spare bedrooms, given that the house is full of people who’d drink anything that’d fall into their hands. “You and me, tomorrow night, drinking back at my place. Let’s make it fancy. Wear a beret or something.”

“Why would I wear a beret while drinking whiskey?” you laugh in confusion. “What’s the correlation?”

“Both are fancy,” Yoongi shrugs and after a few seconds, so do you. If he wants to drink expensive whiskey whilst wearing a beret, that’s what you’re going to do. Having a drink or two with Yoongi, in almost complete silence, has become sort of a tradition for the two of you. Compared to the rest of your friend group, you and Yoongi are the quieter, less social ones. How you wound up in a circle of friends that include permanent hyper bunny Jungkook and Mr. Loudest-Laugh-Ever Jin was beyond you.

“Can I join?” you hear Joon’s booming voice. He approaches the two of you, throwing a hand around your shoulder. Glaring, you grab a hold of his hand and move it away from you, watching as Yoongi laughs in confusion at your open hostility towards Namjoon.

“Not you,” you point a finger at him accusingly. “I’m still pissed at you. You haven’t gotten to your redemption ark yet.”

“What did you do now?” Yoongi sighs, looking at Namjoon as if you were not in the middle of the conversation with him.

“I teased her about hiding from Hobi,” Namjoon announces with a shit eating grin. “Guess Speedy Gonzales here doesn’t like to hear the truth.”

“Oh, I’m absolutely avoiding Hoseok,” you admit shamelessly – it’s become obvious now, why would you bother to deny? “I just don’t want to talk about it and you can be one pushy bitch when you really want to.”

“You’re both idiots,” Yoongi shakes his head, sighing. “I truly wonder why I’m friends with you?”

“Well, I buy you good whiskey. Dunno what’s his excuse,” you offer Namjoon one last glare. Deciding you’ve had enough of his judgment and teasing for one night, you beeline towards one of your two safety nets – Sana. As good of a cover Jungkook was, you didn’t want to cockblock the poor boy all night, and he has been talking with some freshman for the last couple of songs. Sana, being practically your only female friend in existence would definitely be more willing to help you out, but by the time you’re halfway towards her, you notice that she is talking to a senior she’s had a crush on pretty much since you’ve met her.

Brilliant. You can either find a new cover or be a cockblocking friend. Whatever you decide to do, you need a drink first. Settling for cheap gin this time around, you venture into the kitchen, ready to get wasted and cursing under your breath at Jungkook’s horrible taste in music, as you are forced to listen to Ginuwine’s ‘Pony’ at full blast.

One more drink and it’ll be socially acceptable for you to leave the party. You’ve stuck around for long enough, even managing to enjoy yourself a little bit. Not enough though, not compared to the tension that you’ve been feeling in your gut even before you got here.

“Hi.”

If you were holding your drink, you would have dropped it. Even the sound of his voice is enough to make a shiver run down your spine. Closing your eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath, you muster enough strength to turn around and face him.

Nope, that wasn’t enough strength. You needed more. You needed more to face Jung Hoseok, in ripped skin tight jeans, a black shirt with a v neck, messy hair and a smirk on his face, casually leaning on the wall next to the kitchen door. You could have taken an hour to collect yourself and prepare for your pending doom, and it would not be enough to prepare you for the Hoseok you were facing now. Especially when he is smirking at you, looking at you like he knows exactly what thoughts are roaming around your head. Add to that the horrible soundtrack courtesy of Jungkook, and you are overcome with a sudden wish to die, right here, right now.

“You’ve been avoiding me again,” he points out the obvious.

“And you’re cornering me again,” you argue back, hoping that he didn’t notice you gulping, literally gulping.

“I’m not cornering you,” he chuckles. Your eyes go wide when he stands up straight, no longer leaning on the wall. Slowly, he starts walking towards you and you walk backwards right into the table, no longer having room for an escape. He stops in front of you but he’s too close, too close for comfort, to the point of you being able to see a single freckle on his nose, despite having a decent amount of alcohol in your system already.

“Oh no,” you suddenly move to the right, towards the door, towards your escape. “Stay away from me, Satan!”

“Satan?” he laughs in disbelief.

“Yeah, Satan,” you confirm without a second thought, looking at him up and down. “Did you look into the mirror before you left your house? You’re sex on legs, Hoseok. So yeah. Satan.”

“For someone who’s about to run for the exit, the words you’re saying are making me think you don’t really want to do that,” he laughs, although he doesn’t step any closer to you. As ready as you were to call him Satan just seconds ago, you see his true good self shining through. He’s chasing you, very obviously so, but he is not pushing you too far and you know that he’ll recognize if he actually should step away. He doesn’t want to literally make you run in the opposite direction and the space he leaves between you is confirmation of that.

“You think I don’t want to run?” you ask and immediately he nods. “Maybe. You’re here. You’re hot. For some reason I can’t fathom, you want something with me. That’s inviting, yet very scary at the same time.”

“And do you want something with me?” he asks, no longer smirking.

“Honestly? Yes and no,” you answer, cursing yourself in your mind – alcohol always makes you talk more than you should. But in this case, maybe that’s exactly what you need - just a little bit of honesty. “I’m attracted to you, you’re an amazing kisser and we’re both single. Why not? And the answer to that question is simple - we’re friends. There’s… way too much at risk here, Hobi.”

“We’re better than that,” he shakes his head immediately. “We’re not stupid, horny teenagers. We know each other well. We’d be mature enough to stay friendly, or at the very least cordial, no matter what happens.”

Both of you do have a reputation of remaining friendly with your exes. Except for your last one, but that’s a story you don’t wish to revisit, especially not tonight. Broken hearts mend with time, people grow, find others and life goes on. If you set the terms the way you both want them, in theory, it truly doesn’t have to end in tears.

“What exactly are you offering me? And miss me with that ‘whatever you want’ bullshit you offered me the other day,” you interrupt him, chuckling when he closes his mouth dumbly, obviously having been ready to say just that. “Do you want to make out? Do you want to fuck me? Once or on a regular basis? To kill time until someone better comes along or in the hopes of it becoming more? I can’t make a decision if you don’t tell me exactly what you want, Hoseok,” you tell him. You were honest with him and now, it’s his turn.

“I want you.”

“Effective, but not effective enough,” you mumble, ignoring the stirring in your stomach that started as he said those words with… earnesty, with meaning. Hearing that you are wanted is always a good fluff up for an ego, but to hear it said like that, dead seriously, by someone you find incredibly attractive? It’s so good, it’s borderline painful.

“I’ll take what you give,” he shrugs casually. “What do you want?” he throws the question back at you. Shameless is what he is.

“A husband, two kids, two dogs and a house with a white picket fence?” you joke.

“Y/N,” he glares playfully at you, laughing. “You might want that down the road but do you really want that now?”

“God no,” you snort in response.

“So what do you want now?” he asks again. “It can be a one-time thing. It can be regular. As you said, we can kill time until someone better comes along,” he rolls his eyes at the phrase, obviously not liking the sound of it. “It doesn’t have to be sex, for all I care. We can just fool around at parties. Or we can pretend like none of this ever happened and just continue being just friends,” he shrugs.

“When you say it like that I wonder if you even want anything from me,” you laugh.

“Y/N, I have barely been able to stop thinking about kissing you ever since that night,” he deadpans, looking straight at you, not a trace of teasing or joking on his face. “Which was pretty horrible, seeing as you’ve been avoiding me and I had a molecular biology paper to finish. I do want you, probably more than you realize or want to accept. And I’m taking whatever it is that you offer. If I had my pick, we’d be friends that… occasionally become more than that.”

“So, to put it in simple terms, you want a friends with benefits thing with me?” you ask.

“Yes. But if you don’t want that, I’ll respect it and stick to it. You’re my friend, Y/N,” he smiles at you and it’s almost calming to be on the receiving end of his genuine smile and not that evil smirk that does things to you. “I’m not losing that friendship if I want to fuck and you don’t. So… whatever you want to do, that’s the way it’s going to be.”

Here you are again, faced with an opportunity that you know will likely end badly for you, perhaps even both of you at once. And again you wonder, if all the possible negatives are worth it - worth of finally succumbing to this sudden and overwhelming desire you feel for Hoseok. Turning his offer into reality… is it worth it?

“I need to think about it,” you close your eyes, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I’m not thinking straight right now. I’m not wasted, I’m just… hazed. Horny. However you want to call it. And I don’t trust my judgment around you right now. If we go through with this, I need to have a clear head when making the final decision.”

“Take all the time you need,” when you open your eyes, he’s smiling at you still. “I do have two tiny requests, though.”

“Shoot.”

“Please stop hiding from me. It’s weird and I think you’re scaring Jungkook,” he grimaces.

“You saw that?!”

“Of course I did,” he laughs. “It was cute.”

“Stop!” you order him.

“Okay, okay, I’m stopping,” he lifts his hands up as if he’s surrendering. “I’m pretending you didn’t duck and hide when you heard I was around,” he laughs. The fucker knows how embarrassing it is for you and he’s enjoying every second of it.

“What’s the second request?” you ask, desperately wanting to change the topic.

“Would you let me kiss you again?” he asks.

“Hoseok…” both your words and eyes are warning, as it’s going directly against what you want right now - a clear head. Kissing him would muddle it all, you know it. Not to mention how easier it would be to take things a notch further, given that you both know now that you want more.

“Just one kiss,” he elaborates. “It’s not gonna turn into a kitchen make out session or something more. And if you don’t want it, it’s not happening. We’ll never do something you don’t want, Y/N. You know me, I’m not like that.”

You do know him and you clearly remember him refusing you at first because he thought you might have had too much to drink and were acting out. You didn’t, you were well aware of what you were doing. Yes, you had no idea why you were doing it but your actions were not a drunken side-effect. Not then and not now. And damn it, you really want to kiss him again.

“One kiss,” you lift your hand in warning, but that was enough for him. He takes a few steps and closes the distance between you – was he being deliberately slow or were you imagining things, you’re not sure. All you know is, it lasted enough for your heart to start going into overdrive even before your lips met his.

It’s just a kiss, but at the same time, it isn’t. He’s not grinding against you, he’s not groping you, he’s not taking it anywhere it shouldn’t go. His hands are in place on your waist, gentler than you remember them being the last time. He’s respectful and careful, in every way except with the actual kiss. Before you even get to mentally prepare yourself for it, he parts your lips with his and tongue meets yours.

You’re the one who moves. You’re the one who threatens to take this further than it should go, as you put your hands around his neck and run your fingers through his hair, pressing your body just a bit closer to his.

It’s his fault. His kiss made you do it. He’s way too good of a kisser for his own good.

Thankfully, the one who initiated it is also the one who pulls away. Breathless and with eyes on your lips, Hobi moves away, letting your hands drop out of his hair as he keeps a safe distance.

“One kiss,” he repeats your earlier words. “Until you tell me you want more.”

Yeah, it meddled with your mind. Despite telling him you need more time to think about it, you know it’s already settled in your mind. You’ll definitely be coming back for more.

#hoseok series #hoseok fic #hoseok smut #hoseok fwb #hoseok x reader #hoseok x y/n #btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #btshoneyhive #thebtswritersclub

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lavendersb · 4 years

Text

Our Ultimatum

Chapter 1: Charity

Boba Fett x Reader

Summary: Finding yourself stuck between a rock and a hard place, you take a gamble and seek the mercy of the new ruler of Tatooine.

Warnings: Spoilers for S2 Ep8 (It’s set some time after the end credit scene), implied age gap, Boba flirting the entire time, mentions of slavery, gratuitous use of the phrase ‘little one’

This is just an excuse for me to be h*rny over king boba i’m so sorry, the smut will probably be in the next chapter!

Things couldn’t get much worse.

Life had never been easy on Tatooine. With the harsh weather, the hellish wildlife, and the abundance of seedy criminals there wasn’t too much to celebrate on the planet that you had grown up on. You’d always been conscious of the risk of poverty, on this desert world it seemed almost everyone was working off their last credits and thankfully you’d always managed to make yours stretch.

That was until a few cycles, ago when things had taken a turn for the worst.

You see, though the rebellion had brought with it many prosperous outcomes, like the end of the Empire and a half-decent attempt at eradicating slavery, it had also caused a few problems. Tatooine, being the hub of criminal activity that it was had faced a rather thorough clean-up, and the New Republic had pretty much scared away the local bounty hunters guild, taking with it most of the planets custom. Since then raiders seemed to pillage every town on a near weekly basis, leaving you and many others penniless and desperate.

You’d just managed to scrape by, but since losing your job and being evicted from your sorry excuse for a home you’d been faced with a tough decision. One that had lead you on this perilous trek through the desert.

With just the clothes on your back and a small satchel of your few personal belongings, you were headed to Jabba’s Palace, or at least the palace that had once belonged to Jabba the Hutt. Since the death of the Huttese criminal overlord, the Palace had changed hands many times, most recently into the possession of a notorious bounty hunter with a growing monopoly on the criminal underworld. You didn’t know much about this new leader, other than the fact he ran a tight ship, but sadly he might be your only hope.

You’d heard stories of destitute citizens like yourself travelling the Dune Sea to offer their services to the Hutts, a life of slavery in exchange for a roof overhead and a meal every-day. Much more than what most could expect living free. You could only hope that this new leader would be open to the same sort of offers. You’d never thought you’d end up in this situation, but the universe works in mysterious ways.

The palace was a great, monstrous thing towering high above the rocks and dunes surrounding it. You’d once heard it had as many floors underground as it did above, even containing its own exotic animal menagerie. Perhaps you’d soon find out for yourself if that were true.

“What business do you have here?” an armoured guard called out as you approached the doorway to the palace’s main tower.

Adjusting your grip on your satchel, you try to regulate your breathing.

“I’ve come to see Boba Fett,” you announce in what you hope is a determined tone.

The guard seems unconvinced, turning to his partner and laughing beneath his leather helmet. Suddenly you feel very small, and painfully aware of how pitiful you must look right now.

“He’s a busy man,” The guard says, turning back to you “He doesn’t have time to talk to kids like you”

“If I had any other choice, I wouldn’t be here. I’ve come here to offer my services” You snap back, angered by his patronising tone.

The guard bristles, incensed by your little outburst. He shifts his weight and raises his blaster slightly, just enough for you to feel the threat there, but before he can respond his partner interjects.

“Look, sweetheart, this isn’t the place for you. Go back to town and don’t worry yourself with what goes on in here. It’s grizzly business.”

He’s right. You can feel how out of place you are, but right now that just isn’t an option for you. The only thing waiting for you back in Mos Eisley is an empty stomach, your only shot at a future is behind those big metal doors.

Slowly you reach for your pocket, bringing out your last fistful of credits and holding them out in front of you. It’s laughable really, barely enough to buy a bottle of Spotchka and yet it’s all you’ve got to bribe your way in.

“This is all I have left. You can have it if you let me inside”

The guards stare at the pile of credits for a moment, before the first one reaches forward and takes the whole lot.

“Fine. If you’re so sure it’s what you want” he snaps, motioning for his other (and arguably nicer) partner to let you in.

The guard opens a small door behind him, ushering you through ahead of him. You try to ignore the look of pity he gives you as you step past him.

You emerge into a large, cavernous hall dimly lit with warm lights that hang suspended from wires of various lengths from the ceiling. Distantly you can hear the sound of many people talking and laughing, perhaps some music too. In the centre of the room, a wide descending staircase leads to the lower levels, curving off to the left and into the darkness. It sounds like that’s where all the noise is coming from.

The guard nudges your shoulder softly, gesturing towards the stairs.

You descend into what might be the busiest, loudest room you’ve ever been in. Filled with all sorts of species conversing loudly in groups all over the room, underscored by music that emanates from somewhere you can’t see. It’s dimly lit with a low ceiling that makes it feel like the room is about to collapse in on you, and the gravity of your situation slowly starts to dawn on you.

The guards were right, this Boba Fett really is busy, and you know you don’t belong here.

“He’s up there. Say what you need to say and try not to get me into trouble” the guard says, before stepping back against the wall and out of sight.

You look to where he had pointed, and instantly your blood runs cold. At the back of the room, sat on a raised dais and surrounded by the fiercest looking soldiers you’ve ever seen is the man you’ve come here for. He sits sprawled across a large stone chair- no, throne in his green Mandalorian armour that seems almost black in the low light. He has his face turned towards a woman beside him, her dark hair plaited tightly on her head as she nods along to what he says.

As though she has felt your stare she looks up. Saying something you can’t quite make out, she refocuses the armoured mans attention to you, and now, even from the other side of the room you burn something fierce under their combined gaze.

Boba Fett readjusts himself on the throne, spreading his legs just a fraction wider in a way that is both devastatingly inviting and frighteningly dangerous. He tilts his head, and you take this as your cue to step forward, weaving through the crowd until you reach the space before the dais.

“Are you lost, little one?”

Oh dear.

His voice rings out clear despite the noise around you. His pitch is low and measured, and pierces right into you. For a moment he’s rendered you useless, until you remember he asked you a question.

“No,” you respond in a voice you hope is as clear as his.

He huffs out an amused laugh and tilts his helmet. A few of the soldiers that surround him have turned their attention to your conversation as well.

“Forgive me. It’s not very often I get to see pretty things like you down here. As you can see I move in very specific circles” He gestures with his fingers, and you follow where he points.

Not that you needed to. You’ve been well aware from the minute you set foot down here that you don’t blend in with the numerous bounty hunters and criminals that fill the palace.

“But it seems you’ve come here with a purpose. What can I help you with?” Boba says, leaning forward slightly.

Right, you’ve practiced this. You had plenty of time whilst walking the desert to plan what you were going to say, and now as you face Boba Fett in all his imposing majesty, you’re infinitely glad you did. You probably couldn’t voice an original thought right now even if you tried, not with the nerves coursing through you under Boba’s unwavering gaze. You take a slight breath, ready to begin your well-rehearsed spiel.

“I have nothing. No money, no food. I’ve heard the stories about the people who came here looking to work in exchange for shelter- “

“You mean the slaves?” The dark-haired woman interrupts, throwing you off your rhythm and forcing the words to die on your tongue.

“Well… yes” you say, barely above a whisper.

“How dare you?” Hisses a zabrak bounty hunter that’s been lurking beside the throne “comparing our actions to that of the Hutts?”

The zabrak jumps down from the raised stone plinth, stalking towards you and causing you to shrink away. You’ve barely opened your mouth and already you’ve managed to ruin things. Honestly, you wish the ground would swallow you up.

“That’s enough, I’ve taken no offence” Boba warns, and the zabrak eases off slightly “but you should know we don’t do that here. Strangely enough there is some semblance of morality among us”

“I’m sorry” you offer lamely, hoping to repair some of the damage done in this conversation.

Boba studies you from beneath his visor for a moment, before offering out his hand to you.

“Come here” he asks, and not wanting to cause any more offence, you comply

Tentatively you step forward, eyeing the leering zabrak cautiously before taking Boba’s hand. Your hand fits neatly into the leather of his gloved palm, and he easily helps you up onto the dais to stand directly before him. Boba inspects your face again.

“You look tired, little one. Did you walk across the Dune Sea?” You faintly notice he hasn’t released your hand yet, still clasping it gently in his. You nod, not trusting your words just yet. Boba makes a quiet sound of sympathy that makes your heart flutter, much to your horror.

“And where did you walk from? Where’s home to you?”

His voice has dropped so it’s barely a whisper, a conversation just for the two of you alone.

“I don’t have a home.”

Boba doesn’t respond right away, instead reaching up to thumb the threadbare and sandy material of your tunic. He does so for a moment, seemingly lost in his thoughts before snapping his head up to face you.

“You must be tired. Follow my friend here, she’ll take you somewhere you can rest,” Boba points to the dark-haired woman beside him “Her name is Fennec.”

Shocked by his response, you can only babble out a strangled little “thank you” before Fennec promptly takes you by the arm and starts leading you away. As she ushers you into the crowd again, you turn one last time to meet Boba’s visor. He gives you a nod before you disappear into a hallway.

“I’ll admit you’ve got courage coming all the way here” Fennec says as she leads you along “most people choose come by speeder, the Dune Sea is a dangerous place”

“Well, I didn’t have many other options” you say, taking in the hallways you pass through, trying to commit them to memory.

“So it seems,” she responds, before turning to face you.

“You know if you really want to work for us we could probably sort something out. We can try and find you a job that’s safe and out of the way”

You’ve stopped outside a door, and the woman quickly presses a few buttons on the keypad to open it. Inside you catch a glimpse of a room, its fairly plain but still much nicer than anything you’ve ever had before. The bed looks divine, and you can’t wait to burrow under the covers and rest.

“I’d like that” you respond with a grateful smile; glad your little insult earlier hadn’t ruined all your chances here.

“I’ll see what I can do. There’s a refresher in there. You should wash, and I’ll find you something clean to wear. Rest as long as you need.”

Thanking Fennec you head inside, dropping your bag at the foot of the bed and reaching out to feel the sheets. They’re soft to the touch, but the sand that coats your body in a fine layer falls onto it, ruining the silky texture. Stepping back you begin to strip from your clothes, unwinding the binding that seals the cuffs of your sleeves and trousers. They’re supposed to keep the sand from getting under your clothes and irritating your skin, but in their threadbare condition the bindings haven’t done their job. When you shake out your trousers, half of the Dune Sea seems to fall out of them.

The shower amazes you. It’s a decent size with strong water pressure and it takes you a few moments to figure out how to change the temperature. You take your time under the water, enjoying how relaxing it is compared to the sonic showers you had used your whole life. When you’re sure you’ve washed away all the sand on your body, you wrap yourself in one of the soft towels and pad back to the main bedroom.

Someone had left a set of new clothes for you on the bed, a simple grey tunic and loose-fitting trousers, socks, underwear, and over by the door a soft looking pair of shoes. As you change you vaguely register your growing hunger but thinking of the soft sheets and just how tired you are, you decide that’s something you’ll fix after your nap.

As you lie under the covers in silence, you can just about make out the distant sound of chatter from the throne room. If you concentrate hard enough, you think you can hear Boba, his voice cutting through the noise as he calls out words you can’t make out.

It’s plaguing your thoughts. The kindness he showed you and the feel of his hand holding yours. The way his gaze pierced you even from behind his dark visor. This bounty hunter king was not at all what you expected him to be, but funnily enough you weren’t too mad about that.

You wake to a series of short knocks to the door.

“Hello?” you call out blearily, trying to regain your senses as you switch on the bedside lamp.

The door slides open to reveal Fennec. She steps inside, leaving the guard she brought with her in the hall and smiles at your groggy state.

“Seems you slept well” she quips.

“Yes, thank you,” you say, reaching up self-consciously to fix your hair.

“Boba wants to talk. Get yourself ready and follow the guard, he’ll take you to him” Fennec says.

The prospect of speaking to Boba again sent your mind into a frenzy. Your brief conversation earlier had left you dumbstruck, his measured tone and focused interest in you effecting your brain in an almost embarrassing way. How were you supposed to pull yourself through an entire discussion with him?

Fennec leaves you to get ready. You do your best to calm your hair, splash some water on your face, and slip on your new shoes, and as the guard leads you through the palace hallways, you work on trying to steady your nerves.

The room you’re led to is empty. It has the same stone walls and floors as the rest of the palace, and windows in the ceiling illuminate the sizeable stone table that sits at its centre. The table is set for one, with a decent amount of food and a large bottle of spotchka. You’re quickly reminded of your hunger but don’t dare take even the smallest piece of food without permission.

“You gonna eat that food or just stare at it little one?”

Boba’s voice makes you jump. Spinning around you see him standing in the doorway, hands resting on his belt as he watches you. You can’t quite manage to make your mouth work, and in the absence of a response Boba steps forward, walking past you to take a seat at the table.

“Come on then.” He points to the chair in front of the plate of food.

He doesn’t need to offer again. Even if Boba has rendered your brain useless, your stomach is still fully aware of its need for food, and you waste no time getting stuck into the meal offered to you. Boba chuckles softly at the speed at which you eat.

“Spotchka?” He lifts the bottle of glowing blue liquid.

With your mouth full, you shake your head. Boba nods and pours himself a glass instead.

You’re so preoccupied with your food that you nearly miss when the bounty hunter lowers his head and removes his helmet to drink. Suddenly your food is a lot less interesting, now your undivided attention belongs to the face of the man opposite you.

He’s older than you, that was no surprise, and handsome too in a hardened, grizzly way. The scars, however, that wrap around his handsome face have certainly piqued your interest. Of course it makes sense for a bounty hunter to have a few scars, but scars of that severity must have a particular story behind them.

“I’m not the nicest to look at, am I?” Boba quips without looking up at you. His tone is light, thankfully not offended by your staring.

“No!” You say, before you can stop yourself “Wait no…I mean… I think you’re very nice to look at”

Wow, how eloquent.

Boba seems to find your flustered state very amusing, laughing lowly as he looks at you over the rim of his glass.

“Well thank you, and I’ll be sure to thank the sarlacc for not maiming all of my face”

A sarlacc? Well that certainly explains the scarring, but how could anyone survive a sarlacc pit? It seems that the more you learn about this bounty hunter king, the more questions you’re faced with. Your face must give away your thoughts, as just when you open your mouth to question him he pipes up again.

“You’re an open book little one, I’ll tell you about it some other time. Now though, I want to talk about you” He says, placing down his spotchka.

You tell him nearly all of your life story, from your name to your rather precarious financial situation and Boba listens diligently despite your babbling. By the time you’ve finished explaining to him the decision you had made to come to the palace, Boba has sat back in his chair, studying you.

“I can’t thank you enough for your hospitality so far, its far more than I deserve after the way I spoke to you earlier,” You conclude, but Boba wave his hand in dismissal.

“It’s hardly an issue, your courage and honesty endeared me to you” he says, “but I want to do one thing more for you,”

“Yes?” you prompt softly.

“I’m going to take you up on your offer. I’ll give you work, and you can stay here at the palace, but I will be paying you a salary.” He lets the offer hang in the air. You’re too shocked to respond, this is much more than you thought you’d be given.

“You’d be free to leave our employment at any time, and you can stay in the palace for as little or as long as you want. I want you to understand you won’t be a slave here, you’ll always have your own autonomy,” He elaborates.

This is certainly not what you expected from such a hardened figure. It seemed almost comical for the leader of the criminal underworld to be offering you, a nobody, this level of charity. It baffled you.

“I- thank you,” you respond, mouth numb with shock and unable to fully articulate yourself.

Boba downs the last of his spotchka before fixing his helmet and rising.

“You’re very welcome. Finish your food, little one. We’ll find you some work in the morning.” Boba turns to exit, leaving you alone at the table with your mind running a mile a minute to process your new situation. Jumping up from your chair, you go to stop him before he leaves.

“Wait,” you say, reaching out to grab his arm. He turns back to face you quickly, and for a moment you worry that you’ve overstepped a boundary by laying hands on him. When the scolding you’re anticipating doesn’t come, you continue.

“I don’t understand, why help me like this?”

Boba cocks his head.

“Why would I not?” He says simply.

“You could have just accepted my original proposition or sent me away.”

“Do you want me to send you away?” Boba quips. Leaning towards you, you can almost hear his teasing grin behind his visor.

“No,” you respond.

“Must a man always have a reason for his ways?” He reaches out to smooth the collar of your tunic, letting his fingers skim across your collar bone.

For some reason you’re not entirely convinced by his answer, but the feeling of his touch does a remarkable job at diverting your attention. His fingers follow the tunic’s neckline, stopping when he reaches the lowest point of the shallow v neck. He lingers there for a second before raising his hand to tap your chin with the back of his curled forefinger and let out an amused little huff at your dumbstruck expression.

“I’ll see you soon, little one.”

#i swear there's smut coming #on god #the only way i'm coping with my emotions after the finale is by lusting after boba #boba may be lovely and sweet to the reader in this chapter #but he fucks mean and he aint gonna let yall forget that #boba fett x reader #my writing #the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #boba fett #star wars #boba fett imagine #nstf

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veliseraptor · 3 years

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So this is in NO WAY PRESSURING, get to this whenever you're bored and have nothing better to do, but I (have still not watched The Untamed) would love to hear any disorganized rambles around your fic 'Punitive Measures', like your thoughts while writing it, how you view Xue Yang's fight/flight/freeze instinct, and/or where you would take the plot if you ever came back to it (again, not pressuring, I'm not asking for a sequel, I'm asking for director's commentary. Also I know the mysterious flute was implying Wei Wuxian, I know that much and not much more.) It's a really fun, quick fic that I enjoy reading through while I keep circling around your longer, more intimidating stories. I aspire to write like you.

oh boy, well, I don't know that I ever have nothing to do but here I am answering this ask anyway, because I like talking about my fic even if I get self-conscious about it.

this entire fic falls solidly into the genre of fic I write that is legitimately just “I’m gonna fuck up this character I love because it’ll be fun and I love to do that” and then just kinda...went for it. actually harder than I was initially planning! my vague sense of what I was going to do with this fic didn’t have Xue Yang down an eye at the end of it.

but when inspiration strikes, what’s a girl to do, etc.

I actually thought recently about writing a sequel to this fic (or, well, continuing into the AU it started, more like) because the concept of Wei Wuxian and Xue Yang being bloodthirsty vengeance brethren is a very good one for me, personally, and at the point their paths would be intersecting in this AU a more plausible one than it would be at pretty much any other time (I would argue, at least in CQLverse). And that’s where I think this would be going. Because Xue Yang would see Wei Wuxian, in his bloodiest frame of mind, powered up with a gorgeous flute of bad vibes and go “fuck yes” even if he wasn’t in a place where he really needed the help.

The question I had was whether Wei Wuxian would be interested in accepting company, and I feel like Xue Yang on that front could be convincing. And the way that the latter would both enable and egg on all the former’s darkest fantasies and impulses...I’m just saying, Wen Chao and everyone he has ever known is in for a very bad time, possibly even worse than they already were.

I invite you to picture in this AU the part where Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji find not just darker and edgier Wei Wuxian at the end of their scavenger hunt but darker and edgier Wei Wuxian with a friend. A familiar friend! Now down an eye and practically picking his teeth with Wen Chao’s finger bones. :D

since you asked for disorganized rambling I went back to reread and I’ll give you some director’s commentary on a few things

And he’d kind of hoped Wen Ruohan would be too busy figuring out how to deal with his brewing war to dedicate much attention to looking for one absent retainer. And even if he did, Xue Yang had sort of figured that finding him would fall to Wen Chao, who’d probably struggle to find his own ass with two hands.

kicking off this director’s commentary with Xue Yang’s brutal assessment of the competency of Wen Chao.

tbh one of my favorite things about CQL’s involving Xue Yang in the whole Sunshot storyline, despite the merry hell it plays with timeline stuff later, is how obviously little regard Xue Yang has for the Wens, even when they’re at the height of their power. He shows Wen Ruohan himself very little respect, and I can’t imagine anyone else getting more (except maybe Wen Qing, because Wen Qing is competent and if nothing else Xue Yang can respect competency).

and he just like. ditches them. walks out! promises to deliver very powerful magical artifact, and then gets what he wants and is like “smell ya later, peace” and they never catch him.

that’s just a kind of gutsiness and casual disregard for very powerful people that I really both love and respect about Xue Yang. and also that he has in common with Xiao Xingchen, tbh. and Song Lan (though him I think to a slightly lesser degree, partly because he has a little more tact and sense of societal norms as something relevant to be thinking about)! they can all vibe on that.

They took Jiangzai. Well. One of the Wen disciples took Jiangzai in the stomach and Xue Yang didn’t get it back.

this isn’t an important line or anything. I just like it a lot.

Wen Chao gestured again and he went down in a hail of fists and feet. Xue Yang tucked his chin down to protect his throat, curled his hands into his chest, and drew up his knees to guard his stomach.

He knew how this worked. Sure, it’d been a while since someone had beat him like this, but the lessons stuck. It was almost boring, really. If Wen Chao was going to play torture games then he could at least do Xue Yang the favor of trying to be creative.

He checked out the part of his brain that registered pain as anything other than a thing that was happening and focused instead on opportunities. Weaknesses in his assailants. Escape routes. Getting away would be the first thing. Nice if he could take a piece of Wen Chao with him on the way out - arm, or maybe even a head - but the priority was freedom and survival.

okay, this I feel like cuts into some of what you were talking about regarding Xue Yang’s fight/flight instinct, and also a lot of what if, I was feeling pretentious, I feel like this fic is digging into on a level under “what if I just tortured Xue Yang a whole bunch,” which is something about the relationship Xue Yang has to (a) pain and (b) his own body. Specifically, the relative indifference he has toward both. Or...not indifference, exactly, because it’s not like he’s enjoying himself, it still hurts. It’s just...expected.

unremarkable.

which is a lot of what I was trying to convey with Xue Yang’s narration during the whole torture sequence, with the commentary on methodology and how things are mundane or boring, because the suffering itself is mundane! as far as Xue Yang is concerned that’s exactly what suffering is! other peoples’, for sure, which is part of why it doesn’t matter, but also his own.

the world hurts and that’s just how it is and you learn how to cope with that. pain as...a thing that [is] happening.

I also, since you mentioned the fight/flight instinct, think a lot about how Xue Yang is, while he’s very proud and very stubborn, absolutely not someone to pick fights (in general) that he knows he can’t win. Xue Yang will almost always be on the side of “run and come back another day” over “stand and fight when all is lost.” survival, first and foremost.

which feeds into the weird paradox that I kind of hint toward at the end of this fic about Xue Yang as someone who has a definite death drive, who is profoundly obsessed with his own death in a lot of ways, and simultaneously is attached to staying alive above pretty much all else.

“Snap and snarl all you want,” he said. “You’re not going anywhere. And the only part of you I need intact is your tongue, so you can tell me where you hid the Yin Metal you promised. Everything else is optional.”

A prickle of fear rolled down Xue Yang’s spine and he flicked it away, baring his teeth.

I actually do think that, even before they get around to hand-specific trauma, permanent mutilation is one of those things that still scares Xue Yang. which is a short list! there isn’t much that actually either gets to or scares him, but I think the prospect of (further) mutilation does, because I think Xue Yang is very...acutely aware of the fact that his physical capability is a major factor in what has kept him alive and what, in all likelihood, is going to keep him alive moving forward. anything that threatens that capability, that limits him in terms of strength or mobility or otherwise has a disabling effect, is consequently going to be a short road to death, and Xue Yang would much rather die painfully fighting than die as a consequence of not being able to take care of himself.

for Xue Yang, the idea of a return to the kind of helplessness that is tied to his trauma is one of the worst possible prospects to contemplate. in my head this is exacerbated further by the fact that I figure Xue Yang didn’t get much if any medical care post hand incident, meaning that the recovery period was absolutely nightmarish and a whole stretch of time beyond the event itself where Xue Yang was struggling to survive because he’d been damaged.

in some ways I think that period of time probably did more to shape Xue Yang than the moment itself.

Wen Chao grabbed one of the branding irons from a disciple’s belt and pressed it to his stomach. That hurt. More. He clamped his back teeth together so he didn’t make any sound, absorbed the burn, owned it. His. You only hurt if you were alive. And anything you survived made you stronger.

Not that this was actually going to make him stronger. It was probably just going to make him dead. But then again, the worse this went the more resentment he’d have built up. He could use that. Would.

Dead didn’t have to mean finished.

obviously this is pulled almost direct from what Wei Wuxian himself says to Wen Chao. deliberate echoes based on character parallels! we love those.

and yeah, again here about Xue Yang and his relationship to pain, but in a less mundane way this time where it’s about pain as a tool, pain as something he can use. which is another thing about coping, I think - when pain and suffering are a regular part of your life, one way to deal with that can be to convert it into having some kind of purpose or benefit.

which in this case it definitely can. Xue Yang is definitely someone who, I think, has thought a lot about trying to arrange it so he becomes a ghost after he dies. or at least has thought a lot about what he’d do after dying to the person who killed him.

and when you’re a necromancer by trade death really isn’t the end of the line anymore, just the start of a something new. Xue Yang’s relationship to life itself: about as jacked up as his relationships in general.

He felt the snap of bone in his teeth. Pain shooting up the side of his hand, all the way to his wrist, and Xue Yang couldn’t keep himself still enough not to try to wrench himself away. He swallowed his scream and turned it into a laugh. It was funny, wasn’t it? Funny, that he was back here, again. It wasn’t as bad, though. He knew how to take pain, how to breathe it in, make it part of himself, later turn it outwards magnified tenfold. They were old friends. Practically lovers.

two things here:

1. the thread throughout this fic of Xue Yang making things funny so he can deal with them, here brought to you by reliving trauma! because it’s funny! right? laugh about it! just fucking hilarious.

I have a thing about characters basically deciding for themselves to make very unfunny situations funny because it makes them less awful.

2. and look, now he can deal with it better this time! he’s Learned. :) :) :)

Everything splintered. Splintered like bones under a wheel, and first thing he tried to struggle to get away but that just hurt worse and then old old old instincts kicked in and he went still, limp, dead.

“Did he faint?”

Someone nudged him with their foot. One part of him roared to grab that foot and rip it off along with the leg it was attached to. Immediately the same thing that’d made him play dead told him to wait.

at an end point where fighting is impossible and running is also impossible, the only thing left to do is play dead and wait it out. this is very much, in my head, a reversion to a tactic Xue Yang hasn’t used in a very long time and does not want to be using now, because it is absolutely the recourse of the extraordinarily helpless with no way out.

which he has been! and is now, but he really really really doesn’t want to be. Xue Yang has built his life around not being that, ever again.

but here it’s not a move he makes planning to turn it around the way he does, not at first. he gets there, but when he first does it I think it is literally just instinct that goes enough is enough and shuts down.

Wen Chao, Wen Chao, Xue Yang thought. My body’s going to give out before I do.

someone should remind me at some point maybe (or not) to write something coherent about my Xue Yang vs. his own body thoughts. specifically the way that, while Xue Yang is very physical and very grounded, I think he has a somewhat antagonistic relationship with his own body, actually. not completely! he definitely respects what it can do for him! but I think he also treats it a little as a slightly separate entity that’s capable of betraying him rather than as a fully integrated part of himself.

not always! but it’s a little bit there. this idea that sometimes his body, and its capacity to be hurt or damaged, is a weakness that he’d like to be able to forgo entirely, if only it wouldn’t mean losing all the good things about having a body. and that’s present here in this line, for me, where he thinks about himself and his body as slightly separate, and his body as something weaker than its Xue Yang core.

#hope that was enough rambling for you anon jesus christ #confessions of a frustrated writer #i don't even know what to tag this #anonymous #conversating

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boredoverlord · 3 years

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Bucky X Reader - Hold the Line

I came in here to show you a good time, so here's my personal work and my very first fanfiction of all time. And because I'm a thirsty bitch, of course it's smut.

Summary : As a young and talented psychologist specializing in difficult people in prison, you believed in a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to work with the SHIELD. Turned out you were tricked to work for HYDRA.

For three years they made you do horrors in the name of an ideology you despised, but you may have found the occasion to finally make a change for the good, when they introduced you to your new patient.

The Winter Soldier.

Rating : Explicit, please kids, look away ( of course you won't because you're cute little rebels, but please do it)

Word count : 6.4k (chapter 1)

TW: Light BDSM (for now) Because Bucky is a massive Sub and it seems nobody agrees with me, so I have to do the lord's work here.

Foul language, mention of violence and murder, Masturbation, male orgasm and a tiiiny bit of choking. I started lightly

Please consider reading this on Archive of our own or read it below the cut. Lemme know what you think !

Chapter 1: A Story of Almost Everything

You never were the type to brag. But one thing you know is : you’re damn good at your job. Years and years of psychology studies, you barely got to parties, you hardly made any friends, and your sleeping schedule is still a nightmare. Those were sacrifices you did for one sole purpose : helping others. To be the last resort for people who have lost everything. You always firmly believed that you could make a change in the world, even the slightest, even for just one person. That would have been enough to make your lifetime worthy. What's more noble than just a genuine try to make it better, after all ? So you wasted your youth on studies, without a damn blink. And never one ounce of regret. You did it because it felt right. You’re not very brave, but you decided to face your fear a couple of times. You even were an intern in a high security prison, talking to broken men and women who hated your guts. Trying to lead them to another path of life. You heard stories that could break any mind. Only time could tell if you actually helped them. But that’s part of the job. Hope. And hard work.

That’s why when you started to have a growing reputation, at 26 after five years of studies and several years working in prison and rehabilitation, you were ecstatic when S.H.I.E.L.D contacted you. You quit everything, starting with your homeland in Europe, to fly to Washington DC, to visit the headquarters. The new building, the thrill of novelty, the clean rooms, the medical wing, and Alexander Pierce himself coming to shake your hand and telling you personally the wonders they have in mind for the psychology field. You could prepare people to save the world, you could have all the resources to make research, and fix minds that were supposed to be beyond repair. It was supposed to be just a quick trip, but the visit wasn’t even done when you looked at your guide with enthusiasm : you weren’t going home. Just cancel the fly. You’re taking the job immediately. It was three years ago.

Enough to understand how fucked you are.

You didn’t save anyone, you didn’t even work to make the world a better place. Oh but you did work to make a change. A change for HYDRA. They tortured you to make you swallow their ideology, but even if your body surrendered, your mind didn’t, even if it was still a perpetual work on yourself. You never believed in this masquerade, but you know it doesn’t matter. Because HYDRA knows how good you are at your job, and you’re a precious asset. So precious that they pushed all your buttons to make you obey. You tried to act and escape. Their last resort is the Damocles sword they put over your family’s head. Next act of rebellion, heads will roll. And it won’t be yours : no, no. HYDRA won’t give you this relief. It will be your loved ones. So you’re doing what you have to do. It’s the most cowardly choice, you know it. And you’re ashamed. But you’re too terrorised to make it otherwise. So you’re here to twist people's minds to swallow whatever Hydra wants. You make them understand the importance of the organization, when they can’t take it anymore, you make them understand that not only they can, but they must . You saw vulnerable people giving their life to this awful cause, and you are the person to make them understand it was the right thing to do. They gave you kind people with dreams, morals and passion, and you turn this into anger, hate and war, worshipping a crazy doctrine that spoils everything you believed and fought for. You have blood on your hands. You’re THAT good at your job.

So when they called you for a highly secret mission, you weren’t exactly surprised. Just disgusted by them, and mostly yourself. In the guts of what was called the Ideal Federal Saving Bank, you’re obediently following the chef himself : Alexander Pierce, to your next place of action. “I believe you have read your mission’s order, Y/N ?” “Yes Sir.” You said. “It did mention I will have the whole file today, though. I need to take a look at my patient so I can work in proper condition.” “Whatever you call it.” He said, opening the door of the clandestine laboratory in the now abandoned bank. If not for the machinery, we could still believe that those art deco walls filled with safes would still contain treasures of a lifetime for some people. Now there is nothing of value in here, not even the very skin of every PoS present. And you were including yourself. Making your way in the middle of the heavy set up, you slowly reach the pod in the middle, chewing secretly the interior of your cheeks. You know what’s inside, and it makes you want to puke. Mr Pierce continued “Doctor, as your mission was presented to you, your one on only assignment will be the physical and mostly the psychological perfect condition of the Winter Soldier, for the entire length of this mission on american soil.” Basically, be sure his brain is a fucking slushy. You reluctantly nodded and drew closer. “What’s his condition ?” At the top of your height, barely 5’3, you tiptoed to actually look at him by the window of the cryostasis chamber, since you never got this close of a look, not without the file and basically crumbs of info that were thrown at your face. They expected you to keep a dog on a leash, not making actual work on him, and it shows. White man, late 20s to early 30s, approx 5”7, long dark messy hair, not shaved, geez, it seemed like the poor guy was barely cleaned up before being pushed here. Good physical condition, breathing was steady. You could see the steam of his breath on the glass. He may be clinically asleep, but she highly doubted he would be in his best shape. He looked uncomfortable, and tired. It wasn’t a restorative sleep. It was a prison. You couldn’t help but notice his prosthetic arm, even if that was the only thing you knew about him. It’s a fascinating work of science, that’s for sure. And even if transhumanism and biomechanical wasn’t your forte, you wanted to have a closer look, to satisfy your curiosity. One of the scientists watching his screen responded : “He’s gently defrozing, should be half conscious in 5 minutes. You may want to take a step down.” You ignore that, and lean your hand to your superior. “May I finally have what I have been asking for ?” With the most irritating smile, he gave you the Winter Soldier’s File and you quickly opened it to have a first look at all the fuss. Basic physical information, previous missions report, date of entering and ending of cryostasis, bare minimal medical record, notes by her predecessor, fucking trigger words to make him kneel like a 12 years old in front of any boysband... nothing about his previous life, his antics, his name, actual disorders, no name, nor adresses… You glaced a bit at Pierce and threw a polite smile. He knows what he’s doing, and he knows you know. You’re extremely good with very violent patients. You have endured rapists and murderers spiting in your face and swearing to bite your head off and fucking your skull. You were traumatized and you cried yourself to sleep, but the following day you did your job again. You’re just here to handle the worst of the worst. And you’re going to do it.

Or he’s going to break your neck and fuck your skull. You’re fine with that.

“Thank you it’s going to be very helpful.” As helpful as a band-aid on a wooden leg. “What’s this device ?” You point your chin to another machine not far away from it. One of the two men finishing installing it, raised his head to look at you. “A memory suppressing machine. Usually he doesn’t need it as much as he used to, but it’s mainly for safety. He must be prepared.” “He’s in a state where he willingly takes it. So don’t hesitate if he’s starting to be annoying, or excited. That can happen. But that mean you would probably have to work more with him to make him fully ready for his mission,” “Understood, thank you for clarification gentlemen.” You smiled and they smiled back. You’re a woman, so you’re used to it. Basically this shit was supposed to hack his brain, and it must be painful. “I would strongly recommend not using it at such a time. From what I quickly read he needs stability and time. Wiping everything out will more likely create more confusion.” You took a look at the file again and took it upon yourself to not have your eyes double in size and screaming at this bunch of idiots. “... and it does seem he’s using it a lot.”

“We want the asset to be as focused as possible.”

“I understand that, but that's a temporary solution at best. He’s got a brain, not a harddrive. We still don’t know how it can store information, and if it can…” “The last time we used him was five years ago…” Started Pierce, with diplomaty, but also with a tone that wasn’t allowing any more debate on the matter. “And this mission is an absolute priority. The asset is strictly under cryostasis procedure as soon as he’s not needed anymore. The machine will be used if needed.” “I understand your point.” You absolute psychopath. “Then my request is simply to be here if it happens, and to be able to control the shocks. Also, I insist that he must be in perfect condition when you launch the procedure, I’ll personally make it happen and give you a green light.” “Thank you for your hard work.” He said, raising his hand, that you promptly and politely shook. You could feel the angry grasp. “I know you’re the perfect woman for this hard job. Your work is an inspiration for us all.” You wish you could end your life right here right now, instead of being told such atrocities. But you think about your mom and dad. At this time of year they start to prepare the pool for the summer, for the future neighborhood barbecues where they will brag to everyone about their incredible psychiatrist daughter who is doing secret stuff over sea to help save the world. You have to be strong. At least for them. At least for now.

“Hail Hydra.”

“Hail Hydra.” You responded, while your tongue feels like sandpaper.

“Ok he’s starting to wake up…” Someone warns, as Pierce leaves the room, unbothered. The pod opens before your eyes, as the asset -you hate this term- is being roughly handled and carried away by two dudes to his seat. The one dangerously close to the memory suppressing machine. You squatted in front of him, the time for him to blink several times and look around him. Confused, but it’s not exactly his first rodeo either. His eyes are quickly focused on the first thing in front of him : you. He looked like he was trying to remember who you are, but quickly realized he didn’t know you. Two blue spears digging right into your soul. That’s making you a bit uncomfortable. The same weird feeling of unease you have when a cat is watching you taking a shower. “Hi.” You started, in english, even if he could be from italy you had no freaking clue. You guessed that he was probably slavic. But the file says he’s speaking more than ten languages. And it wasn’t specified when and how the hell did he learn that. “Can you hear me?” He took a few more seconds to look at you, probably the time to finish reading every embarrassing moment of your life, right into your eyes, like your drunk 18th birthday when you finished in your panties swimming in a city fountain, but he nodded eventually. You actually know this look. But it’s the first time you have a super soldier in front of you so it’s of a rare intensity. He’s dissecting you. Gathering information. His eyes moved slightly down : a recent scar on your neck. Right : an ex piercing on the top of your ear, now unusable. Down left : he just realized you’re slightly unbalanced so he knows you have a hip issue. And down right : he’s looking at your hand, you don’t really know what he saw here, maybe calculating how to break them ? You were literally a foot in a viper’s nest. Were you terrified ? Absolutely. Will that forbid you to do your job ? Nope. “Can you follow the light ?” You asked, moving slowly your phone’s lamp from left to right in front of his eyes. He did it without questioning. “Ok good.” You tried a smile, not really knowing why. If he was at least a tenth as clever as the file said he was, he perfectly know that you’re here to fuck him up. But you couldn’t help it. Poor dude. He was visibly more or less your age. He could have been a prince, or thief, a womanizer, or a priest, whatever, HYDRA took everything from him. From his free will, of his right to grow old, to his sleep. “Can you tell me your name ?” He frowned, perplexed. “Winter Soldier.” Shitty answer but at least he was fully aware, and his tongue was working properly. “Nice to meet you, I’m doctor Y/N. We’re here to work together in preparation of your next assignment. Do you understand ?” He nodded, unimpressed. “Good, can you get up ?” He did, so you did it too. And he realized that you were… very short. His eyes literally went up and slooowly down. That was a bit mean, actually. You carefully took a glance behind you, and your eyeroll could probably trigger an earthquake. “Can you all nice gentlemen let down a bit of their weapon ?” You said at the 6 dudes with rifles literally fixed on him, ready to shoot at the wrong twitch of muscle. No wonder he wasn’t talkative. “You won’t say that when he will break your neck with two fingers, ‘mam.”

“He’s pretty stable for now. Plus he’s not fully awake, let’s give him time before threatening him, shall we ?”

Nobody moved for ten seconds before one of them complied, since you didn’t move. The rest of the bunch reluctantly followed . You looked at your patient, hoping that that would have made him a bit more relaxed. Nope, he didn’t give a shit. He wasn't even looking at them. He was looking at you. You’re the mystery of this room to him. But you didn’t need extra vision to understand that Docs treated him like a guinea pig, so he was very understandably extra careful with you. Standing on his feet, all his muscles ready for action, that’s the exact moment you realized how close you two were. Indeed, if he decided to, your jaw would fly across the room in a single move. You never had such a display of sheer raw strength, and you could feel the heat of his body radiate.

“He needs a shower, and clothings.” You said, having a look at his 5 years old combat suit still reeking the smell of his sweat. It was intoxicating. They didn’t even allow him to clean himself. Poor dude was frozen in his own filth for the last five years. And you didn’t know why you took an even deeper breath. “And I’m talking about comfy workout clothes, no combat suit. Please escort him and handle him with care, before bringing him to my office.” You actually decided to be sure he wouldn’t be mistreated, by waiting outside the man’s bathrooms. You weren’t certain of how he could react, and you didn’t trust anyone here. If one of them decided to do a piss contest with your patient, it could end badly. So you put your hands in your pockets, looking at the two armed men waiting for the most dangerous assassin in the world to finish scrubbing himself with soap. The atmosphere was heavy and the silence was loud in itself. Even the sound of the shower was stressful and menacing.

When the Soldier was escorted to your improvised office into the archive, directly linked to a storage room that will be your bedroom for the next weeks, you let him take a seat and promptly blocked the access to the room of the two escort members. “Thank you sirs, that will be all. Please wait here.” They look at you like you just told them you were dating their daughters. “Sorry Miss, but we can’t…” “Sorry Doctor , and I can’t work properly with weapons in my office.” You raised your hand, showing your device on your wrist. Something that would not only call for aid by a simple pressure, but could stun an opponent. Neither them nor you were stupid : it wouldn’t stop The Winter Soldier, maybe he would blink a second at most. But you really wanted to be alone with him. Was he dangerous ? Yes. Were you absolutely certain that you would leave this room alive if you closed this door to their face ? No. But it’s been three years since your priority wasn’t your survival anymore. So you forced a smile and slapped the door. They needed you more than you needed them, so they will obey.

“Douchebags.” You muttered to yourself while coming back to your desk. Your patient didn’t even move a muscle at your little argument. He wasn’t totally inexpressive actually, mostly terribly broody. His hair was still wet from the shower he took, wearing cargo pants, heavy boots and hoodies, generic clothes by HYDRA. You got those too, since you’re not allowed to carry anything personal for mission to mission. You had a tablet for books, music and movies, but that was it. You haven’t opened your shelves yet, but you know it’s full of ugly clothes and generic black panties of doom.

You took a large inspiration, sat on your desk in front of him, and started : “Ok ‘Winter Soldier’... how are you doing ?” He didn’t even flinch. He was staring into your soul with his eyes lost into dark circles. Depriving someone of proper sleep is a basic rule for brainwash. “You enjoyed the shower ?” Nothing. You waited for a bit to see if he would finally respond. Ten seconds. Twenty. fourty. a minute. When he gathered that you were actually looking for an answer, visibly a first one for him, he finally gave you the courtesy of one. “Yes.” “Perfect.” You didn’t hide your slight smile and tiled your head. “I’ll be sure you’re in your best condition for your next mission. If something’s on your mind, I need to know about it. Nothing will get out of this room. Both of our priorities are your goal, and your condition is the key to success. Which makes you , my high top priority. Do you understand me ?” “Yes.”

“Ok so let’s get going.” You took another file, and took a picture out, ready to handle it to him. “Is the name : Nicholas Fury, ringing some bells to you?” “Yes.” He took it inside his titanium fingers and finally moved his piercing blue eyes away from you to look at the picture. “In two weeks, you’ll be in Washington DC. An entire squad will be deployed to assassinate him. Fury is the leader of the S.H.I.E.L.D, not a mere target. He will break free and fight back. That will be when you’ll show up.” He wasn’t looking at the picture anymore. One thing for sure : at least he was paying attention to you, and what you were saying. And that made you actually kind of proud of yourself. “That was part one. I’ll personally supervise your training with the VR machine and your physical health and condition. I really need you to communicate with me all the time about anything that could be in your mind. The more focused you are, the more Hydra’s plan will succeed.” And what’s that plan ? You have not a single clue. You were a cog in the machine, disposable. Not much more than him. “Do you understand ?” “I understand.” Oh shit, two words this time!

“Good.” You smiled. He didn’t. You move your hands closer to him, to take a grip on the picture. He opened his prosthetic hand, leaving you to take it back. Nothing in his gesture seems dangerous. Just normal, somehow cordial. “I must ask : are you in any pain right now ?” His eyes significantly get from right to left. He must probably wonder why you are asking him that. Did nobody ever ask him such basic questions like : ‘are you in pain?’ This man's sole purpose was to fight, that made no damn sense for you.

“Sir ?” You insisted for an answer, even if the ‘sir’ sounded absolutely ridiculous to your ears. You didn’t know his name, and you don’t feel comfortable calling him “Winter Soldier” , “Soldier”, “Sir De Winter”, “Hey you,he soviet assassin” so it will be “Sir” for now. “Sir are you in pain right now ?” “I’m not in pain.” A complete sentence, that’s progress. You breathed a bit better “Ok good.” You got up from your desk, which was honestly barely taller that him remaining on his chair. He didn’t let go of your eyes and you decided to make a bold move. For now, he was always being responsive so you slowly moved your hands toward him. To his prosthetic hand. “May I take a look, please ?” You glanced at each other, nobody made the first move. In complete silence, if it wasn’t for both of your breaths. You’re almost sure that it has been at least 5 minutes since you decided to speak again. Slowly, and gently, with no signs of confrontation in your body language or speech. “I will not do it until you comply. And you can refuse the contact.” He didn’t answer right away but he finally nodded.

Slowly, you took his hand into yours, lifting it from his thigh where it was resting. At the beginning it was just taking a look. But he wasn’t making any moves, so you decided to take your observation a little further. You used your other hands to start to move each finger separately, taking a step closer to him. Finally, you made one of your hands slowly sliding into the hoodie, to feel the muscles, the nerves, how it feels like a real arm. It was cold, but you felt it shudder to your touch. That was the line you decided to not take it further.

“Thank you, Soldier.” You said with a smile, taking away your hands from him. You moved behind your desk, opening your notepad to take a bunch of notes, breaking the contact with him. Just a second. But when you raised your eyes again, The Winter Soldier wasn’t in sight.

You shuddered and didn’t make a single move. If it wasn’t for your fingers grasping your desk. You did your best to have a steady respiration and not start to panic. Your throat dried up immediately. You took a deep breath and say : “Please, get back to your seat.” You slowly moved your head to look right back at him. He was standing. His eyes were black, taking loud deep breaths, fixing your behind your shoulder. Tall. Dangerous. You were terrorised. And he could smell it. He didn’t move so you stood up as well, and slowly faced him. You try to remain in total control of your body and not start to fidget. You could scream for help, but for whatever reason, you still had the feeling you could handle the situation. Trying to convince yourself that it wasn’t the first time a patient was disobedient. The only difference was that this one could crush your skull in a bat of an eye,

“Get back.” You said once again, bearing his piercing eyes, but he didn’t budge. So you took out your hand and put it on his chest. You felt like an ant against a mountain, but you pushed him a bit. “We will go nowhere this way.” You resumed trying to get a step closer, even if it will be creating a proximity that could be even more lethal to you. “So please, get back to…”

Something happened. It was obvious, and clear as day : you felt the bulge between his legs. Right above your navel. Hardening even more now that he could feel your body. You decided immediately to repress the shameful feeling of your very inside warming up and tickling you. “Winter Soldier.” You growled, angry but trying your best to remain as professional as you could. Of course, of fucking course. This guy was gorged on serum and hormones, quick, violent actions, and adrenaline. Pumping in his veins, burning 24/7. His body was on the edge all the time, and he just awoke from a dreamless slumber. He was a human, whatever all these idiots were thinking, not a freakin’ cyborg. When was the last time he saw a woman that he didn’t smash the head on a wall ? You even suspected that Pierce was counting on it. Nonetheless, you were alone in an office, literally glued with the world's most dangerous assassin, who was having a massive hard-on. Throbbing against you. You had your share of very awkward situations in your short life time. But nothing, nothing prepared you for this. And you had even less of an idea of what to do because he was doing nothing . He was feeling uncomfortable, that you could say, but he wasn’t really doing any moves to attack you, or even take you. He was standing here, with heavy breathing, his eyes still piercing you. And you slowly slided your gaze to his lips, finding the vision of his hard laboured breath strangely mesmerizing.

Short of ideas, your reflexes took the best (or the worst) of you, and without you realizing it, your hand was around his neck. Your palm pressured on his glottis, and you clearly felt him swallow. As clearly as you felt him becoming even harder. Your breath was starting to shake, as you felt a not-so subtle chill coursing your spin. You drew his face and your face closer, as you finally moved forward, forcing him to move as well. Forcing was a strong word : the last time you hit a punching bag, you hurt yourself and sobbed for an hour. But for whatever reason, he did whatever you wanted. As if he was testing your resolve to make him obey. But there was nothing on his file about this behaviour. He tried to attack, kill and escape. Nothing about testing the limits of anyone.

“You. Will. Sit. Down!” you spat, through your teeth, forcing even more your grip around his neck, as your other hand was reaching for his hair. You pulled it, not too harshly, but you could definitely smell the musk, and the wetness of what stayed of his shower.

You did it. He was sitting down again. And your bodies departed for one another. For once he tried to escape your gaze, which was a strangely human reaction. You both managed to get your breath back, before you decided to call the guard to adjourn your observation.

As soon as the door closed behind them, you felt your legs giving up and you sat on the ground, back against your desk, a small wimp leaving your throat. You felt your eyes starting to wet, and your teeth rattled a bit so you tried to cuddle yourself to try to retake control on your body. Your hands were shaking uncontrollably as his intoxicating smell was still all around you. It was by far one of the most terrifying experiences you ever felt, and it was all clouded by the phantom feeling of his body against yours. You could still feel his gaze, his heat, his… well, his cock against your belly. You were still chilling, trying to repress whatever you were feeling at this instant. Because it wasn’t right, for you. Nor him. Everyone in this godforsaken organisation was treating him like a dog, just here to attack and do tricks, but you swore to yourself not to do the same. You will succeed at your mission, but you’ll do it from the crumbs of humanity and morality that HYDRA left you. You will do anything possible that the mission will be complete, the most painless possible for this broken man you just saw. Wait a second.

Painless .

You jumped on your feet, ignoring the numbness of your legs caused by the shock, and you ran at the door, screaming at the three men at the end of the corridor. “HEY !” The guards startled a bit and looked at you “I changed my mind. Bring the Winter Soldier back to my office.” They briefly exchange what seems to be a bunch of insults about you, but they comply to bring the Soldier back. Him ? He seemed absolutely unbothered.

You closed the door behind the both of you, to the face of the guards yet again. He was standing here, showing his back as you slowly got back in front of him. Hands in your pocket, not really sure of what to do nor how to do it. He was looking at you, this same feeling of unease than before. And for reasons : a small glance confirmed that he was still rock hard. You didn’t make any move for a long time, until you finally put your hand on his chest. You felt his breathing becoming slightly quicker. “You’re not in pain.” You whispered, and he shook his head, negatively. “That was the wrong question. I’m sorry... “ Without you noticing, you had the palm of your hand on his cheek, scrubing lightly his stubble with your thumb as an apology. You breathed in, just couldn’t believe what you were about to say. “Do you need help ?” His expression didn’t change, but his eyes ? They became a bit brighter, you could even see a bit of relief when you saw him nod.

You swiftly move your other index on his pillowy lips as you still lower your voice. “They cannot hear us.” He nodded again as the only feeling of your finger as close to his mouth made him shiver with anticipation. He was literally dying of anything that could relieve him. And for what you understood, as your conversation continued, he trusted you with his body, to provide him with the sweet touch he has been totally deprived of. You slowly push away your index to gently slide your thumb between his lips, and he sighed with pleasure as he took it with an eagerness you would never have believed possible. The most deadly assassin in the world, the legendary Winter Soldier that everyone wishes he wasn’t real, was purring while sucking your finger. If you weren’t the shrink, you’ll be needing one immediately. You gently moved him to make him sit in his chair, he was way too tall for you to handle this with ease. “What about the showers?” You asked him, as you removed your thumb to make it gently slide on his lips, your other hand crawling across his chest to his pants. He swallowed before whispering. “I could but... “ his well built square jaws started to tense, with a visible revulsion. “... They can watch.” Disgusting. He couldn’t even close the damn door of the shower. “You’re safe here.” You said as your hand was finally reaching the bulge behind his Hydra cargo pants. You didn’t know what you expected but… it was way beyond that. He hissed a bit at the feeling of your hand as you started to touch it gently over the fabric.

Now he was panting, looking at you as you were a single oasis after years of thirst in the desert. “Please…” You heard, barely audible when he was starting to lose it. “I got you, but you have to promise me to be good.” “Anything. Please…”

And at your very surprise, you obliged him. Using your hand to plunge into his pants, while the other fast pressed into his mouth, muffing the immediate deep moan that escaped at the very second you touched his pulsing penis. He started panting even more, as he used his flesh arm to drive you onto him. His forehead against yours. You couldn’t stop yourself from getting closer and closer. Actually you let go of his -massive- erection a second to just drop out his pants, and his breach. You stopped a second, only to watch him begging you with his eyes, as you could feel his saliva at the palm of your hand while you muzzled him. It was it. You realized what kind of power you have over this man. He has been used and abused in every single way, but for once : someone’s finally doing what he wanted. You had his pleasure in your very hands, and for once in years, you could finally help someone. So you’re gonna do it, you’re going to make him feel good. Very good. “Good boy.” You muttered, without knowing where the hell that could come from, and you reached him again. Stroking your hands up and down his shaft, nourishing yourself over the vibration of his muffled moans against your hand. His eyes weren't leaving yours, if it wasn’t for when they seemed to roll to the sky. His vision periodically blackened by the waves of forbidden pleasure he was feeling over his body, who was barely him anymore. Your eyes were gorging on the vision of his handsome muscular man, surrendering himself to your touch, sweating, trembling and panting for you. You were saluted by an utterly satisfied noise the moment you decided to lean over his manhood to drip a large amount of your own saliva moist what was already on the edge of ruin. You rolled your thumb against his tip, massage his veins with just one finger… anything to make him feel something. Anything that wasn’t pure anger, hatred or apathy. You were inclined to believe the file saying that he was nothing but a perfectly built weapon for HYDRA to command. But now, when you tickled, teased and made him shiver, and you felt all his sincere gratitude, you were certain : There is a man in here. And he was finally feeling good .

But soon, it wasn’t enough anymore. Seeing his bare thighs, powerful, thicken by years of training and super soldier serum, tensed by all the nerves and muscles deliciously answering to your call, made your inside warmed up. Your core was aching, screaming for proximity and intimacy, and before you understood what happened, you sat astride on his left thigh. The soft flesh between your legs immediately responded with delight, making you shiver. Almost instantly, you felt his grip on your hip, of the cold metal digging into your flesh with despair. It was a super soldier, with the stamina of several dozen men, but it’s been so long, and you were touching him with perfection. You felt his head on your shoulder, and slowly you started licking his temple, tasting the very fruit of your hard work : his sweat.

Galvanized by his intoxicating smell, and the thrusting he started giving to your hand, you started to move like a snake, rocking against his skin, looking for some pressure despite the fabric of your pants, mercilessly acting like a barrier of your own pleasure. You could get it off, but it was a limit that you forbid yourself to cross. But it’s true, as you were working him, you couldn’t stop yourself to think of how this would feel. Sliding inside you. You were so very short and fragile, and compared to your hand, his phallus was gigantic. He could ruin you, split you in half, using his bare hands and make you do anything. But the only person in control here, were you. And only you. You never felt anything like this before. And it’s highly probable than neither did he. You tried to vanish the thought, but the more you could feel his thigh between yours, the more you became obsessed.

The more he was approaching, the more eager the soldier became. Both of his hands firmly gripped on your behind, almost certain that it will leave bruises, but you didn’t care at this very moment. His grunts against your hands became more and more intense, and you started to feel he was about to give in. In between your fingers, small drips of salivas were started to escape. You couldn’t give up your grip now, so you made it even more tight, drawing your lips closer to your hands, you whispered as your sore wrist fastened its path “I’m here for you. Give everything to me.”

His panting became incontrolable, his eyes rolled out, his head dropped back, before he finally reached his peak. You felt the deep vibration of his ultimate cry on your hand, as your other hand was dripping of hot seed. You slowly removed your other hand from his face, and could contemplate your masterpiece : the Soldier absolutely looked like a mess, with his red face, his eyes blinking furiously, covered with his own saliva. You left his leg, both your hands dripping of his bodily fluids. You used the one that was on his lips to pick his head and forced him to look at you. You ravished your vision of this man who absolutely surrendered to your good care, deeply satisfied with your attention. You cradled his face, and you took a large lick of his spit from his chin to his mouth. Where he leaned for a wet and warm kiss. You took a good taste of him, intoxicated by whatever pheromones he could diffuse around you.

You look at him another few seconds, before recluandly moving away, to the bathroom where you not only washed your hands, but came back with a wet towel. You first cleaned with infinite care his face, and then his genitals, making sure he wouldn’t have any kind of unpleasant sensation as he had a big day ahead of him. You were his doctor and caretaker, and he had a mission to prepare. He seemed to respond well to the cleaning, not really expressive, but he made no sudden move. You could see him sighing with ease, closing his eyes as he rubbed his cheek in your palm again, when you were caressing him with the wet towel. You could still hear a loud satisfying purr. If you didn’t specifically ask him to kill someone less that an hour ago, you would actually find this absolutely adorable.

You breathed in and out, making sure he was okay. “Are you feeling better ?...” He nodded, visibly relaxed, as he was closing his pants but not much more expressive than before. He stood up, in front of you, like nothing happened. “Yes.” But to your surprise he added a second later. “Thank you, doctor.” You smiled at him as you couldn’t keep yourself from making your knuckles caressing his cheek, and finally tracking the shape of his jaws. “Good boy.” You heard yourself say, wondering what the fuck was wrong with you.He didn’t react. All the shivers, purring, sighing, and moans disappeared as soon as his pants closed. It was for the best, and you quickly took your hand back, clearing your throat. You call the guards. The Winter Soldier was fully ready for his mission preparation, and you asked them to give him some time to recover from… his cryostatic, before you would start the procedure.

In the meantime, you need a shower. A long, hot, steamy, shower.

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