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imyourbratzdoll · 1 year

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𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒂… 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒏

🎄christmas masterlist🎄

warning - smut, oral sex, sex, stalker behaviour, breeding kink, maybe a bad pun?, human reader, santa male, reader may be a bit of a whore, but I can't blame her, slight angst, slight fluff, maybe a bit of kidnapping? (but, like... what's really considered kidnapping? especially if it's by ari)

18+ only please, christmas present for you all but mostly for @royalsweetteaa, the gif and header aren't mine. merry christmas!🎅🏻

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

You scurry around the kitchen, whipping yourself up a hot chocolate. The past few weeks have been… Interesting, to say the least, from having the cutest little men accompany you to a giant monstrous man devouring you. Your mind was fuzzy, wondering if you’ll ever see them again. Grabbing your drink, you slowly make your way to your lounge room, prepared to watch one of your favourite Christmas movies.

Your mind is too focused on not spilling your drink that you don’t notice the older man sitting in your chair. His legs spread, thighs and bulge straining against his red pants. Darkened blue eyes glare at your small form as you walk in his direction. Ari’s hand lifts to his thick greying beard, wondering if you will ever look up. Not that he will complain if you sit on his lap and tell him what you want for Christmas. “I never expected your favourite Christmas movie to be How The Grinch Stole Christmas” A charming grin makes its way onto Ari’s face when he watches you jump slightly. Your head snaps up, and you stare at him with wide eyes. Your grip is tightly wrapped around your cup, ensuring the liquid doesn’t spill.

Your eyes take in his tight red and white outfit, subconsciously licking your lips as your eyes trail down his body, loving how it fits his form perfectly. Your brows furrow as the pieces begin to fit together, the outfit, the greying beard, the red hat with a white pom pom on top. Your eyes slowly move back up his body before connecting with his blue ones. “You’re Santa?” You slowly place your drink down, becoming curious about the man you swear you’ve seen before.

Ari chuckles, leaning back into the chair. “Mmhm, and you’re my little hoe… hoe… hoe.” His joyous chuckle fills the room at his pun, and you giggle as well, feeling your heart warm at the sound of his laugh. A small smile takes place on Ari’s face as the laughter dies down, and his large veiny hand pats his thigh. “Come sit and tell Santa what you want for Christmas.” Ari watches you hesitate, worrying your lip as you think. “Unless you want to be named Naughty.” Slowly he moves to stand, but a loud humph escapes him when you land roughly onto his lap.

You look up at Ari, eyes slightly fluttering as his warmth seeps into you. A calming feeling washes over you as you take in his scent. The smell of Christmas fills your nose, warming your insides. “Now, what’s a little girl like you want for Christmas? I mean… It shouldn’t be a lot seeing as you’ve had my elves and even the big bad Grinch.” Ari’s grip tightens on you.

Your cheeks turn rosy pink, and you stare at him with wide eyes, chewing on your bottom lip as you try to think of an explanation. “I can explain… I… They…” Your brows furrow as you begin to pout, not knowing what to say.

Ari grins as he watches you struggle, pulling your small body closer to his larger form. “Don’t worry about it, darling. Now, what do you want for Christmas?” Ari rests his chin on your shoulder, his eyes slowly closing as he takes in your sweet scent, humming as he waits for a response. Ari can feel you begin to squirm against his throbbing member, holding back his groan as you continue. His thumb rubs the exposed skin on your hip, “hmm? I am Santa. I can get you anything your heart desires. All you have to do is tell me.”

You relax into his body, feeling anxious about what you really want. “I… I want to be loved… and not just for one night but for eternity.” Both you and Ari can feel your heart speed up, how your breath hitches after you’ve spoken of what you truly desire. “B–But… If that’s too hard, I would like a pet. Nothing too big, maybe just something small.”

Ari’s breath against your neck sends shivers down your body, “I think I can do both, but only for you.” He spins you around in his lap, causing you to face him. “But, for the first one. You do have to give yourself over to me. It’s the only way it’ll work.” Ari stares at you with his big blue eyes, his gaze flickering down to your plump lips as a soft smile spreads across your face, your head nodding rapidly.

“I’ll do anything!” Tears are brought to your eyes as you think of finally getting your wish. No longer will you be alone or unwanted. You give Ari a bright smile when he grins at you, his hand coming up and resting on your cheek while his thumb strokes it. Subconsciously grinding down onto the large bulge in his pants, feeling the pool of slick building between your legs.

“Anything?” You nod again. Ari smirks at how eager you are. “Will you keep Santa warm even after I’m done breeding you?” The nod you give sends shocks of pleasure straight to his thickening cock, the member nearly breaking through the material as he hardens. Ari lifts you slightly, pulling his cock free before settling you back onto his lap. A grunt leaves him when your soaked core touches him, “Aren’t you a naughty girl, wearing nothing underneath this whole time while sitting on a stranger’s lap? You were expecting this, weren’t you?” The shy look you give him answers his questions.

Biting your lip, you slowly begin to rub yourself against him. Soaking Ari’s giant cock, soft moans escape you when his thick mushroom tip hits your swollen clit. “Please, Santa! I’ve been a good girl!” A scream falls from your lips when Ari thrusts himself deep inside, not giving you any time to adjust as he grips your hips and fucks you down onto his cock. Your head falls back, eyes rolling to the back, mouth hanging open. “F–Feels good! So good! Please!”

Ari growls, his eyes fluttering as he feels your juices soak his pants. His hips thrust rapidly, hitting your sweet spot perfectly as his heavy sacks tighten. “Good fucking girl! You’re so fucking tight!” Quickly standing, Ari continues to fuck into you as he lies you down on the couch. His large form covers you as he pounds deep inside your tight little hole. The girth of his cock stretches you perfectly. “You feel so good, darling! You’ll forever be mine once I fill you up!” Ari buries his face into your neck, planting kisses and marks along your flesh. His grunts and your moans fill the room, and the feel of your walls fluttering around him causes Ari to bite down on your neck before he grunts into your ear. “You’re going to carry my children! Walking around the North Pole, swollen and glowing!”

“Everyone!” thrust “will!” thrust “know!” thrust “your!” thrust “MINE!!” With a rawr, Ari’s hips stutter roughly into you, his balls tightening, and his chest heaves as he cums deep inside your cunt. Spurts of warm white cum shoot out of his swollen tip, overfilling your womb. He continues to thrust until your back arches, walls squeezing and milking his throbbing member as your orgasm hits hard, your sweet juices squirting out of you and soaking his uniform. Ari falls onto you, trying to catch his breath as you wrap your tiny arms around his muscular body. He pulls back and looks deep into your eyes with a dazed smile. “You’re my good girl, understand?”

“Yes, I’m your good girl.” He slowly pulls out of you before moving down your exhausted body, opening your legs so that he can see his cum leak out. He groans, his thick fingers moving closer to your quivering hole and pushing it back inside. He leans forward and takes your swollen clit between his lips, beginning to suck. His fingers thrust and curl as he laps at your cute little button. “Santa! Oh! Fuck!” A slap fills the room, and your back arches as pain and pleasure shoot through your cunt and up your spine.

“Bad girl! No swearing!” He growls into your cunt, burying his face deep into your sweet honey pot. “You taste so fucking sweet! I get why my elves and The Grinch are so fucking obsessed!” His tongue and fingers move fast against your sweet cunt, and the groans that leave his lips add extra vibrations to his movements, causing pornographic screams to escape you. When Ari curls his fingers into the correct spot, black spots cover your vision as your back arches, your eyes roll back, and your juices squirt out of you and directly into Ari’s mouth. He groans as he drinks your sweetness up, not missing a spot.

Ari pulls back, sitting on his legs as he looks at you. His greying beard is covered in your juices, and his hat has fallen off, causing his long hair to stick to his sweaty forehead. His darkened eyes peer down at your blacked-out form, a smirk making its way onto his face as he glances down at your puffy red pussy. Standing, Ari fixes his uniform, tucking his cock back in and snapping his fingers, causing himself to look as good as new before he looks around the room. With a wave of his hand, everything in your house disappears. Ari leans down, picking you up bridal style before disappearing back to the North Pole. As you both appear in his bedroom, he lays you down onto his soft, red and green silk sheets and glances down at you with a soft smile. “I can’t wait for you to be full with my children.” Ari gently kisses your forehead, and his hand comes up and strokes your cheek. “Welcome home, Mrs Claus.”

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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bunnyywritings · 2 months

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nerves and motorcycle rides

SOUL EATER EVANS x FEM!READER

[a/n: i'm gonna change my theme so i'll add a header later but i've been rewatching my favorite shows so expect more of these! enjoy !! <3]

wc: 1.5k words

warnings: a few swear words and modern!au kinda lol

Maka eyed Soul in amusement, watching as her weapon partner gazed at you in the cafeteria. You had been chatting it up with your meister as you two waited in line, trays in hand. Soul had been crushing on you bad. He was disheartened because he thought you and your partner were a couple but that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

She had spoken to you at a party a few days ago and subtly asked if you were seeing anyone. You adamantly denied it as your eyes searched the small crowd until falling on a familiar head of white hair, a deep red blush on your cheeks that you had hoped Maka had waved off as the liquor in your cup, that you definitely should not have been drinking.

From then on it was almost sickening to see the sweet unnoticed glances the both of you threw at each other.

“Soul, just ask her out already.” Tsubaki suggested lightheartedly, stealing the words that were about to roll off of Maka’s tongue.

The blonde nodded in agreement. “Yeah, Soul. Cool guys should speak up about what they’re feeling.” She teased.

“Tch, forget it.” He turned back to look at his food, pushing it around with a fork. “She’s already with someone.”

“Who? (Y/n)? No she’s not.” Kid hummed as he, Liz, and Patty took their seats at the table.

“How would you know?” Soul grimaced, waiting for some kind of punchline.

“Cause she said so.” Patty shrugged like it was the most obvious thing ever.

“She comes over to get her nails done by Liz and she’s surprisingly very gossip-y.” Kid took a sip of his water.

“Yeah, she said she had her eye on someone.” Liz moved her eyebrows suggestively at Soul. “She was trying to be vague about her description but it was obviously you.”

Soul said nothing as he processed all this information. As long as he had known you, you were always a little shy and closed off. Maka and the others had helped you out of your cocoon so, when you all hung out together outside of school, he got to see another side of you. Your boisterous laughter was melodic and infectious, your smiles unabashed and wide, even going as far as throwing around sarcastic and snarky quips here and there. It was his favorite thing to see your cheeks rosy as you joined Patty in whatever silly antics possessed her.

“Hey guys!” Your meister grinned as you both took a seat. Your eyes scanned everyone before they met Soul’s. He could’ve sworn they lit up as you sent a shy smile his way.

Oh Lord, you were gonna be the death of him.

The weekend came rather quickly and Soul found himself bored and alone at home. Maka had gone to the library with Tsubaki and Kid to study and Blair was working a shift at Chupa Cabra’s. He had cleaned to keep busy but after that, there really wasn’t much to do and it was only 12pm.

“Oh man, this is totally uncool.” He muttered, slumping into the couch cushion. He stared at the wall for a bit before a vibration against his thigh snapped him out of his daze. Hastily pulling it out of his pocket, he flipped it over and his heart started to beat faster at your picture filling his screen. He cleared his throat.

“Hey, what’s up?”

His voice sent a shiver down your spine. “H-Hey Soul, are you-are you busy?”

“Not at all.” Never too busy for you is what he really wanted to say.

“Okay, uhm well I was gonna grab s-some coffee and maybe go shopping.” You paused and he waited patiently for you to continue. “I was wondering if you wanted to maybe come with me?”

He was stunned silent, you wanted to hang out with him? “But only if you want to! There’s-uhm there’s no pressure, obv-obviously.” He thought your panic was cute.

“Yeah, that sounds like fun. I’m in. I’ll pick you up in…20 minutes. S’that okay?”

“Y-yeah! Yes, more than okay. See you in twenty!” He could hear your beaming smile and it made his lips stretch into one as well.

“I’ll see you in twenty.” He confirmed before hanging up.

He rushed to get dressed, grabbing his extra helmet before driving the familiar route to your apartment.

Your fingertips were buzzing with nervous excitement as you waited for Soul, however, as a familiar motorcycle came rumbling to a stop not too far from you, your nerves skyrocketed. How could you forget he drove a motorcycle?!

“Hey! Ready to go?” He smiled so gently at you, it almost made you forget about your nerves entirely. Keyword: almost.

“Uhm y-yeah, I just uh…I’ve never been on a-a motorcycle before.” Your cheeks were incredibly red and he eyed as you fiddled with your nails.

“Ah shit, I should’ve asked if that was okay.” He was mentally smacking his forehead. “I could get us an Uber or something?”

“N-No! That’s okay, I don’t mind…just a little nervous.”

“Are you sure?” He’d just die if he ever made you feel uncomfortable.You nodded, determination clear in your eyes that made a little smirk lift the edge of his mouth. “Alright, hop on.”

He got on first, holding the bike steady as you climbed on the seat behind him. You had the visor up on the helmet and he thought it was adorable to see how it squished your cheeks a little bit. “You can wrap your arms around me to hold on.” He looked down and watched as your shaky hands wrapped around his torso. “Hold on tight, m’kay?” You nodded. “If you want me to slow down, tap twice.” He felt your hand gently smack against where it rested near his hip.

“Good. Just like that.” His praise made your breath hitch.

When he pulled away from the curb, he grinned at the muffled squeak that came from you before you leaned into him even more, arms tightening around him. You were so warm, he could get addicted to your touch if you’d let him.

At a light, he rested his feet against the ground and without really thinking, he rested his hand atop yours. The feeling of his hand had startled you slightly but you definitely weren’t complaining. A surge of confidence filled your body and you shifted your fingers so they slotted between his. He glanced down and almost couldn’t believe it, the back of your hand was a little cold against his warm palm so his thumb moved to gently caress your skin in an attempt to warm you up.

His coffee seemed to taste sweeter than usual but he chalked it up to the rose colored tint that you brought to his life. He had bought a few things at the thrift you had suggested going to but he was most grateful for having been able to see you step in and out of the dressing rooms, asking his opinions on outfits, both of you turning red when you had meekly stepped out in a short black skirt with cherries on it.

Sadly, the day was coming to an end and he had to drop you off back home.

But as he parked and helped you off of his bike, you seemed to be trying to prolong going inside. You gazed at him for a second. He was leaning on his bike and facing you, half sitting on his seat with his legs spread. He was also letting himself take you in. You had gotten cold and he had gladly given you his blue pullover to wear.

“Okay…well uhm th-thanks Soul. I had fun.”

“Yeah, me too…” He looked down at his feet, desperately thinking of something else to say.

You smiled sadly, upset that you were so scared to make a move. “Goodnight.” He echoed the sentiment and watched you slump back into your apartment building, still in his sweater.

“I’m such an idiot.” He groaned, moving to pull his helmet on.

“Soul!” Surprised, he halted his movements and rested the helmet in his lap.

“(Y/n)? What happe-” You rushed over and he was cut off when your lips met his. He immediately reciprocated and held your waist so you didn’t fall over, smiling into the kiss when a small noise left your throat, deepening it and pulling you closer until your hands rested against his chest.

Pulling away, you refused to meet his eyes. So he gently gripped your chin and turned your gaze back to him. “Can I kiss you again?” His pleading tone made you weak in the knees, his thumb grazing your bottom lip. You muttered, “Yes.” And he dove right back in.

Once he was home, a dazed smile was permanently on his lips.

Not even the text message from your weapon in the groupchat could change that.

fucking finally !! [image attached]

If anything, he was glad that the moment was captured, almost straight out of a movie.

#soul eater x reader #soul eater evans x reader #soul eater fluff #soul eater x fem!reader #soul eater evans x fem!reader

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dat-town · 4 months

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blood red and snow white

Characters: Beomgyu & female reader

Setting & genre: dark fantasy, (horror-ish?), Red Riding Hood (2011) and Hansel & Gretel (2013) vibes (or at least the way i remember them)

Summary: The woods was Beomgyu’s home. It might be his grave too.

Warnings: mentions blood and bleeding, crossbow as a weapon, werewolf attacks, non-sexual nudity, implied deceased parents, minor character death, (temporary?) major character death, honestly people in this just keep dying, one mention at the cliché power of true love

Words: 5k

Author’s note: this is not the “if you ever write fluff Beomgyu” that’s been on my to write list for ages but here, take something darker, sorry and love you @lily-blue <3

Inspired by TXT’s Gayo Daejeon performance

Header photo credit: 13thStars

The snow felt crispy under Beomgyu’s boots. The crunching sound was loud in the quiet forest, and it scared some birds off the tree branches as he got closer. But not close enough. He didn’t have much time to reach his grandmother’s wooden guesthouse; sunset was already dancing on the horizon, painting the whitewashed scenery in hues of golden and carmine.

The boy hardened his grip over the bag over his shoulder and yanked the hood of his red robe over his head with the other, protecting his curly locks from snow frost. He panted hard, his cheeks rosy from the cold and urgency as he crossed the frozen creek, counting down the steps he still needed to take to reach safety.

He should have left the village earlier, he should have known that he would be slowed down by the snow and dead branches along the way. He should have known better than to accept Yeonjun’s mulled wine and listen to his sob story about a girl that got away. Too late. It was already too late to wonder about what ifs and wrong decisions, he needed to hurry.

Between tree trunks, the outline of the snow-covered wooden structure finally appeared within reach. Beomgyu let himself look around and behind, feeling paranoid even because of the small noises of the animals finding shelter just as hastily as him. He was almost there. He was almost out of time.

He sped up his steps, his boots leaving ugly imprints in the snow while his panting became panicky loud. It was getting darker with each step he took.

Just three more. Two. One…

For exactly one moment, eerily long and quiet, the world stood still, stuck in the limbo between night and day, day and night. And then, all the light went out as the Sun disappeared beyond the woods. The stars barely flickered without the light of their companion, the Moon. It was the darkest night of the month.

The boy shakily drew in a breath, the puffs of his breathing visible in the dark. His hand lingered over the doorknob, frozen in place, trembling from the cold. Quiet. He needed to stay quiet and calm.

Beingyu gulped, weighing his chances, before he reached out and twisted the knob. The metal cracked and just then he heard footsteps behind him.

When Beomgyu was younger, he didn’t believe the woods was a dangerous place like other kids his age did. This was his home, his playground, his childhood. He had visited the old guesthouse more often than he could count on his tiny fingers. He thought that all those terrible stories were only his grandmother’s way of scaring him like how she said he wouldn’t grow taller if he didn’t eat his veggies or that evil fairies would kidnap him if he didn’t lock his door well. He didn’t believe in any of those silly warnings.

But then everything changed when he met you.

It was a scorching hot summer and you almost killed him.

The arrow pierced into the tree trunk barely centimeters away from his shoulder as he got up from the raspberry bush he was trying to clear off the sweet fruit. He got away with only a scratch on the back of his hand because in his startled state he managed to get caught up in the branches. He was so taken aback, he didn’t even notice the ting of pain as blood dribbled from the thin wound onto the ground until you pointed it out.

“You okay? Sorry, I didn’t see you there. Oh, shit, you’re bleeding.”

Beomgyu was probably more shocked about the fact that a girl his age, not more than sixteen, appeared by his side than the pain registering in his brain. He hissed as you took his hand and blew on the wound, mesmerized by how practiced you looked as you took a handkerchief out of your little bag and wrapped it around his palm. He felt his pale cheeks bloom into a rose garden. It was like a scene from one of his grandmother’s beloved romance stories, only that it was usually the other way around: a gentleman treating a lady’s wound and the boy, raging with teenage hormones, didn’t know how to feel about being forced into the role of a damsel in distress. But looking at you next to him, he knew there would be no doubts about these roles. After all it was him with a bucket full of sweets and you were the one holding a deadly weapon and the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

“What are you doing out here with that?” He finally found his voice and pointed at the crossbow in your hand. It probably wasn’t the best thing he could have said but this was what he was the most curious about. What was a girl like you doing in the woods instead of being at home, helping your mother with dinner?

“Practicing,” you shrugged as if it was normal to walk around with a deadly weapon. “My brother is teaching me to hunt.”

Oh, that made sense. Beomgyu had only ever seen huntsmen with that kind of thing. But he had known every huntsman in the village since he had lived there his whole life and he was sure that he had never seen you before. The next one was miles away, on the other side of the woods, so he wondered whether you and your brother were from there. Or maybe you were one of those families living in the woods, hunting for a living from meal to meal?

“Hunt what? Rabbits?” The boy found himself asking, feeling silly, because you didn’t look like you were malnourished, struggling to find something to eat, nor did you look like you could have hurt a fly with that easygoing smile on your cherry lips. Even your eyes shone like innocent stars when you laughed at his question.

“Nah. The kind of things that would kill us first if we didn’t kill them.”

Beomgyu narrowed his eyebrows, feeling stupid and out of place. The wound on the back of his hand started to pound as his heartbreak picked up. Did you really just say kill?

“Like wolves and bears?”

“Yeah, exactly like wolves,” you chuckled, somehow finding his reaction amusing and took the crossbow into your left hand, letting it fall next to your body as you extended your right towards him. “I’m Y/N by the way.”

“I’m Beomgyu,” he said as he tentatively took your hand and shook on it. Your hands felt rough against his skin. It tickled.

“I have to go before my brother starts looking for me but it was nice to meet you, Beomgyu. Be more careful next time. The woods is a more dangerous place than it looks,” you looked him deeply in the eyes, way too serious for a sixteen year old and the boy couldn’t look away. He was stuck in those dark orbs and wondered whether it was you who stole the stars from the sky every month.

He was dreaming of your bright eyes later that night.

Beomgyu’s grandmother told him that your family was bad news. That he should have kept far away from you. Easier said than done. The boy felt himself gravitating towards you like a moth to flame, not afraid of getting burnt.

He wandered around in the woods, humming folk songs to himself, hoping to catch a sight of you again. You were unlike any other girl he knew from the village. The boy kept your handkerchief tucked neatly in his pocket. He had washed the blood off it until it was white as fresh snow and smelled like nothing but chamomile. He thought it would give him a good excuse why he was looking for you. Just common courtesy, he tried to convince himself but the handkerchief was long forgotten when one day he finally saw you in the middle of the valley.

It was full of poppies and daisies, their petals painting the green scenery with red and white dots. You wore a simple pastel brown dress as you sat in the middle of the colorful cavalcade. From that distance he couldn’t tell what you were doing but as he got closer it became obvious that you picked up flowers and put them into your basket. It reminded him of his tasks when his grandmother needed ingredients for her creams.

Beomgyu was still a good ten meters away when you must have noticed his approach because you turned and looked straight at him, suspicious at first but soon recognizing him.

“Oh, hi!” You greeted him with a smile, casual and kind. Sure, your heart must not have been doing excited little jumps in your chest like his. He still couldn't believe his luck. After long weeks and even longer months passed, seasons changed and the spring bloom came, you were right in front of him again.

“Are you not practicing hunting today?” He found himself asking a bit awkwardly but you didn’t seem to mind. Your smile was still the same as you shook your head.

“No. My brother is sick, so I’m collecting marigold flowers. It’s good for the body, you know,” you told him, reaching for the next bright-colored piece.

Actually Beomgyu knew, his grandmother taught him well, so for once he believed it was a useful knowledge because this way he could sit down next to you and tell you all about the other herb and plant health benefits that he knew of.

Beomgyu told you about his village too. About how the Sunday market was the most eventful thing over the week. Or how the baker’s daughter ran away with a boy from the next town and it had been such a scandal. You seemed invested in his stories. Sitting cross legged in the middle of the meadow, you smiled at him like he was the Sun. It made him a little shy, just like when your fingers touched over the basket. Just a small yet thrilling feeling.

“We only visit the villages when we need to buy something or have something to sell. I rarely meet new people,” you admitted, your fascination with his boring stories suddenly making more sense to the boy but he couldn’t help but wonder why you lived so secluded from other people.

“Are you living in the woods then?” He inquired, watching intently as your long, messy hair fell into your eyes after you nodded.

“Yeah. Me and my brother with a few others.”

Beomgyu furrowed his eyebrows, confused. Others? Strangers? His grandmother had told him about people at the edge of society who lived together despite not sharing a blood relation. Beomgyu had always imagined them a little wild.

“Your parents?” He blurted out with a closed throat.

“It’s just the two of us,” you shook your head, keeping your gaze on the flowers in your lap. You removed the tiny orange petals one by one. “He’s more important to me than anything.”

The boy hadn’t had siblings of his own, so he didn’t know whether that kind of devotion was normal or not but he could understand the importance of having only one living relative and the co-dependence of it. So he told you about why it was his grandmother who brought him up and when you put your hand on his, his heart fluttered.

It became a habit to meet at the meadow.

You sneaked away from your brother and he always took a detour on his grandmother’s errands.

Sometimes you walked over to the trickling creek or fed birds in the middle of the woods. Sometimes you just lay side by side in the shadow of the trees, watching the white puff of clouds move over the perfectly blue sky. Over time you found more and more to talk about, more things you unexpectedly had in common (like the preference of apple pies over cherry ones or the smell of chamomile over lavender) and Beomgyu was too enamored already to notice the signs. That the blush on your cheek was a bruise or that it wasn’t a joke when you said you would become a hunter like your brother.

The first time Beomgyu had seen one of your preys, he was nineteen and already irrevocably in love.

It was already dark by the time he left the guest house but he knew the path by heart. He could have probably found his way with his eyes closed around that area, thus he wasn’t wasting the matches his grandmother had given him nor did he need the full moon to light the road for him. He knew where he was going and yet, he stopped short when in the eerie silence of the woods he heard a strange voice. It sounded like broken sobs, like somebody crying.

He wasn’t sure what came upon him. Whether it was recklessness or his endless feeling of safety in the woods which he felt at home in. But he changed his direction and slowly he started to walk towards the strangled voice. It was only later when he realized it was you. He had never heard you cry before after all. You had always seemed so sure of yourself and so brave, he had no idea what could have triggered such a reaction from you, not until he saw you lit by the moonlight with tear streaks on your cheeks and blood on your hands.

He stepped on a branch accidentally, it snapped under his weight and in a moment you were on your feet, aiming your crossbow at him before recognizing him and collapsed to the ground again. That was when he saw it: your grief and your sin.

On the ground only a few steps away from him laid two bodies. One of them looked every bit of a hunter Beomgyu could have imagined but the young man’s body was shredded so badly by a wild animal that the boy had a hard time looking at him. But it wasn’t much better as he looked further either. First he thought it would be another victim of the animal attack but the other man was naked on the muddy ground, covered in dirt and blood. His hands and face was full of redness that couldn’t have been his because the only place he was severely wounded was his back where a single arrow hit him right through the heart.

To say that Beomgyu was having a hard time processing what he saw, convincing himself that it was reality and not just a nightmare was an understatement but he willed himself to pull it together. You needed him, he thought as he looked over at your shivering, weeping form as you gently brushed the sweaty fringe of the clothed man away. The boy knew without needing to ask that he must have been your beloved brother. The one you would have done anything. And now he was gone.

“What happened?” He whispered into the darkness, still in shock, not knowing what to do. Should he have called the ranger from the village? Or a doctor maybe?

“I was too late. He killed my brother,” you muttered, sounding only physically there with him. Beomgyu gulped.

“Did you kill him?” He asked, tentative and innocent, just to be sure. Your eyes burned like fire when you looked up at him again. Conviction burning through them.

“He was a monster.”

You told Beomgyu about werewolves after that and he helped you bury the bodies.

He let you cry on his shoulder, held your hand and promised to never bring it up.

The first time Beomgyu actually saw the true form of the monsters you hunted, it was already that time of the year when tree leaves dried up and fell. The ground was swimming in colors of caramel, sunset and blood. In the rain soaked frontyard he almost didn’t notice it: the drops of crimson over the leaves.

“I’m home,” he called, sniffing into the air that was crispy with the scent of freshly baked apple pie, a bit burnt, too sweet, just how he liked it. “Grandma?”

Beomgyu put his basket down on the wooden table in the kitchen. It was a mess and his grandmother never left chaos behind. She was meticulous about cleaning. She was proud of being civilized ‘unlike those savages’. She was… never this quiet. She liked singing as she moved around in the house, she talked to either her plants or the little animals of the woods. Beomgyu had always thought it was a weird habit but the house suddenly felt empty without it. He started looking for his grandmother more frantically, feeling in his guts that something was wrong. He looked everywhere in the house but the old lady was nowhere to be found, so he even skipped putting his hooded robe back on as he stepped out into the cold air, wondering if his grandma had gone to the creek without leaving a message behind. He only took a few steps when he heard the growling.

Shakily, Beomgyu sucked in a breath, his heart battling his head whether he should have made a run for it or turn around but his body decided it for him. He felt rooted to the ground, unable to take another step, so running was out of the question. He reached into his pockets, hoping to find something useful there but he only came up with a matchstick box. With his heart beating like a horse race, he slowly, carefully turned his head to look over his shoulder and he had to swallow the strangled noise forcing its way out of his throat because what was behind him was the largest wolf he had ever seen. It had dark, messy fur and clenched teeth, its eyes glowing golden while cherry liquid dripped down its jaw. It was every bit as terrifying as you had warned him. A creature that would kill him without a second thought if he didn’t act first.

The animal growled again, more threatening this time and behind the layers of fear, Beomgyu remembered what you told him: werewolves were afraid of fire. So the boy gripped the small box tighter in his hand and lit a matchstick just when the wolf pawed closer, baring its teeth, ready to jump. The little flame reflected in gilded eyes and the animal took a staggered step back, giving Beomgyu just enough time to get his bearings and start running after throwing the match to the ground. A part of him wished the leaves would catch on fire to help him escape but another was grateful it was all too wet to happen because he wouldn’t have wanted to see the guest house burn down. Not even at the price of his life.

Hence, the quickly dying flame of the match didn’t do much of a job of keeping the wolf away. Beomgyu could hear it chase after him as he stumbled and raced ahead. He headed towards the village knowing that his best chance was to get to a crowded place where maybe the animal wouldn’t be able to follow him but it wasn’t that close and he could feel the puffs of warm bloody breath just behind him.

When he fell in a tree trunk, the pain didn’t register at first. He might have twisted his ankle but he was too busy trying to fight off the weight of the animal on top of him. Realistically speaking, Beomgyu knew he didn’t stand much chance: he was weaker, smaller and based on your stories, it was almost impossible to fight against a werewolf with bare hands but there must have been something about survival instinct because he just couldn’t give up, he couldn’t just wait for death with open arms.

That was when you came. Like a vengeful angel, as if his subconscious prayers have been answered. Your arrows hit the animal straight ahead and its painful howl almost made the boy feel some king of empathy for it. Hunting was in their nature, wasn’t it? Maybe they couldn’t help it. Not that Beomgyu felt any kind of remorse as he watched the wolf drag itself away, injured.

“Are you okay?” You knelt beside him after the animal was out of your view and you deemed the area safe enough to lower your guards and put your crossbow down.

Beomgyu winced as he tried to sit up. Some of his ribs might have been fractured just by the sheer weight on top of them, but he was grateful for your help when you helped him up even if he felt slightly dizzy from the sudden movement. It was like the ground was unstable under him and your hands felt cold against his feverish forehead. He was covered in mud, dry leaves and drops of blood, yet suddenly he felt so cold.

“Beomgyu…”

He had always liked the way his name fell off your lips but this time there was something wrong about it. Your tone was nowhere near as fond or amused like usual. There was something akin to dread laced among the syllables, something like fear.

Through the hazy fog that was in his mind, Beomgyu tried to concentrate on your words. Or on your eyes. He had always loved your eyes.

You were looking down at him, more specifically, at his feet where his ankle was bare and bloody. He only registered the pain then, the needle-like sensation that he mistakenly thought of as muscle pain. Looking at the clear teeth marks, torn flesh and blood dripping down, he suddenly felt the phantom sensation of getting bitten.

Beomgyu found your eyes again, your name leaving his mouth like a plea, hoping that you would tell him that he was just hallucinating, that everything would be alright but you yanked yourself away from him so fast and so roughly that he stumbled again, his weak body lying feverish on the muddy ground.

“I’m so sorry,” he heard you whisper or he might have been imagining that too. “I… I will have to kill you if you turn. So please…”

Beomgyu was too tired to make sense of what you were saying or what you were asking. It came to him a lot later that he wasn’t sure whether you meant to tell him to survive or to die, to leave or to stay.

Ironically, everything he knew about werewolves was because of you.

It helped him survive, to stay alive, to keep his humanity. He hoped that it would mean something, that it would make a difference if you were ever to know. He had never killed anybody since he had turned. Sure, he had gone crazy the first few times when the full moon controlled his wolf more than him but even then he only hunted forest animals and he felt bad even after that. He hoped the fact that he hadn’t seen you had also meant that you cared but the worst part was that he wanted you beside him. He missed seeing you. He missed daydreaming in the depth of the woods or out in the valley. He missed play fights and hide-and-seeks. He missed your smile. He missed you.

But you were the type who kept their promise.

Beomgyu didn’t even have to turn around to know that it was you behind him. He would have recognized your scent from miles away. He had always loved the peachy undertone that usually hugged him like a blanket, reminding him of hugs and warm pies. He had known you were dangerous from the day you had met yet he had never associated coldness with you. Not even in the unforgiving winter as the two of you stood now: his hand on the door handle and your finger on the trigger of your crossbow, aiming at him.

“You left tails, Beomgyu,” you spoke up, hoarsely, no greetings, no courtesies, straight to the point. It was a jab to the boy’s weak heart. “The others… The other hunters know about you too. They will come for you and they won’t make it quick or painless.”

There was nothing about it that was painless. It had been so long. Beomgyu ached with his whole body because he wanted nothing more than to run to you and pull your body to his, sniffing your hair, and never let you go. Wishful thinking.

“So you came to kill me before they could?” He found himself asking, not so naive anymore, not asking whether you came to warn him or to check on him. He knew you better than that.

Your heart was full of hatred towards his kind ever since you had lost everything to them. There was no way you would have forgotten. He must have been a monster in your eyes despite your past. And yet, Beomgyu had always thought that he could avoid hunters because he was behind closed doors after the sun had set. You had told him before that you weren’t hunting in daytime with the group you lived with, so he assumed he should have been safe then. Staying indoors during the night, tying himself to the ironclad tubes during full moon, he thought that was what kept him alive but as it turned out it was that you kept quiet about him. But now you were coming for his throat, breaking his heart.

“You should have left when you could,” you whispered, resigned and Beomgyu wished he could have seen you better in the darkness in his human form.

“This is the only home I have ever known,” he said and it was as much of an answer as any. Yes, he could have left but he would have had to live in hiding anyway, so why would he have left the one place that he considered his home? You sighed, probably not understanding it but he didn’t expect you to.

“Then this is where you will be buried.”

Without any more warning, you pulled the trigger. It was his newly developed wolf sense that helped him jump aside in time, then he started to run.

Funny, wasn’t it? His kind was supposed to be the superior predator yet when it came to you, he became the hunted. He would have never hurt you no matter how strong his murderous instincts were.

That’s why it was both a blessing and a curse – and probably a careful calculation on your part – that you had come to him on a new moon when the wolf’s pull was the weakest, so Beomgyu’s rationality was more in control but it meant he was more vulnerable too.

You both knew this part of the woods like the back of your hands and it felt like a twisted version of your old hide-and-seek. Snow and branches cracking under his feet, Beomgyu could never hide where he went, so he wasn’t surprised when one of your arrows passed by him, grazing his upper arm, drawing blood. He hissed as his blood dirtied the white snow and he tasted iron on the tip of his tongue. His wolf was fuming, urging him to hurt, to avenge but he didn’t give in, not even when it turned out it was exactly what you wanted.

“Change, Beomgyu, come on! Don’t just run away! Fight me,” you yelled after him, clearly frustrated, but the boy couldn’t understand your reason. He just didn’t want to hurt you.

“What would it change? You will kill me anyway,” he panted, gripping on his injured arm as he hid behind a tree.

“Coward,” you hissed.

Then the others showed up. Beomgyu cried out in pain when a bullet hit him in the shoulder and the pain made him lose the last of his control over his new animalistic instincts. The red hooded robe fell into a puddle of blood over the fresh snow as a wolf took the boy’s place. A wolf growling with anger at the humans approaching him from all directions, four or five of them. He attacked the one that shot him, going straight for the throat after pushing the guy off his feet but that only earned him another bullet wound in the back.

A pathetic little moaning sound escaped the animal and you cried out, tears running down your cheeks, begging for the hunters to stop, to leave him to you because despite everything you had done you never wanted to see Beomgyu in pain.

You took out one arrow from your sachet and dropped your crossbow onto the ground. Your hands trembled but it wasn’t from the cold as you approached the wounded wolf lying on the ground.

“Please come back to me,” you pleaded through shivers.

There was a legend, a folktale claiming that a werewolf had two hearts: one human, one wolf. And if it was killed in its wolf state, the human heart could still survive.

But only if they were killed by somebody who loved them.

You had told Beomgyu before that you didn't believe in such silly things and there was no way you would ever loved a monster anyways, so it was useless asking what ifs but as you drove the sharp arrow through the wolf’s heart, you couldn’t help but wonder whether your love would be enough for a miracle or you were about to lose the last person important to you.

“I’m so sorry,” you whimpered as more crimson was spilled on the winter blanket of the woods, on the ground that birthed and buried all of you.

Your tears were falling over the wolf as Beomgyu started taking back his human form. You sobbed harder when you saw those curls you had always loved so much and the pouty mouth and button nose. You laid down over his chest, praying, hoping to hear a heartbeat until you were dragged away.

The snow would melt in a week but not even forever could erase his blood from your hands.

#txt x reader #txt angst #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu angst #red riding hood au #stories

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isahorcrux · 5 months

Text

love, james | chapter 6: a basically nonexistent what-if

James likes Lily. And Lily likes James. How the hell did it get so complicated?

Love, Rosie, but make it Jily. Written for the Jilytoberfest 2023 Rom-Com Event.

listen to the playlist here

James stared at the words on the thick piece of parchment he’d only just pulled out of its envelope. Dear Mr. Potter, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into the Cartography Program at The Salem Witches Institute… The owl had arrived earlier that day, a large horned owl that had a mean look about him. His own owl, Percy, had hidden for nearly a whole hour after the other bird had departed. His mum had wanted him to open it straight away, but James found he couldn’t bring himself to even pull the seal off the envelope, much less read its contents, and in front of his mum? What if he hadn’t gotten in? What if he had to explain to his mum and dad that, yes he’d had ample amount of time to send off other applications and had done very well on his N.E.W.Ts, but somehow hadn’t even applied to one other programme or apprenticeship.

continue reading on ao3

(and yes, I got bored with the old chapter header, so now I'm mixing it up)

#love james #isahorcrux writes #jily #james potter #lily evans #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #fanfic #jily fanfiction #jily fanfic #flowerpott

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saintsofwarding · 1 year

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WE SHALL BE MONSTERS

Header by Keltii-tea

Chapter 13: An Experiment

As Heisenberg locked the door, admiring the play of morning light across its rusted bolts, he thought on how long it had been since he really had a chance to cut loose like this.

Not, he realized, since before Rosie. Fifteen years wasn't so long in the grand scheme of his unnaturally-extended life, but given the events that had bracketed the span of time, it was more remarkable than others.

Now, things were gonna be just like old times.

At least, of course, until someone died.

As he willed the door to seal itself shut, growing the metal bolts into a twisted mass that stuck it fast within the doorframe, he heard Mia's voice echo from within the church.

"Heisenberg?" she said.

"Good morning, sunshine!" he called. He ambled over to the narrow slit window as Mia stuck her face into it, pale and flecked with blood. "How are you feeling? How's the arm?"

"What...what's going on?"

"What do you think? You said some pretty intriguing stuff yesterday. I, as you may know, like to do some experimentation of the scientific persuasion in my free time. What did you tell me...hm- Miranda did a bit of work on you? You don't want to be a monster again?"

"Cut the shit, Heisenberg-" She darted from the window. Heisenberg heard the door rattle. "Let me out! Let me out right this second!"

"Sorry, Mia, no can do. Y'see, I know you're not going to up and tell me all the sordid details of Miranda's experiments on you. So...I decided I'd create a scenario that would force the details into the open. I want to see the effects of extreme stress and hardship upon you in a controlled, observable environment so I might ascertain for myself what exactly the hell that bitch mother of mine did to you! Not exactly natural...my data would be laughed out of any legitimate scientific circles...but fuck it, you only live once, as the kids say!"

He considered, running back through all the slangy terms he'd heard Rose use over the years. "...Do they say that?"

"What...what the hell is this...this tarp doing-"

She cut off as a snarl rippled from the other side of the door- and the crackling of an oilskin tarp being clawed aside.

"Oh, no," Mia whispered.

"That would be the lycan I caught before you woke up," Heisenberg said, "and tossed, heavily concussed, into the church with you."

The hammering on the door increased. It sounded like she was throwing her whole weight against it, raining blows with feet and fists. "Let me out!" she screamed. "Heisenberg, you psychotic bastard, let me out-"

"You've got a gun, Mia," Heisenberg said, bending to speak through the keyhole. "Use it. Like I know you can. Didn't the Connections teach you anything? Or was it all about brainwashing little girls?"

The snarl got louder, a feral roar. Excellent, so he hadn't given the lycan a skull fracture like he'd feared. Heisenberg heard Mia's scrambling footsteps, her gasps, a scream- the screech of wood against stone as furniture was shoved aside. A mad dash for the gun, he imagined, which he'd set on the altar like a Milk Moon gift.

He went back to the window, but made out nothing but a blur of frenzied movement inside, the muzzle flash as gunfire shook the foundations of the small building.

"Put your back into it, Mia!" he yelled, and laughed.

What would Rose say if she was here? He entertained the idea of her approval, but it didn't feel right. She didn't have a vindictive streak, not like him.

Thought I taught you better, kid, he thought, bitterly.

When had he gotten to be so nasty? Somewhere around the time Miranda had claimed him as her top enforcer after Alcina had refused- well, it was Miranda, so more like 'graciously declined'- to do Miranda's dirty work of lopping off the heads of anyone who questioned her authority.

Miranda, after all, had to maintain her status as detached benefactor, glory from on high, a god that did not deign to touch the blood of her subjects. It was that, plus a healthy dose of spore-induced mind control built and maintained over generations, which had inspired such unquestioning devotion in the hearts and minds of the villagers.

He could only dream of such similar devotion- dream, and then build puppets that never had a will of their own to begin with. And Rose- well. Would he have controlled her mind if he could? He still wasn't sure of the answer. To keep her safe? To get his vengeance? If Ethan hadn't ponied up and taken down Miranda, if she'd thrown him aside like a used tissue and turned on Heisenberg and Rose, all those years ago-

Would he have done what Ethan had feared, and used her until she was used up?

It doesn't matter, he told himself, it happened a long time ago, but the question still gnawed at him like some kind of intestinal parasite.

Even now, Miranda had him in her clutches. The question of what he would do. The question of how she'd twisted him into something that would make a choice like that. How much of what he'd done was Miranda, and how much was all him? He supposed it was that very question that both dogged him and allowed him to keep going, to face each new day, to not succumb to the knowledge that he was, at the very core of him, undeserving of peace.

Inside the church, everything fell silent.

Heisenberg tensed. He'd gone on one of his dissociative spirals, and had stopped paying attention to his little experiment. Some scientist you are.

"Mia?" he called.

There came the sound of raspy breathing within. The lycan? Ah, shit, had it killed her?

"Mia," he said again. "You alive in there?"

Nothing.

Well, at least that was one problem solved. He broke the door seal and shoved the door open, releasing a wash of gunsmoke, of blood and mold-thick air. The church looked like a slaughterhouse after a productive day, the walls, the floor, the pews splattered in gobs of thick, black blood and chunks of busted-up organs. Silvery smoke rolled through the place, obscuring his vision, stinging in his eyes worse than usual.

Was this what those anti-mutant rounds did? He came across the lycan corpse, strewn in pieces over the flagstones. Force had blasted an arm and most of its torso away, leaving huge, ragged holes edged with silver burn scars. The corpse began to crystallize as he watched, crumbling into a blanket of scattered fragments.

He kicked its calcified skull lightly with his boot. The skull rolled over the flagstones, stopping as it jarred against the curled form of Mia Winters huddled in the corner.

Her gun was abandoned, as if thrown aside. Her back faced him, her arms clamped around her legs, drawn up to her chest. Her dark hair hung over her face as she rocked back and forth, mumbling under her breath. Heisenberg couldn't make out what she was saying. He stood there, observing her, then drew breath.

"Hey, Mia," he said. "Not that I'm not appreciating this whole Blair Witch act, but-"

"You...promised..."

Her voice slid from her, spiraling around her in the haze of blood and smoke.

Heisenberg stopped short.

Cold slithered through his nerves, striking to his core. It was Mia's voice, but the timbre was different, the rhythm of it. It was as familiar to him as his own face in a mirror, a scalpel cut to the lung, a cold caress down his face as he stood and shivered and waited for the moment to be over. It was pure, pounding rage, and despair like a pit opening under his feet, and the fall was to be forever, an endless plunge through the dark.

"You...promised," Mia whispered, and lifted her head. She turned, slowly, bones crackling in her spine. The shadows flickered around her- for a moment like the outspread shadows of many wings, fanning the air with phantom wind. "To help me."

She lifted her head. Golden eyes glowed in the darkness, and as Heisenberg watched, the whites of her eyes filled with glistening black, spilling over her lashes in long, oily streaks of black tears. "Forever," she said. "Forever. And you lied. You...you betrayed...me!"

"Snap out of it, Mia," Heisenberg ordered, shaking his finger at her.

"Don't you understand?" Her voice softened. "This is a gift."

She flung herself at him, snatching a shard of the lycan's crystallized body as she did. Her arm went back; with a howl of fury she plunged it into his shoulder, again and again, until her arm was black and red to the elbow, her face drenched with a mixture of his blood and her moldy tears. Heisenberg slammed his knee into her stomach; she tore away from him, tottering back, her golden eyes wide.

Agony blazed in Heisenberg's shoulder, but at this point he could tell the difference between a wound he had to worry about and one he didn't. Power blasted from him, clearing a circle in the devastation around him. With teeth grit he waved his hand, sending all the metal he could tear from the church- pew nails, dusty candlesticks, the door handle ripped from its moorings- at her with the force of a cannonball.

They slammed into her, flinging her back, and back, pieces encasing her and pinning her hands to her sides, much like he'd once done to poor dead Ethan. She crashed into the back wall of the church and stayed there, held in place by the force of his magnetism. Mia twisted against her bonds, hair falling again over her face. She convulsed. Black fluid spattered the floor.

Then she slumped. She didn't move again. The black stuff- Miranda's mold- dripped from the ends of her hair, a steady dring-dring-dring.

Heisenberg breathed hard. With a snarl, he worked his injured shoulder; fuck, and he'd just gotten this coat, too. He moved, slowly, over to her, not releasing his control on the metal that held her in place. He reached out and gripped her hair, lifting her head up so he could get a good look at her face.

It was normal again, crusty black tears notwithstanding. He peeled back an eyelid, but her eyes were back to their ordinary hazel. As he watched, wounds the lycan must have given her sealed up over her body, flesh crawling back together with a crackle.

"Huh," Heisenberg said.

She groaned. Still holding her head up by the hair, Heisenberg watched Mia come to. Her eyes opened on their own volition, and she blinked up at him.

"Oh, god," she whispered.

"What the fuck was that?" Heisenberg said. He dropped her head and backed off. "Is this some kind of sick fucking joke?"

"You...shouldn't have...seen that..."

"Seen what? Explain it to me, Mia." Heat pushed against his skin; his Cadou squirmed inside him, little crackling bolts of electricity sparking at his brain. His power surged, the metal in the room rising with a screech to whirl in little anxious tornadoes over the floor. Her metal bonds cracked apart, crumbling to the flagstones around her. "Explain to me why you were just possessed by Mother fucking Miranda-"

She broke with a cry, rushing past him. He grabbed out for her, but she was gone, vanishing through a doorway at the back of the church. Heisenberg stood there, breathing hard, the cyclone of metal rushing around him at skin-shredding speeds. He closed his eyes, but all he could see there was black tears, black wings, the glitter of scalpels, the dring of blood against a cold stone floor.

Guess that experiment was a bust.

***

It was a long time before he could make himself move again. He left the weird gun where it lay, made his frozen joints move- the air in the church was a hair above unbearably cold- and limped after Mia.

The doorway led to a flight of chapped, uneven stone steps, which in turn led to a subterranean vault, walls warped and crudely-built, outfitted with rusty torch brackets. The floor was damp, pools of dirty ice-sludge leaching from cracks in the foundations. A trapdoor-looking hatch was clamped shut with a rusted padlock. Heisenberg went to examine this, then moved on. Just past it, in wooden racks hung with decades of thick cobwebs, were stored hundreds upon hundreds of bottles of what looked to Heisenberg like wine.

He had something of an aversion to the stuff- Dimitrescu had practically worshipped the bloody brew she made, mixed with the juicings of unfortunate girls within her employ, though, she always claimed, not just any girl would do. These bottles looked a lot older than the ornate red and silver bottles she put out, made of thick greenish glass and corked with gobs of wax. Monks, maybe, stuck up here in some nearby vineyard monastery without anything better to do than artistically decompose some grapes. Now, it seemed, after the years had put all the monks in the dirt, their work was finally going to use.

Mia lay sprawled on the floor, her head on the ground, her legs kicked up against the wall. She had one of the bottles in hand, the wax seal broken off, and as Heisenberg watched she took a massive swallow of the dark wine within. She'd already drunk most of the bottle, and the fumes radiating off her qualified as a violation of the Geneva convention.

"Hey, Karl," she said, and actually giggled. "Karl. Huh. Can't believe that's your real freaking name."

She took another long drink of wine. "Not that there's anything wrong..." She trailed off. "...Just you expect a...a monster lord and mad scientist extraordinaire and a total complete dickhead to be named something more...more impressive than...Karl..."

"Take it up with Miranda, sweetheart," Heisenberg said. "Now get the hell off your ass. You have some explaining to do."

"Explaining?" She held up the bottle. "I got all the explanation I need right here."

"Fucking figures. Every time I get stuck in a house with a dame she's got some kind of issues. Turns out your biggest one is that you're a wine mom. What, did you and Ethan have a Live Love Laugh sign in your house? You bottle-feed Rose those fuckin...seasonal pumpkin drinks, too?"

He didn't mention that the one time Rose had made him try one- "Heisenberg, come on, they're limited edition...just a little sip..." -he'd actually really liked it. Something about the chemical aftertaste.

Mia turned her head to face him. The black tears had smeared over her face.

"Mean," she muttered. "Dumb face."

His temper began to boil, a ring of white around his vision. "What did Miranda do to you? Why did you pull that shit up in the church?"

"Not...not for you..." She rolled onto her hands and knees, using the bottle to lever herself upright. "Fuck off..."

"No."

"I said..." She blinked. "Oh. Oh, baby, I didn't mean..." Her eyes were glassy. She straightened, a hand against the wall. "I...I wanted to tell you, I really did..."

"Mia," Heisenberg growled.

"But...it's all okay, isn't it?" She swayed toward him. "We can be...a family. You and me and Rose...I always said everyone was counting on me, right?"

She lifted a hand, and before Heisenberg could flinch back, she pressed it to his chest, just over the suture scars.

Her fingers crooked, hooking into his shirt buttons; his Cadou squirmed, its pulse rapid and drumbeat-hard. Mia's skin was too-warm, sickly-warm, her bright eyes too close. All he could think of was the glazed look of a fresh corpse the moment before he sliced into its chest cavity.

"Ethan, Ethan," she whispered, coaxing, soothing. She flicked his top button open. "Don't worry. It'll...it'll be fine-"

Heisenberg's hand snapped around her wrist. His breathing felt sharp as broken glass. "Get your hands off me," he told her.

He flung her, lightly, back. She crumpled with a soft oh and folded to the floor. Blinking, shaking. She put her arms around herself.

"I'm not fucking Ethan," Heisenberg told her. "And you are so, so fucked up."

He stared down at her. Mia had closed her eyes, her hair draggled and filthy, her professional polish entirely worn away. She didn't even smell good anymore. All the anger had drained from him, all the terror, a scream in the night, a boy huddled in a dark closet, listening as Miranda murdered his mother, defying her abduction of him. Now he was numb, slightly out of alignment with his own body, as if looking in on himself from a distance.

Leave her, he told himself. Leave her to freeze down here. Walk away, go get those Ouroboros bastards, die in a fiery explosion like he'd always figured he would.

He didn't. He stayed there for a few more minutes, staring down at Mia, near-catatonic on the floor.

She didn't stay that way for long. He turned on his heel, leaving the basement for a moment. When he came back, he dumped the entire bucketful of snow right on her head.

She spluttered awake with a yelp, then twisted round to stare at him. "What the- fuck- what...whassamatter-"

"Enough of this bullshit, Mia," Heisenberg said. "You can't lie to me like you did to Ethan all those years. I get it, drinking away your sorrows is a fantastic self-medication method. But right now, it isn't doing either of us any good."

He sat on the upturned bucket. "Now, I'm gonna stay here until you tell me what's going on. And if you try to run, I'll hunt you down and tear your fuckin' head from your shoulders. Got it?"

She blinked at him, then turned and threw up in a corner for several minutes.

"Glad we can come to an understanding," Heisenberg said.

She slumped back against the wall for so long Heisenberg wondered if she'd passed out altogether. But when her voice grated from under her hair, she sounded like she'd regained a semblance of sobriety.

"Did you ever have anyone..." she began.

Heisenberg waited.

"Did you...ever have anyone who meant peace to you?" she said.

"...No," Heisenberg said.

"Mm." She shifted, pressing her hands over her face. "Ugh...I did. For a long time. And I ruined it."

"Ethan."

She nodded. "He was good. Truly, I mean, good. Not simply nice, I mean- he'd do anything for the people he loved. Anything. I...never told him. What I did...what I really did. So it was easy. It was like having two lives. One I lived with him, and one I lived when I went to work. Like...submarine compartments. The moment one was shut and locked, it ceased to matter, and I was in the other...and when I was away, when I was with him...I almost forgot what it was I was doing with the Connections."

"Building little psycho child death machines?"

"Yeah." She paused. "You did your research on the whole Dulvey incident, right? You know how all that worked out."

"Yup. Led to you sitting here with me in a basement in the middle of the goddamn woods."

"I just thought it would...go away...that Ethan would never notice...that I could just forget. But it all got so...complicated."

"Complicated, huh? You mean you didn't account for the mold-spawn?"

Her voice sharpened. "Rose."

"Yeah, I know the kid's name, Mia, I've been feeding her breakfast every morning for the past fifteen years."

He heard her exhale, her slight groan of pain. Little wonder. A killer headache was oncoming. "You have," she said, in agreement.

A quick dart of her eyes, holding his gaze for a moment.

"I saw her, there in the belly of the ship back in Regent City," she said.

"Yeah?"

"I saw what she'd become."

Heisenberg smiled despite himself, remembering Rose's defiant look, remembering how she hadn't backed down until he'd absolutely ordered her to. "Yeah."

"You took her from me, Heisenberg. I'll never forgive you for that. Never. But...the girl I saw back there...the girl you raised..."

She drew a shuddering breath.

"You did something right," she went on. "By her. And I can't hate you for it. Ethan was right to trust you with her."

Heisenberg didn't respond. He wasn't sure he could. Maybe Mia sensed this, because she looked away from him, pulling the remnants of her sweater around herself.

"Um," she said. "Miranda took me...I think two weeks before the village fell. I'm not sure. Time blurred together."

"Sounds right." That fit his recollection of when Miranda had brought her in, heavily sedated, and tossed her into the cage in her lab.

"For a while, all she did was take my blood. Do tests on it. Gave me...I'm not sure. I think herbal mixtures. She said she was measuring compatibility. I asked with what, but she...she never really spoke to me. I think I was nothing more than a test subject to her. Like..."

Her voice crumpled.

"Like little Eveline?" Heisenberg prompted, his voice dark. He'd seen the photos of the E-001, the little black-haired girl in an old-fashioned dress. So like Claudia it was impossible to not supplant her face for Eveline's in his mind.

Still, he remembered the cage Mia had been locked in. The cot in the corner, the straw on the floor. Mia really had been nothing to her.

You could have been everything, Karl. Everything I wanted. And you defy me like this? You're nothing.

"Later," Mia went on, "it all changed. I think something in the blood work. I think something...worked out."

She lifted her head, facing him. Her skin was so pale and sweat-sheened it looked like the texture of enamel.

"She started saying how important I was. How...how if all of this went wrong...if she failed...how I would be the resting-place of all her hopes."

Heisenberg leaned forward. "And?"

"She cut me open," Mia whispered. "And herself, too. Right there. Like it was nothing...reached inside the cavity and pulled out...I think it was her heart. It was black, weeping. And she put the heart inside me. I felt it grow around my own. I felt it...latch on."

She closed her eyes, the veins in her eyelids standing out like bluish wires. "Oh, god..." She pressed her hand to her chest. "She said if Eva needed a vessel, someday so might she..."

Silence fell.

Heisenberg stared at Mia. Neither of them spoke. At last, Mia's eyes flicked up, meeting his, bright and vivid in the weak light filtering down the steps.

"Are you going to kill me?" she asked him.

He tilted his head, regarding her. "Do you want me to?"

She said nothing, then shook her head.

"I don't know if you can die, honestly," Heisenberg told her. "If Miranda made you into an immortal vessel for her consciousness, well, fuck. You're probably more durable than I am."

"I don't want this. I don't want...her."

"Neither do I, believe me! Once was bad enough." He narrowed his eyes. "And Wonder Boy Redfield never caught on that this had happened to you?"

"No. I knew that if I told him, he'd separate me from Rosemary, and after you took her...I didn't want to get shut away in a lab somewhere. I'd never find her then."

"Smart girl," Heisenberg said. He snorted. "BS-fuckin'-AA. What a bunch of hacks. Didn't see Ethan was moldy, didn't see you'd been body-snatched..."

"Chris is a good guy. Just...it's been a long road for him. Nothing I did made it any easier."

"Right, right." He straightened from the bucket and strode away.

"Where are you going?" Mia called.

"To save your ass." He broke the padlock holding shut the trap door with a click of his fingers, then kicked the hatch open.

A gust of freezing air washed over him, still and damp; within, he heard the steady drip of liquid, a distant watery rush, the hollow silence of a deep subterranean place. Rusty rungs were set into the rock wall of the tunnel beyond, leading down into absolute darkness.

He crouched over the hole, peering in, then straightened once more.

"Priest hole," he said, pointing.

"EXCUSE me-"

"Place the churchy fucks could run to escape anyone who didn't like their old time religion. Important, for folks in this region. Can you believe the surrounding territories' warlords thought they were heretics?" He chuckled. "Anyway, this land is riddled with tunnels and caves. And they all lead to one place. One place I know very, very well."

"The chamber in front of her lab," Mia gasped.

"Yup. The Black God's inner sanctum itself. Now, Mia, we stay here, you're toast. Miranda's gonna take over your body eventually, given your fracturing mental state, and then we're all fucked. But seeing as I'm a goddamn genius, I can pop you open, rummage around, extract Miranda's goop from you before it takes over your brain. I just can't do it here."

"Where, then? Her lab?"

"Nah, that place was leveled in the blast. But I know a place that wasn't. Way better, too. Cooler, more atmospheric." He waved a hand, indicating his own, unsatisfying, blood-covered ensemble. "And I can finally get some real fuckin' clothes."

Mia paused. She lifted her arm, watching dirty water drip from her sweater. "So long as I can get some too," she muttered. "I swear I haven't been this gross since I went four-wheeling with my cousins in the seventh grade."

"Four-wheeling?"

"Uh- like a motorbike but with four wheels." Another pause. "And way more mud."

Heisenberg grinned, showing off every tooth in his mouth.

"Mia," he told her, holding out his hand to help her up. "It was a rocky start, but I think you and I are gonna get along just fine."

#saints of warding #re8 fic #re8 fanfiction #karl heisenberg #rosemary winters #mia winters #ethan winters #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #donna beneviento #resident evil village #re8 #resident evil #chris redfield #mother miranda #chapter 13

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tiger-in-the-flightdeck · 7 months

Note

Trick or treat! Something with omega Barry :3

Here, let me drop this in your little pumpkin bucket!

Read here, or on AO3

“What’s the matter, Flash?”

Barry just wanted to go home.

“You’re lookin’ a little warm.”

He wanted to be home, curled up in his nest with a case of blue Gatorade (The blue always made him feel better than any other colour. He had no idea why.) and his phone turned off for the horrible three days he had ahead of him while his heat took hold. He wasn’t even supposed to be getting his heats as frequently anymore, with the suppressants Wayne Pharmaceuticals had developed specifically for his new metabolism. To be entirely fair to the scientists there, it hadn’t been their fault. They didn’t take into account Barry’s complete inability to actually remember to take the damn things with any regularity.

So there he was, tense, uncomfortable, overheated, and facing down an Alpha who was radiating strength and power and dominance.

And spouting stupid fucking puns at him.

“Maybe I should cool you down?”

The whine of the Cold Gun powering up almost masked Barry’s own pitiful sound when Len raised his arm and it lifted the hem of his sweater up just enough to expose a stretch of skin over his belt. Barry had suspected he would have a little trail of hair on his lower belly, but seeing the proof in the flesh made him worried he might end up vibrating right through the marble floor of the bank vault.

Len pulled the gun to the side just as he squeezed the trigger when he noticed that Barry was making no move to dodge it. The beam struck the wall just behind him, missing his shoulder by a fraction of an inch.

“No, see, you’re supposed to say ‘I’m just getting warmed up’ or something,” Len scolded. It wasn’t as fun if Flash didn’t play along. And if he just stood there and let himself get shot? It took all the fun out of it completely and made him feel that uncomfortable twinge of guilt that always sprang up whenever Barry looked at him with those big Bambi eyes of his. Like he was doing now.

He dropped the sack of diamonds he had been holding and took a step forward. Barry was swaying in place and looked like he was going to take a header into the cash piled in the middle of the vault for transport. “Shit, Red. You really do look warm. What’s wrong?” Len pushed his goggles onto the top of his head and used his teeth to pull his glove off. There was sweat beading around Barry’s lips and his cheeks, just under the edge of his cowl, were rosy. He set the inside of his wrist against his jaw, feeling the warmth rolling off him. “Do you have a fever?”

Barry mumbled a weak protest as Len slid his fingers under his cowl and pushed it back. “Not a fever,” he said, turning his head to chase the hands that were stroking his hair away from his forehead to test his temperature. With the cowl down, the scent blockers were peeled from his neck and Barry could see Len’s eyes dilate almost black when he caught the aroma of Omega in the beginnings of a heat.

Single, unbonded Omega. In what was practically head to toe tight leather that just ramped up his warmth and held his scent.

And Leonard Snart, always worried about the well being of his Speedster, reacted with a speed that would have impressed Barry if he’d been feeling a bit less detached and not currently being picked up in the air by deceptively strong hands.

“Wait! Wait, Snart!” Barry batted at him as he was thrust up against the wall next to the vault door. Len had his face pressed into the side of his neck and was nosing at the leather collar below his ear.

“Wait for what?” Len growled -genuinely growled and if he hadn’t already been in the throes of full blown heat, that would have dragged him down into it without fail- and pulled away from his exploration of Barry’s throat.

Barry braced one hand on Len’s shoulder and tightened the grip his legs had around his waist so he could point out into the lobby where the other Rogue’s were moving the first half of their score.

“Ah.” Len cooled enough to step away, still holding Barry on his hip, and grabbed the vault wheel. He grunted with the effort to pull it closed and when it clanged shut, it muffled out the shouts from his team on the other side. “There. Privacy.”

“How long did it take you to open it in the first place?” Barry asked, reaching over Len’s shoulders to grip the back of his sweater so he could pull it up. It got tangled between them and Barry ended up half wearing it because he was too busy learning that his nemesis was a tender kisser to get it out of the way.

“Ah,” Len said again when he broke for air and glanced at the door. “Okay, privacy for at least four hours.” He pulled the sweater from Barry’s neck and tossed it aside so he could focus his attention on the straps and zips that held that ridiculous red suit together. Spinning away from the door, he sank to his knees in front of the cash and lowered Barry onto it.

“This is probably one of your fantasies, isn’t it?” Barry squirmed on the money and yanked open his suit. In the close confines of the vault, his scent was overwhelming even to him, and the open want on Len’s face had his legs falling open for him.

“About thirteen different fantasies rolled into one,” Len corrected and struggled with his belt and boots at the same time. He managed the belt, gave up on the boots, and shoved his jeans down just enough to reveal his cock. “Fourteen, if there’s a natural disaster by the time we make it outta here that I have to rescue you from.”

Barry had never laughed during a heat before. Len was chatty and teasing and playful in a way that put Barry completely at ease, as if they were home in his nest surrounded by a stockpile of supplies, rather than on a pile of money with a security camera that he really hoped had been disabled. He made Barry laugh.

And when he sank in to the hilt and began to thrust, deep and slow, with his lips against Barry’s ear to whisper encouragement to him, he made him gasp.

And when his knot formed, tying them together with his teeth breaking the skin of his throat to mark him as his, he made him scream out his name.

#trick or treat #omegaverse #coldflash #barry allen #leonard snart #the flash #captain cold

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conretewings · 1 year

Text

Better Left Said (Vander x OC) NSF/W

-Oh hi yes *nervous laugh* Enjoy this random and utterly self-indulgent idea. Featuring younger (early twenties) versions of Vander, Silco and Benzo in the days of building The Lanes as well as Rosemary, who works at both her family's repair business and as a singer at bars and clubs. Lots of banter and spicy flirting. EDIT: Header image by the wonderful @thefutonhermit

-Vander x OC. Alcohol and smoking. Very suggestive content. 18+ only please

"What?" asked Silco, leaning closer to Vander, "I don't remember anything about chips."

Vander pinched his brow and sighed, "No, I said 'shipments'-maybe this wasn't the best place to meet up today..."

Friday nights were always crowded and noisy at Iron Bear, one of the group's favorite taverns. The owners knew them and knew their...illicit business, but didn't care so long as they brought in more coin than trouble. Vander, Silco and Benzo had their usual corner booth, paperwork spread on the table and discreetly arranged so no prying eyes could see the contents. Trying to build a black market empire was a complicated and dangerous affair, but they knew if successful it would be a boon to the Undercity's people...and a critical step toward their ultimate goal.

Benzo cleared his throat, reached forward and ran his finger over a list of figures on one of the pages, "Everythin' looks ta be in order. Those crates of gunpowder and-"

A loud whooping and whistling interrupted him as the three young men quickly hid their papers a little more, then looked up to see the object of the hullabaloo; a woman picked through the crowd, dark chocolate curls bouncing-along with other assets-her denim jacket doing little to cover her low-cut silken green dress that caught the light and cast an almost ethereal halo around her.

Vander found himself staring, an increasingly all-too-familiar warmth blooming in his chest and time seemed to slow as he watched her, all radiant smiles and quick, graceful movements, her curves flawlessly framed by her dress. They'd been friends for a few years now, but more and more he'd been finding himself looking at her through a different lens, one that made his heartbeat kick up a notch or sometimes embarrassingly, other parts very excited.

He gaped stupidly, mouth hung slightly open and Benzo smugly grinned at his friend, who composed himself upon noticing with a growled 'shut it'.

The woman rolled her eyes playfully or laughed with various patrons as she weaved her way to their table and plopped herself next to Benzo with a dramatic exhale, threading her arms through one of his.

"Wooo! I made it!" she beamed at them, hazel eyes bright and full of mischief as she smoothly purred in a well practiced, upper-class lilt, "Hello gentlemen. What must a lady do to get a drink around here?"

"Go order one." replied Silco with a smirk, taking a swig of his own ale.

"Hey Rosemary!" Vander and Benzo greeted in unison, grinning as she stood and rounded the table to lean over and hug Silco around his shoulders from behind.

"Oh, don't be like that Silcy I've missed you lads!" she pouted with mock hurt, snorting as he twisted to glower at her and push her off.

"I told you not to call me that!" he hissed, and this time she raised her hands, "Sorry, sorry. Well now we're even for that comment a moment ago eh?"

Silco shot her a sour look but quickly smiled again and gave an affirming tip of the head. Vander waved a hand to one of the staff, who nodded and went to grab another round, then turned to her as she sat back down, working to ignore the ample bit of visible cleavage, "Haven't seen ya in what? Almost a week? What you been up to Rosie?"

"Rumor has it you been gettin' pretty popular topside." added Benzo.

Rosemary ran a hand through her hair, the bubbly energy starting to fade along with the more 'upper crust' accent she'd been using, "Really now? Well, we got two trucks 'n several smaller projects at the shop ta finish, I've got two-wait...no, bloody hell three gigs comin' up. Tellin' ya the coin is fantastic but they run me ragged sometimes."

"Speaking of, I assume you came straight here from a performance? I couldn't help but notice the dress. Very stylish." Silco cut in.

"Thank ya! Aye, this lil' jazz club along the docks," Rosemary nodded, then bit her lip, "It ain't too much is it?"

"No." all three quickly replied, Vander's face flushed red as his eyes darted away awkwardly and she couldn't hold her brief, coy grin; so she wasn't imagining things. Not being blind nor stupid, she'd been noticing more lately how his gaze would linger on her when he thought she wasn't paying attention, or how he'd react to things she said, those silver-blue eyes holding hints of things that made her core burn and coil in delicious torment. She'd be lying if she denied the thought of being with him-in one form or another-hadn't crossed her daydreams more than once. Maybe tonight she'd work up the courage to say something.

Her gaze flicked to the papers in front of them and lowered her voice, "But enough 'bout me. How's things 'ere?"

There was a pause and muttered thanks as the waiter dropped off their drinks, then Silco leaned in, a cue for them all to follow suit and cracked a wicked smile, bottle-green eyes sharp as the knife he kept on his hip, "Plans have been going splendidly. I feel it's finally safe to say we're making headway..."

-"Come ooooon boys one more round!" cried Rosemary joyfully, her face flushed and beer tankard almost sloshing onto the table as she raised it too fast.

"Oi watch it don't be wastin'-hic-good ale!" Vander huffed with a laugh and a hiccup while Silco rolled his eyes and took a more measured sip of his whiskey as the pair continued to banter.

It was a couple hours-and drinks-later and the group had hashed out a plan for the next few weeks, Rosemary volunteering as always to glean what information she could regarding the movement of goods in and out of Piltover from her more loose-lipped audience members. Business being wrapped up as much as possible for the moment, the group concluded since it was the weekend, a bit of inebriation, chatter and comradery were in order.

"Good ale?! If I wanted that I'd 'a gone somewheres else than this leaky bucket! Only reason I come 'ere is for you lot!" she snickered.

"It's not bad!" Benzo knocked back some more then licked his lips thoughtfully with a shrug, "Ah've had worse."

"Oh I see how it is!" Vander huffed, crossing his thick arms dramatically, "She's gettin' too good for us!"

"Oh Van!" she reached across Benzo and patted his shoulder, giving him a wink and a very good show of that cleavage, "You'll always be perfect for me!"

Vander paused, mouth half open with the smart rebuttal he'd had catching in his throat; something deeply sincere in her green-flecked eyes and gentle smile shot right through to his heart. There it was again, that sweetly torturous heat rising to his chest and spreading outward, and he fumbled for a response until he gave up and simply gave a short bark of a laugh and eyeroll, "Yeah yeah..."

An employee, apparently having overheard Rosemary's outburst and all too happy to oblige, appeared with four more mugs, three of the four being snatched up almost as soon as they were set down. A few moments later a man approached and Benzo did a double-take.

"Rocky! What can I do ya for mate?" he asked cheerfully.

"'Ey Benzo! Wanted to thank you for helpin' me get ahold of the thing I needed. You uh, got any more deals?"

"I might, I might. Why don't we step out for a sec? Hard to hear in here," Benzo stood, Rosemary having to scoot out to let him by, and pointed sternly at his drink as he turned to go, "This better be full when I get back!"

Vander flipped him off with a sarcastic smile and Rosemary gasped in mock disbelief, Silco raising an eyebrow and smirking before going back to the paper in front of him. Rosemary then gulped a bit of her ale, head already swimming pleasantly and body fuzzy-when she realized abruptly there was now nothing between her and Vander but air. She glanced sideways at him, he and Silco studying a couple of the pages and mumbling inaudibly between each other.

She watched him slyly, admiring his handsome face, the scruff growing into a short beard, how his eyebrows would knit together adorably whenever he was concentrating, those gorgeous steel-blue eyes she could lost in, his thick brown hair that just begged for her fingers to run through it, those lips that looked so soft and kissable, how those large hands could hold her so snugly and-shit. She felt the heat rise up her neck to her face; she really was in it.

Vander must have sensed her eyes on him, as he glanced in her direction briefly, doing a brief double-take, brow wrinkled lightly in curiosity.

Then he smiled softly, that goddamn, devilishly charming smile, and any semblance or thread of control or doubt holding her back crumbled.

"Can I help ya?" he pondered, sliding himself closer to her.

"Hmmm..." she mirrored him, moving nearer, "I can think of a few things."

"You gonna tell me 'bout them?" he teased, taking a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it and blowing a wisp skyward before turning to face her more.

Rosemary's heart skipped; that half-lidded, inviting smile gave her both pause and courage. Alright then, she mused after only a moment's hesitancy, if he wants to play this game we'll play.

Resting her chin on her fingers and head tilted upward slightly, she gracefully crossed one leg over the other so her foot was against his leg, "Oh Van...I can see right through you. You're all cool 'n suave when ya wannna be but right now you're runnin' quite hot..."

He froze for a second, not only for how her foot was gingerly rubbing against his calf, this simple contact causing more internal havoc than it had any right to, but also from the warmth and-dare he think-desire pooled in her beautiful eyes. They'd coyly 'flirted' many a time before, making a game of tossing sly double entendres and comments to each other, and he had to admit there were times, especially lately, he wouldn't have minded it going further, but abruptly faced with what he realized was her taking that leap caught him off guard.

"A-ah," Vander stammered, the alcohol coursing through his veins doing him no favors, "Am I n-now? Dunno about that. In fact seems you're the one makin' bedroom eyes at me."

She scooted herself to press right up to him now, laying a hand across his wrist and stroking a line up the stiffened muscle of his arm. It was at this moment he realized other things beginning to stiffen and he swore silently.

Finishing the brief, hushed discussion he'd been having with one of his contacts, Silco turned back around-and wrinkled his nose upon realizing they were shamelessly flirting. He grimaced briefly before going back to the paperwork he'd still been studying and resolving to ignore them. If they wanted to flirt and act like horny teens that was their business. He only prayed not to overhear anything too personal.

Forcing down her trembles, buzzed and high off the adrenaline Rosemary tilted her head , "Know what I think? I think deep down, you'd like it to be more 'n just my eyes. I think, you'd like...all of me in the bedroom..." she licked her thumb suggestively and to his continued stunned surprise, wiped a stray smudge of mud off his cheek, "Dirty man..."

His hand was clenched tightly on the table, heart pounding and he definitely had a raging boner now. He swallowed thickly, scrambling for a response that wasn't an incoherent ramble or direct confirmation of her...irritatingly spot-on comments. Another thought creeped into his lust and beer addled mind; was this just the ale talking? Part of the game? Or did she genuinely want him how, as she deduced, he secretly longed for her?

"So ya th-think ya know what's goin' on in my head eh?" he managed, hoping he didn't sound too worked up and smushing out his cigarette with shaking hands.

She winked, "You're not hidin' it too well love. At this point it's a matter of knowin'. Like how I know you're enjoyin' this. Or how you're definitely picturing what I look like under this dress..." she leaned in to purr in his ear, "And I know it'll be my name on your lips when you're strokin' yourself later-"

At this Vander suddenly stood, so fast and forcibly he bumped the table hard enough to wobble it, their drinks nearly spilling. Before anyone could ask he sputtered out, "Gotta piss sorry-" and stalked away, dodging other people and accidentally bumping some in his haste, including Benzo who tried and failed to ask what the rush was.

Benzo returned to the table and sat heavily, jerking his thumb behind him, "Anyone know what that big lug's issue is?"

Threading his fingers together, Silco cocked an eyebrow and hummed, "Perhaps Rosemary would care to give some insight..."

She, in turn, had slid down somewhat in her seat, as if she could hide from the embarrassment and her scarlet face; oh dear. Perhaps that had been too much.

"Fuck." she mumbled.

-It was a few days later, and murky greenish neon light from outside seeped through the thin curtains of Vander's room, casting a perpetual, dim glow. The numerous noises of the city drowned out the low groaning pants of it's namesake occupant, one hand thrown over his eyes as the other pumped his cock. Of all the sinful thoughts swirling in his mind, one kept snapping back into clearer focus; one particular woman straddling him, rocking her hips in rhythm with his as his hands clutched her ass, her chest, wherever he could reach. He bit his lip hard, imagining her flushed cheeks and mouth half-open as she blissfully rode his dick, moaning his name as she reached climax at the same time he did-

"R-Rosemary! Rosie...oh-!" he stuttered out, gripping the sheet and back arching as he came. He lay there, drifting down like a leaf on a gentle breeze, breath ragged but calming, absorbed in the high before he remembered what she'd said.

"...Fuck..." he grumbled.

@vander-affectionate @barbersjoy @immortalbumblebee @catgoblinchelly

@archerofthemists @prwincessqwin-blog @band--psycho

#vander arcane #vander x oc #arcane vander x oc #vander smut #arcane oc #young vander #silco arcane #young silco #arcane benzo #young benzo #arcane fanfic

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x-amount-verbs · 2 years

Text

Dominance (1/4)

(A Helping Hand pt 24 - Silco POV)

[silco pov x f!reader/oc] [2365 words] [nsfw] [d/s] [dom silco has dirty thoughts]

(series headers via this piece by @dad-dumpster )

AO3 Link

“You say a lot most days. …Sir.”

Silco can’t help the little spark low in his belly when she calls him Sir.

It’s not like she’s the only one; all of his employees address him respectfully— at least to his face. But the way she says it…

Perhaps it’s not so much the word but rather what it represents. Not just obedience (though gods does he love her obedience), but a specific unspoken agreement. How had he worded it? She’d dropped the honorific and he’d very calmly reinforced it. Formality, wasn’t it?

“I wonder if you’ve become too informal.”

He’d given her a hint at it, established tasks, and she had complied. And every time she continues to comply, every time she makes herself complicit, it represents not just obedience but agreement. He hasn’t ever instructed her directly. Little reminders of expectations, never voiced aloud. When she refuses, he doesn’t demand it of her.

But she doesn’t refuse.

(Alright, once or twice she’s refused, but he didn’t force it out of her.)

It’s play. Perhaps she’s aware of that, perhaps not, these games they play. Every time she calls him sir she moves her piece on the board, or toys with a pawn, or simply takes a seat at the table. She agrees to play.

And now it finally comes to a head.

Last night she’d let that little drunken thought slip.

“Are you gonna spank me?” A taunt, drunkenly slurred, accompanied by a laugh.

If that had been it, maybe it wouldn’t have stuck out so strongly in his mind. But he’s noticed, through their meetings. She truly is responsive. The way she reacted to having her arm tied back. The little hitch of breath when he’d tugged at her hair. Her own bad habit of worrying her lip between teeth until it bled.

And the pause, after that comment. The pause before she laughed again. The moment that her thoughts lingered on the idea instead of dismissing it.

Not only had she not denied the desire when he’d carefully inquired for her confirmation, she’d had the guilty squirming blush of someone caught in a lie— or, perhaps, an embarrassing truth.

Silco would find out, today.

He took the time this morning to prepare for such a possibility, all the while tempering his expectations, taming his own rather wild imagination and its snapping appetite. She may not take it well. She may not take it, at all. He has to allow for that. Let her step away, if that’s what she wants. Loath as he’ll be to accept it.

But here she is. Sitting down at the chessboard when he’s already made it very clear she can forfeit.

“I’ve warned you before.” It’s a careful reminder, Watching her eyes, curious if she remembers every detail as he does. “Of…”

The sudden flicker as her eyes register the memory. It feeds him, to know she thinks of it, too. To know that word carries the weight of every time it’s hung between them.

In an instant, every fantasy he’s placed her in flashes through his mind, a flip book of lewd moments, carefully set aside as soon as they’re acknowledged. He’s well aware he wants her. His own burden to bear. She’s a test, of sorts. This is a test. Proving his own control. And perhaps a righteous punishment for how much she threatens it.

Whether he’s punishing her or himself is, as of yet, unclear. Perhaps it’s sadomasochistic in purpose as well as method.

“…Consequences.”

The heat of her breath is audible. The way her eyes darken, cheeks go rosy, the way her lips practically gated themselves before the admission.

“Very good.”

Her eyes squeeze shut, and the rush of satisfaction has to be carefully tempered. She may still say no. All is not set in stone, as promising as her little tells may be. The throat bobbing, chin dropping toward her chest in a subconscious bow to his dominance, brows drawn together as if her own submission is somehow surprising. Or perhaps it’s the hangover.

It’s hard not to taunt, watching that struggle play out. “I tried financial consequences. But your means are rather modest to begin with.” In his time with her he’s realized just how little she spends. Not overtly social, nor ostentatious. Her expenses seem to be on daily living, and the occasional weapon or equipment upgrade, or a good meal. No gambling, no regular night at the bar. Almost a blessing, when there are far more appealing options for punishment. “I don’t think it has the intended effect.”

For a moment, Silco just watches. Drinking in the look of her. Caught in suspense, her body seeming equal parts dread and anticipation.

Take your time. Fools rush in.

How badly he wants to try all things at once. But no. Steady breaths. Calm demeanor. Too excited and he’d be showing his hand. This game is a careful balance of strategy, and calm is key.

“Hands on the desk.”

He almost expects a look of shock, a sudden blush, but the slow way she looks at him is perhaps more enticing. A peek into that well of interminable want.

And all too soon it’s obscured, a haughty resolve firming her mouth. A flash of rebellion from her usual spell of yearning. Something he finds utterly tempting.

She leans forward just enough, hands placed on his desk, and part of him wants to dig a hand in her hair and tug her near enough to sink teeth into her lip, her earlobe, pulling her head back to mark her throat.

T-t-t-tap. … T-t-t-tap. … T-t-t-tap.

Her fingers drumming against the desk in a challenging tattoo.

“My treatment. Sir.”

Gods, today will be a struggle. Truly a test, to limit himself to dispensing pain when he so badly wants to devour her.

Tempted as he is to go straight for the bottom drawer, the trove of potential playthings stashed within mere hours ago, Silco goes for exactly what she’s requesting. Top drawer. Bypassing his own daily syringe to grab for a half-familiar injector, dragging it out and watching her attention shift.

He toys with the tool, and spots the moment she slips up, a different kind of want surfacing as her tongue peeks between lips, a moment of pleading that is there and gone so quickly.

He can imagine that look twisted for other means. A foggy-eyed need for release, a tortured pleasure as she pants her pleas.

But then her look hardens. Warm wet need icing over, sharpening in an instant. Lucid, in a way that threatens the game. The tapping sounding harder. A presentness to her that warns she may not be as willing to play her part as he’d hoped.

T-t-t-tap. … T-t-t-tap. … T-t-t-tap.

It’s jarring, truth be told.

No. No matter. He’ll deal with her insubordination. It’s why she’s here, after all. And he’s holding the key to her immediate needs.

Silco stands, looking down his nose at her, hunched over the desk. The glint of a smirk on her lips is half unsettling… half thrilling.

He huffs out a breath. He’s been wanting something to break. Perhaps she’s volunteering. Or maybe he need only remind her who’s in control…

She wants his attention, so he coolly averts his gaze. She’ll stay where he put her, regardless of whether or not he’s watching. That’s the weight of expectation he places on her, if she wants the relief he holds in his hands.

Flicking the barrel of the injector, almost thoughtfully, he takes slow measured steps around the edge of his desk. Not deigning to look at her. Withholding that attention she so obviously craves. And still that damned drumming.

T-t-t-tap. … T-t-t-tap. … T-t-t-tap.

“Hands flat.”

The brat seems intent on pushing his buttons. Her soft hint of a laugh, the way she taps her fingers together, even with palms flat. The cheek, in that challenging look she offers, the quirk of her brows. Taunting him.

He lets himself get very close.

Very close.

Lets himself sit in confident silence, merely observing her. Waiting for her audacity to fizzle down to shame.

Her insistence on pushing back is rare, but interesting. The cute little jut of her chin. It really is adorable when that mask slips, her resolve not quite as foolproof as she tries to pretend.

It’ll slip soon, though. Inevitably. She’s acting out for attention; he’ll have to see how she responds when she gets the full force of it. The prospect is amusing, and he wholeheartedly intends to follow through on it.

She hasn’t dropped his gaze, fingers still a quiet rhythmic clicking, and that determination may have earned her his commendation, if it wasn’t so unwise. Brave, but stupid. Then again, she’s in on the play.

This close, Silco doesn’t need to speak above a murmur. “You’ve had quite a bit of practice saying no this week.” Tapping falters, and eyelids flutter as his words hit her skin, but they stay open, and she only offers a thin parody of innocence with her polite smile. He almost wants to laugh. The little brat. “And doing so very rudely, might I add.”

He can hear her voice the night before, practically goading him. Taunting him, when her drunkenness and his own morality barred his action. But now she stays silent. The hangover seems to be doing wonders at keeping her tongue in check.

For a second, he says nothing. Trying to evaluate, to judge her demeanor, judge how receptive she’ll be.

She likes this game. He knows she does, but it hasn’t yet been brought into practical demonstration. He simply has to take the risk, to initiate it.

A slow, even breath. Then he carefully opens the metaphorical box, and sets down the board.

“…For the rest of our session today, we’ll focus on teaching you respect.” The game, set. “‘Please’ and ‘thank you’ and ‘yes Sir.’” The win conditions. “‘No’ has been struck from your vocabulary, with limited exceptions.” The rules.

“Do you understand?”

She struggles to keep the smug look from her face. “No.”

Oh this will be fun.

Silco stares her down, meets her defiance with a cool power so utterly unthreatened. His empty hand reaches to still the quiet clicking of ceramic fingers— warm under his touch, the marvel they are. Holding her gaze, he absently brushes his thumb across the back of the prosthetic knuckles, tracing the rounded discs that let each joint move independently.

“Impertinence demands consequences, my dear. And your account is coming due.”

The technology is fascinating. Thermally so close to skin, even sculpted casts to mirror her good hand, and yet impossibly hard compared to the give of flesh. The curious press against a joint garners no reaction, even as he feels the slight give of the inner workings, as if real tendons and cartilage. How interesting.

“Now, let’s try this again.” A slow thumb traces up and down a channel on the back of her hand, where plates meet. With words alone, he offers her playing piece out to her. “Do you understand.”

The pause is too long for his taste.

He’s sure she’ll accept, and yet the wait feels excruciating. She’s too present, too sharp-eyed, she can see too much truth on him—

And for just a moment, doubt creeps in.

He counts his breath. Keeps it even. Keeps it steady. Not a single tell to give away just how much power she holds in her answer. How much he wants this. How much he wants her.

Finally, she speaks.

“…Yes.”

Silco simply breathes it in, letting the reassurance of that one word settle over him, quickly chased by renewed hunger, bolstered conviction, taking in all the possibilities at once.

Because her submission offers so many possibilities.

Vicious excitement and cruel satisfaction lift a corner of his mouth, even as he rewards her with another brush across her knuckles. She’s already testing him, so there’s already a rule to be reinforced in this game.

“Face front, and try again.”

The breath that seems to determinedly set her shoulders as she obeys tells him the match has begun. Better still is the slight drop in pitch as she corrects herself.

“…Yes, Sir.”

God that feels good. Sounds good, from her mouth. An itch deep in his belly is scratched by those words.

But Silco doesn’t let himself think on them too much. This is about unraveling her.

He slides his right hand up her arm, tracing those sleek lines of interlocked plates with a delicate touch, less delicate once he hits fabric and drags it up. The injector, hanging by its trigger from his opposite index finger, is tipped onto the back of his hand so he can properly bare her arm.

“Good girl.”

A single gesture tips it front again, and he presses the tool to skin and pulls the trigger. Her eyelids flutter, still attempting her strong facade, and he sets the injector down and steps back. He’ll have her begging eventually, just have to get her in the habit. Break down some of that pride, starting now.

“I gave you a gift. For that, you say…?”

Her stubborn little huff at the prompt makes him smirk. But she obeys, even if her words attempt to seem a hard-won concession; “Thank you. Sir.”

A jolt winding in his gut as he takes those words, shifts the pitch, breaks her breath, imagining the tearful squirming mess she’ll be.

The whine of pain, groan of pleasure, keening cries of want as she begs for more. Thanking him over and over with every thrust that jars her against the desk, the wall, the bed— whatever surface he’s decided to fuck her into. Relentless, conquering, asserting his control by turning her into a dripping mess, overflowing, a puddle of jellied limbs and skin sticky with sweat and sex.

The hum rumbles in his throat, carefully setting those thoughts aside. Patience. That’s not for today. Today is discipline only. He takes up position at the side of his desk, boots nudging the unassuming rod leaning against it.

Oh how delicious that discipline may be.

“…Let’s get started, then.”

—

[next part]

AO3 Link

[Sorry for the break, guys; it’s shockingly difficult to write smut when surrounded by family on vacation OuO’ But things are back on track, even if these are turning out… long. Longer than expected. I’m aaaalmost done with the revpov for 25, and then I still want to do 26 and the beginning of 27. Ideally 25 will go up sinday, but we’ll see 😅 This will be a 3-4 part revpov to cover the entire encounter.

If you’re here without reading A Helping Hand… Why? How? I mean, maybe go read the rest? It starts here, and is also on AO3. The rest of the reverse POVs are in a series on AO3, and also on the HH masterlist and my primary masterlist.

If you liked: please boost! Reblogs are adored, tags are cherished, comments are printed out, fried in funnel cake dough, and devoured. If you want to get the notification when the next part of this revpov (entitled, *ahem,* Discipline) goes up, you can join the tag list by commenting on this linked post.

Tell me what you thought! There’s so much more to come from this fucker’s head, so… stay tuned 😘 ❤️ -verbs]

Tag list: @hawk4president @mello-jello29 @jennrosefx @dad-dumpster @ellhd-imagination @zuckerwattencupcake @meep-moop-mystic @sherwood-forests @ariaud @witxhy-lexx @mazikomo @leave-me-alone-doctor @antoine-tte @emprixnix @imalovernotahater @eriseffigy @leorioaki @artificialwords @hehicular-hanslaughter-lecter @ironandglass @ughhhh177 @faraige @ilikemymendarkandfictional @jennithejester @insult-2-injury @iz-zy5 @rinadragomir @queenofspades6 @cuddlejeongin @differentladynerd @alternativeforensicscientist @leo-the-undead @silcoitus @stepsonsilco @commotionpotion @averagecrastinator @eurydicethesage @mialobo

#silco #silco arcane #silco pov #silco x reader #silco x f!reader #smut #mdni #wip:a helping hand #a helping hand #x-amount-writes

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imyourbratzdoll · 1 year

Text

𝒂𝒑𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒕𝒆

week 5 - day 19 - kinktober - voyeurism, degradation, praising, daddy kink, sharing kink, cuckolding, fingerfucking, group sex, facefucking, overstimulation, spanking, breeding kink, dirty talk, oral sex, hair pulling, deep throating, cock and ball worship, cum eating, aftercare, teasing, spit kink, semi-public sex, begging, and exhibitionism. - stepdad steve rogers, step-uncle bucky barnes, stepbrother jake jensen, his best friend johnny storm, neighbours ari levinson, andy barber, and their brothers curtis everett and frank adler.

warning - voyeurism, degradation, praising, daddy kink, sharing kink, cuckolding, fingerfucking, group sex, facefucking, overstimulation, spanking, breeding kink, dirty talk, oral sex, hair pulling, deep throating, cock and ball worship, cum eating, aftercare, teasing, spit kink, semi-public sex, begging, and exhibitionism.

kinktober masterlist - part 1

18+ only please, the gifs and headers aren't mine.

I skip down the stairs in the swimsuit my Uncle Bucky got me, loving the feel and the tiny little roses decorating the material. I follow the sounds of where everyone is and exit to the backyard. A booming smile graces my face as my eyes land on all eight men. “Daddy! Look at what Uncle Bucky got me!” I jog over, not noticing how their eyes focus on my bouncing plump breasts. When I get close, I jump in my stepdad’s arms, wrapping my tiny legs around his broad form.

Steve’s eyes trail down, his pants tightening as my cunt sits directly against his bulge. “Well, don’t you look pretty, bunny. Bucky picked good.” His eyes connect with his friend’s, and he nods in acknowledgment. “Why don’t you show our guests how pretty you look, bunny.” Steve regretfully puts me down as I beam at him and turn to show our neighbours my new outfit.

“Don’t I look pretty? Daddy says I do!” I giggle, twirling as I show them my swimsuit, their eyes trailing down my small body as their pants tighten. Ari leans back, clearing his throat as his cock strains against his trunks.

“Your daddy is right, Princess. You look so pretty.” He beckons me over, and I squeal as he pulls me down onto his lap. My core brushes against his bulge, causing a soft moan to fall from my lips. “Doesn’t she look pretty, guys?” He looks over to Andy, Curtis and Frank. The sounds of them agreeing causes my face to flush, cheeks becoming a rosy pink as I hide my face into Ari’s chest. “Aww, we’re embarrassing the little princess. Don’t you like when we praise you?” His hand comes up, tilting my head back to make me look at him as he raises a brow.

“I like it, Mr Levinson! Thank you for the compliment!” I giggle, kissing his cheek, not noticing how I gently rock my core against the giant bulge in his pants. I look down, my brows furrowed. “Mr Levinson, what’s in your shorts?” My eyes are wide as I look back up. Ari holds back a groan at my question.

“It’s a present for you, Princess.” My face lights up, hands reach down to grab my present but stopping as he grabs my wrist. “Nah, uh, you can’t have it just yet. Your daddy said you have to wait.”

My brows furrow before turning my head to look at my stepdad, lips pouting as frustration spreads through me. “Please, daddy! I’ve been good, can I please have my present?!”

All the men groan at my question, some reaching down to squeeze their stiff cocks. Steve walks forward. His hand comes up and grips my chin as he leans forward. His minty breath causes my cunt to throb, “are you sure about being a good girl, bunny? You got on another man's lap straight away without my permission.” His brows furrow as he pretends to think. “I don’t think you deserve your present, bunny.”

Tears prick my eyes as I stare up at him, “please, daddy! Please let me have my present! Please, I–I’ll be so good!” I continue to babble as a small cry escapes my lips. My hips begin to move as whines leave me, “please! I want my present!” A yank of my hair causes my head to be thrown back and a yelp to come out.

“Stop being a little fucking brat. You’re such a fucking whore, bunny. You want your present so bad? Fine.” He looks at Ari and nods, a dark glint in their eyes. A squeal leaves my lips as I’m suddenly moved, my hips lifting until my clothed core is directly in front of Ari’s face. “How does she look?”

Ari groans. His hand comes up and rubs me through my bikini bottoms. My mouth hangs open as I moan. “You like this, Princess? You like when older men touch your princess parts?” His piercing blue eyes connect with mine from beneath me. My cunt pulsates at his words, enjoying the attention from his words and the looks of the men around us.

I nod, whimpering as his thick fingers rub my swollen button. My eyes roll into the back of my head as Ari’s tongue flicks against my little clit. “D–Daddy, feels good!” Steve strokes my cheek. My half-lidded eyes stare up at him. A soft whimper leaves my lips as Ari pokes my entrance with his thick fingers.

“I’m glad, bunny. Wanna open up for Daddy? I wanna fill your pretty little mouth with my cream.” The sight of his thick member causes my walls to tighten around Ari’s fingers. I open my mouth wide, moaning when his throbbing length slides inside, wrapping my lips around the base as I begin to suck on it like a lollipop. “That’s a good girl, Ari. Hurry up and get inside her.”

I squeal around my stepdad’s cock as Ari thrusts deep inside my tight cunt, their groans making my insides feel funny. “What a good princess, letting me experience your cute little cunt.” Both men begin to thrust in and out of my holes, enjoying the feel of me. My small hand comes up and starts to tug on Steve’s balls, loving how heavy they are, full of his special cream. The sound of skin slapping fills the backyard, Ari’s thick member sliding in and out of my small slick hole as Steve thrusts deep into my throat, causing me to gag.

The men around us are either tugging on their hard, throbbing cocks or watching intently.

“Fucking hell, bunny. Being so good for us.” Steve groans, his eyes were rolling to the back of his head as he feels his balls tighten. “You want my cream? Gonna be a good girl and swallow it all?” I suck harder at the thought of him filling my mouth with his delicious cream. My hands continue to massage his balls as his hips stutter, balls tightening, and his warm cum fills my mouth. Causing my eyes to roll to the back of my head as his taste explodes on my tastebuds.

Once I’ve sucked Steve clean, he pulls out of my mouth with a pop. I let out a pleased moan as I swallowed all of him, never tiring from his taste. A squeal leaves my lips as I feel Ari thrust deep inside me. My walls clench tightly around him as he continues to hit my sweet spot. I make grabby hands toward my stepdad, looking up at him with doe-eyes, and a dazed smile graces my face as his hands slip into mine.

My eyes begin to cross as Ari’s thrusts go harder and faster, his grunts filling the backyard. His long hair sticks to him as sweat gathers around his god-like body, I look at him, and the sight causes my back to arch as I cum around his thick member. “Mr Levinson! Feels so good, please!” The older man above groans, his lust-filled eyes focused on my fucked out face as his hips begin to stutter and his balls tighten. With one last thrust, he groans, and his warm cum spurts out of his swollen cockhead deep inside my cunt.

I whine as I’m lifted before a sigh leaves my lips as I’m laid on the wooden table, my eyes closed as exhaustion sets in my bones. I huff leaves my lips as a hand starts to stroke my hair, “Don’t worry, doll. We’re gonna take good care of you.” The sound of Bucky’s voice soothes me.

My eyes stay closed as I’m lifted again. Bucky’s cold metal arm against my warm flesh feels nice, and my head rests against his shoulder. “Where we going, Uncle Bucky?” I can feel him lie me down on top of someone causing my brows to furrow before I slowly open my eyes, blinking away the blurriness. Curtis gives me a dark smile as he strokes my hair out of my face.

“Hi, Kitten.”

Bucky walks around, making me look up, our eyes connecting. A hand behind me comes around, untying my bikini and slipping my bikini bottoms off. I turn my head and notice Andy smiling at me.

“Don’t worry, doll. We’re just going to play with you. Be a good girl for us, and we might spoil you later.” I nod, my brain becoming fuzzy with anticipation. The men begin to get into position. Steve and Ari sit off to the side with a cold beer in their grasp, eyes intently watching the scene unfold.

Bucky stands in front of me, his throbbing member in his hand, slowly jerking himself off as he waits. Jake, Johnny and Frank stand on either side of my awaiting body with their hands pumping their thick cocks. Andy lifts me, allowing Curtis to take himself out of his shorts before placing my legs on either side of him. My dripping cunt rests atop his mushroom tip as Andy slowly pulls his trunks down and lines his cock with my entrance.

Soft whimpers escape my lips as I sink down onto Curtis’s cock. My eyes roll to the back of my head as Andy pushes in alongside him. I gasp as I’m pulled down, and Bucky shoves his throbbing member into my mouth. Vibrations are sent through his thick base when Andy strikes. A slap fills the yard as his hand slams down onto my plump cheeks.

“Aww, Honey. You feel so fucking good, so tight, even though your being passed around like some cheap whore.” Andy’s voice sends chills throughout my body. His thrusts alongside Curtis’s cause my mind to go dumb, eyes crossing as I suck hard on my Uncle Bucky’s cock. Loving the feel of his flesh on my tongue, I try to babble as someone grabs my hands and places them onto their cocks. Wrapping their larger ones around mine as they use me to jerk them off.

“You should’ve seen her take Jake and me as she fell asleep. She was such a good little slut, the way she tightened around us– FUCK.” Johnny groans, feeling his end approaching too soon as he pictures the week before. He grunts as his cum shoots out of him and covers my used body. His eyes cross before he shakes his head, looking down at the masterpiece before walking over to where Steve and Ari sit, deciding to watch the show.

Jake chuckles, and soft moans fall from his lips as he feels my grip tighten around his base. “Poor, Johnny finished too soon. You like the effect you have on us, Bunny Baby? Like bringing all of us to our knees?” He grunts, hips thrust into my hand as he watches the other three men destroy my insides. The sight of me being used, covered in his best friend’s cum causes his balls to tighten as his breath hitches. “Fuck! Fuck! Shit, I’m fucking cumming!” White shoots out of him, mixing in with Johnny’s before he sags, growling when he hears his best friend laughing in the background. Jake leans down, scooping up the cum before moving next to Bucky.

His fingers slither in beside Bucky’s cock, letting the taste of his and Johnny’s cum mix with the musk of Bucky’s cock. Jake’s cock twitches when a moan falls from your lips at the taste before he walks over to join the others.

Frank moves to stand next to Bucky, his throbbing member in his grasp as Bucky hooks his thumb in my mouth. Opening it up for the other man, my cunt pulsates around Curtis and Andy’s cocks, causing them to groan at the tightness. Every pair of eyes are focused on my body, watching as Frank slides his cock in alongside Buckys.

The four men begin to pick up their pace, their hands gripping my small form as they take turns thrusting into my holes. When one pulls out, the other thrusts in. From the corner of my blurry eyes, I see Johnny bringing my bikini bottoms to his face. His eyes roll back as he sniffs them, a smirk gracing his face as our eyes connect before he places a long, wet lick along the material.

Bucky’s hand strikes, slapping my ass as he growls. “Eyes on us, doll. Stop being an attention whore.”

Frank groans and a dark chuckle leaves his lips. “He’s right, sweetheart. You should be worshipping us.” He grabs my hands, directing them to their heavy sacks. Grunting when I begin to tug, hallowing my cheeks as I suck. Feeling my core tighten as I’m about to cum, my eyes watering as both older men hit my special spot.

“Aww, our little kitten is gonna cum. Go on, baby. Milk our cocks.” As the words leave Curtis’s lips, my vision goes white, juices squirting out and covering the two. They groan as they feel my juices drip down to their balls. Their thrusts pick up, holding me down as I feel how sensitive my little cunt is. “You're not going anywhere, kitten. We’re going to fill you up, and you'll take it like the good little whore you are.” As he says this, Curtis feels his balls tightening and his cock twitches before he lets out a loud groan, releasing his cum deep inside my womb.

He slips out, and Andy quickly thrusts in, stopping the cum from leaking out, his hands gripping tight on my hips before his hips stutter, burying himself deep inside my cunt and cumming.

Andy groans before pulling out. His hands stroke and massage my back as I focus on sucking and jerking Bucky and Frank off. My doe-eyes stare up at them, tugging on their balls as I moan around them. Loving the way they shudder from my touch, I take Bucky’s cock into my mouth, and my tiny hands wrap around Frank’s base.

I suck hard, bobbing my head up and down as I become desperate for his cream. My tongue swirls around his swollen head, flicking the slit as I watch his hip jerk. Bucky’s hands rest on the back of my head, pushing me down and causing me to gag. “There you go, doll. Ready for my cream?” I nod, tears brimming my eyes as I choke on his cock. A happy sound escapes me when his cream fills my mouth, lapping it up until he’s completely clean.

As Bucky pulls out, I turn my attention to Frank and attach my lips to his cock. Devouring the monstrous cock, sucking hard and fast, my hand that’s wrapped around it begins to twist as I bob up and down. His grunts fill the air as his hips stutter, balls tightening before he cums deep into my mouth. All men watch as I happily swallow everything, pulling away with a happy, fucked out smile.

Steve stands and walks over before picking me up and holding me against his chest. Going back to his chair and sitting down, his hand comes up and strokes my wet hair out of my face. “What do you say, bunny?” He tilts my head up, squeezing my cheeks until my mouth opens and then spits directly inside, his cock twitching as I lazily swallow.

Resting my head back on Steve’s chest, I tiredly look up at him. “Thank you, daddy.” He smiles, slowly cleaning me up and taking care of me, feeling pride bloom in his chest at my manners.

My head tiredly turns, “thank you, uncle Bucky.”

“Thank you, Jakey.” Jake softly smiles.

“Thank you, Johnny.” Johnny continues to play with the bikini bottoms.

“Thank you, Mr Levinson.” Ari nods, lifting the beer to his lips as he takes a sip.

“Thank you, Mr Barber.” Andy softly strokes my arm.

“Thank you, Mr Everett.” Curtis palms his slowly hardening cock.

“And thank you, Mr Adler.” Frank smiles.

I slowly turn my head back to Steve. “Can I sleep now, Daddy?”

“Of course, you can, Bunny.” He looks around at the others with a dark look.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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