#i opened the book and the cover tore off the fucking spine

[pinkie-pinkeroni]

hm

#anyway why did i have a dream last night that my ex-friend made another fucking ffxiv zine and it was even shittier than the first one #i opened the book and the cover tore off the fucking spine #(what does this mean.. what does this symbolize lol) #i have so many mild horror stories from when she was working on the first one but my memories r a lil foggy bc i was so depressed #and tbh sewer slidal during that time #it was… such a trainwreck #still wondering if she ever shipped out the remaining zines…… #probably best for my mental health not to go asking though bc every time i do i end up hearing more news about her that makes me upset #oh i’m venting now sorry LMFAO #whatever. welcome to my twisted mind or something #hope you’re having a good day so far #pp

[blackthunder137]

Pain cures pleasure (Mattheo Riddle x reader)

Pairing- Mattheo Riddle x fem!reader

Summary- after mattheo gets into a fight. you clean him up but that just leads to something steamy 

Warnings- smut, unprotected sex, fingering, humiliation kink, degradation, praise kink, switch!reader, dacryphilia, thrusting

Author’s note- was i supposed to write a blurb? yes. did i write a fic instead of that? also yes.

navigation taglist mattheo riddle masterlist

You were reading a book in your dorm room when you heard the door open and saw Mattheo with bruises all over his face and breathing heavily. You got up from your bed and rushed towards him. You made him sit down on the edge of the bed and examined him; there were bruises and cut marks on his lips and face, and everywhere was covered with blood.

You huffed and went inside the restroom to get the first-aid kit. He used to get into fights either for you or for other people who used to piss him off. You came back with the kit and started to clean up his bruises when you asked, "Do I even wanna know what happened?" to which he replied, "Blaise pissed me off," "everybody pisses you off," and you sighed as you cleaned up the last of the bruise that was on his face.

"Not you; you don’t piss me off," he replied, his eyes stern on you. Your face softened at what he said. You sigh, "Mattheo, I don’t want you to get hurt. "What if things got out of hand and you got hurt?" you asked, "but I'm not; besides, you know exactly how to make me feel better." His known smirk showed up on his face, and you playfully rolled your eyes at him and said, "Okay, I’m outta here now," but as soon as you turned around, he grabbed your wrist and pinned you towards the nearest wall.

He was so close, you couldn’t help but stare at his beautiful brown eyes—those eyes that could drive you crazy. Your lips were brushing against his, and you smashed your lips against him, breaking the tension that was building up between the two of you.

His lips tasted like those of cigarettes and blood—metallic and intoxicating. You didn't want to stop kissing him; you just wanted to kiss him more and more.

He pulled you in a little closer, leaving no space between the two of you. Your hands held his hair, playing and teasing with it while his hands fell on your ass, giving it a little squeeze and carefully unzipping your dress.

He traced your bare skin once your dress was on the ground, his hands freely roaming around your skin and sending chills down your spine.

Without breaking the kiss, he carried you to your bed and laid you down. He quickly removed his shirt and slid down his pants.

He flipped you so that your face was buried in the pillow. He tore your underwear and unclasped your bra. He roughly held your hair, and he slid inside of you, adjusting himself so he could fuck you comfortably. He groaned in satisfaction once he was comfortable, and he kept increasing his pace bit by bit.

You buried your head inside the pillow and moaned as loudly as possible.

"Harder, Ma-mattheo, please," you begged while he was fucking the shit out of you from behind. His shoulders became tense, and sweat trickled down his face.

He grabbed your hips and went inside of you a little deeper. He grabbed your neck and lifted you while thrusting with all his might at you.

Your moans and sighs were like music to his ears. The way your cheeks flushed and how you moaned his name was like a prayer, telling him to never stop. He loved this version of you, vulnerable and all his. He could do whatever he wanted.

He finally groaned as he hit his orgasm and rode his high, and he held there for another minute as if he was thinking of new ways to fuck you. After a while, his mouth fell onto every inch of your lips, sucking and biting into them. Your eyes were filled with joy, and you relished every moment of it.

He flipped so that you were now facing him. He crashed his lips onto yours, and your mouth opened a little wider so that you could give his tongue access. Your lips are perfectly entangled, moving in synchronization. Your lips were designed to be together.

You pushed him to the side, got on top of him, and kissed your way down his well-defined abs. He sighed in satisfaction as you kissed your way down; your other hand slid down to his cock, and you could already feel he was drowning in his arousal.

You pushed two of your fingers inside of him and pumped in and out of him. "You like it, baby," you whispered in his ear.

"Uhuh," he moaned, "just like that baby, just like that."

You increased your pace, and your skilled fingers knew which spots to hit to make him come. You swirled and pumped in and out of him when you knew he was closer to his orgasm. His groans and moans filled your ears. God, you could hear his moans all day. Those sensual and melodious sighs and moans. 

"Fuck baby... "I'm going to cum," he said, his voice becoming huskier by the second.

And right when he was going to hit his orgasm, you pulled your fingers from his cock, denying him his orgasm.

"This is for picking up with everyone," you smirked, getting off of him when he harshly held your hips and made him sit on his cock.

You cried out at the sudden contact. He started to move your hips, and his dick was inside of you.

"This is what you get for being a stupid bitch," he spat out, in between his groans.

You knew you made a mistake when you denied his orgasm, but you never imagined he'd have the energy to do anything.

You started to get adjusted to his size, and you picked up the pace. But his grip on your hips was too tight. 

"Mattheo, I'm sorry," you whined, as you were riding his dick with so much force that you were seeing stars. 

"Would you look at that? You want forgiveness, then ride my dick till your sweet little pussy turns red," he commanded.

Your eyes started to flood with tears from the overwhelming feeling hitting you all at once. But there was the deepest, darkest part of you that enjoyed every bit of this.

You'd already had your orgasm twice, but you couldn't stop yourself. At this point, everything seemed so blurry that you couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn't. But you did not stop.

Mattheo smirked at your condition. He saw how your breasts bounced with every ride, how flustered you were, how your cheeks flushed, and how you bit your lower lip when you were filled with satisfaction—pure and utter vulnerability.

But he couldn’t help but admire you a little; you were beautiful no matter what. He loved it, especially when you rode his cock, how your head used to arch back with every orgasm, and all the other admirable things that you did.

You could already feel your pussy getting heated up and your legs getting shaky, and you were this close to your third orgasm of the day. His cock continuously hitting your g spot. You cried out his name while you came, and his pressure on your hips loosened, and you slowly rode your high once you were done. You stayed there for another minute, trying to catch your breath, after which you rolled to the side.

You were still catching your breath, your chest heaving up and down. You could see Mattheo smirking out of the corner of your eye as you hit his arm. "Shut up," you spat out, your words barely making any sense to you.

"This is what happens when you decide to be a bitch," he stated, kissing your forehead as you drifted off to a sound sleep

#* :☆ﾟmay writes #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle smut #marcuz lopez smut #marcuz lopez x reader #benjamin wadsworth #deadly class #deadly class imagine #mattheo thomas riddle #mattheo riddle blurb #mattheo riddle fic #mattheo riddle aesthetic #mattheo riddle fluff

[snippychicke]

Kinktober Week Two-- Garp

Prompt: Phone Sex

Warnings: these poor communication snails. Otherwise just a lot of dirty talk. Nsfw, 18+, just look at the title.

You sat at the library of the marine headquarters, mindlessly reading quite possibly the only piece of fiction in the entire place. The library was calm, quiet, with just a few soldiers as well as cadets milling about, looking through old journals and log books. Pieces of history to help them plan the future.

You sat at the library of the marine headquarters, mindlessly reading quite possibly the only piece of fiction in the entire place. The library was calm, quiet, with just a few soldiers as well as cadets milling about, looking through old journals and log books. Pieces of history to help them plan the future.

The quiet was interrupted by a chirping sound. Not the transponder snail on your desk, but the ear-slug in your purse.

Garp.

Your breath caught, he rarely ever reached out on the private line, usually happy using the official lines even if it was just to whine and tell you how bored he was, or how much he missed you. Often to everyone else's annoyance.

You quickly fished the small conch out of your bag as you stood and retreated into your office, sure whatever he was calling for was private. "Garp?"

"Heh. Wasn't sure you'd answer," Came your husband's reply. "You do still keep the little bugger with you."

"Of course I do!" You said, though relief wasn’t instantaneous. You knew Garp, he'd chit chat before admitting he had a massive hole where his stomach was. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I was just missing you." There was a huskiness to his voice, making you frown. It wasn't pain. But… "Are you able to slip away and talk in private for a little bit?"

Something about the way he said it made you blush, as if he was right there whispering into your ear. "I'm in my office with the door closed."

"Perfect. Have you got a new desk yet?"

You blushed as you looked at your desk, covered with papers and books, it wasn't nearly as grand or large as the last one. Or the one before that. Or the one before that.

All broken by your husband during his… visits.

"I do. It's not very well made, I guess they got annoyed about how many we've broken."

His laughter echoed in your ear. "I can't wait to get back and break that one too. I'll push all those boring dusty reports to the side, throw you up there and start railing you. Whole place is going to hear me fuck my wife."

If your face was't red before it was now as you slumped in your chair. Throat became dry as you listened to his slightly-heavy breathing. "So that's why you called me."

His chuckles echoed down your spine, goosebumps pricking your skin. "I've been out to sea too long. Can you blame me for wanting to hear my wife's voice as I jacked myself off."

You could just imagine him in his quarters, sitting at his desk, legs splayed wide open, cock hard as the mast as he teased himself. After all, how many times had you seen it when you worked as his secretary? First on accident, then on purpose.

"Are you already touching yourself?" You purred, switching mental gears, and heard him groan in response.

"Barely. I wanted to see if I could get you at least breathing heavy first."

You relaxed back in your chair, teasing your nipple through your outfit. "What got you all hard and bothered, sailor?"

"All this goddamn paperwork made me remember the days you used to sit beneath my desk and reward me for doing my reports," He answered. "Talk about initiave when you have a pretty woman giving you head, knowing you get to fuck her wet pussy once you're finished."

Your breath hitched between his words and memories. Hearing him growl in frustration as he tore through his work as you lazily sucked him off. "It was the only way to get you to work," You teased, making him growl.

"You fucking loved it. You start loosening the buttons on your blouse, showing your cleavage as you delivered reports. Bright red lipstick. You were begging me to fuck that pretty mouth of yours."

"I was," You admitted with a sigh, now fully groping yourself. Eyes closed as you focused on his voice and memory. "But could you blame me? I was serving under the vice admiral. Those huge muscles, that smile. I swear your eyes smouldered when you’d eye-fuck me. And then that is cock of yours. So big and girthy. I felt like a cat in heat wanting to be fucked by it."

"I shouldn't have wasted time. I should have just bent you over my desk that first day and claimed you right then and there, instead of hoping you didn't notice me jacking off under my desk while watching you work."

Your pussy clenched at the thought, and your hand pulled up your skirt and brushed the fabric of your underwear. "That would have been some first impression. But I admit, it felt rather nice realizing I had the legendary Monkey D. Garp lusting over little ol' me."

"Turned you into a little brat," He moaned. You had no doubt he was touching himself now from the way he was breathing. Stroking his hard cock, head leaned back with eyes closed. It was such a beautiful image. "It was like you were testing your limits. Seeing how far you could push until I snapped."

"No. I wanted you to snap. I knew you wanted me. I knew the mess you were making beneath your desk--you're hardly quiet with those growls of yours. I wanted to hear those growls in my ear as you fucked me. Those hands gripping my hair."

That growl was cutting every breath now. "Fuck darling. Please tell me I got you a little wet."

"A little?" You moaned as you pushed your underwear aside and teased yourself. "Sir, I am dripping."

"That's my girl," He snarled. "Always so wet and willing. How long would it take for you to come for me?"

"I thought you just wanted my voice," You teased.

"Plans change. I wanna hear you come. I wanna hear you whine and moan as you fuck yourself. I want to hear you begging me to come there and fill your pussy up."

You whimpered as you started to finger fuck yourself, rolling your hips in time with your thrusts. "Please, promise me you will. As soon as you're back to headquarters."

"Oh yes," He panted. "As soon as this ship's close to shore I'm jumping overboard and running straight for you. Fuck everyone else, I'm going to find you first. I'm gonna carry you into that little office and eat that pussy until you're a sobbing mess, and then we're gonna break that damn desk as I fuck you. The whole base will know I'm back just to satisfy my wife."

#garp one piece #vice admiral garp #monkey d garp #garp x reader #monkey d garp x reader #opla garp

[mariaofdoranelle]

URDAD - part 2

Concentration gradient: going down on you

Fic masterlist

Long story short, I lost track of my writing schedule because I’m on a break with none of the routine my neurodivergent brain needs to function. I’m figuring it out. I’ll post LAUN as soon as I can. Here’s some ✨apology smut✨ hehe have fun

Warnings: language, NSFW

Words: 2k

Dr. Whitethorn looked as if he'd seen a ghost.

His eyes lingered on her body for a second before they snapped back to her face. “Is everything alright?”

Aelin strolled his way without fixing her half-open robe, and moved a book so she could sit on his desk. Dr. Whitethorn didn’t restrain his gaze when she crossed her legs.

“I think I have a fever.” Aelin tilted her head, looking him in the eye. “I’m burning up, Doctor, and there’s also this ache. It’s torture.”

“Oh.” He tore his eyes off her and slightly shook his head, as if shaking something off his mind. “I’m sure I have a thermometer somewhere.”

While Dr. Whitethorn looked for his thermometer with his back to her, Aelin took her robe off.

“Got it!” He turned around with the device in his hand, but his expression changed. Dr. Whitethorn’s eyes were blown wide, lips slowly parting as he took her new state in. “Where’s your robe?”

Aelin tilted her head, exposing her neck while feigning confusion. “I thought you were going to examine me.”

“I-“ Rowan’s mouth opened and closed before something clicked and his eyes got full of determination. “We don’t need a thermometer, do we?” He closed the few steps between them, setting the thermometer down. Instead, he put one hand on the desk, next to where Aelin was sitting, and the other against her forehead. “Very feverish indeed.” The back of his hand ignited her as it softly slid against her cheek and neck. “Look, you’re shivering.”

Aelin nodded, lips parted. “I might even need continuous care.”

"I'd advise you to stay out of trouble and rest.” The hand he kept on the desk slipped to her thigh, tracing idle circles as it went up. “But I don’t think you’d follow my orders.”

“You’re wrong about that.” Aelin leaned away a little to look him in the eye, thrusting her chest out in the way and feigning innocence with her eyes. “I’ll follow every order you give me, Doctor.”

A shattered breath left his lungs, and he closed his eyes before continuing, “If you want me to take care of you…” Dr. Whitethorn sneaked his way towards her throat, applying enough pressure to send a jolt of electricity down Aelin’s spine. “You have to say my name.”

“Dr. Whi—“

He squeezed her throat harder, making a trail of goosebumps erupt on her skin. “Say my name, Aelin.”

“Rowan,” she rasped, slightly rocking her hips against his desk, desperate for any sort of friction.

His lips were almost brushing against the shell of her ear when he whispered, “Good girl.”

Aelin turned her face to him, but he still gripped her chin to meet her lips halfway. Rowan’s kiss was ravenous, he took over her mouth and turned Aelin’s blood into wildfire with every possessive swirl of his tongue.

She slid to the end of the desk, trying to meet his hips, and the movement gave him leverage to work on her neck. His rough kisses on her pulse point made her breath hitch, but Aelin wasn’t expecting it when Rowan yanked the thin strap of her nightgown, exposing one breast just to cover it with his hand.

“You’re so fucking pretty.” His voice was hoarse as he slid his fingers under her lacy panties. “But you know that already, don’t you?” He toyed with her entrance for a moment before plunging one finger in, curling it right at the spot that made her see stars. “You wouldn’t have come here if you didn’t know how gorgeous you are.”

Aelin whimpered, grinding against his now two fingers before she replied, “I like hearing it better when it comes from your mouth.”

He let his free hand tease her nipple and wander around her breast, collarbone, neck, before holding her chin and tilting towards him.

“Turn around,” he commanded while removing his fingers from inside her.

Aelin frowned at the change, but complied.

“Bend.”

She leaned over his desk, not missing how her short nightgown rode up as she did, and now her ass was sticking out, unprotected from the AC’s cold air and—

Rowan smacked her ass, and it lingered in a way that made her ache and press her thighs together with need.

He leaned over her, yanked her hair so it wasn’t covering her ear, and whispered, “You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

Rubbing the redness off, he pecked her shoulder from behind, and gave her a moment to recover. However, that lingering burn only intensified when Rowan spanked her again.

One.

Two.

Three times.

"And this is for toying with me to get revenge."

Aelin‘s mind was too fuzzy to process his words now. She was trembling, whimpering on his desk when Rowan mentioned for her to turn around. He kneeled when she did, and the sight of him guiding her leg so it could rest on his broad shoulder made her insides flush.

Rowan didn’t spare a second before greeting her pussy with his tongue, looking her in the eye as he tasted her folds and massaged her clit. She was a whimpering mess, holding herself upright with one hand, her nerves on fire. The sight of Dr. Whitethorn worshiping her on his knees was enough to make her brain short-circuit.

He leaned away for a moment, lips parted and chin glistening with her wetness as he slowly pushed two fingers in. Trying to watch her gasp and his fingers filling her in at the same time, Rowan didn’t know where to look. He was taking her dismantled state in when Aelin grabbed his hair and led his mouth back to her.

It was too much. With his tongue on her clit while he fucked her with his fingers, Aelin felt like she was shattering from the inside out, ready to burst. Rowan toyed with her as she fell to pieces on his mouth, but she couldn’t last much longer.

Aelin cried out, knees buckling as shockwaves rippled through her body. He drew it out, not stopping until she went limp and muttering that she was being such a good girl and taking his fingers so well.

Rowan got up and wiped his chin with the back of his hand. She couldn’t understand what the look in his eyes meant, so Aelin pulled him in for another kiss.

This one was long and sweet, with Rowan rolling his tongue over hers like he had nowhere to go. He held her face with both hands and such care as if she was something precious, gently caressing her with his thumb. Aelin tugged on his waist, closing whatever little distance still was between them.

Instead of heating things up like she silently ordered, he rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling, and they just stayed there, silent. She didn’t know what he was thinking, but Aelin wasn’t able to think a lot herself.

She ran her hands over his chest, through his cotton shirt. How can a fully-clothed person give her a mind-blowing orgasm like this?

˜˜

Dr. Whitethorn was avoiding her.

Aelin had her suspicions when he didn’t do anything after giving her head, then didn’t show up for breakfast this morning before going to work. However, it was only confirmed when Dr. Towers commented how weird it was that he asked her intern to pick up the patient’s results at the lab.

Which meant he forgot how to send the images and his report in the new software, and printed them out instead of asking Aelin for help.

She was striding down the hospital halls, her heartbeat strong as she calculated what to say.

Rowan’s spine went rigid when she stormed in unannounced, but he still gave her a close-lipped smile.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I guess I should grow a sixth sense to know when you need help with Anne Jausten, since you’re avoiding me now.”

His face fell. “I’m not avoiding you, I’m…” he trailed, feeling the weight of her suspicious gaze. ”buying some time before we talk.”

Aelin sat on the chair beside his and crossed her arms. “Talk about what? How you fingered me into oblivion and ghosted?”

He had the gall to flush on the cheeks. “I didn’t mean to ghost you, I was just trying to sort things out by myself first because I need to be straightforward with you.” He sighed, his eyes looked pained when he said, “Last night shouldn’t have happened.”

What. Aelin blinked, thoughts frozen as her chest tightened.

He continued, ”You were hurt. Still is, probably. Angry, too. I should’ve been the one to stop, so we can just blame this on me and pretend it didn’t happen.”

“What are you talking about?” Aelin’s mouth hung open for a second, not quite understanding his train of thought. Rowan had an unannounced woman throwing herself at him in a flimsy nightgown and gave her earth-shattering oral without having a single orgasm in return. How in hell did he turn himself into the bad guy? She replied in a matter-of-fact tone, “I’m an adult too, Rowan, and I wouldn’t show up at your office half-naked if I wanted you to stop.”

He swallowed, his gaze a little too intense before he averted it. He pulled in a breath and slowly released it, his shoulders looking heavier each second. Rowan replied in a quieter voice, “Look, Aelin, I can’t be a pawn you use to get back at my daughter. I’m not saying Imogen’s right, you have every right to be mad at her, I’m just saying I have my own feelings to protect before engaging in whatever you two have going on.”

Oh. His words tied off whatever thread was tightening her chest, and now she felt it expand again, full of warmth. So that’s why he was acting weird. Rowan thought the only reason she sought him was to get back at Imogen.

Well, that was kind of true. Not completely, though.

“That’s one way to see it.” She tilted her head and ignored the way her pulse got faster. Laying all her feelings and intentions like this wasn’t what Aelin was used to doing with the guys her age, but it was better this way. “The way I see it, is that there’s this thing I’ve always wanted to do, but never did out of loyalty. But now the only tie holding me back is broken, so…” she trailed when something seemed to click inside his head, making his eyes widen.

“Are you telling me you were interested in me before it was convenient for you?”

Aelin nodded in response, trying to look earnest and not laugh at his confused face. The poor thing, so clueless of the effect he had on her.

“Huh.” Rowan frowned at Mora, the microscope, as he analyzed this new piece of information. “I hadn’t considered that.”

Unable to restrain herself, Aelin squeezed his fingers. “Well, you should.”

He slowly nodded, still quiet. It was cute to watch him like that, all flustered and not quite processing that a girl actually liked him.

Now that he knew it, she decided to give him space to mull this over. “There’s this broken monitor in the ER. I should go before Chief Salvaterre throws a hissy fit.”

“Sure.” Rowan aimed her a small smile. “See you at dinner?”

Aelin grinned, walking backwards to the door. “Or when you need help with Anne Jausten.”

You can get notifications when I update by either following me on @backtobl4ck-fics or entering my (sometimes glitchy) tag list!!

TAG LIST

I couldn’t tag the people in bold, sorry!

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#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #throne of glass #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan x aelin #aelin x rowan #rowaelin fanfic #throne of glass fanfic #URDAD

[notwhelmedyet]

My latest bookbinding project - a wedding guestbook for a friend of mine! Personal details on the title page are redacted ;)

Construction rambling beneath the cut

The book is a criss-cross longstitch binding, which allows it to open flat for writing. Many thanks to @queercore-curriculum for introducing me to this binding style and answering questions while I was sussing it out.

It's assembled from heavyweight Stonehenge paper, which I hand-deckled (aka tore to size after scoring and wetting the pages). Hand deckling is a lot of fun, but it takes approximately forever.

Only after I deckled every sheet of paper did I realize I could no longer run it through the printer...so the lettering is hand done with a tiny brush and liquid watercolor pigment. This is because I am an idiot and did not think to use a waterfast ink. please do not spill anything on the book.

The spine is made of kraft-tex, which is a (presumably plastic treated) leather-like paper product. I'd gotten some to experiment with because bookbinding leather is expensive and it works quite well for this style of binding.

I dyed the thread and linen cover fabric by hand. You can tell if you look carefully that one of the sets of pages is from a separate batch of thread after I accidentally snapped the first thread trying to tension it and had to resew

I made the faux headbands around a core of pasted tissue this time & it worked great! a much better core than using twine because it doesn't want to unravel on you. I didn't get a good photograph of them but the endbands are very classy and stripy and show off the gradient thread.

For the endpapers I was experimenting with both hooked endpapers (the fabric half) and doublures (the paper on the inside covers). I fucked up the hooked endpaper side by gluing by reinforcing paper on the wrong side which mostly has lead to the book being a bit resistant to opening/closing. If I do this again I will carefully not do that.

And then the decorations are done in straw marquetry :3 do not ask how many times I redid parts of that heart inset, I do not want to talk about it.

#what would YOU do if you were making a wedding guestbook #do you like THIS shade of pink.......or THIS shade of pink #bookbinding adventures #many thanks to the entire renegade discord for putting up with 5 months of #and my friend A who answered innumerable questions via text #there are many mistakes because i am the clumsiest crafter #but i am still very proud of it #mine #Shared

[slumberingcorpse]

The Wolf and The Fox

Part 4 “Awake”

Summary: Not remembering much after their drunken venture, only a bad taste lingers in Eskel and Geralt’s mouths up until a small redhead finally opens his eyes.

Vesemir wasn’t lying about the trails being the most painful experience in his life. Even then, that description wasn’t close to what Lambert felt. It was a pain that made you beg for death and gods know that he did. His body contorted, twisted, and tore. He felt his bones shatter internally, and stab into his internal organs before mending back together. Halfway through, he became blind. All he felt was his eyes melting. It was as if hot coals were stuffed in his sockets. His whole body felt as if he was burning.

He tried to pull at his restraints but there was no use. He had no control of his body. Even his vocal cords gave out shortly after. Lambert tried to weep but even his tears burned him. He couldn’t bare it anymore, he was going to die. He wanted to die, he wanted it to be over.

For a moment, he thought of his mother. Her words hammered against his skull filling him with nothing but rage. How could she? She didn’t even try to fight to keep him.

Lambert knew he wasn’t the best child, he constantly caused trouble sure, but he always thought he was loved. Maybe not by his father but at least by his mother and brother.

And yet all he can remember is his mom telling him to leave, his brother not even bothering to say goodbye, and his father being more interested in finding another bottle than the fact that he was going to lose a son.

Now here he was, dying the most painful death imaginable. He would laugh if it didn’t hurt so much. Maybe this is what his family wanted all along.

Lambert started to feel numb. The pain was still there but his brain couldn’t process any more of it. He felt tired, he was so tired. His head rolled back against the torture chair as he finally succumbs to the darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Geralt anxiously paced around Lambert’s temporary room. It was a small dingy place covered with cobwebs and dust but it was the warmest place in the keep and the closest to Vesemir’s room.

For hours, the only sound in the room was Geralt’s incessant pacing. His heavy snow boots constantly banged against the rotting wood under them.

“Geralt, either you stop that right now or I’ll cut your legs off,” Eskel threats. Unlike his brother, he was calmly sitting on a chair next to Lambert’s bed with a comfortably large book laid out in his lap.

No doubt, it was a book from the keep’s library, the spine, and the cover was starting to rot, and the pages smelt of nothing but dust and the dead skin of the last witcher who read it.

Geralt finally stops and turns to his brother huffing, “It’s been three weeks.”

“It has...” Eskel confirms delicately flipping the page and making sure not to do any damage to the priceless piece of literature.

“He still hasn’t woken up. Shouldn’t we be worried? What if something’s wrong?” Geralt questions unable to stop his body from shifting anxiously as he taps the tip of his boot against the floorboards.

“And you think pacing around as a madman will make him wake up faster?” Eskel questions finally looking up from his book.

Geralt glares at him, “What the fuck is your problem?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Eskel dismisses turning back to his book, sighing when realizing he lost where he left off.

“The hell you do! Ever since that night, you’ve been acting like a right asshole! So put that stupid book down and tell me what the fuck is your problem!” Geralt demands stomping over to his brother, grabbing and throwing the offending book to the ground causing a few pages to come loose and tear.

Eskel’s eyes widen at the sight before finally getting up. Even though they were the same age, the teen witcher towered over Geralt, “YOU! You’re my problem! One minute you’re telling me how there was no chance of the kid surviving and the next you’re worried sick for him? Who do you think you’re fooling!?”

Geralt couldn’t help but flinch and step back from his brother’s onslaught, “We were stuck in a room only listening to his screams. I was scared!”

“AND YOU THINK I WASN’T!? I was terrified and I wanted my best friend, no, my brother to at least try to comfort me. Find a way to comfort each other. Instead, I had to stand there and listen to you telling me how all that waited for me is a horrible death!” Eskel shouts causing the young witcher to bow his head.

Geralt has never seen Eskel this livid before. Sure they fought before but he’s never seen him like this.

Panic and shame start to set in. Did he really say that?

In all honesty, the whole night was a blur. He remembered the screams, wanting to leave, breaking into the caller, and then waking up the next morning next to Vesemir and Eskel with a need to vomit. Everything else was a blur.

“I-” Geralt tries to explain only to be suddenly interrupted by the sound of panicked gasps and choked sobs from the bed.

Both boys snap their heads toward the sound to find that it was no other than poor Lambert finally waking up and panicking.

“Don’t just stand there, get Vesemir!” Eskel orders shoving Geralt out of the way to get to the young boy. It was shocking how quickly Eskel switched. Sure, he was still fuming but for the moment, it was replaced with concern for their newest member.

Geralt frowns but knows better than to argue. Giving his brother a saddened glance, he quickly leaves the room to fetch their master.

Now completely focused, Eskel gently rubs Lambert’s chest, “Shhh, it’s okay. It’s okay,” he coos using his free hand to gently brush his hair back.

The small boy’s heart thundered under his palm, his new witcher eyes were frantically dilating unable to adjust to the light. It also didn’t help that Lambert kept trying to shove him away to no avail.

Eskel couldn’t help but pity the poor Lambert. The first time experiencing Witcher's senses is a terrifying one. Your smell, touch, sight, hearing and even taste were expanded tenfold. Suddenly, a soft scent of a flower became an explosive stench of pollen, petals, and the bees that landed on it. Things were no longer hot or cold, they were scorching or freezing. Someone whispering to you from a mile away will sound as clear as day. You were able to see everything, tracks, and even scents. Focus hard enough and you could even see the sound waves bouncing off a person as they talk. It was no surprise the poor pup was in such a state.

“You’re going to be okay. Just breathe,” Eskel tries to help, ignoring how Lambert clawed at his arms trying to find some kind of grounding.

“I...ca...c-can’t…” Lambert gasps as hot tears run down his cheeks. Eskel gently smiled and wiped away his tears, “Yes, you can. You just have to calm down. Take a deep breath and tell me what you need.”

Slowly, his gasps turned into shaky puffs of air, “L-loud...too l-loud...” Lambert managed to say. There was so much noise now. The songs of birds, the howl of wolves, the rushing of water, and even the sway of the trees. He can hear all of it thundering in his ears, it felt as if his eardrums were ready to burst.

Lambert whimpers feeling the hand on his chest start to leave him, “N-no...” he begged, digging his nails into the arm as if the hand was the only thing keeping him alive.

“It’s okay. I’ll be back. I’ll just get you something to help. It’ll be no less than a minute.” Eskel comforts as he slowly pulls his arm away.

Though it was only a minute, it felt like hours to him. He felt lost. He could feel, hear, and see everything and yet he couldn’t understand anything at all.

Lambert shuttered when he felt his bed dip followed by a calloused hand cupping his cheek, “It’s okay, everything is going to be okay. Just keep breathing,” the soft voice tells him before slowly putting something in his ears.

He can still hear things but not to such a degree. Instead of hearing the whole forest, he only heard the room. The fireplace crackling, the creaking of the room, his rapid heartbeat, and the older boy’s much slower heartbeat.

The bed shifts again as the boy stands up and walks toward the window covering the natural sunlight with a large wolf fur blanket before coming back to his side.

“Better?” Eskel asks tenderly picking him up and placing him down on his lap. It wasn’t until now, did Lambert realize how cold he was. His body was covered in sweat and lay next to the fireplace and yet he was freezing.

Eskel seemed to notice and quickly bundled him up in one of his fur cloaks just as Vesemir and Geralt rushed in.

“How is he?” Vesemir asks walking over to the two boys. From the looks of it, the grand master witcher was currently working on fixing the wine cellar’s door. He was covered in sawdust and reeked of sweat causing the tiny witcher to scrunch up his nose before burying his face into Eskel’s shoulder finding the subtle scent of juniper berries and honey much more pleasant.

“Better now. I put earplugs in to help with overstimulation, but his eyes are dilating wildly and he has a fever,” Eskel reports holding the redhead close to his chest.

“It seems he’ll need a bit of help to control his eyes, we’ll try the trial of dreams,” Vesemir states only to be quickly interrupted by no other than Lambert.

“No! No more trials! Not ever again! I’ll kill you if you try!” the young boy shouts unable to stop himself from trembling in fear only to feel the arms around him tighten.

“It’s alright, the trial of dreams doesn’t hurt. You’re asleep the whole time.” Eskel explains causing the young boy to relax.

Vesemir nods in agreement, “He’s right. There won’t be any work on your part but I'll send have to send word to Aldid. He’s a sorcerer that has helped the school for many, many years. You’ll be in good hands, but until then you should rest.” he says before turning to Geralt and Eskel, “Take him to the hot springs, clean him up, and get him dressed. As the older brothers you two have to take care of the younger ones, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Eskel replies confidently while Geralt only softly muttered it under his breath unsure on what to do.

It became clear to Geralt that he was already a shit younger brother so how bad can he fuck up being an older one? I guess there was only one way to find out.

<- Previous Part Next Part ->

Tags: @wrongdodo

#witcher fandom #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher #witcher geralt #geralt of rivia #witcher lambert #witcher eskel #witcher vesemir #papa vesemir #kaer morons #eskel is a good brother

[levworship]

Okay but I just read what the other anon requested and that was so good?? I didn’t think I had a thing for receiving oral but wtf 😭🤚could I maybe request smth if you got time?? Could it be a reunion between volleyball teams from miyagi and tokyo? So nekoma, fukorodani, seijoh, Johzenji (terushima’s tongue piercing PLS), karasuno, itachiyama You were the old manager of nekoma and was friends with literally everyone, during the talk kuroo somehow mentioned that in the nekoma reunion like 2 years ago it somehow ended with the main guys all taking turns eating you out and that pisses off the rest of the guys because that was their fantasy?? This ends up with you (with consent ofc) being sat down on kuroo’s lap as the guys also take turns eating you out (inspired by the other anon because 😩) I understand if you obviously can’t mention everyone, but pls mention terurshima, sakusa (who would only let you make a mess on his face) and bokuto if you could <3 ALSO the idea of two people eating you out at the same time, maybe bokuto and terushima?? IM NASTY OKAY BUT PLS DO THAT

Ty in advanceeee

i’m usually pretty fast but this took me a whole two days to write smh i’m sorry anon. hope you enjoy tho <3 i wanted it to be a lil longer but i’m so tired and i rlly wanted to get this out for you.

cw: group sex (like.. big group), hella sub reader, also fem reader, anal lol, oral (fem reviving), kuroo is the ringleader, humiliation ig, reader kinda into it doe, dirty talk, degrading + praise, squirting, overstimulation

summary: basically everyone wants to eat out/fuck y/n. explicitly written in here is kuroo, oikawa, sakusa, bokuto, and terushima. the rest is implied.

word count: about 1.9k

your face was buried into kenma’s stiff shoulder, your whole body feeling hot as your group of friends continued to talk about you as if you weren’t even there. but clearly they hadn’t forgotten about you too much considering the way their eyes burned holes into you from all around so indiscreetly that you couldn’t even sit your ass still.

you weren’t quite sure how the previous conversation had shifted so suddenly, but kuroo seemed more than happy with the subject change as his signature asshole smirk never left his features. “- yeah, ‘bout two years ago i’d say. she was a good fuck too. poor thing was so eager to make us feel good that she passed out.” kuroo continued to drag his story as if to intentionally provoke the others, and the staring at you only got worse. your nerves were shot.

you looked and felt like a precious bunny being stared down by a bunch of wolves. and honestly? it was hot as fuck.

which is why you didn’t bother to argue when you were practically dragged into the locker room of the old gym, daichi hurriedly locking the door behind all of you. you couldn’t help but feel bad for just a second. ‘didnt some of these guys have girlfriends? couldve sworn i saw terushima enter with some girl.’ but how could you possibly focus on that when your clothes were being literally ripped off of you and disregarded to who knows where?

your legs felt weak, both out of shock and nervousness from being handled so roughly. “bring her here, bo. sit her down on my lap.” bokuto (for perhaps the first time in his life) was silent as he dragged you over to the other ex-captain, setting you down in his lap on his spot on the bench just as he’d requested. kuroo snickered and raised a hand to cup your cheeks, squeezing them together like you were a little baby before releasing.

“ease up, will ya? so damn tense i can feel it from here. you know we’ll take good care of you.” he spoke so lowly and reassuringly that you couldn’t help but to nod like a fool as he turned you around in his lap to fit the others. he tapped your thigh once, twice, and you quickly picked up on the hint and opened your legs for their viewing pleasure. you tried to put your face down as you were smothered in shame from just how quickly you got wet from their rough handling, but kuroo gripped onto your face once again and forced you to look up.

“look up, baby. so many big strong men dying to make you cum so fucking hard. be a little more thankful, yeah? say it.” “thank you.” he shook his head with a small laugh before releasing your face, but not before lightly tapping your face twice with soft slaps. still, you remained out of it even as oikawa settled himself between your legs, looking up at you with the same lazy smile you frequently saw him wearing around you.

“smells so damn good. finally gonna let me get a taste, cutie?” he spoke lowly as if he were to himself before diving in and holy shit. you figured he’d be pretty experienced. the guy was a literal chick magnet. but damn, this exceeded your expectations by far. your body threatened to curl over itself if it hadn’t been for kuroo’s sturdy grip on your twitching thighs. the way he sucked vigorously at your clit while swiping his tongue along your folds to capture more of your essence had you drawing nothing but blanks up there.

“haven’t even cum yet for us and already going dumb?” kuroo teased, planting a kiss just behind your ear, a shocking contrast to the way oikawa’s tongue worked against you just right.

the air around you was so thick you felt as if it could be cut with a knife. some of the guys surrounding you couldn’t figure out what to do with themselves, nervously shuffling their feet without taking your eyes off of you. others had clearly overcome any former shame, already slowly pumping their cocks in their hands as they hoped and prayed that they would get a turn soon. the whole scene made you feel so dirty— so wanted. the desire that leaked from their looks on you had your orgasm approaching faster than ever.

oikawa seemed to have noticed this, using his thumbs to spread your folds apart to make sure you felt him deep, muttering a quick “cum on my fucking mouth, princess.” the simple phrase alone made your orgasm crash down on you finally. your fingers tangled in his soft hair, which was now messy and tossed thanks to you.

you nearly passed out right there when he continued to lick you clean even as you violently shook in kuroo’s grasp, the black haired boy having to shove the other away forcefully just to separate his mouth from you. “that’s enough of that. did he make you feel good baby?” your eyes are still shut as you cling onto the leftover bliss, only offering a quiet “mhm.” “good girl. think you can give us another?” the question was clearly rhetorical, which should’ve been clear by the was he was already gesturing someone else forward. but still, you shook your little fucked out head ‘no’ and prayed upon some god that he’d have mercy on your poor quivering cunt.

but you knew better than to expect mercy from kuroo of all people. especially when it came to your body, when he kept whispering to you about how you were such a “perfect little toy,” and his “favorite doll to use.” before you knew it sakusa was diving into your pussy quickly without giving you time to do so much as muster up the energy to open your eyes again. his mouth was quick and desperate to get you off, moving with a sense of urgency as his hands busied themselves palming at his covered dick. he wasn’t nearly as precise or experienced as oikawa was, but his eagerness made up for it as he ate you out like a starved man.

your hips threatened to buck against his face wildly, cries of “please, please, please” falling from your mouth even though you didn’t even know what you were begging for. all you knew was that you needed more than what he was giving you right now. the man above you seemed to have read you like an open book once again as he released one of your thoughts to reach a hand around to your sensitive bud, pressing down on it softly. “see this?” he murmured, only receiving a small “hm.” in acknowledgement as omi continued his assault on your little hole. greedy fuck. “try touching her here. she loves that shit.” you cried out for more again, clenching tightly at the way he spoke of your body as if you weren’t even there.

the second sakusa tore himself away from your folds to wrap his lips around your clit, you were a goner for sure. there was a distant scream that you didn’t even recognize as your own until kuroo muffled them with his hand, body twitching and jerking more than it had the previous time. the room fell to a sudden silence even as you came down from your high, causing you to let out a confused hum.

kuroo’s chuckle broke the quietness, his large hand slapping your wet overstimulated mound and making you yelp. “didn’t know you were a squirter, baby. how come you didn’t do this for us the first time hm?” another rhetorical question. his hand trailed down lower, collecting some of your juices before he began to prod a finger at your other hole. “fuck- gonna let me bury myself in here again? want both of your holes fucked out?” and you couldn’t help but cry out because fuck yes! you couldn’t think of anything you’d want more. you nodded your head and panted like a sex craved mutt, and perhaps you would’ve been as humiliated as you were before if you weren’t so damn thirsty for it. every inch of you was begging to be ravished and destroyed, and you couldn’t help but grow more and more impatient as the time passed.

kuroo didn’t take his eyes off of you as he nodded towards the crowd once again, sakusa taking the hint and reluctantly scurrying off to palm at himself through his sweatpants just as he previously had. kuroo’s command must’ve been unclear though, as both of you were pulled away from your eye contact at the sound of a comical bonk followed by two grunts of “ow.” perhaps you would’ve laughed if the two aforementioned fools weren’t kneeling in front of your drenched pussy, ready to service you eagerly just as the other two had.

a chill ran up your spine as you surveyed each of their features. while both of them shared the same underlying expressions of lust and desperation, you couldn’t help but note how bokuto’s face resembled one of an excited puppy dog that perhaps would’ve been adorable in another circumstance while terushima’s was much more primal. “look at that” kuroo’s voice in your ear dragged you back out of your own head as he slowly sunk another finger into your tight ass. just because he was going to treat you like a whore didn’t mean you didn’t deserve prep. “making a fool out of themselves, all because they’re so desperate to get a taste of that perfect pussy. doesn’t that make you feel filthy?”

kuroo couldn’t do anything but shake his head at your lack of response, finally releasing your thighs for a moment to grab at both of their napes, silently demanding for you to hold them open yourself. “well? since you’re both so impatient, think you two can work together as a team? if i hear her complain even one time, i’m not letting either of you touch again.”

the two of them nodded obediently, and your eyes nearly rolled back at how demanding kuroo was being right now. it was clear that everyone knew who was truly holding the ropes here, and yet no one was complaining about the arrangement. seemingly satisfied with their responses, kuroo released their necks and his hands smacked yours away so he could replace them and hold up your thighs himself once again. “think you’re ready to take my cock now in here, y/n?” he smirked as he lined himself up. “gonna let me fuck this ass while you let both of them eat that slutty pussy? such a dirty girl. so fuckin’ good for us” he continued to spew filth at you as he lined himself up at your entrance, allowing you to sink down slowly.

you hissed at the stretch, but of course didn’t have much time to focus on the sensation because bokuto and terushima had finally decided that they’d been waiting for long enough. they worked diligently, the cool metal of teru’s tongue piercing flicking against your bud while bokuto slurped on your juices so loudly that the sound filled the room in the most embarrassing way possible.

yeah. you were in for it tonight.

sorry for mistakes or inconsistencie. requests for bnha and haikyuu are open.

#haikyuu smut #hq smut #bokuto smut #sakusa smut #kuroo smut #oikawa smut #terushima smut #haikyu!! smut #haikyuu x reader dirty imagine #.chiyo’s works #.chiyo’s works hq

[stupid-sloot-headcanons]

Hello! Could I request nsfw yandere headcanon/pet play kink for “Please just stop! I’ll do whatever you want me to. Anything but this.” and “I’ll fuck you over and over until you spread your legs when you see me.” with Grand Duke Leuvis?

Leuvis/F!Darling: "I'll fuck you over and over until you spread your legs when you see me."

TW: noncon, pet play, tentacles/monsterfucking

____ had already been wary of Leuvis's strange tone when he'd finished bathing her--something she already hated, being stripped and fondled while he washed her. She wasn't a demon, but she was still an adult capable of something so simple. When he'd dried her off and she'd reached for her clothes, Leuvis shook his finger and smiled at her through his mask. "Ah ah," he chided. "I have something else to put on you."

____ clutched the towel wrapped around her and tried in vain to find any sign of emotion behind his mask. What was he planning? She knew better than to refuse or try to get him to change his mind outright, so for now she had to play along and hope she could win his favor later on. "I see...what did you have in mind, my Lord?"

Leuvis rested one bony hand on her shoulder and took what looked like a length of ribbon out of his coat pocket. When he dangled it in front of her, she realized that it was a leash with a silk collar attached to the end. There was a small golden medallion as well on the collar, engraved with Leuvis's crest. When ____'s eyes widened, Leuvis let out a low chuckle. "You look surprised. Don't you think it suits you?" He brushed her cheek with his finger and held the collar up to clasp around her neck before she could react. "A lovely collar for an even lovelier pet."

____ felt the cold metal and soft silk against her skin, and a shiver ran up her spine as Leuvis leered down at her. He'd never had her wear anything like this before. The line of the leash leading from his hand to her throat left a sick, uneasy feeling in her chest. She WASN'T his pet. She wasn't some stupid animal, lower than him and meant to be owned. Even if she was a captive, she still had her dignity, dammit. "It...it's very luxurious," ____ said carefully. She smiled shyly at him. "What nightgown should I wear with it?"

Leuvis moved his free hand and wrapped it around ____'s waist. "You don't have to worry about that," he replied. "Tonight, you won't wear anything. I want to see how adorable you look with just this and nothing else."

____ froze and stared up at him. She had gotten used to being stripped and bathed by him, but she'd never been naked around him aside from that. She couldn't. She couldn't be so exposed like that, with just a collar around her neck like a dog! Before she could open her mouth to object or come up with some excuse, Leuvis tore ____'s towel off of her body; the fluffy terry-cloth that had been keeping her warm and feeling secure fell to the ground, and goosebumps immediately raised on her body. She immediately moved to cover her breasts and cross her legs, but Leuvis tsk-ed and pulled the leash forward to make her stumble forward.

"Don't hide yourself from me," he said sternly. "I'm your master, and you are my pet." He felt her tense and heard her let out a small gasp as he thumbed over one of her pert nipples. "Do pets wear clothes, my dear?"

____ clenched her fists and felt her face heat up as Leuvis touched her. "O-Only if their master dresses them up," she replied tersely, looking away from him.

Leuvis moved his hand to play with her other breast. "And do good pets say 'no' to their master?"

____ bit the inside of her cheek and she remained silent. She couldn't just lie down and take this treatment. Even if she knew it could have painful consequences, she wasnt going to let Leuvis have his way completely. She pointedly kept her mouth shut and pressed her lips together, refusing to give him an answer. Leuvis cocked his head slightly and pressed the edge of one of his sharp fingers against her nipple. "Surely you know the answer, don't you dear?" His voice was dangerously soft.

____ felt tears welling up in her eyes from Leuvis's finger and from her struggle to stand her ground. She could defy him, but that satisfaction would be temporary. And she knew how sadistic Leuvis could be when he wanted to punish someone...was it even worth it to resist him? She glanced back up at Leuvis and tried her best to focus her gaze on the middle of his mask, too scared to meet his eyes directly. "I...I do," she said hesitantly. Her mind raced to try and find a way to avoid provoking his ire. "But I can't say it out loud." Another half-truth that left a lump in her throat.

Leuvis's grip tightened a bit around her and she winced. "And why is that?"

____ swallowed nervously. "Because," she replied quickly. "The answer...it-it's 'no.'" She tried to keep her lips from wobbling as she gave Leuvis a demure smile. "And a good pet never says 'no' to her master."

Leuvis stared silently at her for a few seconds, and her heart raced as she desperately hoped he wouldn't see through her lie. He finally let out a small laugh and pulled her by the leash into his arms, dwarfing her with his draped-over clothing and large frame. He picked her up and pressed his mask up against her cheek. "Very clever, my dear," he replied. "I'm lucky to have such an entertaining little pet." Behind his mask, ____ swore she could see his gaze darken. "Even when you try to misbehave."

He set her back down and gently tugged on the leash to goad her into following him. ____ tried her best to breathe and keep calm as he led her into his bedroom. "I suppose that part of the blame lies with me," Leuvis mused. "I've definitely been spoiling you. But you still need to be properly trained and taught your place--you're not a stray running around in the woods anymore."

____ crossed her arms and dug her fingernails into her bare skin. Surviving out in the wilderness had been difficult, to say the least: hunting and foraging for food, concealing her presence and memorizing all of the best hiding places for miles whenever she heard Demons coming by her camp, and spending countless nights staying awake out of fear of being discovered and eaten while she slept. Every day was a struggle to survive and stay sane. When she'd finally made a mistake by unknowingly scouting for a new camp near Leuvis's estate, she had been ready to die the moment he and a few of his hunting buddies had found her collecting water at the edge of Goldy Pond. The moment she'd heard their footsteps and saw three Demons closing in on her, every part of her body had just shut down all at once. Instead of trying to flee or fight, she had collapsed into a paralyzed heap onto the ground and could do nothing except stare up at her would-be killers with wide fearful eyes. Looking back on it, it had reminded her of whenever she would hunt rabbits in the woods and how some of them had just submitted to their fate as prey and looked up at her the same way as they waited to be eaten. Maybe that was why Leuvis had decided not to throw her into one of his hunting parties; there was no fun in hunting prey that had already given themselves up to you so easily.

____ snapped out of her thoughts after a sharp tug to her leash caused her to stumble and fall to the ground. "See? You're already proving my point," Leuvis scolded. "When I ask you a question, you answer me."

"I-I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I was distracted. I didn't mean to ignore you."

"Distracted?"

"I was thinking about when I was on my own," ____ explained. "When I was a...a stray. Before you gave me a better life." Again, not quite the full truth, but not a lie either. And this time he seemed to actually believe her; he slowly reached down to tilt her chin up to look at him, and she could see the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile behind his mask.

"I see." He brushed his thumb over her cheek and then her bottom lip. "Even if you weren't listening, it seems you answered my question anyway." His smile widened. "You are grateful for everything I've done for you." She looked up at him with that doe-eyed expression on her face that pleased him so much, and he lifted her up again to place her on his bed. Even for a Demon it was massive, and when he set ____ on the bedspread her legs dangled over the edge like a doll on a shelf. "And I want you to show me that you're grateful."

____ whimpered when she felt Leuvis push her down to lay her flat against the bed. He'd never done anything more than fondling her while giving her baths or absentmindedly touching her while she was in his lap as he read a book or enjoyed a glass of wine. When she saw him reach up to unbutton his coat and then remove his shirt, she backed away from him on the mattress and let out a fearful cry when he took her by the waist with one hand. "Stay still," Leuvis ordered. His fingers dug into her skin as he held her in place. "Stay."

____ choked back a sob and complied, going limp and sinking into the silk comforter underneath her. His grip loosened and he traced circles into her upper thigh before he finished undressing himself. "Good girl."

A nude Demon was something ____ had never thought she'd encounter before, and certainly not like this. Leuvis's body was similar to his face and hands in terms of proportion and color. His body seemed to have muscles made of thick white strings of sinew that resembled a human form, but only in the barest sense. His pelvis was similar to that of a skeleton's, with a strange appendage in the middle that almost seemed like a shell composed of two "plates" of hard muscle. Leuvis stroked the seam between the two plates with a few fingers and let out a soft sigh; a thick black braid of tendrils slowly made its way through the crack and eased its way out, and ____ felt an intense wave of panic as it gently writhed its way out and shone with a bit of slick fluid.

Leuvis took the appendage into one of his hands and ____'s back with the other. The tip wriggled between her thighs and she broke down crying, squeezing them together as tightly as possible to keep this...thing...from invading her. "Please, please, don't," ____ begged hysterically. "Please stop! I'll do anything you want me to, anything but this!"

Leuvis held each of her thighs with one hand and firmly held her in place as she squirmed underneath him. "I know you're scared, but that's only because this is your first time being played with," he insisted irritably. His voice strained a bit as her thighs tightly enveloped his cock. "I'm not going to hurt you, I'm training you." He increased the length of his tendrils just a bit and made the braid separate, and soon he felt the tip of one of the tentacles brush against her labia. Her breath hitched at the strange sensation, and soon another tentacle made its way to flick at a sensitive bud of flesh that made her face flush. Her nipples hardened from the stimulation below and a strange mixture of warmth and something entirely new began to build up inside of her.

Eventually ____'s crying subsided a bit and she sniffled as Leuvis gently spread her thighs apart to feel even more of her. Now that she was starting to realize how pleasurable this could be, it seemed she was becoming much more obedient. Leuvis slipped one of the tentacles not playing with her clitoris inside of her tight walls; the two of them moaned in unison and ____ automatically moved her legs a bit further apart to accommodate more of him. The shiny medallion from her collar jingled a bit as he rocked her hips back and forth, and Leuvis smiled. He took her leash and tugged it to turn her head towards him. "See? There's a good girl," he praised in a soothing voice. "You're already doing so well, and this is just the first night of our little 'training.'" He chuckled breathlessly and eased another tentacle inside of her; she let out a delicious little gasp and her eyes rolled back slightly as she finally started to move her hips a bit of her own accord. "I'll fuck you over and over until you spread your legs when you see me."

#.tpn #yandere tpn #yandere leuvis #.leuvis #tw: noncon #tw: pet play #tw: monster fucking #.myshit #fem darling #.prompts #.queue

[2goth2moth]

Until You Can't Stand (M!Werewolf x M!Incubus, NSFW)

Big shoutout to @xo-philia for beta-reading this for me!

Word count: 3476

Includes: Marking (biting and scratching to draw blood), mild possessiveness, pet names, knotting, scent kink (kind of), mild praise kink, non-human genitalia, self-lubrication

There was something Luke hated about being a werewolf: mating cycles. The slow, constricting heat that flooded his body every few months, the way he lost control of his shift, the oversensitivity. It interrupted every part of his life, and he hated it. The only solace he could find was the fact that it gave him an excuse to spend the week shut in with his incubus boyfriend.

He opened the door to his apartment, prickling nerves instantly soothed by the comforting smell of home. The small collection of rooms he shared with his boyfriend always smelled nice. They never could quite clean out the scent of spices and bread out of their kitchen, and it seemed to spread to all the other rooms easily. Now, however, with his senses being pushed to their limits, he could pick out all the scents that filled the small apartment: the milk and cardamom from their chai that morning that hung in the air, his own thick musk, his incubus’ clean, pleasant salt. It was stronger than usual, clearly coming from their bedroom. Luke smiled at the thought of Allius being home already. He took his shoes off at the front door, dropped his bag by the table, and went inside.

Their bedroom was small, like the rest of their apartment, and always kept cool (Luke tended to run warm). Allius was sprawled messily on the floor beside their bed in a nest of soft blankets, absentmindedly writing in the margins of a book.

He looked up at the sound of the door opening and smiled brightly. He sat up, keeping one blanket drawn around him, and reached out a hand to Luke.

“Hey, love. I wasn’t expecting you back yet.” Luke sat down on top of the blankets and took Allius’ hand gently. “Don’t you have work today?”

Allius traced his fingertips around Luke’s large nails. “Your mating cycle is starting today,” he said simply. “I wanted to be here for you. I know it’s rough to handle on your own. Besides,” he added, bringing his other hand to Luke’s face, pulling his lips back from rapidly growing teeth. “Can you really be so surprised that I want to be with the man I love right now?”

He chuffed at this, nuzzling into the hand at his face. He was shifting more now, quickly approaching the half-man-half-wolf that he would be for the days of his cycle. Allius continued toying with Luke’s hands and head as his jaw widened and extended, as his nails turned to thick, hard claws, as fur began to grow along his throat and arms. The blanket draped around the demon’s shoulders slipped down to reveal a grey shirt- one of Luke’s grey shirts- worn thin and soft in the washer. It was large on him, falling off his narrow shoulders. A low pang of want rumbled through Luke.

He nipped lightly at Allius’ fingers. “This is unfair. You look too good.”

“Really? This is unfair?” He feigned insult, gasping and dramatically putting the hand that was not being nibbled on over his heart. “And after I went through all the effort of dressing up for you!”

Luke laughed. “‘Dressing up’?” He ran a finger under the shirt’s loose neckline. “This is basically pajamas.”

“Well, you haven’t seen the whole thing yet.”

Luke’s mouth went dry at the idea of “the whole thing”. Allius must have heard his breath catch in his throat, because he kissed him once and backed away from him a little, rising to his knees. The blankets tucked around his legs fell away, exposing...holy shit.

The hem of the shirt fell clean past the middle of his thighs, hiding whatever he was wearing on the bottom, until he pulled the edge up to below his navel. Underneath, he only had black panties, cut high across the hips, with mesh on the sides. His cock was obvious, pressed against the thin fabric, and the sight sent a bolt of heat to Luke’s abdomen.

“Do you want to see more?” Allius asked, fiddling with the fabric in his hands. Luke nodded dumbly.

Crossing his arms at the hem of the shirt, Allius whipped it over his head. His human form was beautiful. Fine, dark hair covered his legs and arms, and ran down his belly to disappear under the panties. Tiny crystals twinkled at his navel and on both of his dusky nipples. He brought a hand up to toy with them one at a time, jaw clenching in pleasure as he teased each nub to full hardness.

Luke had to grind the heel of his palm into his cock to relieve some of the pressure building in his pants. “Holy shit.” He barely noticed the familiar bone-deep grind that came when a fluffy tail began sprouting from the bottom of his spine.

Stepping quietly, Allius settled himself in front of Luke again. He placed his hands primly between them and leaned forward on them to kiss the werewolf softly. A small tongue licked at the seam of his lips. He moaned, letting Allius slip his tongue in fully. Their lips moved together and Luke hummed in contentment at the feeling of that tongue trace over his sharp teeth. He sucked on it, then took Allius’ lower lip in his teeth and bit down, just hard enough to break skin. Allius pulled back with a smile and one last kiss to the corner of Luke’s mouth.

“So? How do you want me?” Allius purred, his form shimmering between human and reptilian, feathered and furred.

Seeing every one of his lover’s gorgeous forms was straining Luke’s already thin self-control. He couldn’t bear to wait another second. “You. Just... you. As yourself.”

Allius grinned devilishly, arching down into the floor as his true form rippled through his body. The skin at his hairline and on his hands and feet burnished to an inky black. Small, humanoid teeth and nails sharpened to fangs and claws, and short nubby horns sprouted from his forehead. A line of shiny, platelike scales grew down his spine, leading into a dextrous tail at the base of his back. He was perfect, every inch the demonic temptor Luke knew him to be.

Luke hardened even more at the sight, his own bushy tail lashing behind him in a combination of distress and arousal. A low, long whine came from the back of his throat. “Stop teasing.”

“Aw, puppy,” the incubus said, crawling to kneel in front of him. “Getting impatient?”

“You know I am,” he replied through gritted teeth. “I’m in my mating cycle, this is just mean.”

Allius’ gaze dropped to his cock, where it was starting to strain against the seam of his sweatpants. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He leaned over, kissing Luke’s cheek, running his small clawed hands over the wolf’s thick thighs. The touch was electric. The air around them was heavy, musky and rich with the pheromones that Luke was putting out. “How quickly do you want to go?”

Luke buried his nose into the crook of Allius’ neck, breathing in, recognizing the now-present floral sweetness of his arousal. He ran a broad, flat tongue over his collarbone. Goosebumps erupted over Allius’ skin. It was getting difficult for the werewolf to remain coherent, but he fought his instincts. “You haven’t fed in a while. What do you need?”

This earned him a firm tap on the side of his head with the demon’s fingertips. “I feed on your pleasure, dummy. I’ll be getting my fill plenty over the next few days. You don’t need to worry about me right now.” His hands came to rest on Luke’s clothed dick. “Now, answer my question: how do you want this to go?”

The slight domineering tone sent a shiver through him. The honest answer was that he wanted everything. Everything Allius would give him, to give Allius everything in return. The short answer…

“I want to fuck you ‘til you can’t stand.”

Allius’ eyes widened slightly before he grinned again. His lips met Luke’s in a kiss, as brief and fierce as it was filthy. Nipping his bottom lip once, the incubus turned around and arched his back. The black cloth of his underwear disappeared between his asscheeks. His tail flicked slowly and playfully as he looked back over his shoulder. “What are you waiting for, alpha? I’m ready.”

Luke grabbed his hip hard in one large, clawed hand. “You know that’s not how it works.”

The demon in front of him looked pointedly at his still-hard cock. “Doesn’t seem like it’s ruining the mood though, does it?” He lowered his chest to the floor and spread his knees slightly, presenting his ass even more obviously. Luke could see the slick soaking through his panties. “Now come on, baby. I thought you said something about ‘until I can’t stand’?”

Licking his lips, Luke pulled the fabric nestled between his asscheeks aside to expose his hole. Slick, sweet-smelling and vaguely pink, ran down his balls. He lapped it up, heightened lupine senses relishing in the scent of his lover. It was intoxicating, and he licked up every drop he could, purposefully avoiding where he wanted to go most. The incubus below him was breathing heavily and pushing back against his face. A growl ripped loose from his throat as his teeth sank into a soft, plush leg. It was torture trying not to break skin, but healing in his demon form, although complete, was strenuous and cost Allius a lot of energy. Luke soothed the area with a slow drag of his tongue.

A high-pitched whimper came from the demon kneeling in front of him. Luke pulled back, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Are you okay?”

A glance at his face showed Allius flushed and sweaty. Spit shone around his mouth where he had clearly been biting his arm to retain some composure. “You’re holding back.”

“Yeah, I know that…”

“Stop it. I want you to mark me. As much as you can. Even if it won’t hold, I want you to make me yours. Wreck me, Luke.”

This command, bitten out as Allius’ chest heaved with deep gasps and his tail lashed impatiently, snapped the remaining threads of his control. Luke snarled loudly and yanked his own pants down his thighs, freeing his cock. He kicked them the rest of the way off and tore his shirt from his body in a fit of impatience. Big, lupine hands dug deep into the meat of the incubus’ ass. Golden blood welled up around his claws and dripped in thin rivulets down the smooth skin of his legs. Allius moaned quietly, shoving his face down into the floor. Luke bent his head back down to lick over his hole again, trying to pull more noises from the demon’s throat. The ring of muscle was already soft and opened to him readily, letting him stick his tongue inside. A particularly strong flick sent the incubus rocking back against him even more insistently. Whimpers were now spilling from his mouth in earnest as he brought one of his hands to rub against his cock through the thin panties.

Luke pulled back from Allius’ ass, licking his lips. A mix of spit and slick covered the bottom of his face and had begun to drip down onto his chest, wetting down his coarse hair. Allius looked back at him again, eyes blown out, and Luke couldn’t help but follow a drop of sweat that ran from his nape down the length of his spine. “Come on, puppy, please.” He was whining at this point, arching his back more, slick still dripping down his balls and thighs.

Biting down hard on his asscheek one last time, Luke lined up the head of his cock, flushed red and leaking pre-cum, with his entrance. “Ready?” He said, leaning over to kiss Allius’ shoulder gently.

Allius tried to buck his hips back onto Luke’s cock himself, but the vice-like grip on his hips kept him from doing much more than wriggling helplessly. “Just fuck me already!”

More golden blood was leaking from where Luke was holding him, more slick coming from his hole. In one swift movement, he plunged into Allius until his hips were sitting flush against his backside. The thrust drove the demon’s whole body forward, chest skidding along the floor. The low grunt that Luke let out was drowned out by Allius’ high-pitched whine.

He was already panting hard at the feeling of Allius’ tight walls around him. A sinuous black tail flicked anxiously as he once again tried to push back on the cock inside him. This wasn’t enough for either of them. Keeping one large hand on the demon’s hip and bracing the other against his back, Luke set a punishing pace into his boyfriend. Each thrust sent jolts through his body as he was driven further and further into the floor.

“AH...fuck!” Wanton sounds of pleasure spilled from Allius’ lips even from where his face was hidden in the crook of his elbow. He was humping back against each stroke, trying to get even more stimulation. His tail was going crazy, winding around the werewolf’s wrists, ankles; even batting frantically at his hip. It took an iron grip around the hand braced against his back. The long fingers and claws spanned nearly the entire width of his waist. Luke pressed his fingertips experimentally into the soft flesh of his demon. Five pinpricks of blood rose to the surface. “Oh, shit. Keep going!”

Luke hooked his claws into the flimsy fabric of the panties that Allius was still wearing. In one rough swipe, he shredded them and pulled the remains off of him, leaving the incubus naked. Resetting His grip on his hips, Luke sank all the way into him before pulling out, leaving only the head of his cock, and thrusting in again. Allius moaned once again, the noise sweet and high-pitched despite how muffled it was. Luke had a problem with this.

He sank his teeth into Allius’ shoulder, tasting the blood spill around them. “Stop fucking hiding. I want to hear you,” he snarled into Allius’ skin. Wrapping his arms firmly around the incubus’ waist and chest, he wrenched him upright onto his knees. “I want everyone to hear you.”

The possessive words made Allius tighten around him. “God, you’re in a mood today,” he choked out, struggling to maintain composure as Luke rammed into him. “So- ahh- territorial.”

Luke dug in everywhere he was holding Allius, leaving bite marks on his neck and deep scratches on his belly and ribs. “You knew this would happen,” he said with a particularly rough thrust. He began pulling Allius’ much smaller body back into him with each drive of his pelvis.

Each stroke was reaching impossibly deeper inside him, and he was slack-jawed and drooling with pleasure. His tail wrapped around one of Luke’s muscular thighs.

“Hnng- ah- ahh...fuck!” Allius’ cock hit his own abdomen with each drive of Luke’s hips, and it left smears of pre-cum on his smooth brown skin. He brought one hand down to harshly stroke his cock. “Of- ah! Of c-course I did . Why- oh- why do you think I look forward to this so much?”

A violent bolt of lust and affection lanced through Luke. He loosened the grip on Allius’ torso to take his nipples in his fingers. He rolled the nubs between his fingertips, tugging on the piercings but careful not to cut the delicate skin. “You’re perfect,” Luke groaned against his neck, “But you already knew I think that.” The sentence was punctuated by another drive of his hips that sent Allius’ back bowing away from him.

Allius cried out again, the noise desperate and closer to a shriek than a moan. His walls clenched around Luke’s cock. “Do that again, puppy.”

Luke obliged happily, grinding his hips up into his lover, trying to hit that spot again and again. Allius let his head drop back against Luke’s chest, long past trying to hide his sounds of pleasure. He kept stroking his cock but the pace was stuttering and unsteady because of Luke’s vicious thrusts. His walls were fluttering in pleasure, and Luke could feel his knot start to swell. It caught on Allius’ rim with every movement. He made to pull out, but Allius moved his strong tail to encircle Luke’s waist, keeping him from moving back any further. He was panting hard, back sweaty and sticking to the werewolf’s hairy chest. “Fucking knot me, dumbass!”

Now this was new territory. Luke had never knotted Allius during his cycle, always pulling out and cumming outside, or knotting one of his toys. His brain was too cloudy to question this change, though, and immediately thrust all the way back inside. He rolled his hips into Allius, trying to make the most of his limited mobility. Luke knocked aside the hand that Allius was still jerking off with and replaced it with one of his own. His hand was larger and rougher than Allius’ own, and in moments the demon was cumming. Pearly liquid, the same pinkish colour as his slick, shot out, hitting himself in the chin, dripping down his chest and over Luke’s fingers. The way his hole clenched around his cock sent Luke over the edge. After a few more harsh thrusts he sank in to the hilt, and held Allius tight against him as he spilled inside. They collapsed, still locked together by Luke’s knot.

Allius looked thoroughly wrecked. He was covered in cum and that demonic golden blood, his whole body damp with sweat, with slick still leaking down his inner thighs and saliva dripping from his open mouth. He had claw and bite marks all over him, and the possessive side of Luke was already beginning to lament them healing smooth. “Fuck, that was so good,” Allius breathed out, craning his neck painfully in order to kiss Luke’s chest.

“You’re telling me,” Luke replied. He knocked his nose into Allius’ hair, running his fingers through to cum streaking the demon’s torso. “I don’t know if either of us can keep that up for the next five goddamn days.”

“Speak for yourself, puppy. I’m going to expect this every time you fuck me again. I’ll probably never have to feed again”

Groaning, Luke laved his tongue over one of the big bite marks one Allius’ shoulder. They kissed lazily, almost sleepily, with Luke straying away from Allius’ mouth to lick up the cum that had caught on his chin. Allius dropped his head to the floor after a few minutes, watching with half-lidded eyes as Luke continued dragging his fingers through the cum on his torso, licking the sweet-salty seed from his hands.

“Luke, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” Luke rolled his hips into Allius once, both of them shivering with overstimulation. “It’s not like I can run away.”

Allius laughed once, breathless and joyful. He reached up to trace Luke’s hairline with soft fingers. “I…” He breathed in and out, clearly in an effort to centre himself. “I want to be your mate. Properly. If you’ll have me.”

Luke sat bolt upright as best he could while still being locked inside Allius. “You want to...pardon?”

“I know that it’s a big thing, and you’ll have to claim me as a human because if I’m in my true form the bite won’t hold. Also, I don’t know whether I would bite you too, or if we would form a pact, or…”

He was cut off by Luke locking his muscular arms around him in a bone-cracking hug. “Yes. Yes, of course I want to be your mate!” He attacked every available inch of Allius’ skin with kisses and nips. “Is that why you wanted me to knot you this time?” He asked after burying his nose into the velvet-soft skin behind Allius’ ear.

Allius nodded, wriggling further back into Luke’s warm arms. His tail wound affectionately around Luke’s ankle. “I don’t know why I’ve been avoiding it for so long. It’s not like I can get pregnant, and it feels so good. I feel so full.”

Luke groaned at the sound of that, gently headbutting Allius. “Don’t say that. I already want to fill you with my cum so bad, now I’m never going to want to stop fucking you.” He bit the demon’s ear with sharp teeth, hips bucking slightly. “And I know for a fact that I’m not willing to never let you top me again.”

“Ooh, so romantic,” Allius chuckled, “But no matter how nice that sounds, I want to go to sleep now. I’m tired.”

Luke nodded into the incubus’ nape, tucking them closer together and drifting off, surrounded by each other’s warmth.

#monster fucker #monster lover #exophilia #minors do not interact #smut #tw blood #but it's demon blood and isn't red #enthusiastic consent #terato #monster x monster #terfs dont fucking touch

[deceitfuldevil]

Cosmic Glitch

Baron Helmut Zemo X Reader

Summary: You always believed your soulmate was somewhere out there and that one day you'd see color, but the day you met him you refused to accept it. (soulmate AU! where you can't see color until you first look into your soulmates eyes)

Warnings: use of y/n, swearing I think?, poorly written, clearly from my drafts, headcannon turned imagine, fluff <3

Word Count: 2.2K

You had always been close with Sam ever since you served in the Air Force together, you were always up for any mission or task he needed help with.

After everyone was blipped back you had lost your job, so when Sam called you up asking you to tag along on a mission and promised compensation you couldn't turn him down.

You met Sam and Bucky in the garage and when the infamous Helmut Zemo walked in you locked eyes with him, and a fit a color exploded before you.

Zemo had stopped mid sentence

“I really don’t think I’m—“

Your heart sank deep into your chest

“Oh no” you said barely above a whisper.

“I uh, I’m not useful to this operation” he finished, stumbling over his words. Which you'd learn later on was very uncharacteristic of him.

You just stared at him as he nodded at you, a quiet hello.

Your luck was just impeccable wasn’t it? Zemo? Helmet fucking Zemo? It had to be him? The man that tore apart the avengers and bombed the UN for Christ sake! He was a fucking criminal!

The plane ride to Madripoor was above all else, awkward.

You barely spoke, not even making eye contact with anyone unless directly spoken to.

“You alright Y/n?” Sam asked, placing his hand on your shoulder.

You only nodded a small yes, feeling your soulmates prying eyes burning holes into the sight of Sam’s hand on your shoulder.

“Y/n, such a pretty name. I love the way it rolls off the tongue. Y/n.” Zemo said, toying with the sound of your name on his lips. Flustering you, but angering Bucky.

“Cool it Zemo, she’s just a kid.” He warned. Causing Zemo to wave Bucky off with his hand as he took a sip of his warm champagne.

But Bucky was right, you were just a kid. Your soulmate, the Baron for Christ sake, had to be at least 20 some years older than you.

Why did fate set you up with a man that was an adult before you were even born? Didn’t he have a wife before the battle of Sokovia? Maybe this was some kind of cosmic glitch.

I mean, it had to be... right?

Of course you wouldn’t be able to shake the Baron so easily, especially not when you needed a secret cover to pose as in Madripoor

There was only one role for you to play being so new on the “superhero” scene that you were unknown and considering you didn’t look like a single high profile criminal out there.

The Barons fiancé. His schatzi.

Obviously, you couldn’t just show up to a bar in low town in your suit either, so Zemo being ostentatious man that he is came prepared in the worst way possible.

You closed the door to first class and zipped open the black dress bag that Zemo handed you, telling you it would fit well with the part you were due to play.

A very short velvety plum dress sat in front of your color bound eyes. Ridiculously tall heels to match.

It was never something you’d wear out, you’d never have the confidence to wear such a short and expensive dress out to a bar of all places. But the material felt so good and with the new blessing of colored sight almost made you satisfied with outfit presented.

But you walked out fully dressed and maintained your attitude.

“Who am I supposed to be? A high-end hooker?” You quipped, trying to pull the hem of the dress down as far as it would go.

“You, schatzi, will be playing the part of my fiancé.” Zemo said simply. Fixing the cufflink on his left arm.

You stood there awestruck at what he had just said to you. It was hard enough for you to try and ignore that he was your soulmate but now you had to play the part?

“Oh, and you’ll be needing this” he said, digging into his pocket and flicking a ring at you. You caught it, examining it and gasping softly. You had never seen a diamond so big.

You slipped it on your finger, it fit perfectly. Which, made you smile to yourself in a way you knew you shouldn’t have.

He’s a criminal, he’s a psychopath. He’s a criminal, he’s a psychopath. You continually repeated to yourself the whole ride to low town, allowing yourself to think for even a second that just because he was your soulmate meant that he was a good person was not in the books. You simply couldn’t do it.

But as you arrived in the deeper part of Madripoor Zemo informed everyone that they must play their role to a T, because their lives depended on it.

As the car stopped Zemo walked around the side and opened the door for you, grabbing your hand and leading you out. Pressing a gentle kiss to your hand as you stood upright.

You eyes trailed up to his as a blush became evident on your face, when you locked eyes, boom, another shockwave of color screamed into your eyes. You saw the detailing in his fur collar, the bright neon signage all around, the gold detailing in Bucky’s vibraium arm, all of it.

You wanted to see color forever, you hated knowing that if you went without seeing Zemo for too long, the color would fade out.

In ordeal at the bar came and went, the business with Selby is where things got interesting and simultaneously made you nervous.

For some reason it’s almost as if Zemo could sense this because he squeezed your hand tightly and you both sat down on the couch across from Selby.

After everyone else had either been introduced or acknowledged, all that was left was you.

“And who’s this pretty little thing you’ve got yourself here Zemo?” Selby asked, clearing prodding knowing he’d been married before.

“This...” he trailed off, grabbing your left hand to show off the ring “is my beautiful fiancé” he finished

“Oh, got yourself a little trophy wife after the other one kicked the can huh?" She added, staring down the large rock sitting on your finger.

“That’s very sweet of you to think, but this one here is my soulmate. The first woman to ever make me see in color.” Zemo said, his words so sweet honey might as well as been dripping off his tongue. His gaze turned to you, boom, another bright flash of color that made a shiver run down your spine.

“Oh how sweet, but I don’t believe it.” Selby said with a grin, Sam and Bucky tensed up slightly. Siding with Selby because they too didn’t believe Zemo when he referred to you as his soulmate.

“Test me.” You challenged, stupidly if I may add.

“Excuse me?” Selby asked, quirking an eyebrow up at you

“If you don’t believe we’re soulmates, test me. I can name any color you’d like.” You continued, a part of you always looking for a challenge, the other part also wanting to test yourself see if maybe this whole color thing was faulty or one-ended.

“Fine, we’ll start easy. What’s the color of that slutty dress you’ve got on?” She asked, angry that you challenged her

“Easy, the same color as my soulmates turtle neck. A deep purple, plum if you will.” You said carefully caressing the material of Zemo’s shirt

“You could’ve been told that before you arrived, what about my lipstick?” She pressed as she pursed her lips out

“A cheap magenta” you deadpanned, done with her games. She scoffed at you.

“And this couch?” She asked grinning, patting the cushion beside her.

“Trick question. It’s a old a dirty worn out pattern, it has no specific color” you said with a fake smile, Zemo’s hand snaking around your waist as he pulled you a little closer.

The room fell silent just long enough for things to feel awkward before Selby started laughing uncontrollably.

“Well Baron, the universe certainly has picked you a handful! Now what business did you want to do with me again?” And just like that, it was over and you were suddenly running from bounty hunters on the streets.

When Sharon rescued the four of you the ride up to her place in high town was painfully silent. Zemo kept a firm hand on your thigh. Bucky stared off into space ashamed of how easily he fell back into form, and Sam sat on his thoughts wondering if you and Zemo were really soulmates.

No one really spoke to each other, just different conversations with Sharon. After what went down at the Bar and then with Selby... a mood was set, things had changed.

When Zemo stood up and announced he wanted to go join the party and made his way towards the exit you told Bucky you’d keep on eye on him. Sam wanted to protest but at that point you both were already out the door.

You sat from afar watching Zemo on the floor of the club horribly attempting to dance along with the rest of the party-goers. When you laughed a little to yourself he looked up at you, boom, that beautiful shock of color again. It never got old.

But you quickly averted your eyes and disappeared from his gaze as you went to the bar for a drink. When the bartender slid your drink over suddenly Zemo was at your side announcing he’d pay for it.

Zemo started to snake his hand around your waist once more but this time you smacked his hand away

“We’re not playing house anymore, Baron.” You told him, using his formal title.

“But you see what I see, do you not?” He asked, tentatively reaching for your hand.

“See what?” You asked, avoiding his burning gaze. You knew damn well what he was taking about but refused to admit to even yourself. He was a horrible man, a criminal, a rich psychopath! It ached your heart that someone with such a shitty past was who you were meant to be with for the rest of your life.

“The beautiful colors. I see your bright eyes, your sleek hair, those sweet pink lips. Now color is all around me too, I can see the colors of the club. I see the blue radiating off that light, the red in this drink you ordered, the green that lady’s hair! You love opened my eyes, Y/n. With you, I can see.” Zemo pressed on, smiling as he looked in awe at all the colors around him. He placed his hand gently over yours. You flinched but didn’t move away from his touch

“But this has to be wrong. I can’t be the person for you. You had a wife and kids right? Didn’t they bring any color into your life?” You asked, feeling a warm heat rise to your cheeks from the small contact you two were now sharing

“I loved my wife and son sure, but they were always grey to me. Remember that I’m a Baron, when you’re royalty your marriage options aren’t as wide as the universe has set for you.” He pointed out, taking your hand and slowly rubbing your knuckles.

“Still surely this has to be some kind of universal glitch! I mean you’re what? 20 some years older than me? What about all the horrible shit you’ve done? You’re a criminal! I was made to be a hero! We don’t mix, let alone fall in love!” You babbled on

“Listen, y/n. I am not proud of my past, I was a grief stricken man who had just lost his wife and child along with his entire country. I was only doing what I believed to be right at the moment, is that not what you try to do as well?” He asked, trying to find similarities between the two of you. Some common ground.

“Zemo I—“ you started, turning to face him and looking into his hazel brown eyes again and feeling that boom of color that would never get old, but did make you lose your train of thought.

“Zemo I’m scared” you finished off, your planned statement turning into a confession. You didn’t take your eyes off his this time as he stared back down at you. Bring his free hand to your cheek he smiled softly.

“I’m scared too, schatzi. But the feeling you give me makes me feel like everything is going to be alright. Stay with me, ride this out and see where it goes. I promise I’ll make it worth your while. Designer clothes, expensive jewelry, sport cars, you name it and I’ll buy it for you. I’ll fly you any place you’ve ever wanted to go, show you every sight you’ll ever need to see.” He tools breathe, a single tear slipping down his face.

“Please, let’s give this a shot.” He ended. Nine years with losing your wife, child, country, and being imprisoned for a few years really changed a man; and made him that much more desperate for someone like you, his soulmate, to stay.

And stay you did. The first year was rocky wrapping things up with the super soldiers on the loose and clearing Zemo’s name in the eyes of the Power Broker and the UN. Based on his efforts to take down the last of the super soldiers and good words from Sam and Bucky his sentence was reduced to one year under house arrest, which made for a great way to get to know each other better.

The years after that were far beyond smooth sailing, they were dare you even say perfect. You traveled the world with Zemo, lived the most lavish life, saw the most amazing things.

All in color.

#marvel #au #soulmate #cute #fan fic #fan fiction #fluff #imagine #love #headcannon #hc #Zemo #zemo x y/n #zemo x reader #zemo x you #helmut zemo #baron zemo #baron helmut zemo #helmut x reader #captain american civil war #civil war #tfatws #the falcon and the winter solider #sugar daddy zemo #soulmate au #zemo imagine #<3

[thewayshedreamed]

Congrats on the 800 followers bby you deserve it! I have a good one for you. I slipped and fell in the shower and the only person who can help me is my enemy for nessian 👀👀👀

Well, Sim, it was you who BLEW my word count. I should have seen it coming, I guess 👀

Although, I will say you didn't do it alone. I also combined @maastrash 's prompt "Are you hurt? What happened?" and one from anon, "You're cute when you're all worried."

They all went together so well that I couldn't resist. And as a result, you got this 3k+ beast. RIP 800-word limit.

Anyway, I hope you like it, my love! Enjoy!

--

Nesta wasn't sure why she had agreed to go to the beach with Feyre, Rhysand, and his brothers. Gwyn had come through in her time of need and agreed to join them, but she'd quickly flipped her allegiances to spend more time on the beach with the others instead of retreating back to the house with Nesta. She had a suspicion it had something to do with a certain tall, dark, and broody man who hoarded his smiles from the public eye.

Unless the public eye belonged to Gwyneth Berdara.

After the long trek to their rented beach house, Nesta stopped at the edge of the dock to knock the sand from her shoes. There was a small shower outside the backdoor to rinse the saltwater and stubborn sand from her body, and Nesta hissed against the stark cold that rained down on her legs. A proper shower was the only thing that was going to combat the chill in her blood, and that realization was enough to solidify her decision to stay inside the rest of the afternoon with a romance novel.

Her towel was full of sand, so she hanged it over the porch railing and headed directly to the bathroom. It was best if she peeled her bikini off in the shower to avoid scattering any lingering sand all over her bedroom, so she moved swiftly into the small bathroom and cranked the water nearly to the warmest setting. The firm grip of her arms around her body did very little to combat the goosebumps on her skin, and she let out a near moan at the feel of the hot water.

She closed the shower door behind her and stood beneath the spray properly to rinse her hair. Her bikini made a loud slopping sound against the tile in the corner. Dealing with it was a task for someone with any motivation beyond warmth and cleanliness.

Nesta lathered her hair and combed a generous amount of conditioner through her strands to help with the detangling process. The wind had created a monster, adding another notch against the beach in her book.

While her conditioner did the Cauldron's work, she grabbed a wash cloth and body wash. As she moved back beneath the spray, her foot slipped over the suds near the drain, but Nesta righted herself with a firm hand against the tile wall. The excessive amount of conditioner wasn't helping matters.

She rinsed her hair and body all at once to get to her lounge clothes as soon as possible. Stepping out of the spray to hang her washcloth on the nearby rack to dry was near torture now that she was properly warmed, and Nesta wasted no time in stepping back into the water for one last hit before shutting it off.

That was her intention, anyway. What happened instead is that her traitorous feet were no match for the slick tile, and the backward steps were all it took to send her careening to the floor. She slapped at the wall to no avail, finding no ally in reach. What she did find was insult to injury when various toiletry bottles rained down on top of her.

She had stupidly tried to brace her fall with her other hand, sending a spark of pain from her palm to her shoulder. Her groan echoed off the walls and the shower showed no mercy as the water rained onto her chest, all over her face.

A booming voice made her eyes snap open, only to snap them shut against the sting of the water.

"Nes?"

Her delay had been too long. The bathroom door burst open, and through the frosted glass, she saw Cassian's imposing form assessing the situation.

"Nesta? Are you hurt? What happened?"

This could not be happening. Of all the fuckers to be in the house at one of her lowest points, it had to be Cassian. Gwyn would be hearing about this.

"Go away."

She cringed against how dejected she sounded. Turning her head and shielding her eyes with her uninjured arm, she found that he did no such thing.

"Cassian," she warned. "Get the fuck out of here. Now."

He propped a hip on the bathroom counter. Arrogant bastard. At least, from what she could tell, his chin was turned up toward the ceiling rather than his gaze being fixed on the frosted glass.

"Something tells me things aren't going well if you've yet to peel yourself off the floor."

Nesta rolled her eyes and turned her face toward the water once more. Maybe she could drown.

"Let me help."

"I thought I was pretty clear. I'm not accepting help from you."

A deep sigh sounded in the bathroom, but before she could snap, his rough voice followed.

"Fine. Don't accept my help. Rhys came with me to grab snacks for the others. I'll have him switch with me."

"No," she roared, cringing against the command in her voice and her lack of options.

Every time she tried to sit up, pain tore through various parts of her body. Her ass, the hip that had taken most of the impact, her shoulder. She needed help, and while she hated the idea of accepting it from Cassian, she would rot in hell before Rhysand helped her out of the shower. How had she found herself in a situation where her only chance at help was the man who spent the majority of his life being as big of a pain in her ass as possible?

His voice sounded again, but it carried away from her. "Rhys, head back without me." His brother's voice came next, but Nesta couldn't hear him over the patter of water in the shower. "Nah, I'm good. Just taking a break from the sun. I'll catch up."

With that, he shut the bathroom door behind him. At least Cassian had the good sense to lie to Rhys rather than recruit any additional attention to her compromising position.

"Alright, Sweetheart. I've got a towel ready. I'm going to open up and shut the water off."

Nesta's breath hitched at the rush of cool air, at the form that cast her in shadow almost entirely. She pulled her legs up and shielded her chest with her good arm, earning a throaty chuckle from her savior.

"I'm not looking. I'd rather when a woman wants me to see them naked."

Why her need to launch jabs at him overpowered her pain was lost on her. "Must have been a while, then."

"Saw a good set out on the beach, actually. She was feeling pretty generous after watching me and Az play volleyball, I guess."

Nesta scowled. That tingling sensation down her spine didn't feel secondary to her injuries at hearing the story.

"You're a pig," she grumbled, but she let Cassian drape the towel over her front and ease her into a sitting position.

"It felt rude not to look."

Her huff of a laugh was genuine. Damn him. He moved to wrap the towel tightly around her shoulders.

"Think you can stand up?"

Nesta grimaced against the soreness in her hip. "Yeah. In a couple of minutes."

Without a word, Cassian hoisted her into his arms with measured gentleness. Her cheek rested against his shoulder since she didn't have her arms free to prop her up, but she barely had the energy anyway.

He maneuvered them out of the tight bathroom and down the hall to her room, easing her onto the edge of her bed. She opened her mouth to say thanks, but he had already spurred into action.

"What did you want to wear?"

"I'll get it."

He shot her a glare. "Fine. I'll pick."

Nesta growled her frustration, but Cassian only ticked his eyebrows upward in challenge. She hadn't realized initially that he wore only his swim trunks, half of his black hair pulled back and out of his face. The sun added color to his already bronze skin and left a soft blush on his cheeks that accented his hazel eyes. And she, to the contrary, was a lump beneath a massive towel. One that had managed to injure herself during a simple shower, evidenced by the soaked strands of hair plastered to her face and shoulders.

"There's a large night shirt in my suitcase and some sleep shorts."

Cassian grabbed them before turning toward her, a hand gripping the back of his neck. "Anything... underneath?"

Nesta allowed a sardonic laugh. "Underwear are for people with the use of both their arms."

He cleared his throat and left the clothes next to her on the bed. With a final instruction to call for him if she needed anything, he was gone.

She assessed the clothing and picked the shirt up first. One of her arms was through a sleeve in no time, but the second one was another story entirely. With a defeated whimper she gave up, dropping her arms into her lap with a hiss.

"Cassian!"

No response. Maybe he didn't hear her; the house was rather large. Her voice was louder the second time.

"Cassian!"

A muffled thud sounded, followed by a quick, "Coming!"

He appeared at the threshold of her door, dripping with water and suds. A large towel was wrapped around his waist, his grip white-knuckled to keep it in place.

"Everything alright? Where's the fire?"

Nesta blinked at him. "You said to call you if I needed anything," she pointed out, running her eyes over his state in accusation.

Cassian let out a long, suffering sigh. "I meant it, but you said you had this part covered. I take a 3-minute shower, tops."

"Well, I don't have it covered."

There was more bite to her voice than she'd intended, but self-pity and shame were settling into her bones. She hugged the nightshirt tighter against her body to serve as some form of armor, but it wasn't nearly enough.

Cassian's shoulders sagged, but she barely noticed in favor of watching beads of water travel down his torso, over his strong calves, and make a small puddle on the floor below. "I'm sorry. I was full of sweat and sand. I thought you'd be more likely to take help if I was clean."

Something in her chest softened at his forethought, even more so since he was right.

"Go finish your shower," she relented, settling her hips deeper into the mattress. "I can wait until you're done. I just— I need some help with my clothes."

He was on the balls of his feet, ready to haul himself straight to the shower. The water beneath his feet made her breath hitch. The words left her before she could think better of them.

"Careful! Don't rush." He blinked as if seeing her for the first time, but his usual cocky grin eventually stretched across lips. "I can't help you if you fall, too. And I'm not keeping you company on the ground until the rest of them come back."

Cassian's smile grew. He offered her a wink before he replied, "You're cute when you're all worried."

Her eyes narrowed to slits. "Go."

He hurried off on balanced feet, whether that was on Nesta's orders or a natural grace, she wasn't sure. While she waited, she opted to set them up as best as possible to make the process quick and painless. Well, minimally painful, considering there was a layer of awkwardness that was going nowhere fast. That was without counting the actual physical pain she would no doubt endure.

With a pathetic swatting motion, she knocked her sleep shorts to the floor and began shuffling them around with her feet. She'd managed to slip one into the proper leg hole before she heard Cassian's rich laugh from the doorway.

"Stubborn woman," he mused, seemingly allowing a sliver of affection to slip through. Nesta knew better.

She scowled, turning her chin up to make sure he knew how unwelcome his teasing was. He laughed harder and dropped to his knees in front of her, adjusting the tee he’d pulled over his head on his way into the room.

"What do you want to put on first? You're half-committed to both."

"Let's go with the shirt. It's long enough to cover me while we work on the shorts." Cassian nodded, reaching toward the crumpled article of clothing in her lap. Nesta jerked back to establish some expectations before moving forward. "You're about to see me naked."

"Yeah, probably," he sighed, as if it was a burden to him, too. "I won't look more than necessary though."

"Okay, good. And this doesn't change anything, so don't start acting weird around me. We take this to the grave, too. We'll never hear the end of it otherwise."

Cassian bit the inside of his cheek, pursing his lips in a failed attempt to hide his amusement. "You have my word."

He gently peeled the shirt from her grasp, sliding each sleeve beyond the crooks of her elbows before pulling the opening over her head. Nesta hissed at the pinch of pain through her shoulder but bit her tongue.

"I know. I'm sorry." He pulled the fabric down her sides and over her back. The backs of his knuckles dragged across her soft skin, and she barely contained her shiver.

Clearing his throat, he looked to the floor where her shorts were still tangled around her feet. He got to work on straightening them and allowed her to slip her other foot into the proper place. He didn't dare look up at her through his next request.

"Think you could put your weight on the leg that's not as sore?"

Nesta swallowed and said, “Yeah, I think so.”

“Use my shoulders to brace your weight, too.”

Her hands trembled as she reached for him. He was solid beneath her, the muscles in his shoulders unyielding under her grip. She had to resist flexing her fingers more firmly in a test of their resilience.

Cassian eased her shorts upward, the roughness of his knuckles tracing the same blazing path as they had over her back. His gaze was fixed resolutely on the floor, yet he managed to release them at the proper moment. The soft pop of the elastic snapped her out of whatever trance she was under, but the echo remained in the feel of his warm hands easing her hips back down to the mattress.

"Maybe we should have someone take a look at you; make sure you're okay." His brows came together when he realized she was already shaking her head in refusal.

"I'll rest a bit, and I'll be fine. I may be sore tomorrow, but I'm good."

Without a word, Cassian braced one of his legs outward and scooped Nesta into his arms. It grated her nerves how easily he'd lifted them both into a standing position.

"What are you doing? You can't make me go to the doctor."

Cassian leaned back and shook his head, trying to get his rogue hair out of his face. "I'm not manhandling you to the doctor, Nes. Settle down." His bottom lip jutted out to try and blow the strands away while he walked. "I'm taking you to the couch and getting you ice."

Oh. Well, that hadn't been what she expected. The gesture was enough to have her mindlessly raise a hand to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear. His eyes snapped to hers, his steps slowing to a stop in front of the couch. Their faces were close enough that she could run her nose along his if she wanted to, but she definitely didn't. Not even at the feel of his firm chest heaving against her.

They stayed that way, transfixed by the contact that was somehow more intimate than when he had draped clothes over her naked body. Their breathing settled into a rhythm together, and Nesta couldn't resist tracing the path of his sharp jaw. His slight stubble scraped against the pads of her fingers, all the way to his chin, where she grazed over his skin with her thumb. She snatched her hand away like he'd burned her.

Cassian's throat bobbed, and his fingers flexed against her ribs. His other hand did the same against her thigh, except his thumb traced a soft, idle path back and forth along the sensitive skin at the back. He made no moves to put her down.

Nesta knew she would regret the loss of his warmth immediately, but the line they flirted was thin. Not to mention, it was irresponsible to succumb to such a base urge considering, any other time, they would be poised to rip each others' heads off.

The shrieks of children at the neighboring beach house snapped their attention to something beyond the bubble they'd created for themselves. Cassian eased her to the couch and positioned pillows around her to keep as much pressure off of her aching joints as possible. He threw a blanket over her legs before heading to the nearby kitchen for ice.

Nesta watched his retreat with shameless appreciation. How had she never stopped to look at him through her current lens? Doing so may have been enough to make her more agreeable in nature. The thought made worry sink in her gut with what had transpired moments before, and she craved the oddly familiar banter they'd engaged in since he showed up to the scene of her demise.

"So," she called, eyes fixed on the intricately patterned throw pillow beneath her injured arm, "how much did you see?"

His voice was closer than she'd expected, but she managed not to startle. "Uh— I mean. I saw some things."

Nesta fixed her glare on him, and he gave her a sideways smile while he placed the ice strategically over her shoulder. She hissed against the cold, earning a look of apology.

"What things?"

He let out along breath. "A bit of everything, really. Not on purpose. " A slight blush turned the tips of his ears pink, but Nesta didn't comment on it. "Mostly, you know—" He gestured back and forth between his pecs. "—everything else was more... indirect, I guess."

Nesta groaned, allowing her forehead to fall to her good hand, cradling it in her palm. Cassian moved to the nearby armchair and took a sip of his bottled water.

"Don't be embarrassed, Sweetheart," he soothed, albeit mockingly. "They're not the worst ones I've seen today."

—

They had watched a movie in loaded silence until the others trudged up to the house near sunset. Nesta gave the cliff notes of how she'd wound up injured on the couch, making no mention of Cassian's help. The last thing they needed was an onslaught of questions from their nosy friends.

"I thought you were coming back out there. What happened to you?"

Cassian's brows drew together at Rhys' question. "Well, I saw Nesta laid up on the couch and offered to watch a movie with her. I lost track of time."

Rhysand eyed him skeptically, but no one questioned it. Cassian redirected everyone's attention to the matter of what they would cook as a group that night, but he was sure to give Nesta strict orders to stay planted on the couch. Overbearing prick.

With so many hands on deck, dinner was ready quickly. They all settled around the table, and Gwyn had made it a point to cushion Nesta's chair with pillows before letting her sit down. Her best friend must have sensed the verbal lashing that awaited her in the privacy of their shared room that night.

Laughter filled the space while they told stories from the day's events. Apparently, Azriel had rescued Gwyn from a feared creature of the deep while taking a dip in the water. He had hardly been able to stop laughing himself to tears long enough to complete the epic tale of how he defeated the bundle of seaweed that had threatened Gwyn's life so mercilessly. The latter hadn't found it quite so amusing, but Az offered her a broad smile in apology.

Nesta wasn't sure she had ever seen one quite so wide on his face, and holy gods. If she'd thought him to be beautiful before, she had been sorely mistaken.

As they usually did, Rhysand and Feyre settled close to each other as the other talked. Rhys was busy murmuring things into Feyre's ear that made her cheeks as red as Gwyn's sunburn, which earned a proper warning from Cassian to "stop being gross with his little sister". Nesta agreed with him enough to refrain from reminding him that he was in no way related to Feyre.

"Don't mind him, Darling," Rhys purred. "He's pouting because the only action he'll see during this trip will be self-directed."

Cassian nostrils flared in annoyance, and for whatever reason, Nesta found herself rising to his defense.

"I don't know," she sang, "I hear Cassian saw a pretty good set today."

A chorus of questions broke out, but he only had eyes for Nesta. The gleam in his eyes told her he knew she hadn't been referring to the ones flashed to him and Azriel after the beach volleyball game.

"I did," he agreed, sipping some of the amber liquid in his glass. "Perfect, actually."

The questions continued, and Azriel reluctantly began recounting the tale of he and Cassian's victory flashing. Nesta used her good arm to raise her wine to her lips, mouthing a subtle thank you over the glass for everything he'd done for her. The least she could do was preserve a bit of his dignity.

Cassian lifted his class in mock cheers and said everything he needed to with a single wink.

The pleasure was all mine.

#nessian #nessian au #acotar au #cassian x nesta #nessian hurt comfort #nessian tension #enemies prompt #800 followers celebration #twsd writes #twsd fics #perseusannabeth #sim tag

[littlefreya]

Penny Dreadful

Summary: Sherlock is cold, troubled and upset, his mind is fixed on cracking an unsolved murder. It’s the worst time to disturb him. But his hot-blooded little succubus wants to drag him into sin.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x OFC (First-person POV)

Word count: 2.5K

Warning: 18+, smut, teasing, bratty behaviour, ass-smacking with a cane, slight cane play, primal play, unprotected rough sex, biting, slight size kink, MaleDom, drug use. Lots of curly hair descriptions.

A/N: Not canon to books Sherlock, obviously, but seeing the photos and teaser Henry as Sherlock just sets up the vibe. So I had to. Many thanks to my beta @agniavateira​ !! Sorry for the ugly cover art :D.

Title: Penny Dreadful

Sherlock’s study was a bleak, musky chamber deprived of heat, notwithstanding the many candles that burnt at every corner. Perhaps it was the pristine heaps of snow that piled on the ledge of the window, or maybe it was his sullen mood that gave the room a sense of icy wilderness. 

Fumes rose from his mouth, vaping into the air. The tawny light kissed his thick mane of luscious, chocolate curls while he stood at the fore of his desk and leered at some parchments that troubled his brilliant mind for whatever reason. 

Fist seizing the golden tip of his cane, his thumb stroked the engravings that embellished the metal. Cases that he couldn’t crack often left him frustrated to the point of madness. Those wicked, sly obsessions made him even more irresistible.  

My nails bit into the wooden doorframe. Consumed by yearning, a blaze licked up my soul with its monstrous tongue. I often wondered how something so pure as love could be dangerous, to which Sherlock would reply, 

“Love is the greatest villain of them all.”

Unlike him, I didn’t care for evil. 

The detective unclipped the small chain he kept fastened to his vest and opened the silver locket, gathering a wisp of white powder on the tip of his pinky finger and pressed it to his nostrils. A small grunt escaped him, his eyes turning glassy. The “fairy dust” tended to sharpen his perception and elevate his stamina.  

I dropped to my knees at his sight, crawling on the floor. The black silks of my dress made a brushing noise as it dragged on the Persian carpet; my breasts peeked as my corset shifted with every move. Sherlock often said we must imagine ourselves as animals once we let desire play our strings. 

Accepting my inner wildness, tonight I was a cougar stalking her prey. 

By nature, his senses were sharp as blades, though the substance that streamed through his veins made a more heightened grip of the reality that surrounded him. He noticed and yet ignored me, letting his hot-blooded harlot crave for his attention.

If I was to be the feline predator, Sherlock was the hunter who pursued me for sport. An unfair game, yet nevertheless my favourite. 

Bathing in my own little fountain of mischief, I allowed my fingers to sneak toward his cane, brushing up and down the mahogany in slow, languid motion. My slender digits licked along the shaft and my bosom followed, pressing against the hardwood. I dragged myself up slightly to glimpse at my master from below: my Sherlock, always a sight for a famished girl; a colossus, intimidating, and breathtaking. Like a moth to a flame, I inched closer dazed by the light, wanting to bask in its radiance. 

The muscle in his cheek tensed, thick brows furrowing. A little squared wrinkle appeared above the bridge of his nose as he brushed through his dark locks with agitation.

“What ills that glorious mind of yours?” I hummed, playful fingertips climbing further up at the length of his cane.

“Something I can’t grasp,” he spat, not giving me the time of day. But I knew he noticed every detail of my wanton behaviour, it was evident by the way his breath swiftly became heavier. Sherlock might have solved crimes by profession, but all women were natural detectives; evolution granted us with a definite survival instinct, learning to read men between the shadows.  

“You can possess me,” I offered, fingers scraping over his thumb as it pressed onto the cane’s golden tip. My voice dropped to a whisper while my hand left the cane in favour of his thigh. The muscle flexed and twitched under my sinful touch, the fabric of his breeches stretched as his cock grew with its natural need to fulfil the wet, convulsing void in me.

“You’re distracting me,” he warned, voice low and stern. His lashes hardly even fluttered to my direction. 

Every delicate little hair stood up at the sound of alarm yet instead, I inhaled the soot of peril, allowing my hand to travel further and meet his hungry girth. It rose to my touch with gratitude, flinching even harder at the clutch of my claws. The flavour of desire was honey and salt on the tip of my tongue.

The low animalistic vibration of his voice wavered through his solid form. I felt it shudder all the way down to his swelling cock. A cautious man, Sherlock was measured and forbearing to a point that made me wonder if he even liked women at all before we fell into the vicious pit of decadence and violent delights. 

It was the contrary that was true: Sherlock loved women very much, his desires were simply… of a certain quality. 

His groin was warm and firm against my cheek. The crystalline-blue glare finally graced me with a sight so brooding my bones clattered.  

“Later, I need to work.” By the drop of his voice, I knew there won’t be a third warning. 

“Later, Later…” I taunted, rolling my chin over his aching need. “All work and no play…”

The gasp that pushed out of my lungs nearly whisked the candles off as Sherlock hauled me up by his hand and bent me over the desk.  

“Should I teach you how to respect my time?” He snarled, throwing the skirts of my dress over my head like a cape of the midnight sky. Stars collapsed under my skin at the sensation of his touch exploring the curve of my bare ass. Talons ruptured the tiny blood vessels, squeezing with the affirmation of his ownership. 

“No undergarments?” Sherlock growled dangerously while his thumb brushed over my silken entrance, toying with the rich elixir and smearing it further down my anticipating petals. I answered with a deep moan, stretching on this desk with a succumbing plea. 

“You came here aimed at disturbing me while I work.”

Settling onto the surface of the desk, I reached forth one arm lazily and chuckled. “You are a great detective, I… oh!” 

Something cold and solid caressed my dripping lips, driving between them in slow, calculated strokes. Throwing my head over my shoulder, I noticed Sherlock holding his cane against my sacred cove, staring at it as if I was yet another piece of evidence to be explored. The golden arched-tip pushed-slightly between my petals and entered just enough to make me hiss. For a mere second I wondered if he was going to fuck me using nothing but his cane.

“Look away; this is going to hurt.” 

I hardly had time to protest when the first smack hit the pillow of my cheek. A wheeze of disgrace shot from my throat, husky and embarrassing, but not as degrading as the sting the metal left at my burning backside.

“Bad girl,” Sherlock ticked his tongue and lifted the cane midway in the air, a flare of noxious desire bursting in his pale-blue orbs. This time I turned away and shut my eyes, gripping the edge of the desk until my knuckles turned dead-white. If only it did anything to dull the pain, the sting was even more prominent, shooting all the way up to my spine where it coiled and forced a strident yip from my clamped lips. 

Yet the throb in my cunt was unmissable.

Sherlock knew very well that the hurt allied with pleasure, enhancing it even, like his powdery magic dust. 

Another smack and my nails scratched at the wood. Like a sinner nun indulging her own beating, I rode the waves of pain as they broke onto shores abundant with pleasure. There were hidden cracks in our public figure, the place where I burnt and Sherlock ascended as we pried our claws into mortal deadly sins. My senses rose to conflict with every smack and Sherlock took joy in every involuntary squirm of my body. 

Tongue pressed between his lips, he hummed as he admired his handiwork, painting my ass in obscene hues of violence. “Had enough? Or want to see which will break first, the rod or your arrogance?” Sherlock chided and pinched my sore cheek to further increase the pain. 

Embers whispered beneath my flesh, my legs jolted from the intense beating and by god, the trickle of my juices rolling down the back of my thighs made even a sultry woman such as myself drown in white shame.

Sherlock’s breath was a heavy guttural waft. His cane dropped to the floor and I heard the sound of metal clicking as he fumbled with his belt. I would be damned if I let him fuck me from behind. To have those eyes look away as he entered me was a vice I wouldn’t stand. 

“No!” I yelled, bracing on my wobbly elbows as much as I could and turned to face him. 

Sherlock’s glare widened, a chill of ice blew through his eyes and his pupils dilated like a crazed feline. “You’re saying no to me?”

“Yes!” I heaved and reached my hands to cradle his skull, pushing myself against the hardness of his body and forcing my lips on his. My kiss was feral, bruising the plush skin on and around his mouth, nibbling and biting until we tasted iron on our tongues. It was not long before I was shoved against the wall, our mouths still united, sharing one breath.

Or rather stealing it from one another.

We were pleasingly unequal. Sherlock was all iron and stone; a bulky, tall man who could tear me apart with his bare hands. I was a little lush thing, so tender, so easily bruised. Despite his power, the desire to claim the tiny wet hole between my legs was unquenchable, reducing him to a savage thing that spoke in raw inarticulate sounds.

He tore his mouth from mine and swept me up from the ground, hiking the skirts of my dress urgently to expose what he coveted the most. I felt the supple velvety texture of his hardness grind against my thigh, smearing the pearly drops of his arousal onto my skin. We both moaned at the sensation and moved to the rhythm dictated by our most primal instincts.  

“You want my cock?” He growled and gnawed his teeth at my neck, biting deep enough to break through the skin. I whined in pain, my voice rising a pitch as I writhed against him to ignite the smallest of frictions and serve the demon of desire in me. 

“Fuck me!” I begged, sliding my fingers through the mass of soft curls and tugging them with need.

Answering my plea, Sherlock speared into my unruly cunt, brutally spreading me open like he would tear the petals from a flower. I yipped into his luscious hair, my nails tearing into his nape as his intrusion claimed everything my body had to offer. I always found it odd how my flesh would resist and beg for him at the same time, my succulent canal fighting to push him by instinct yet he only further rutted into me. He reached his hands to my sore ass to squeeze my cheeks apart.

“Such a tight little harlot,” he groaned, engulfed by my garden of mysteries. Moaning so loudly, our duet reverberated through the corridors of the house. His lashes fluttered with ecstasy as he pulled back only to force me down on his imposing cock, attempting to rip through my denial. Or it was to tame me as I clenched around his girth, accepting and resisting him at the same time. I was nothing but a vessel for him to fill, and he did so with a fiery passion, glaring straight to my eyes while thrusting deep and hard into me.  

Books fell from the shelves nearby as we battled against the wall, my legs sliding up and down his waist, spreading helplessly in the air until my boots pressed into his arse. One of his hands reached for my corset, tugging on the ludicrous outfit to expose my breast. Ravenous, he licked his bloodstained lips, giving me a stare that made my cunt clutch him harder before he sank his fangs to pierce cavities in my tit.

“No!!!” I cried out and gasped as he thrust deeper to punish me for my protest. His heavy cock hit a spot so deep inside me that tears instantly emerged and fell down my cheeks, the pang bringing through a spasm of odd relief. 

Blood and saliva smeared along my cleavage as he dragged his lips further, licking and then kissing every patch he bruised. I moaned breathlessly, throwing my head back against the wall as his nimble fingers surveyed my neck, laying small threats to show me how easy he could simply suspend my very basic need. 

But my survival instincts already flew out the window the moment he penetrated me.

His lips hovered above mine as he fucked deep into my body, our cries creating an obscure symphony as he continuously slammed into my hilt, harder and more urgent with every plunge. The tears that fell down my cheeks were tainted with the conflicting aphrodisiac that pain brought through. In that instant I was whole, gratified by the friction created of the collision of our wet organs.

“Do it!” I gasped and nodded through glossy stares, swallowing hard to gesture what he already knew. With a swift snap of his hands, his fingers were bruising on my neck and he slammed into me at a furious pace, giving no care for my broken screams. 

Euphoria tore through my soul, crashing like hot waves of eternal fire. I came apart around his thick rod crying for God and Satan at once. Sherlock never slowed down, not even as he felt the tightening of my ring around him. It only made him fuck me harder, burying his face at my collarbone, chasing his own rapture at a punishing speed, grunting like a beast. Finally, he shuddered and pumped me full of his thick, silky milk. The muscles of his behind flexed and he ground his hot load into my warm cavern, making sure I received every drop. My hands reached to squeeze his taut ass as my legs clutched him still, wanting to keep him inside me. 

As if he had any intentions of leaving as he moaned and spasmed inside me. 

Smoke filled the room as few of the candles died; the scent of ash and the musk of our sex seeped through our noses while we remained entwined, shaking in each other’s grasp. Breathless and damp with sweat, Sherlock lifted his face from my neck and glanced at me looking so vulnerable, almost appearing lost. I moved my trembling hands back to his face, my thumbs caressing his sharp cheeks. 

“I know I am harsh…” he murmured, his eyes digging into my heart with nothing but a gaze of despair, “but please don’t ever leave me.”

My face fell at the sound of his words, my lips parting with awe. My detective could solve the most outrageous crimes, and yet he couldn’t realise I was shackled to him for all eternity.  

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill fanfiction #sherlock holmes fanfiction #sherlock holmes x ofc #henry holmes #sherlock holmes

[scarofthewind]

Too Far || Slashers x Reader

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A/N: I had two requests that were kind of the same, which I will have below. Warnings, there is angst! Enjoy! 

Request 1 by @brideofcthulhu10 : Hey! First of all I wanna say I absolutely love your slasher fics, very detailed, you have a lot of talent! (I mostly dabble with Lost Boys on my blog!) Anyhoo, I'm not sure if I sent this yet, but I was wondering if you could do Brahms reacting to an S/O who's usually very patient with him crying because of an outburst? Like she's his caretaker who usually can handle his fits, but one day he goes too far screaming in her face, breaking things, and she just falls apart?

Request 2 by anon:  Hi!I was thinking of a request if you wanna do it ofc, with Michael Myers when he is stressed out about something and maybe neglects or takes it out on s/o and she gets reallyy sad and goes for a walk at 3am and he Wakes up and not seeing her makes him feel guilty and sad and starts getting a panick attack just when she is returning and comforts him,im sorry if I’m being so specific I just wanted super angst with fluffy ending with Michael being super needy 🥺 sorry if i bother you

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Brahms Heelshire:

You had never seen him so angry over something so small in the time that you’ve been with Brahms. Not even being able to recall what the fight was about, you stood there in the center of the room that had been utterly destroyed. The lamps that were on either side of the couch were beyond repair, the book case was tipped and all it’s remains were scattered on the floor and the glass topped coffee table had long been broken. Brahms circled you like a feral animal, the glare in his eyes made you look to the floor in fear. You jumped when you heard another object being broken behind you and a coaster went flying by your head from behind you, hitting the wall in front. The small dent in the wall from the coasters collision, reminded you just how strong Brahms was. 

“You can’t do anything right!” He shouted; the sound of glass crashing followed his words. “Why do I even bother keeping you’re pathetic ass around?!” He shoved past you, moving down the hall to grab the coatrack and throw it to the floor. One of the ends broke off and rolled towards you but you didn’t dare move, or even breathe. Your heart pounded ferociously against your chest and you wondered how you hadn’t had heart failures yet from all the stress he puts you through.

“Honestly, I should just get rid of you.” Brahms continued his rampage, breaking things and ripping paintings off the walls. You had become so numb to his usual rampages, that you were surprised when you found tears pooling out from your eyes at his words. Suddenly turning around, he walked over to you and you did your best to tune him out. His words cut like a knife and all you could do was stare forward and pray that this would all blow over. 

But even then, prayers have their limits. “Why can’t you understand that I can’t stand you? You’re nothing but a good fuck and that’s all you will ever be!” That was the icing on the cake. A gasp so silent, it cut through the quiet air, left your lips and that’s when Brahms realized exactly what he’d done. It was like a switch had gone off in his head and the anger was gone, replaced with a guilt and fear of abandonment. His hands moved to cup your face but you almost tripped moving back, his eyes widening at your actions. 

Everything he said was a lie; you both knew it, but he still thought them up somehow and felt like unloading them onto you in that moment. “(Y/N), I didn’t mean it.” Brahms felt sick watching as you backed away from him into the nearest corner he managed to maneuver you in. All the thoughts in his head came to one conclusion: There was nothing he could do or say in that given time that would make you want to stay. 

“Please, listen to me.” He begged, his eyes holding so much fear you almost didn’t recognize the man before you. Brahms reached out to you gently, touching your shoulders and then your neck and then your face. “I didn’t mean any of that. Please forgive me; don’t leave me.” 

Your throat was dry and you had nothing to say, all you could do was stare. “I love you, baby, please talk to me.” You felt his thumbs wipe away the tears on your cheeks and his lips pressed kisses to your forehead. Brahms knew exactly how much he had fucked up and the guilt and shame were eating him alive. “My god, what have I done?” You tensed as he pulled you into a tight and possessive hug. Your arms stayed by your sides, not moving an inch as the words and his face full of anger, kept replaying in your head. “Don’t leave me okay? I can fix this; I’ll fix it, I swear, my love.”

Meaningless. Everything felt meaningless.

But you had nowhere to go and you loved this man, even with all his issues. So, you swallowed any pride you had left and hugged him back, hearing him sob just a bit as he swore up and down that you wouldn’t regret it. 

Michael Myers:

You couldn’t remember how you managed to get out of Michael’s grip while he was sleeping, but somehow you ended up outside in the freezing cold of night, walking down the sidewalk. You had managed to snag one of Michael’s jackets on your way out the door and thanked god it covered you well enough. 

It wasn’t like you and Michael didn’t fight; you did, a lot. Tonight’s was just different and hurt you in more ways than you thought possible. 

“Can’t you fucking leave me alone for once?” Michael’s voice was harsh as he moved away from your hands that were on his back. You realized he’d been under a lot of stress lately and he hadn’t really been himself; you were only trying to help ease the tension.

“Sometimes I really hate you and I think ‘why in the world, did I end up with her?’.” You remember that being the moment your heart sank to your stomach. The cold glare in his eyes was real, not like all the other times he’s done it. 

The moon made your shadow look odd as you watched the pavement before you, every now and then glancing around to see if anyone else was up. Your already puffy eyes burned with the feeling of tears again and you managed to choke them down. “I should’ve let your father kill you. I would be a free man right now.” 

You made your way around the block, making your way back home. “The only time you’re worth it is when your warming my cock.” You stopped, having arrived back at the front door. Your fingers twitched at the doorknob and you wondered if it was really a good idea to go back in. Michael had apologized after the fight and resulted in him not letting you out of an arm’s reach. But still. Was it worth it?

The second you opened the door, the air felt wrong. Shutting it behind you and taking your coat off, you realized why. Everything was torn apart. The furniture was all over the place and some pieces were broken, the TV was shattered and various pictures on the walls were on the ground. Loud sounds of footsteps came from upstairs when you shut the door and Michael practically tackled you. 

To say you were shocked was an understatement. The man who put on a ‘Mr. Tough Guy’ act was now trembling in your arms, pulling you closer to him with each passing second. “Michael.” You said calmly, gently stroking his back with your hands. You heard him sniffle and your made a mental note to remember this moment. 

“Look at me.” Your voice was calming and you were there. You didn’t leave him like he thought. His eyes met yours and you reached up and brushed his tears away, moving his hair from his face and cupping his cheeks in your hands. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

He shook his head, his mouth too dry to speak from all the yelling he did while you were out on a walk. He’d woken up to your side of the bed cold as ice and all he could think was that you finally left him. He tore the house apart looking for you and when he couldn’t find you, he broke. This mountain of a man who hates showing one ounce of actual emotion, broke. 

“That’s good. Can you tell me why the house looks like this?” You asked him, being very careful with your words as his hands once again pulled you against him. 

“I-I was looking for you. I thought you left me.” His body shook as though the thought alone sent a chill down his spine. “You aren’t leaving me right?” His voice was so weak it was hard to remember what this man was actual capable of. 

“Of course not, Michael. I couldn’t sleep and needed some fresh air.” You cooed, peppering kisses along his jaw and chin. “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.” You assured him, nuzzling your face under his chin and letting him hold you close. 

“I’m so sorry for hurting you. I didn’t mean any-” You shushed him, wrapping our arms around his back. 

“I know you didn’t mean it.” Your words were music to his ears and he pulled back enough to bend down and press a kiss to your lips. “Let’s go back to bed, okay? We can clean this up in the morning.” You told him as your lips parted; you led him upstairs and to your bedroom, not leaving his arms for the rest of the night. 

#brahms the boy #brahms heelshire #brahms x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #brahms: the boy 2 #michael myers x reader #Michael Myers #Halloween #slasher imagines #horror x reader #horror imagines #[✉️].request #🥲.angst #🍰.fluff

[taehyungsgrowl]

uhhhh duncan in prison angst 👀👀

hey 👋🏽

i’m sorry this took me so long to answer! but i did make a lil moodboard to go w it :•)

also i've written quite a bit of angst lately so this will be a little angsty, but also smutty.

long distance(?) old school version of sexting, really

hope y'all enjoy!

(yes, i did just discover the indention feature!)

warnings: angst if you squint, h*rny love letters, prisoners cat calling y/n, aaaand smut

word count: 3.5 k (i really don't know how this was supposed to be less than 1,000)

i don't love how this came out but the idea kept floating around in my head so i wanted to share!

Y/N didn't think what started as a harmless little experiment would show her just how powerful words could be.

She scrolled through row after row of photos on the 'write a prisoner' website on a boring evening just for something to do. And now each time she got a letter in the mail from him, her stomach would flutter.

Her finger stopped mid scroll as she came across the photo of the scruffy faced man with cheekbones carved by the gods and eyes clearer than the skies.

Duncan Shepherd.

Her eyes scanned his profile, learning that he was being held in a minimum security prison out of D.C for numerous white collar crimes, including bribery and extortion. He listed his interests as fine arts and finer wines. He'd be out for parole soon but was looking for a way to pass his time in prison.

Out of the hundreds of prisoners Y/N had scrolled past, none of them held her interest like Duncan.

It started off innocently enough. She grabbed a piece of paper from her drawer and her favorite pen and wrote him a simple introduction letter. Even if Duncan didn't seem like a dangerous or violent criminal, she felt a sense of adrenaline in writing him.

Duncan,

I hope this letter finds you well. I like to imagine you get a lot of mail sent to you. I read on your profile that you're a fan of the arts, I'd love to know more about you and what kind of art you enjoy. Truth is, I don't even know why I'm doing this, but figured prison must be lonely so I hope this helps pass the time.

I included a print of one of my favorite pieces of art to hopefully liven up your cell.

All the best,

Y/N

Y/N knew it wasn't much to start off with, but she had no clue what to send to a strange she knew next to nothing about. She printed off a print of one of Monet's Water Lillies and sealed it in an envelope with her first letter.

She let herself forget she sent the letter, not making any expectations. For all she knew, Duncan Shepherd wouldn't even reply to her. It would be hard to imagine that other people browsing the site would ignore Duncan's profile. His beauty, even in a mugshot was beyond compare.

But before long, she'd gotten a beat up envelope in her mailbox from none other than Duncan Shepherd. Excitement buzzed around her as she took a seat in her bed and tore it open.

Y/N,

Thank you for the lovely picture. I've got it hanging above my bed as a reminder of things I loved about my freedom. My mother has an original piece hanging in my childhood home. I remember staring at it for hours, enthralled by the beauty of it.

I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw the print in your envelope.

You know what they say about great minds.

Sometimes I wonder if my family would have let me pursue the arts if I'd be where I am today.

But I am eagerly counting the days until I am able to stroll through a museum in Paris again.

I am dying to know more about you. Tell me what makes up Y/N.

At the bottom of the sheet, was a rough sketch of a garden Duncan had drawn out for her.

The letters continued like that for a few weeks, slowly learning little bits and pieces of each other through writing.

She'd learned a lot about him very quickly. He told her about how troubles with his app and his powerful family led to him going to prison. And he also told her about all of the things he loved to do. Much to her surprise, she had more in common with him than she thought she would have,

Y/N,

We've been writing to each other for some time now and I must admit, curiosity is killing me. Not to mention, I do believe it's unfair that you've known what I look like from the start.

Tell me, did my photograph have anything to do with your interest in me?

I'd love to see you Y/N.

Y/N re-read the letter over and over trying to justify the butterflies in her stomach at the idea of Duncan thinking about her. Wondering what she looks like.

Duncan kept every letter Y/N had sent him using them as a way to fuel his daydreams of the woman behind the letters.

-

Y/N dug through her things in search of an old polaroid camera she had. - she thought Duncan would appreciate the use of instant film. Even if she felt a little silly doing so, she did her hair and makeup and searched her closet for the perfect outfit. In some way, this would be like Duncan's first impression of her. Little did she know, she'd already made a huge first impression with him.

She settled for a deep burgundy silk tank with a cowl neckline. She tossed her favorite leather jacket over it and put on her favorite dainty gold necklaces, letting them rest above her cleavage.

She made a little set up by the window in her room, where the light came in just right for a photo, and propped the camera up on a pile of books before setting it on an automatic timer to have it snap the photo of her.

She stared at the photo, smiling - happy with the results.

Y/N sat at her desk, writing him another letter and including her photo along with it.

-

Duncan opened his new letter from Y/N letting the photo fall from the envelope. He picked it up and stared in awe. He couldn't even focus on reading the words on the page as he stared at her picture.

In his mind, he expected her to be beautiful but was blown away by her photo.

He kept it safe, tucked under his pillow. He would take it out every night to look at it until he fell asleep dreaming of her.

Duncan saw her face... eyes clenched shut... pouty lips formed into a perfect "O" as her thighs surrounded his face.

He saw his hands traveling up her legs... kissing up her bare stomach... kissing her lips.

Everything felt so real.

Duncan woke up in a hot sweat from his over realistic dream. He could almost imagine her taste on his tongue.

The moon shone into his room giving him a sliver of silver light and he pulled her photo out, tracing his finger over her face.

He turned on the little lamp at his desk and sat down to write her back.

I can't tell you the time, but I believe it's past midnight and I can't sleep without dreaming of you.

Forgive me if I'm being forward, but I can't get you off my mind.

What I would give to be with you now...

Y/N, I want to feel your skin on mine. I imagine what it must feel like to have your lips pressed against my own.

I can't stop myself from thinking of all the ways I want to make you mine.

D.S.

--

I want to make you mine.

Y/N kept going back to those words.

If it weren't for the prison bars keeping Duncan away...

Her daydreams of spending the afternoons sipping coffee and strolling through colorful cities with Duncan began to change after the last letter. Knowing that he wanted her sent shivers down her spine.

I can't stop thinking about you either... Especially your last letter.

I want to know all the ways you'd make me yours.

I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about it as well. I'm counting the days with you until you're able to get out and do just that...

Y/N colored her lips with her favorite lipstick and kissed the bottom of the page, leaving the perfect kiss mark on it.

She had unlocked something with Duncan with the last letter. Ever since he and Y/N started to exchange letters back and forth, he hadn't even bothered to open mail from other admirers. He only had eyes for Y/N.

Y/N.

Wish you could hear how your name falls off my lips as I chant it over and over when I bring myself relief - picturing your lips around my cock.

God.

It's hard to think clearly when you're on my mind.

You want to know of all the ways I'd make you mine? My hand would fall off by the time it took to write out each and every way I'd do that, sweetheart.

For starters, I'd love to skin my teeth into your skin. Leaving sweet love bites along your neck. Would you like that?

I wouldn't want you to worry about a thing.

You'd let me take care of you, right baby?

Maybe I'd tie up your wrists to make sure you keep still while I work on making you cum.

I hope you know I plan on keeping these promises the moment I get out.

Y/N touched herself as she read Duncan's letter again. His words making her pool between her legs. She dipped her hand into her panties and imagined everything Duncan described that he'd do to her.

Y/N wanted to do something special for Duncan.

She changed into a lacy lingerie set and grabbed her old camera again. Her heartbeat was beating fast with excitement. She held one hand up with her finger on the shutter and pointed it towards her bottoms. As she dipped her free hand into the waistband of her panties, she took the teasing shot of her hand inside her underwear.

Her cheeks felt hot as she took a look at the photo.

She took a few more. A few more teasing pictures - like the one she took wearing her leather jacket barely covering her - along with more R- rated photos.

She grabbed her small stack of photos and tied them with a piece of ribbon in order from least to most risque and added them to the letter she sent off to him.

Do you know what you do to me?

My letters make you touch yourself? What I would give to be able to see it in more than just your pictures. To be able to hear you for myself.

You don't know how much I loved your photos. You make my cock throb, thinking of just how much I want to fuck you.

I need to see you. Hear you.

How would you feel about coming to see me?

I can arrange with my assistants (the ones not in prison) to arrange a flight for you...

Please let me know what you think.

Love, D.S.

Love D.S.

-

"Shepherd. You got a call," the guard buzzed Duncan out of his cell and took him to the phone booth where the phone was waiting for him.

He wasn't expecting a call from his lawyer until later this week so he wasn't sure who would be calling him. Not like he and his family were on great terms at the moment.

Y/N tapped her foot anxiously on the other end of the call, trying to fight the nerves off.

"Hello?"

His voice was lower than she expected.

"Hi," she spoke barely above a whisper. "It's Y/N," she continued.

"Y/N? Y/N? Oh my god." Duncan smiled in a way he hadn't since he stepped foot into prison. "Your voice!" he laughed, "I'm hearing your voice! Wait, how? I - why? How?" he was at loss for words at the surprise.

"I hope it's okay. I called the office where I send my letters to and asked to call you," she bit her lip. "I like your voice."

Duncan chuckled, shaking his head. "Wow. It's so good to hear yours."

They knew they didn't have much time but they were both so wrapped up in the fact that they were hearing each other for the first time.

"I, uh, also wanted to talk to you about your... proposal from your last letter... about visiting you I mean." she paced back and forth in her room. "I'd like that. A lot."

His cheeks would be hurting from how hard he was smiling.

"You've got it, baby. We'll make it happen, I promise."

There was a brief pause, "Don't know how I'm gonna control myself when I have you in front of me, princess."

"Two minutes, Shepherd," the guard called over making Duncan roll his eyes.

"I have to go soon. But include your info in the next letter and I'll have my lawyers work something out with you, okay?"

"Okay," she smiled. "And Dunc, it's so good to hear your voice too,"

"You'll call me again?" he asked, desperation almost bleeding into his tone.

"Yes. I promise."

"Good." he grinned. "I'll talk to you soon. Bye, baby."

-

Over the next few weeks, Y/N and Duncan continued to have phone calls more often, but their letters never stopped. He got in touch with his attorney and passed along Y/N's information for him to follow up and help arrange a trip for her.

Before she knew it, she was being flown out in a first class seat to D.C.

They had her stay in a luxury suite the night before she got to finally meet Duncan.

The morning of, Y/N had piles of clothes tossed around the room as she searched for what to wear.

She'd known Duncan and his taste pretty well from his letters and phone calls to know what he liked. Y/N put on a baby pink silk mini slip dress that tiptoed the line between streetwear and lingerie, and strappy heels.

"Damn, baby. Haven't seen you around here..."

"Are you here for me?"

Along with countless other cat calls flooded her ears as the guard led her to Duncan's cell.

Duncan heard the commotion down the hall and he knew Y/N would be there any second. He frowned, wanting to take her away. None of those creeps deserved to even look at her, and here they were harassing her. It was his fault for bringing her there. He tried to tune them out, wanting to be okay when he saw Y/N.

Y/N was standing behind the guard as they came to Duncan's cell.

"Follow me, Shepherd. You both have an hour," the guard let Duncan out and he could finally lock eyes with Y/N.

She froze, finally seeing. His photo on the website did him no justice. The piercing stare of his eyes couldn't be recaptured on camera. His pink, full lips were even prettier in person.

"Hi," Duncan broke the silence between them. He was handcuffed immediately so he couldn't touch her the way he wished he could have right away.

But they were taken to the parloir where they would finally have some sense of privacy. Duncan's lawyers had worked out for this conjugal visit. They might have slipped the guards a few extra bills to ensure Duncan and Y/N had extra privacy for a moment. But Duncan had been a model prisoner (in one of the comfiest prisons in the country), so the guards had no reason to say no.

"One hour." he reminded Dunc, as he removed his handcuffs and left the room, leaving Y/N and Duncan alone.

"You're here," he closed the gap between them and embraced her. She smelled even better than he imagined.

"Duncan," she smiled with tears in her eyes, "I can't believe it's really you," she giggled.

"It's me," he pulled back, holding her hands as he admired her. "God, you're gorgeous."

Y/N couldn't help herself. She threw her arms around Duncan and kissed him.

Duncan stumbled back a little before steadying them. He cupped her face and deepened the kiss. He could feel her pulse quickening under his hand.

"God, can't believe you're here," he mumbled against her lips.

It'd be so long since he'd be this intimate with anyone - let alone someone he liked so much. He tried to push back the thoughts of the ticking clock counting their time and the cold industrial feel of the room they were in.

"I'm here... I'm yours," she tangled her fingers in his hair before kissing him again.

Duncan led her to the table, setting her on top of it. He towered above her, his hands on her thighs, slowly inching up her dress. She was everything he imagined and more.

"Open your legs for me," he instructed, parting them open.

He lowered himself until he was face to face with her dripping cunt. Her panties, if they could even be called that - they were a piece of barely-there cloth - were soaked. Duncan pressed her lips to the wet spot on her underwear and kissed it slowly, letting his tongue poke out through his lips and coat them with his saliva as well.

"Taste so sweet," he murmured, pulling her panties aside and putting his tongue on her wet pussy.

He lapped her wetness with his tongue, letting it massage her clit. Sucking and kissing her - watching how every move he made caused a different reaction from her.

Y/N tried to keep quiet, biting down on her lip to stifle her moans.

Duncan peeked up at her, holding in her sounds. He remembered the way the other prisoners hollered at her.

"I wanna hear you, baby. Please," he begged. He kissed along her thighs, "Want everyone in this god damn prison to know you're mine."

Y/N let the sounds she was holding in fall freely.

"Duncan. Duncan..." she called his name over and over getting closer to the sweet relief his tongue promised.

"Cum for me, sweetheart."

Duncan felt her heels digging into his shoulder blades as she trembled, finishing on his lips.

"Good girl," he praised, kissing along her thighs.

Duncan stood up as Y/N watched him with her hands pressed on the table, leaning back slightly to watch him.

"What?" Duncan chuckled, slowly undoing his jumpsuit.

"Just can't stop looking at you! You're real!" she laughed.

"Sure am," he grabbed his shaft, closing the gap between them. "I don't know when we'll be able to see each other.. like this again," he leaned down to kiss her. "Wanna make sure I make you feel good,"

He rubbed the end of his cock against her pussy. "Are you ready?"

"Waited so long," she whined, nodding her head.

Duncan pushed inside her, slowly. Savoring the way he stretched her open.

"Fuck," he groaned. "You're so tight," he panted, feeling her clench around his length.

He focused on the way he snapped his hips into hers, keeping a steady pace trying not to finish before she did.

But it had been so long. It had been a long time coming for this moment.

His head was in the crook of her neck, panting heavily. "Fuck, baby." he sunk his teeth into her soft skin. "Gonna cum," before he could finish his statement, he shot his load into her.

He stayed inside her as he rode out his orgasm.

Flushed Duncan faced her; embarrassed for finishing before he wanted to. "I'm sor-" she stopped him by pulling him in for a hard, deep kiss.

She pushed his hair out of his face, bumping her nose with his, "Nothing to be sorry for."

She had Duncan lay on the floor, using his jumpsuit to hold his head up, and then straddled his waist.

Her silky mini dress was bunched around her hips. Duncan found himself getting hard again as she climbed on top of him.

"Thought about doing this for so long," she kissed him. "Can't tell you how often I touched myself reading your letters... thinking about riding you," she sighed, positioning herself over his cock and sinking down.

She rode his cock, bouncing up and down his length. Her nails dug into his chest as she used it for support. The curve of his cock hitting her core made her eyes roll back with each roll of her hips.

Hot sweaty bodies had the coldness of the room forgotten.

Y/N grabbed Duncan's hands, intertwining their fingers, "Gonna.." she started, her legs shaking as her movement got sloppier.

"Me too," he grunted.

She felt Duncan fill her to the brim for the second time.

After a few moments of stillness, Y/N finally stood up, helping Duncan up with her. Her legs were shaky and Duncan helped her sit down.

She reached into her purse for a rag she brought. Duncan took it from her hand and got on his knees again. He cleaned their cum off her thighs, stopping only to give her small little kisses on her legs.

He heard Y/N sniffle and looked up, concern painted across his face. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" Is she regretting it? He thought.

"No! Of course not," she sniffled again, "I just wish... you could come with me. Leave this place with me."

"Oh, baby," he stood up and kissed her forehead. "Soon. I promise," he tilted her chin up to kiss her.

And Y/N knew he meant what he said. Soon they'd be able to be together all the time, but it still broke her heart to leave and have to see him stay behind the metal bars.

tags:

@desertsunflower00 @celestialrequiem @dhampiravidi @ritualmichael @blakescoven @dark-mei-rose @xavierplympton @langdonswhoreprobably @feralthoughtdump @wroteclassicaly @melodylangdon @bloodcoatedeclipse @kitty4860

bonus: screenshot from a very good point drunk!anon made vkfsjk

#duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd smut #duncan shepherd angst #duncan shepherd x reader #cody fern #house of cards #hoc #i didnt know who would like to be tagged or not so lmk if i need to make changes to the tl #thank you!!! #submission

[rivers-rambles21]

The one with the marathon

Part 7 of The one where Bucky has a cute neigbour series!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader (f)

Summary | Reader and Bucky become friends after he saves her from  a creep in their apartment building. Each chapter explores a different  point in their friendship - very slow burn!

Warnings | 18+ only, Smut in later chapters (this is a slow burn), swearing, unprotected sex, oral sex, (later chapters)

Mentions of PMS in this chapter! I’ve also given Y/N a couple of interests to add a bit more to the story to help it progress

Will include elements of TFATWS in later chapters

Chapter 7 |Chapter 6 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 1 | Masterlist

You’d been doing your best to dodge Bucky as soon as you felt your body's usual symptoms start to develop. It started as it always did with feeling bloated before the short temperedness set in. Bucky was sweet and kind and he didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of your temper so you opted out of your usual Friday night pizza with him, giving the excuse of being called into work which he accepted with disappointment. 

Saturday morning came and as usual, painkillers did nothing to soothe the ache in your lower gut. Traipsing into your kitchen, you filled the kettle up with water before putting it on the hob and started to root around for your hot water bottle whilst you waited for the water to boil. 

A knock on your door interrupted your hunt and rather reluctantly, you made your way over to the door, unbothered by your sleepwear attire. 

Swinging the door open, you instantly regretted not ignoring it. 

“Hey doll” 

It was upsetting seeing Bucky look so good on a morning when you felt so rotten. Even worse, you were fully aware of how you currently looked - unbrushed hair, no make up and Bucky’s t-shirt which only just covered the tops of your thighs. Self consciously, you eased the door closed a little bit and shielded your body from view. 

“Hi Bucky, what’s up?” You asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. 

“Can I come in?” He asked, tilting his head to the side as he tried to catch more of a glimpse of you. 

“Now’s not a great time…” You grumbled, feeling guilty as you saw the smile drop from his face. 

“Are you avoiding me?” The words rushed out of his mouth before he had time to stop them. 

Taken aback by his forwardness, you paused for a moment, your jaw opening and closing as you didn’t quite know how to respond. “I’m sorry, you don’t owe me an explanation. It’s just I heard you in your apartment last night crying but you said you were at work and I was worried-” 

He started to ramble as he panicked he’d overstepped the mark so you swiftly cut him off. “Don’t be, you’re right, I have been avoiding you.” 

“....oh” Bucky's eyes shot down to the floor as he nodded his head. Your admission cut deep and every insecurity Bucky felt rushed to the surface as he processed your words. “I thought-” he started but not quite knowing how to finish his sentence.

You cursed your inability to think before speaking as you reached out towards him, no longer caring about your appearance as you took his metal hand in yours. “It’s nothing you did, I’m just not myself at the moment, I’m not exactly great to be around when it's my time” You emphasised the last bit, hoping he’d get the hint without having to spell it out. 

You were wrong. 

Bucky lifted his head and looked back at you, confusion etched across his handsome features. “You’ve lost me” 

“Remember how you got that scar on the back of your head?” 

“Yeah my sister threw a book at me” 

“Uhuh, and do you remember why she did that?” 

“I ate the biscuits she saved for when she- oh!” It suddenly hit Bucky as to what you’d been hinting at and suddenly he felt like the world’s biggest idiot. 

“Safe to say me and your sister have the monthly mood swings in common” You joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Well...um… if you need me, you know where I am” 

“Thanks Buck” You smiled up at him and tried not to swoon on the spot as he leant towards you, his lips pressing against your forehead, gently kissing you as he cradled the back of your head with his hand. 

His thumb stroked the back of your neck as his lips left your skin, sending shivers down your spine. 

“I’m sorry for avoiding you, I thought I was saving you” 

“Trust me, I’ve survived worse” He joked, tucking one of your many stray hairs behind your ear. It suddenly dawned on you what your current state of attire was and you hastily tried to flatten your hair and pull the t-shirt down to cover more of your bare legs. 

Bucky tried his best to avert his eyes from your state of undress, not having taking note of how you donned his t-shirt beforehand, too focused on your wellbeing but he found himself failing miserably. You were too cute with your bed head hair sticking up in random places and slightly dark eyes where you’d not completely removed yesterday's mascara. And then there was his t-shirt. Fuck - he’d nearly lost it when you’d warn it the night you’d gotten locked out of your apartment but thankfully your legs were covered. But now? It was driving him mad seeing inch upon inch of bare skin, his t-shirt barely covering your underwear. He wanted nothing more than to shove you against the wall and run his hands over your impossibly soft skin. 

The sound of your kettle boiling over snapped him out of it and he watched as you darted over to the kitchen, leaving him standing in the doorway, facing away from you as he was positive he’d be able to see your ass as you walked. 

“I’ll come back doll” 

Before you had a chance to respond, he’d already closed your door behind him. 

Hastily, you made up your hot water bottle and quickly jumped into the shower, unsure as to when he would return. 

Half an hour later, Bucky was back at your door, grocery bag in hand. “I’ve brought you a few things for... y’know.” 

Opening your door wide for him, you chuckled at his awkwardness and gestured for him to come in. “You really didn’t need to-are those Peanut Buttercups?!” Rushing towards him you grabbed the bag out of his hands and began rummaging through his purchases. 

Laughing at your response he left you to it as he hung up his jacket next to yours as he usually did and took up his spot on your couch. 

“I remember what Rebecca was like and figured you might appreciate a bit of sugar.” 

You could only moan in response as you devoured your chocolate treat. Grabbing your hot water bottle from the side table, you made your way over to the couch and sank into the seat next to Bucky, resting your head against his shoulder. 

“Any plans for today?” You asked, holding up the last bite of your candy bar. 

“Nope” Leaning forward, he took the chocolate from you using his teeth as he finished it off.

“Then you’re in for a treat” You sunk deeper into the sofa as he lifted his arm up, resting it along the top of the couch cushion, letting you lean further into him. Bucky also took the opportunity to pull the blanket from the couch down onto you, tucking you into his side. 

To say Bucky was excited when you told him there were sequels to The Hobbit would be an understatement. For him to then find out they were turned into movies was almost too much.

He was in heaven. He was watching Middle Earth come to life, just how he imagined it would be whilst cuddled up against his favourite girl. 

He wished it could be like this all the time, when he was with you the memories of who he was before subsided, along with all the guilt and shame. Even when he was in Wakanda, he hadn’t dared to dream of having any sort of normal life, he’d accepted it just wasn’t on the cards for him. That he’d always be alone. 

When Steve left, that only solidified his belief that he was destined to be alone. Part of him was okay with that, this way he wouldn’t hurt anyone ever again. But the other part of him, the part that even Hydra couldn’t wipe out, longed for a companion, whether it be platonic or romantic.

Finding you was a miracle. You were so carefree, so honest, open and kind. You put up with his old fashioned ways, you didn’t make fun of his odd quirks or question why sometimes he needed to just be on his own. You both also had a lot in common, you both enjoyed modern technology and sciences and often found yourselves watching documentaries and educational pieces on TV together. Bucky was also delighted to learn you were obsessed with motorcycles and was planning a road trip for you both for when you next had some time off work - a surprise he was having a hard time hiding from you. 

Half way through the first film he felt you nodding off, having come down from the sudden sugar intake. Pulling you tighter against him, he kissed your head and lowered the volume on the TV, not wanting to wake you. 

As the second film started, you stirred awake, the cramps returning with a vengeance. As you opened your eyes you realised you’d snuggled into Bucky, nuzzling into his chest, leaving a small amount of drool on his black t-shirt. Jolting backwards, you hastily wiped your mouth and tore yourself from his arms in embarrassment. 

Bucky’s eyes hadn’t strayed from the TV as he remained completely emerged in Middle Earth. 

“Sorry I didn’t realise-”

He quickly shushed you as he continued watching the film. However he did miss your warmth and spread his arms wide, inviting you back into your previous position. “C’mere” 

Trying not to read too much into it, you smiled and sank back into his arms, sighing as they wrapped around you, his right hand resting over your stomach, soothing your cramps. 

It was well into the night when you finished your movie marathon, both of you enjoying every minute. You knew friends didn’t cuddle - not like this. They didn’t make your heart race like Bucky did. They didn’t make butterflies erupt in your stomach every time they so much as looked at you. 

You were in trouble.

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #romance #fluff #slow burn #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #tfaws spoilers #tfawts #tfatws

[draconic-ichor]

In the Steel Steeds Heart

Chapter 22: Reservoir House Call

Warnings: strong language, sexual themes, body horror

Summary: Moraue needs Heisenberg’s help.

Feedback appreciated, 18+

Movement tripped the alarms, something deep in the factory stirred the sensors. Heisenberg and Juniper entered the control room. He sat in the chair, looking over the cameras.

“What the fuck it that?!” Juniper pointed to one of the screens. Heisenberg turned to look where her finger led.

Down on the lowest reaches of the factory, where water from the reservoir flowed through the factory a large shape lumbered out.

It was a mass of fat and eyes, pulling free of the water with multiple legs.

“Aw Christ…” Heisenberg sat back in his chair rubbing the bridge of his nose, “it’s Moreau.”

 

“That’s Moreau??” Juniper said in disbelief.

By the time they made it down to the lowest level, Moreau had changed back into his more humanoid form, coughing near the edge of the waterway.

“H-Hello Juniper.” The man croaked. Seeing him now, without his usual coverings was a sight to behold. His back was covered with bulbous, pulsing growths. Damn, some looked to be monstrous eyes. A vestigial aquatic tail poked out from the mass, moving on its own accord. It looked painful, forcing the man into a hunchback.

“H-Hello.” Juniper managed.

“Yea Yea, fish.” Heisenberg stomped up, “What do you want, I’m busy.”

Moreau seemed to worry his hands, glancing down, “Brother…I…I need your help.”

“I fucking know that, what is it?” Heisenberg interjected, annoyed.

His tone made the other flinch a bit, “My television…i-it broke. I can’t f-fix it.”

Heisenberg signed, thinking over the situation. “I’ll come fix it.” He finally spoke.

Moreau’s face lit up with hope, shuffling his feet a bit. He turned towards Juniper, “You’ll come too?”

“Sure.” She nodded tentatively, hearing Heisenberg groan behind her.

“I can take you over!” The man gestured to the water excitedly.

Juniper felt a shiver, remembering what emerged from the water, until Heisenberg cut in again. “Thanks but…uh…fuck that.” He waved his hand, “Well take our own way.”

Slightly dejected, Moraue nodded, “I’ll meet you there.”

“Mhm.” Heisenberg shrugged tightly. Before anyone would speak again the fish man turned and jumped back into the waterway.

~

“Is that a purse?” Juniper asked amused. They walked towards the Reservoir, the ground muddy from the melted snow.

“It’s a tool bag.” Heisenberg answered through gritted teeth. He pulled the bag closer, it was letter and hung around his shoulder at hip level.

“It looks like a purse.” Juniper snickered, earning a growl of annoyance from Heisenberg.

As they drew nearer, past the town, the ground grew more sodden. The air slowly began to gain a certain smell, like the rotting of waterlogged plants. Juniper wrinkled her nose.

They walked through a narrow passage between a cliff face, Heisenberg holding back a bramble patch for Juniper to safely squeeze through.

She could see the windmills now, old and groaning as they slowly turned. Most of the land surrounding them had long since been lost to the rising water. The roofs of houses and other debris could be seen floating on top of the murky water.

“This is it.” Heisenberg announced, “The beautiful Reservoir, perfect place to cool off in the summertime. Just watch out for the fish!” His voice mimicked an old radio announcer as he split his face into a cheeky smile.

Juniper brushed him away, walking towards the edge to look into the swirling water.

“Be careful, buttercup.” Heisenberg came up behind her, “Won’t be able to fish you out if you sink in that.”

She felt a little shiver run down her spine.

She stepped away from the water, “So where does Moreau live?”

Heisenberg gestured for her to follow, easing his tool bag more comfortably on his shoulder. They entered the closest of the windmills. The old wooden mechanism slowly turned and groaned as they took stairs deeper into the underground. They came to a lift, resembling ones in the factory, but this one was wooden.

They rode it down into what looked to be an old mine. Juniper’s eyes caught the glittering flecks of crystals embedded into the rocky ceiling.

Going deeper still, with the far off shuffling of Lycans in abandoned mining shafts, they finally came to a metal door.

It bore the crest of Miranda.

“Don’t touch anything.” Heisenberg warned, “I don’t want you getting any diseases.”

Before Juniper could scold him he knocked at the door.

They heard mumbling and the scraping of feet across the wooden floors before the door opened. Moreau was a mixture of joy and apprehension, greeting them inside.

His ‘house’ was one of the mine shafts that had been converted into a living space. There were wooden floors and walls, and some furniture about. It was definitely sparse, save for some shelves with old books and storage containers.

Everything looked to be heavily damaged by water and the goo that Moraue would produce, not to mention the off colored stains that Juniper didn’t want to ask about.

It smelled about as one would expect, given the circumstances.

“I’m sorry…about the mess.” Moraue picked up a pile of old magazines, their covers warped and faded.

“It’s alright.” Juniper tried to sooth.

“So where is the tv?” Heisenberg asked with disgruntlement.

“Oh!” The twisted man exclaimed, “It’s right over here.” He padded around a corner into another small room. An old television set was staked on a crate, some soft things and boxes of films close by. This room looked to be the space he spent most of his time.

“Thank you, Heis-Heisenberg.” Moraue stammered.

“Yea, yea.” Heisenberg strode forward, kneeling down behind the machine. He placed the bag of tools beside him, pulling out a screwdriver.

Juniper wandered back to the entertainment room, Moreau curiously following her.

Heisenberg, busy with his task, took no mind of them. He wanted to finish this job as quickly as possible.

Getting all the screws loose he was able to free the back panel. It came away with an odd sucking sound, goo oozing out with it. The slimy substance hit Heisenberg’s boots as the television gave small sparks.

“Fucking hell!” Heisenberg grimaced at his boots, shaking the panel free of the muck.

“The TV is full of your green shit slime!” Heisenberg yelled into the next room. He heard more apologies from the room over. Grumbling, he began to clean out the inside of the box.

Juniper walked along the wall, looking at various  things that were hung alone it. Most of it was old gushing memorabilia but a few worn picture frames peaked her interest.

One photo in particular stood out. It was faded, the edges being ate up with mold. But she could still make out a man, stocky with jet black hair. He stood proudly in front of a clinic. She squinted her eyes to read the sign in the photo: Moreau’s Clinic.

“Sal?” Juniper turned, pointing to the photo, “Is this you?”

Moreau came closer, looking to where her finger led. His wide mouth parted in a smile as he spoke, “Oh yes!”

“Were you a doctor?” Juniper turned back towards the photo. Looking now she could see the shadows of his features hidden away under all the twisted flesh.

He nodded, “Yes, I took over the clinic. It was my Father’s. I helped people…before…before all..”

His voice trailed off, but Juniper understood.

He shook his head a bit, his smile returning, “But I help Mother Miranda now! I try to make her proud of me.”

Juniper gave him a small smile, knowing that nothing she said would sway his devotion.

“Heisenberg said you were sick.” Moraue looked up at her, his good eye full of worry.

Feeling her stomach she answered, “I went through a lot recently, but I’m feeling much better now.”

“Mother’s gifts hurt sometimes.” He tried to sooth, “But it’s worth it, she wants us to be strong.”

She tried to nod, her gut turning a bit at the memories.

“You are Heisenberg’s helper?”Moreau tried to change the subject.

Heisenberg’s voice sounded from the other room, “She’s my wife!” He corrected.

Moreau gave a small ‘oh’. Juniper’s cheeks bloomed with a rosy blush.

“I’m trying to teach him some manners.” She whispered mischievously, earning a warbling chuckle from Moreau.

“I heard that!” Heisenberg yelled again making the two snicker harder.

~

It was a good few hours before Heisenberg was able to get the inside of the machine clean and in working order once more. He had to use his powers with electricity to rewire some parts, replacing one of the tube bulbs and showering it with a plethora of curses for good measure during the whole ordeal.

Juniper kept Moraue occupied and out of Heisenberg’s hair. He had convinced her to look at his collection of finishing lures. Given his simple speech patterns and twisted visage one would think him very dim; but he was surprisingly intelligent and talkative with certain topics. Fishing was one of those topics, Juniper discovered.

The sound of boots tore them from their conversations, Moraue closing the old wooden tackle box to look up.

“Well I got it working again…but damn your slime mess is really fucking it up.” Heisenberg announced, holding his tool bag.

Moreau took Juniper’s hand excitedly, “Would you want to see one of my movies?”

“No, no.” Heisenberg interjected.

“One movie?” Juniper looked at him with big puppy eyes, “Just to make sure it’s working properly.”

The two looked at Heisenberg expectantly. After a long moment Heisenberg pinched the bridge of his nose and cursed, “Jesus fuck…Fine!”

As Moreau excitedly went through his box of films Heisenberg pressed, “Only one.”

“Thank you.” Juniper whispered, hugging Heisenberg softly.

Rolling his eyes, Heisenberg hisses, “I don’t know why you humor him.”

“Because it’s a nice thing to do.” Juniper snapped under her breath, “Don’t be so mean.”

When he didn’t speak she gave a little huff, wandering closer to the crouched Moreau.

The man was sifting carefully though the films, mumbling things to himself.

Juniper made a sound of surprise pointing into the box, “You have ‘The Secret Garden’?”

Moreau nodded, pulling that film free. It was the 1949 version, in black and white.

“I used to love that book.” Juniper spoke excitedly, “Can we watch that one?”

Moreau, just overjoyed to have company, instantly agreed.

Heisenberg leaned against the far wall, watching them set up the television. Moreau apologized profusely for not having proper seating, while Juniper shrugged and sat on the floor.

He smiled as the two became quiet when the movie started, walking quietly up to sit besides Juniper. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer as he settled in.

The movie wasn’t his cup of tea, liking westerns or thrillers more himself, but the quiet was nice. Even if the place was damp and smelled.

#resident evil village #karl heisenberg #heisenberg x oc #re8 oc #heisenberg #in the steel steeds heart #resident evil