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help-itrappedmyself · 1 year ago

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Summoning Game Show Part 6

Masterpost

“You had me going for a bit there, but that was pretty good.” Danny admits, clearing the screen away. “How come you know so much about space?”

“Learned some of it in school.” Red replies, hand coming up to rub the back of his head. “I do some work in the sciences now, engineering, and I’ve actually had to go to space a few times for the gig.” The hand lowers as he shrugs. “ Plus, I just like to know things.”

Danny has stars in his eyes now. “You’ve been to space?”

“Oh. Well yeah, I’ve had a few missions. Miss Martian has a ship that the team took.”

Danny’s expression light up even more and Red looks back at his brothers in confusion. “You know a Martian?” It was whispered in awe, Red could barely hear it, but he nods in response.

They stand there for a minute, Danny just staring at Red in some mix of amazement and awe before he shakes himself out of it.

“Right! Well, that’s awesome.” Danny nods to himself and then forcibly turns to face the screen and changes the subject. “Last thing then! You get a letter for the puzzle!”

The puzzle appeared on the screen again with a wave of Danny’s hand.

“ I would like H, please.” Red Robin states.

“What a fantastic guess, there are three H’s!” Danny is trying to resign himself to the fact that he’ll actually have to deal with being King after this. Red was super smart, he doesn’t think he’s going to get out of it at this point.

“Alright, that’s all the letters you will be getting. Before you take a guess at the answer, I am required to tell you that it is a Proper Noun. Please decide who among you will be solving the puzzle.

Red turns to face his brothers but they all just wave him off, motioning for him to go for it. “That’s me, I guess.” He shrugs, turning back to Danny.

Danny nods “Okay, all you have to do in order to meet the Ghost King is solve two puzzles! First the word puzzle, you have 30 seconds.”

A timer starts counting down on the top left of the screen.

Red mouths words to himself for 10 seconds, then asks, “High King Phantom?”

More confetti appears on the screen as the solved puzzle appears.

Danny makes a weird face. “That’s correct!”

There is a lot of clapping and laughing coming from the ghosts in the stands, but it stops when Danny shoots them a glare.

“Alright, last thing.” The podiums disappear and Red steps back towards his family. “The king has been here the whole time, and you will get your meeting with him, as soon as you identify him. You have one guess.”

Hood, Robin, and Nightwing all turn to each other to start whispering, but Red just tilts his head at Danny.

“Well, It’s you isn’t it?” Red asks and his brothers all turn back to stare at him. Danny tilts his head in response. “Well you were the first one here, so you’re the only one that’s been here the entire time. And you’ve been running the show, everyone has listened to you. Also, your shirt has a P on it, inside the D, but I figure that if the D stands for Danny, then the P would have to be Phantom.”

Danny just leans back and groans.

When Danny straightens back as his outfit starts to change, he gains a crown and a cape, his ears turn more pointed and he has fangs now. “So what did you want with me? Is it healthcare? Because we do have a doctor that Hood could see.”

“A doctor?” Hood questions.

“Oh geez you don’t even know do you?” Danny starts rubbing his forehead. “Well, you’ve got to get that taken care of, it’s stunting your core development.”

“ Get what taken care of?”

Danny sputters. “The ectoplasm?!” He waves his arms in Hood’s direction. “It's so old and stagnant and worn out and your core isn’t old enough to make its own ectoplasm yet, so you should really supplement until your core finishes.”

Danny can see that none of them know what he’s talking about and he just shakes his head. “I can’t believe you don’t even know. Haven’t there been mood changes, random bursts of emotions, followed by sluggishness? Aren’t you tired?”

Now everyone is looking at Hood who grumbles. “Well, yeah. But that’s been happening since I died.”

Danny nods as if that makes perfect sense and Dick really would like an explanation. Red and Robin are also just nodding, having noticed the mood swings themselves.

“Relatable, but condolences. Anyways, we could help with that, but I take it that wasn’t why you tried to summon me, so what did you actually want?”

“Nothing that is more important than Hood’s health, if you can help him.” Nightwing interjects.

“Oh. Well, technically you won, so you have the right to an audience to at least ask for whatever else you wanted.” Danny turns and waves in the direction of the stand, motioning someone down. “But If Hood would like to forfeit his right to the audience, he could have a checkup with Frostbite while we meet?”

Hood nods. “I’ll do that. This… Frostbite will be able to explain?”

“Probably better than I could!” Danny says cheerily as he turns to the Yeti heading towards them. “Frostbite, Hood here needs a checkup, if you could help him correct the malnutrition so his core can grow.”

Frostbite nods, “You can come with me, Sir.”

“Bring him back here when you guys are done!” Danny shouts after them as Frostbite leads Hood away. “Now, you guys can come follow me and we’ll sit and talk.”

#batman #danny phantom #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp prompt #fanfiction #my writing #red robin #tim drake #robin #red hood #batfamily #nightwing #frostbite #summoning game show #red hood ectoplasm problems

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riality-check · 2 years ago

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TW: past verbal and emotional abuse

The Harrington house is a game of perfection.

Steve has known this fact for as long as he can remember. There is a right way, a narrow way, a rigid way, of doing things. Numbers dictate all: rebounds, points, and assists for basketball, new PRs in freestyle and backstroke for swim. The numbers themselves do not matter; all that does is that they grow and shrink appropriately.

Infinite growth is not sustainable; not for Steve's stats, not for Richard's stocks. Both of them strive for it anyway.

The house must be clean. The parties can't be busted. The people of Hawkins will only say good things about the Harrington family. Gloria strives for these things, day in and day out.

The Harrington house is also a game of Perfection.

Steve hated that game growing up. The one with the little yellow pieces and the blue board. He was never able to get all the pieces in the right spot before the board spit them all back out.

It made a ticking noise, like a time bomb. Steve doesn't know when he started associating that sound with his parents.

It fits. It fits almost too well. They're fine, at least for a little while. The ticking starts quiet, then grows louder and louder until everything blows up.

The thing is, in Perfection, that the board blows up even if you put all the pieces in the right spots in time. The thing is, in the Harrington house, that everything blows up even if Steve does everything right.

The ticking lasts for days sometimes, weeks others. It's impossible, random, and impossibly random.

The only consistent thing is the board blowing up. And when that happens, so does the shouting.

The Party thinks that Tommy and Carol taught Steve to be cruel. That they're the ones who taught him how to bare his fangs and spit venom. That once he left them, the rage left him.

He's okay with letting them think that. It's easier than explaining that Richard and Gloria are the ones who taught him how to snap and shout, how to tear holes in other people with a few well-spoken barbs.

When Steve thinks of his parents, he thinks of fighting. He thinks of his father calling him useless and his mother calling him an idiot. He thinks of his mother calling his father dirt and his father calling his mother a bitch.

There are never any apologies. "I'm sorry" is never said in the Harrington house, even when the board gets reset.

They say "I got you pizza for dinner." "I saw this at the store and thought of you." "Do you want to come with me to get gas?"

And with that, the ticking starts up again.

Horrible things are said when the board blows up. Steve says horrible things when the board blows up. He's called his father an asshole and his mother self-absorbed and apologized without any apology at all.

He cleaned the pool instead.

Steve doesn't want to the board to blow up in the middle of the Munson trailer. It's why he's keeping his mouth shut while Eddie yells at him.

"What the hell, Stevie?" Eddie shouts, arms flying. "I told you that you can’t do that!"

“You told me you don’t want me to,” Steve says, staying calm and measured.

Calm and measured. Not blowing up. Steve isn’t going to snap or shout or bitch. He isn’t.

“Fucking semantics!”

“They were saying-”

“I don’t care what they were saying!” Eddie roars. “I don’t give a shit what they say about me!”

It’s true. Wayne calls Eddie “Teflon,” says that nothing sticks to him, least of all anyone’s opinion. Steve knows that Eddie doesn’t care about what most people in Hawkins think about him.

But he cares very much about what the people who care about him think.

Steve can say a whole lot of things right now. He’s angry, physically biting his tongue to ground himself. He can say a whole lot of things to cut Eddie to the bone, to end the argument and then some.

But he won’t.

Love is knowing how to hurt someone and choosing not to. It’s using a knife to split an apple to share instead of to cut skin to ribbons.

Steve can’t trust himself not to slash Eddie open. He says awful things when everything goes to hell like this, snaps back hard when snapped at first, operates purely on instinct.

He doesn’t want to hurt Eddie, so he keeps his mouth shut.

“I care that you could have gotten hurt when you swung at those assholes,” Eddie continues. “I care that I wasn’t there with you when you defended yourself. I care that you won’t let me take a look at your hands and make sure they’re alright.”

Steve squeezes the knuckles of this right hand in his left. It stings, but he’s fine. Nothing broken. He knows from experience

“Stop it, you’re hurting yourself,” Eddie barks.

Steve lets go of his hands, lets them hang loosely at his sides.

“So, what the hell, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, still loud, still snappish.

A variety of terrible answers surges to the front of Steve’s mind. Eddie’s biggest insecurities, the things he’s only told Steve when he thought he was asleep. Ways to wipe the anger off his face and replace it with stuff easier to manage: shock, hurt, sadness. Things he would say if he didn’t particularly like Eddie, if he were still in high school, if he were still in his parents’ house.

Steve doesn’t say anything. He keeps the knife in its drawer. He closes his eyes tight and breathes in once, then again.

“Hey,” Eddie says, softer.

Steve opens his eyes to find him a step closer, hands up in surrender.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says.

Oh.

Well.

Steve doesn’t know what to do with that.

He’s said it before. Of course he has. He knows the words, knows that he needed to say them to Dustin and Robin and Max, and he has. He’s stepped too far with jokes and forgot about some things and missed some things they’ve said.

But he’s never yelled at them. They’ve never yelled at him.

This is not how this is supposed to go. Eddie isn’t supposed to apologize. He’s supposed to clean Steve up or make him dinner or invite him along to go grocery shopping.

And Steve was supposed to snap back.

“It’s okay,” he says because that’s what he’s supposed to say, yeah?

Eddie shakes his head. “It’s not. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“It was bound to happen.”

Eddie stares at him, big doe eyes shining, like he has five heads. It makes Steve want to put his bloody hands behind his back, make him shrink.

He swears he can hear ticking, but the board just reset. Didn’t it?

“What?” Eddie asks.

Steve shrugs. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not. I got scared, but that doesn’t mean I get to yell at you. That’s not okay.”

What does Eddie get to do, if not yell?

I deserve it, Steve thinks, but he’s smart enough to know that saying that out loud will just lead to another fight.

There’s been barely any time to put the pieces back.

Steve doesn’t get it. But, he figures he’s always been a little slow on the uptake, so he can watch. Observe. Figure it out later on his own. He’s pretty good at that.

“Okay,” Steve says.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, and he holds his hands out for Eddie to take.

He’s dragged along to the sink, where Eddie rinses the cuts out with cool water before bandaging them up with the remnants of a box of Band-Aids from the bathroom. When they’re dry and finished, he presses a kiss to each knuckle, feather light.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, looking at Steve very seriously.

“Me, too,” Steve says, voice a little hoarse. “I’m sorry.”

It feels good to say. It feels good to mean.

Standing there in the kitchen of a trailer in Forest Hills, looking at the mismatched furniture and half-full ashtrays of the living room, holding hands with his boyfriend formerly accused of murder and apologizing for the first time and meaning it, Steve feels like he can finally breathe.

The ticking has finally stopped, and silence sounds so sweet.

#ria writes #steddie #steddie ficlet #st #st ficlet #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #angst #fluff #happy ending #tw verbal abuse #(it’s in the past)#idk what else to tag this #i’m tired #anyways it’s projection hours

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littlest-w01f · 10 months ago

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Dreams

Incubus!Eris Vanserra x Reader

For @erisweekofficial

Eris week 2024 Masterlist

Day 6: AU

Summary: Eris is thirsty for sex from his travels, for the energy it gives him, yours is the first house he finds

Cw: Dub-con Somonophilia every warning that comes with the fact that Eris is a demon who sneaks into houses to fuck unsuspecting sleeping women, Eris gives you sex dreams so you can enjoy yourself too, you do enjoy it, fingering, choking, oral!F receiving, Smut 18+ MDNI

A/N: Based on this poll. Thank you to everyone who voted 💕 Tails and horns, like I said.

Eris Vanserra materialized on the mortal plane with an intense hunger gnawing at his core. His crimson skin glowed faintly in the dim light as he surveyed the quiet neighbourhood, searching for signs of life. Travelling always took a toll on him, and he needed the recharge.

The first house caught his eye, its windows were dark but the house looked so innocent and bright as a whole, he hoped the resident was just as sweet. Eris approached the front door, his movements fluid and predatory. With a wave of his hand, the intricate lock clicked open, granting him entry.

Inside, the house was still, but Eris could sense the presence of someone nearby, his tail curled around him in excitement. He followed the trail of pheromones up the stairs, his anticipation building with each step. At the end of the hallway stood a bedroom door, slightly ajar. Eris pushed it open slowly, revealing the sleeping beauty within.

You lay in bed, covered by your sheets, deep in sleep. Eris smiled wide, inhuman like, at the sight of you, you were naked under the sheets, as if you were prepared to be taken by him

Eris stepped closer, his crimson eyes glowing brighter in the darkness. The scent of you filled his nostrils. Your body called to him, beckoning him to explore every curve and valley. His hands reached out, fingers tracing over the soft fabric of your bedsheet, feeling the warmth emanating from your body beneath.

He leaned down, inhaling deeply, savouring the unique fragrance that was yours alone. His tail swished behind him in eager expectation, his cock twitching with desire. Slowly, he peeled back the sheet, exposing your bare skin to his hungry gaze. You were perfect, every inch of you was made to be worshipped, adored, and claimed. His hands roamed over your hips, gripping tightly as he pulled you towards him.

You groan slightly in your sleep but Eris sends you further into it, to not wake you. In your dreams, you find yourself under a man, mirroring Eris' movements.

Eris watched you intently, a smirk playing on his lips as he sensed the stirring within you. He pressed himself against you, his warm, hard body pressing down on top of yours. You felt enveloped by him, cocooned in his arms, yet also consumed by his raw, unbridled lust. His muscular thighs parted yours effortlessly.

His hands roamed over your body, mapping out every dip and swell, committing your curves to memory. His touch was both gentle and possessive, exploring the contours of your breasts, squeezing them firmly before pinching your hardened nipples. A low moan escaped from his throat, vibrating through his chest and onto your sensitive flesh. You writhed underneath him, lost in your erotic dream world, but also responding to his every move.

Eris's long, dexterous tongue flicked out, licking a hot stripe up your neck, tasting your skin, feeding on your arousal. His sharp fangs grazed your pulse point, sending shivers down your spine. You arched into him, craving more of his touch, his taste, his everything. His horns brushed against your forehead and temples, the cold surface starkly contrasting with the heat radiating off his body.

One hand slid down your stomach, dipping between your legs. His fingers found your slick folds, stroking along your slit teasingly. He circled your clit, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp and buck your hips. Two fingers plunged inside you, curling against that sensitive spot deep within. He pumped them in and out, setting a steady rhythm that had you panting and writhing beneath him.

You moaned, as in your dreams a man did the same, touched you the same, kissed down your body, moves echoing Eris' as he teased your breasts. Responding in your dreams and in your bed.

Eris chuckled softly, his voice rumbling against your skin. He lavished attention on your breasts, kneading the soft flesh, tugging at your nipples until they were stiff peaks begging for more. His mouth descended, taking a nipple between his teeth, biting gently before soothing the ache with his tongue.

Your moans echoed in the room, filling the silence with the sounds of pleasure. He continued his exploration of your body, his fingers moving in and out of you at a relentless pace, hitting that spot inside you that made stars burst behind your closed eyelids. His thumb replaced his mouth on your nipple, rolling and pinching it mercilessly.

"So responsive..." Eris growled, "So gorgeous." He pulled his fingers out of you, bringing them back up. He had never seen someone fall under this quick, or be this responsive.

Eris brought his soaked fingers to his mouth, his forked tongue darting out to lap up your essence. "Mmmm, delicious," He purred, savouring your taste. "I've never encountered such a delectable bite before. So willing, so eager to please."

He positioned himself between your spread legs, his face between your thighs, "Let me taste directly."

Eris grinned wickedly, his forked tongue flicking out again to tease your swollen clit. His hot breath washed over your most intimate area, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins. His hands gripped your thighs, holding them apart as he leaned forward.

With a loud slurping sound, he buried his face between your thighs, his tongue delving into your dripping entrance. He explored every fold and crevice, lapping at your juices like a starving man. His tongue danced across your clit, swirling and flicking until you were squirming beneath him, pleading for release in your dreams.

Eris hummed happily as you instinctivly reached for his hair, gripping onto his horns to pull him closer, being a moaning mess. He kept checking to make sure you were still dreaming.

Eris's tongue worked overtime, driving you closer and closer to the edge. His hands moved up to grip your ass, pulling you harder against his face as he devoured you. His nose rubbed against your sensitive clit, the roughness sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you.

Your hips bucked wildly, grinding against his mouth as he ate you out relentlessly, his curling horns scraping your inner thighs. The coil inside you tightened, ready to snap at any moment. Eris seemed to sense your impending climax, doubling his efforts. He sucked your clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue rapidly over the sensitive bud as he thrust two fingers deep inside you.

Your body tensed, your muscles quivering as Eris drove you closer to the brink. He could feel your walls fluttering around his fingers, your breathing becoming erratic. He increased his efforts, determined to push you over the edge into ecstasy. His fingers pumped faster, curling to hit that special spot inside you that made your toes curl. His tongue lashed at your clit, alternating between firm strokes and feather-light touches.

"Come for me," He growled against your body, the vibrations adding to the overwhelming sensations consuming you. "Let go, my sweet little human. Give yourself to me completely." His words, spoken in a language that sounded like sin itself, wrapped around you like a sensual caress, urging you to surrender to the pleasure he offered.

The sensation of his horns grazing your sensitive folds sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. With a scream torn from your throat, you came undone, your body convulsing as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you. Eris lapped at your spasming cunt, drinking in every drop of your release like a man possessed. He still held your dreams, pleasuring you there too so that he could feed on you better.

As your body trembled through the aftershocks of your intense orgasm, Eris continued to lap at your sensitive flesh, prolonging your pleasure. He revelled in the way your body responded to his touch, the way you cried out in ecstasy, completely at his mercy.

Eris drank in your cries of pleasure, savoring the taste of your release on his tongue. As your body slowly returned to normal, he gentled his ministrations, licking and kissing your tender folds until you were relaxed and content. He withdrew his fingers from your still-quivering cunt, bringing them to his lips once more to relish the last drops of your essence.

In your dreams, the faceless man, now with horns above you brought you to the brink once more. Eris fed on your pleasure, his power growing stronger with each passing second. He could feel the energy pulsing through his veins, invigorating him, fueling his hunger for more.

"Eyes open," Eris commanded, his voice low and commanding. "Look at me as I take you again." he smirked when you opened your eyes, you were still dreaming, but like this, it almost felt like you were awake for it. He'd never fucked a woman with her eyes open, but seeing your sleepy eyes gaze up at him, send another surge of pleasure through him.

His fingers returned to your cunt, pumping in and out, coaxing another climax from your quivering form. Your cries of passion filled the air, mingling with Eris's groans of satisfaction as he drank in your essence.

You felt weak, limp in the bed as Eris positioned his cock at your entrance, shoving his cock inside you in one hard motion. He pushed into you, burying himself to the hilt inside your welcoming warmth. Your cunt fluttered around him, trying to adjust to his size, to accommodate his girth.

The sensation of being filled so completely, stretched so perfectly sent jolts of pleasure coursing through his body. He began to move, setting a slow, deliberate pace. Each thrust drove deeper, harder, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist, urging him even deeper if possible.

You could barely catch your breath, each movement of his hips pushing you closer to the edge. You felt lost in the pleasure he gave you. Suddenly, he flipped you over, positioning you on your hands and knees. From this new angle, he could plunge even deeper, hitting that sweet spot inside you with every stroke.

Eris grunted with primal satisfaction as he pounded into your warm, wet cunt from behind. His thick cock split you open, stretching your tight walls around his girth with each powerful thrust. The new angle allowed him to drive even deeper, his heavy balls slapping against your clit with every stroke.

Your moans and whimpers filled the room, echoing off the walls as you surrendered to the relentless rhythm of his fucking. He reached around to rub your clit, the added stimulation sending shocks of pleasure racing through your nerves.

His claws dug into your hips, holding you steady as he pistoned in and out of your body, his tail wrapped around your neck and head, making you look up to the mirror in the room, looking into the haze of lust in your eyes. No one had enjoyed him the way you were doing. No one else's dream also held him like yours did, most would have a different form of man, but for you, your dream was of him in all his glory. You were moaning for him in your dreams. How fortunate for Eris that he found a human who wanted to be fucked stupid by a demon prince.

"You're mine now, little human," Eris growled, his voice raw with lust. "Mine to fuck, mine to drain dry. I'll fill you with my seed, mark you as mine for all eternity."

Eris's thrusts grew more erratic, his cock twitching inside you as he neared his peak. He leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back as his cock plundering into your cunt ravaged it.

He roared your name as his orgasm hit. His cum erupted inside you, filling your womb with his potent seed. He continued to pump into you, milking every last drop from his throbbing cock.

As his climax subsided, Eris collapsed onto you, his weight pinning you to the mattress. He nuzzled your neck, his hot breath tickling your skin. "You're perfect," he murmured, his voice husky with satisfaction. "My perfect little human, bound to me in dreams and reality alike."

He stayed with you all night, fucking you over and over, feeding from your energy, he let his hold go on you, and then you enjoyed his body fully conscious, Eris was smitten, the house may have been innocent, you were anything but. You rode his horns, let him choke you on his tail, and enjoyed everything he did to you, making out messily, sloppy touches everywhere.

As dawn broke, Eris finally pulled away from you, his body slick with sweat, his heart pounding in his chest. He laid beside you, with you passed out, his arm draped possessively across your waist, pulling you close against his side.

"You've been wonderful," He whispered, brushing a lock of hair from your face. His tail lazily swished between you two, occasionally flicking against your thigh in idle affection, sometimes shoving up any cum of his that excaped. "I think we might just have to do this again soon."

He kissed you softly, his lips lingering on yours for several long moments before he pulled away. As much as he wanted to remain buried inside you forever, the sun's rays filtering through the window reminded him of the time. Besides, he didn't wish to accidentally kill you, and you seemed too tired.

As he made his way outside, he stopped by in the kitchen, using his magic to create a lavish meal for you when you wake up with your energy, after all, you needed good food if you were to carry his half-demon spawn inside yourself.

{General Taglist - @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-smut @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith @velarisnightsky444 @minnieoo}

{Eris Taglist- @fxckmiup @slut4acotar @secret-third-thing @shadowsingers-mate @fieldofdaisiies @st4r-girl-official }

#erisweek2024 #acotar #acotar series #acomaf #acosf #acowar #eris acotar #eris fanfic #eris vanserra fluff #eris vandaddy #pro eris vanserra #eris vanserra #autumn court #high lord eris #eris x reader #eris smut #eris vanserra smut

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hippielittlemetalhead · 1 year ago

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Never Took The Time (To Forget) part 4.2: Robin's Boy

A.N: Life is kinda sucky right now with job hunting, surviving at my current job, the strains that come with being a caregiver to a family member while maintaining a long distance relationship and just dealing with mental and emotional self-care. So here's this, super late and not beta-read but at least I wrote it.

As always, feel free to yell at/with me in the comments, tags and/or ask box.

Part 1 (Hop fucks up), Part 2 (Pride and Prejudices: Joyce's Edition), Part 3 (One of Us), Part 4.1 (With a Capital 'P'), Part 5 (Man Of The Hour)

There's not much that surprises Robin Buckley these days. She gets queasy at the sight of ground beef, the big friendly dogs a few doors down at the O'Reilly place make her blood run cold, she can't watch the old Russian movies her dad loves without having nightmares after and she's sleeping with a nightlight for the first time since she was six. But it takes a lot to surprise her.

Seeing the declared dead Chief of Police step out of a sleek black, obviously-secret-government-bullshit car flanked by an agent she recognizes as one of Owens' lackeys from last July when they were making the rounds with Government funded medical care contingent on signing sketchy NDAs? Just par for the course at this point.

Steve's face when Eleven-Jane rushes into the not-dead Chief's arms and it turns into a whole 'Moment'? Said Chief's look of barely interested confusion followed by tired annoyance when Steve drags her in front of him, rambling about Starcourt and new additions to The Party and finally getting to meet 'My Hop'? Yeah, none of that surprises her either. She plays along for Steve, doesn't give Hopper any time to say anything that would take that happy smile off his face or get rid of the way he's practically glowing he's smiling bigger than she's ever seen directed at anyone other than the kids. Tries not to think about the way it makes something in her clench and crouch like a cat getting ready to pounce and bare fangs she didn't realize she had outside of a life and death situation. She introduces herself, maintains eye contact and drags Steve off as fast as she can to do something, anything, that will distract him from trying to catch up like the Byers clan is with the kids and assembled assorted monster fighters.

She's not surprised when she can't stop Steve from stepping up every time Hopper or Joyce or anyone with a badge says they need anything despite his own still healing wounds. She's not surprised when Hop takes it a step too far.

They're at the Hopper Cabin that is steadily becoming the Hopper-Byers Cottage when Hop tells his and Joyce's shared custody bald parasite that Steve is little more than an annoyance he puts up with for the free babysitting service and manual labor and cause he can go up against shit that would give anyone else nightmares while keeping the kids safe and mostly in-check. She's sitting with Eleven-Jane, sewing patches onto one of Hop's old army jackets, (the kid had seen Eddie's battle vest in Steve's car and it had reminded her of her sister Kali and she'd decided she wanted one of her own for the war ahead and then all of the other rugrats had decided they did too so she and Argyle had taken to giving sporadic sewing lessons whenever the kids had the materials to start their own battle attire) when Steve comes round the corner to the back of the property striding with purpose she rarely saw when he was around his kids.

She leaves her unfinished project on the stump she'd been using as a stool and chases after him. She shooes off curious and worried kids, promising to stick with him, keep the walkie close and on, make sure he was safe and didn't run afoul of any demo-beasts or trigger-happy government goons as he made his way to his car and then wherever else he was marching his happy ass.

She hates the fact that when they're both finally back at the little apartment that Owens' yes-men had acquired for Steve when Harrington Sr. decided to be an opportunist prick and kick Steve out for 'not taking care of the house' in the middle of the 'earthquake', that Steve hasn't shed a single tear. She hates that she's not surprised.

He doesn't say anything as he kicks off his Nikes and shuffles over to the 'second-hand' couch they'd gotten from Mrs. Henderson (Steve and Robin were both fully aware she'd just gotten it shortly before Spring break and was in no way in need of a new one so soon, but they both also knew better than to call her out on her kindness). He doesn't look up at her from his spot curled in amongst the throw pillows and blankets they'd been gifted by parents of various members of the party after Hopper and Owens' story that the two of them had saved the kids again from some freak incident like last year with Starcourt. She pulls out the thick quilt they had found in the latest donations bins when Hawkin's government supervised relief force started outsourcing for supplies and basic comforts. He stares at the wall where they'd hung an oversized corkboard dedicated to polaroids and photo booth strips and even some properly printed pictures of the little monster fighting family they'd put together.

She can't pull him out of this, no matter how much she may want to. There's some places his mind goes only Eleven-Jane would be able to reach and neither of them were going to put more on that girl's plate. So she puts on a Bruce Springsteen record she used to hate and curls up as close as she can to him through the quilt and pillows. Every now and then she gets up to get them both water, to grab some crackers to try and coax him into eating and to switch over to a new record or just flip the one on the player but she always comes back to her spot next to her Steve.

"Whatever he said to you, you know it's not true. Right? You're worth more than a dozen undead cops on a power trip." That gets an amused huff.

"Seriously Stevie, the kids adore you, I swear all the moms in Hawkins think you're the best thing since sliced bread and I don't know what I'd do without my personal chump. We're soulmates, remember? One of these days we're gonna mind meld like Spock and McCoy and we'll be unstoppable. I can't make it without my McCoy, Bones."

"I can't make it without you either, you hobgoblin. Thanks Bobby."

The next day is better. Steve is still a little quiet, a little droopy. But he's present and there's a simmering anger underneath his smile that Robin is proud to see him acknowledging but makes her worry about him as he ushers her into his car to drop her off on her rare lone shift at Family Video before he heads out to a quick 'consultation patrol' with some military special operatives to check out something weird by one of the new cracks.

No one had told any of the kids yet, about the cracks starting to spread out in smaller fissures like a slowly spreading infection. Hadn't thought it necessary with Steve and Nancy (both now legal adults and wasn't the government taking full advantage of that) there as a first line of communication while Joyce wrangled a restless Hop as he settles back in and heals and spars with Owens over payouts and government aide for the town and what the growing military presence was and wasn't allowed to do. With the parents occupied the kids had come together tighter than ever, focusing on their injured and recovering from the nightmare fuel that was their spring break. No one noticed.

She can't help the rant she falls into as they drive through checkpoints and past regular civilians being escorted through areas a little too close to a Gate for comfort. She goes on about how half of the soldiers act like Steve is just one of them and the other half treat him with the same cautious curiosity they do Eleven-Jane whenever she makes her way to the 'front lines' these days. She wants to get the weird boy-speak head nods too! Even Nancy gets them, especially when she's walking around with her sawed-off strapped to a jerry-rigged hip-holster. Robin has used Darlin' before, she's speed poured Molotov Cocktails to hand to soldier boys trying not to piss their pants as Steve and Nancy barked orders as they tried to down a demogorgon fresh from the Upside-Down. Where's her battlefield camaraderie?

It makes him laugh and shake his head fondly as he calls her crazy and weird with that soft smile on his face that makes her chest feel warm and fuzzy like her parents' hugs used to when she was 10 and crawled into their bed after having a nightmare. She doesn't tell him to be careful as they turn down onto Main street or to make sure he comes back in one piece as he rolls to a stop in front of the dark storefront. She starts on another tangent about him abandoning her to the drudgery of Capitalism as he gets to frolic in the woods with a bunch of burly men with their toys before he laughingly reaches over her to open her door to start pushing her out of the car. He smiles big and dopey as she practically spills onto the asphalt, still rambling away about neglectful soulmates and abuses of driving power with smatterings of claims that she'll take over his apartment if he dies and use his ashes as fertilizer for the plants he's taken to keeping on the fire-escape outside the living room window if he dares to leave her alone to babysit his hellions.

He shoots back a final, "Love you too Bobby!" before taking off towards where he's meeting the scientists and soldiers he's supposed to lead through Upside Down infected woods. As he leaves her standing on the sidewalk he doesn't make any sort of promise to be safe, to let the government goons just do their job, to make it back to her alive or in one piece. Not even to make it back to her. She plays with the locket she's taken to wearing that holds a curled up braid of hair shades darker than hers or anyone's in her family.

She doesn't watch his car to the end of the street like she might have before Spring Break, after their Starcourt 'adventure', instead she takes a deep breath and unlocks the dumb video store in this dumb town full of dumb people who don't know when to call it quits and just get the hell out of Dodge. She boots up the computer leaving it to warm up while she starts sorting through whatever mess the new shmucks Steve insisted they hire to cover what times the two of them couldn't because of the Arcade (which they had also gone and hired more staff for now that people weren't one tremor away from rioting in the streets) and Upside Down/ government related shenanigans they ended up getting dragged into.

The bell above the door jingles and she has to bite back a groan. "Welcome to Family Video, I literally just got here so you're gonna have to give me a minute before I can help you."

"Afraid we've only got movies round here, officer. You want any other medium of entertainment I'd suggest the arcade or the distribution yard." She won't turn to face him, not sure she can keep her cool if she does right now. Her hands move on muscle memory, shuffling papers into their proper piles and flipping open VHS cases to check if they need to be rewound. "Sorry, guess we'll have to catch up another time."

"I'm uh, I'm not here for a movie." She may have only heard his voice a couple of times and in passing but she didn't call her ears little geniuses for nothing. She forces her body to relax, lowering her shoulders the way Steve taught her to and keeping her voice light like Eddie walked her through, calling on his Theatre Kid skill set to teach the Party how to convincingly lie improvise when being questioned by people who really did not need to know just what was going on in good old Hawkins.

She can hear him sigh and can't help but picture his hand running over the fuzz on his head the way Steve runs his hands through his coif more and more nowadays in a way he never did before Nancy, before he got pulled into this bullshit and Hopper was rumored to be the one signing his paperwork and taking responsibility for him when his parents didn't show up after an almost week long stay at the hospital. "Look, I know you don't like me. And it has been brought to my attention just how much I fucking earned that. But I- I need your help here. To fix it."

There's not much that surprises Robin Buckley these days. She gets queasy at the sight of ground beef and meatloaf covered in ketchup, the big friendly dogs a few doors down at the O'Reilly place she used to pet and give snacks to on her way to and from school make her blood run cold, she can't watch the old Russian movies she and her dad used to stay up late watching together without having nightmares after and she's sleeping with a nightlight by her bed for the first time since she was six. But it takes a lot to surprise her. Jim Hopper might have just done it.

She doesn't stop moving, doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of throwing her off. She fiddles with the sharp little knife she has tucked up her shirt sleeve in the little sheath she and Steve put together between shuffling papers, taps at the button on her vest hiding the mic attached to the walkie talkie that never leaves her pocket these days. When she finally turns to look at him she's not surprised by the thinness of his frame or the way his eyes and cheeks still look a little sunken in. She sees the tired father worried for his kids and his people and his town, angry at the government for their involvment and their stupidity that she had come to expect. She is not expecting the remorse, the fear, she sees looking back at her. She wonders for a moment what he sees when he looks at her, at any of the teens and kids and young adults he's fought alongside trying to stop the end of the world.

"Fine. He'll be back from his patrol-" He looks mildly confused for a moment, meaning Joyce hadn't been passing along even the minimal information Nancy and Steve had been giving her to relay to Hop and the rest of the Party. That would have to be it's own discussion at some point probably. "-in about twenty minutes. You have fifteen. Now why should I help you?"

"You care about Harringt- Steve. You're close, the two of you have been basically Siamese Twins since Starcourt from what I hear. I- I realize that I made a mistake dumb enough shitting Mike Wheeler is making more sense than me, that I fucked up in a way I don't fucking know how to fix. And I am asking. Politely. For your help."

Honestly she's not sure she believes him. Honestly he's surprised her more times in the last five minutes than most anything or anyone else has in the last year. The man has a lot to unpack and the situation with Steve is just a drop in the man's pile of shit he's managed to bury himself under but maybe there's some hope yet.

She checks the watch on her wrist (an obscenely expensive piece Steve got from one of his parents' rich friends at a holiday party he was too young to remember on a leather band that he had outgrown and never got around to replacing) and looks back at Hop. Ten more minutes. "Why are you here?"

Hop groans in that growly sort of way that makes her think of her grandpa Dale, a great bear of a man who had given the best hugs with shoulders to put Jim Hopper to shame. The no-longer-chief runs his hand over his fuzz again, one hand propped on his hip as he shifts his weight to one side and she tamps down the flicker of biting anger at another example of the ways Steve had shaped himself after a man who never gave him the respect or care he deserved.

"I don't know how to fix what I fucked up. Steve's a good kid, I can admit that now. And he didn't deserve my bullshit just cause I couldn't get past old highschool biases. I wasn't there for him like I should have been- like I told him I would be when I signed those papers. But he's not the kid I thought he was, he's nothing like his folks or the other trust fund brats who think they run this shithole town. I don't know what I'm doing. I just know that kid deserves better than I've been doing."

She hums like she's mulling over his little speech to hide the way she's freaking out a little over what to say to all that. Even she doesn't know how she and Steve got to where they are beyond being tortured by Russians for information they didn't have then being drugged out of their minds while fighting inter-dimensional flesh monsters. But she doesn't think that would help Hop much in this situation.

But she thinks she believes him. At least for now.

"Alright, I'll help you with Steve." Hop sighs, his shoulders dropping as he seems to unclench slightly. Seriously, that much tension cannot be good for him after being in a Russian gulag for almost a year. "But not because I think you deserve it. You were right, Steve deserves better, but he wants you and Joyce and the kids to be in his life. Be a part of it. That is the only reason I will help you. He deserves a better dad than the one he's had and for some reason he thinks you're like super-dad."

"I- How the fuck did I not- What the hell?"

Robin shrugs, "The human brain is good at weeding out what it doesn't want to see. You didn't want to see Steve until you had to and that realization brought you to me. So. Ignorance is bliss and all that."

"So what do I do?"

She checks her watch again. "He'll be running late, especially if the fissure he's checking out is as bad as we think it is. So you have time to run back home, get Joyce to make extra of whatever monstrosity of a casserole she's trying to make this week and you get your rugrats to figure out a way to be the last drop off after Steve takes the brats to the arcade later instead of sleeping off whatever knocks he gets on patrol today. Then instead of letting him head home you make him come inside for dinner. Use the excuse of finding out he's been doing patrols if you have to. But you make him go inside and sit his ass down and eat something and you let him just- let him just be, Hop." She's running out of time but there is just so much she wants to get through to him. "Just make him feel like you see him."

"I- I'll try."

"Yeah, sure. Just-" She bites back the vitriol she wants to projectile vomit in his direction. "Just don't hurt him again. He's more than just a babysitter or front lines muscle. And I will make you wish you were back with the Russians if you make him forget that."

"I believe you."

"Good." The bell over the door jingles again and she looks past Hop to see a group of teenagers making their way to the comedies. "Now I have to get to work and you need to not be here by the time Steve comes to check on me. So talk to you later, Chief."

"Right. Thanks for your help, kid."

She shrugs him off as he turns to head out. The teens are watching him not-so-discreetly as they try to act like they're looking through the latest releases. She forgets that the man is as much a mystery as the heavy-duty military forces that have taken over their small town.

"Alright, folks. What are we looking for today?" She still technically has a job to do even if the kids keep their distance from her like they do the rest of the Party who at this point have all been seen either spending time with said heavy-duty military forces or chasing something into the dark of the forest wielding weapons smeared in monster blood, or both. It's going to be a long day.

Tag list (I think this is everyone?)(if your tag didn't work let me know cause they don't always work for me Idk why):

@thelittleclare @jackiemonroe5512 @0body0disphoria0 @strangersteddierthings @lingeringmirth @dead-cherry-bitch @irethsune @ink777 @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner @ledleaf @pansexuality-activated @paintsplatteredandimperfect @kinryuuki @yikes-a-bee @altocumulustranslucidus @ohimamarigold @samsoble @sensationalsunburst @xxbottlecapx @y4r3luv @swimmingbirdrunningrock @flustratedcas @rootbeerandmusic @vinteraltus @wonderland-girl143-blog @failedstarsandgoldenclouds @steddie-as-they-go @steveshairspray86 @youdrewstarsxaroundmyscars @i-amthepizzaman @wormapothacary @croatoan-like-its-hot @maya-custodios-dionach @ineffable-monster-romancer @asquareinverona @ellietheasexylibrarian @pukner @bookworm0690 @nightmareglitter @joekeerysmoles @salchica @lawrencebshoggoth @iheartjennaaa @child-of-cthulhu @anaibis @rocochen20 @katdeerly @samcoxramblings

#rambler writes #nttttf verse #Never Took The Time (To Forget)#Robin pov #platonic soulmates stobin #rambler writes fic #stranger things fic #post season 4 #hopper adopts steve #but make it sad #not part of any exchange or big bang #I would love to do one of those but the energy is not with me

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miss-vanta-likes-to-write · 6 months ago

Text

Loyalties chapter 16🔞

Master list

CW: please check master list for warning. This starts off NSFW so the whole thing is under a cut.

Bambi felt like she was drowning with the way John kept kissing her. She couldn't get a breath in from the way he kept plunging his dick into her. Every nerve ending was screaming for mercy and this had to be some type of punishment for earlier. Maybe she shouldn't have answered that phone call but it was her Sophia and Ananiah calling her. The growling threats, in hindsight, she shouldn't have ignored but she did.

John's hand was wrapped around her neck, a protective caution so that he wouldn't bite down and mark her. It really didn't matter though, his face, his lips were pressed close to her neck, nose buried between his fingers. He snapped his hips into her with a primal urgency, an animalistic claim just on the borderline of becoming a reality. He was not gentle, he was not sweet, he very much had something to prove and unfortunately he wanted- no- needed to prove it, and the point was for Bambi to get. John was far from insecure, he was not one to be cowed easily, he didn't survive life this long by being soft and timid. Still though, watching his Bambi smile at the bastard made him seethe with rage. It was a nasty rage that his alpha had succumbed to, any rational thought he had went right out the window. It didn't matter that she had rebuffed him, it didn't matter that she was mostly interested in telling her nieces to be careful and not aim those realistic pistols with orange caps at each other.

No, the real issue was that his Bambi, after he hung up the video call for her, looked at him with a frown. She raised the corner of her lip and bared her fangs at him, her alpha, and said “John, he unfortunately is close to Xavier and the kids in my family. I'm choosing to be cordial for the sake of peace, especially since he is staying with my pack for a while.”

She may as well have said, ‘John you're an idiot and I'm stringing you and your pack along.’

So he wanted to show her that she was his, even though there was no mark, he already decided it for her, for all of them really. He crashed his lips against hers to swallow her screams and moans. The clutch of her cunt around him was euphoric, she did her best to arch into him, trying to wriggle away from him. His grip was like a bear trap on her waist as he yanked her into each one of his thrusts. The sound of wet slapping echoed in the room, her screams turned into whimpers.

“Please John…” Bambi whispers when she turns her head to the side. “I can't cum again, I-” She chokes on her words and groans in bliss instead. She grips onto him tightly, doing her best to hold on and take him. It's cruel and they both know it, it's cruel to use sex in this fashion, to use their pleasure as a reminder of the fact they will belong to each other. The way her brown eyes roll back into her head lets him know it's what she needed. She needed him to claim her, express his dominance and let her know she was his. A not so gentle reminder that it will be his mark she will be wearing at the end of the year.

She keeps her legs wrapped around his hips, heels digging into his flesh. Nails scraping down his arms and the back of his neck, red trails left their wake. He knows the marks will turn into welts, a show of her affection, proof that it really is him that will always have her like this.

Bambi is sure she is going to die if she cums again. She's hot and sweaty, weak and delusional from pleasure. Maybe she hears John say “You can take it” maybe she does not. All she knows is that her body has been yanked into another orgasm. It's awful how this man has carved out a permanent spot in her insides for his dick and himself and decided to fill her up with God knows what to keep his emotions in her. Her pussy does its best to clench and relax in a rhythm that makes sense to help him get to his finish, but nothing makes sense. His rhythm is discordant, and she feels like this is an out of body experience. All she can do is kiss him on the face, endure the scratch of his facial hair against her skin, her omega hindbrain begs for her to submit to him. She's excited from the rough treatment, she's a traitor really and when she gets her right brain back, they will be having a talk about this.

John stills his body after a few sloppy thrusts, he has enough sense to avoid knotting her. He knows he shouldn't, but his alpha whispers in the back of his mind, ‘She's yours, she is pack, do it.’ And he does. It's almost instant how Bambi seizes up and clutches onto him, her orgasm rips through her and she shakes. He can hear her wheezing and trying to get her breath under control. The hand around her throat loosens up and she slumps into the bed, releasing him.

John isn't sure who it is that speaks first but now she is crying. His Bambi is stuck on his knot, and she is crying.

“Shh, it's okay sweetheart.” He kisses away her tears and rubs her arms, trying to soothe her. His thoughts are lucid now, his alpha calm from knowing they are stuck together, even if her IUD is in the way of getting her with child. “You're okay, I didn't hurt you did I?”

Bambi is quiet and staring up at the ceiling through her tears, “The next time you place your hand around my throat…I'll kill you.” Her words are shaky from trying to breathe and talk at the same time.

She won't look at him, so he carefully rolls over, the tug of his knot makes her whine. He lays on his back and holds her closely on top of him. His hand plays in her hair, this pretty pink wig is ruined and he knows that first thing in the morning, she will be demanding to get her hair done. The silence between them is tense, there are unsaid words and unresolved issues but he waits for her to say something first. After what seems like forever, he sighs, “Bambi-”

“John, shut up.” She sighs, “I told you from the get go that I wasn't interested in my ex and you still let your ego get the best of you.”

“I didn't let my ego get the best of anything.” He pressed his lips to her forehead and breathed in their combined scent. “Also, if the bastard is going to be around your home, your pack, then he needs to know you are not up for grabs. To be honest I don't even want you within two meters of him.”

“So you don't trust me?” She says, “How is this going to work if you don't trust me?”

“I trust you. Just not the situation.” He thinks back to how Malik had warned him at the party. “Why won't Malik make him leave?”

“Malik doesn't want any infighting right now. Things since our parents' passing have been rough.” Leaning up a bit she meets his gaze, “My father, from my understanding, hired König and his pack to work for the company before he died. They were close on the business end, even after he and I didn't work out. I don't know what type of consulting he does for Temple Ballistics but I do know that Malik needs the man and Xavier works with him often.” She lays her head back on his chest and plays with his chest hair. “I don't like it, but the girls like their godfather, and for the sake of peace and to support Malik I will tolerate his presence…but you need to trust me and not act so damn volatile. You're a man, not some knothead.”

John snorts, having the decency to be even slightly ashamed. “Next time, when I tell you to do something…as your alpha I want you to do it.”

Bambi didn't say anything to that, instead she closed her eyes and drifted to sleep. His knot couldn't deflate fast enough.

Earlier that day

“Bambi, Sweetheart, I hope you aren't working.” John says as he watches his darling omega type away on her phone. He's done some digging on what public relation managers do and how they work. Always on their laptop or phone, making some type of call or watching social media for trends and breaking news to either capitalize on or run interference on. He watches as she licks at her glossy lips, eating the third application of lip gloss in the past ten minutes. Her knee is bouncing, nerves shot probably. The night before she couldn't sleep and tossed and turned before she asked him for help.

He helped her of course, ate her out till she was slumped and twitching from over stimulation. She went down easy, cuddled into his arms with a blissful smile. It was how it should be, in his opinion anyway. His Sweetheart, his Bambi, sleeping safely in the same house as her alphas. Maybe Simon had a point in not wanting her to work? He can see the stress lines in her forehead as she snarls and frowns at her phone.

“I'm not working.” She grumbles, “I'm trying to figure out why exactly I have extra people at my house who aren't leaving.” She tosses down her phone and leans back in the kitchen chair. She runs her fingers through her hair and inspects the ends of the pink strands. “And to top it all off, I want this wig off and I don't have Symphony to do my hair.”

John hums and smiles, “Do you want me to pay for that?” He is sitting next to her and pulls her chair closer to his. He watches as she pouts at him and he thinks it cute.

“That would require a trip to the hair store. I'd need to find a stylist…but honestly I'm feeling that my hair needs to breathe so a trip to the salon would be better.” She eyes him suspiciously, “and my nails have grown out too.”

He laughs and leans in to kiss her on the lips. It is a light one, “Fine. After we finish our outing, we will do whatever it is you want. I'm sure if you ask nicely, Soap will get his nails done with you.”

Bambi nods her head, her phone dings again and she glances at it with a frown. John takes her phone and slips it into his pocket with a sweet smile. She gives him an incredulous look as if to say ‘give it back’. Naturally he doesn't and he nudges her out of her seat towards the door. Bambi complies with a laugh and a pouty little eye roll.

“Where are we going today John?” She asks, “and where did the guys run off to?”

He grabs his keys and shoots her smile, “I sent the boys ahead of us to get everything ready.”

She raises an eyebrow at him in amusement, “You guys like the DIY dates don't you?”

John laughs and gently laces his fingers between hers and pulls her out of the apartment. “Simon may have said that you enjoyed being outdoors, and then I had the brilliant idea to figure out what type of outdoors you enjoyed.”

She looks down at their hands as they make their way to the elevator. The way his callused hand fits hers so perfectly makes her heart flutter and she brings his hand up to her lips and kisses his knuckles. It's an action she hasn't done in forever, but it feels just as natural to do it to him. She watches as he smiles sweetly at her, those blue eyes sparkle like water and her hindbrain preens at the love struck look he gives her. It's only been barely a month, and she knows she's falling hard and fast for the four of them. She dutifully ignores her common sense, the vision of seeing Maverick and Malik in Kyle and John. She ignores the sweet looks that Simon and Johnny give each other over her head when she is squished between the two of them. She ignores her fear, because the stubborn part of her wants to try again, even if this is a bad idea.

It's new to her really, with König, he never even allowed Horangi or Nikto near him in any intimate way. They didn't lay on each other, didn't hold hands, did not give each other looks of adoration and love. From the outside looking in, one could almost say they weren't a pack. Bambi knew though, their blood ties forged through whatever horrors they've seen on the killing fields that KorTac rented them out to. The three of them did allow room for pats on the back, shoulders, maybe even a playful shove. Mostly they threatened each other, insults that they would not allow for outsiders to say to them, they were a forced association pack and they like all packs of association didn't like each other at first. Still blood of the covenant or something something thicker than water, held them together and some group trauma bonding welds them all at the seams.

They didn't love and cherish each other the way John, Simon, Kyle and Johnny did. These four alphas clearly loved each other, and they wanted her in their pack. They wanted her between them, on them, and always near them. Their lips are always on her forehead, hands gripping her cheeks, but while the omega in her purrs and soaks in the adoration, her more sober thoughts want to ask “Are you four scared or do you really want me?”

She won't ask that though. Not when these four have surprised her with a gorgeous spring day at the park that has a rather large pond. There is a blanket and pillows laid out, a pretty parasol open to keep the sun out of her eyes. It looks like one of those aesthetic picnics people post on Instagram and she itches to snap a few pictures and do just that. Johnny and Kyle are already laying there, limbs tangled together watching the clouds drift by. Simon is nearby feeding the ducks and when he spots John and Bambi he makes his way over.

“I'm saying you're full of it Soap.” Kyle laughs, “none of those clouds look even remotely close to the shape of space ships.”

“Ye've got nae an ounce ‘f imagination mate.” He laughs, “Bonnie!” He sits up and pulls Bambi right into the middle of them, “Look up an’ tell Kyle tha I'm right.”

She looks up at the clouds and squints at them. She was never one for cloud watching, but maybe they were shapes. “They all look like dollops of whip cream to me.”

“Of course Dove is thinking about sweets. Did eating an entire spray can of whipped cream last night not make you happy?” Kyle presses his face into her neck and sighs. He acts as if he could get high off of the scent of her.

“Most of it ended up on Johnny and the kitchen floor. None of it was on the ice cream you begged me to go get Princess.” Simon grumbled and nudged Johnny over so he could lay down and stare at the sky too. “The clouds look like hand grenades.”

Both Kyle and Johnny groan and John laughs. Bambi rolls her eyes at Simon and huffs, “You could have told me no.”

“Hmm, and deal with your tantrum?” He scoffs, “I'd rather eat nails.”

Bambi only hums and snickers, “You act as if I held you hostage.”

“No.” John says, “But when you pout and do the little thing with the corner of your lip it may as well be a hostage situation.” he's smiling when he says this, the corners of his eyes crinkle.

The breeze is gentle and it pushes the clouds overhead around. Summer is around the corner, and Bambi can feel it in her bones. The urge to be near water is strong, but she doesn't count the pond they all laze near as a suitable body of water. The conversation has turned towards idle subjects, talks about how Johnny's birth pack is, questions on if Kyle's parents are doing okay. She listens because she's learning, nobody asks about Simon's family, and they all carefully ask about John's people but make no mention of an elderly father, just a mother and a few relatives.

“Bambi?” Kyle asks.

“Hm?” She reaches out and grabs his hand. She traces the few scars on him and meets his gaze.

“I know I shouldn't ask, but how does your pack work?” He furrows his brow, “I've been reading about different pack structures that appear on your side of the pond.”

Bambi shrugs her shoulders, “Malik is the eldest alpha, I'm the only dominant omega. After my father and mother died, leading fell on him and me.” She turned and looked back at the sky. “Me and him aren't old enough to lead anything or anyone really. Extended pack members worry about us, they worry about the company, they worry about things and offer their two cents often with no offer for help or change.”

“Sounds complicated.” Johnny says, he's stretched out, his arms and legs draped over her and somehow also Simon. He's more like a starfish really.

“Not really.” She laughs, “My pack has the money, we are the main line. Everybody else are like cousins and associates going back generations. My great great grandfather made it big and everyone he was close with got to get out of poverty too and the rest is history.”

Kyle raises an eyebrow, “So you're like what old money?”

“No, more like new money I guess. But if you must know, at the end of the year, if we decide to mark each other, the legality of our pack will be weird.” She sighs, “You'd be like Symphony's and Gloria's packs, associated with us and any kids we have I would have to legally have them be Castello for the sake of lineage reasons.”

John sat up and looked at Bambi, the look he gave her was not a happy or understanding one. He was clearly putting two and two together, “I think that will be a conversation we have in the future.”

“Hmm sure we can have-” She's interrupted by the sound of her phone going off. It's a sweet little nondescript tune of flutes and harps. “Can I have my phone John?”

He digs in his pocket and hands her the phone. He catches the glimpse of the name Sophia and a string of pink hearts. Bambi answers the video call and everyone is greeted with squeals from the little girls.

“Aunty look!” Sophia's voice rings out, “Uncle got us guns!”

“Those are paintball guns, Soso.” Bambi laughs, she sits up so she doesn't have to keep the phone hovering above her face. “Please don't point them at people's faces.”

“Aunty, daddy says that if I aim, it should be to kill.” Sophia says in a matter of fact kind of way.

“Please no, ignore that man.” Bambi pointedly ignores the laughter coming from Simon and Johnny or the gasp of concern from Kyle.

“Look, it has my name on it.” She holds up the paintball gun and she's all smiles, “I have a better aim than Niah.”

“Nu uh!” The phone gets snatched and it's Ananiah front and center “I have better aim, uncle Kökö says so himself!” She glances over her shoulder and shouts something in German. Then her wide brown eyes sparkle with mischief, “When are you coming home? Because there's a surprise here for you!” The grin on her face is wide and bright.

“It's a surprise Niah.” Sophia pushes herself back into frame, both girls are squished together, “Daddy says that you're gonna love it but mom says it'll send you into a fit.”

“Ihr beiden Häschen redet zu viel.” The phone gets taken. König is now looking at her. There is a cold chill and heated looks that Bambi feels on her. König tilts his head slightly, her old pink scarf still wrapped around his face, exposing only his eyes. “Dein kleiner Wutanfall wird bald vorbei sein, oder?" (You two bunnies talk too much. Your little tantrum will be over soon, right?)

Bambi gets to her feet and hurriedly walks off towards the pond. She ignores the stern sound of her name as John gets up to follow her. She power walks and glances over her shoulder at John and hisses for him to stay back. Then she looks back at her phone.

“Du bist wirklich ärgerlich. Wem hast du den Arsch geleckt, um die Erlaubnis zu bekommen, im Haus meines Rudels zu bleiben?” (You're really aggravating. Whose ass did you lick to get permission to stay in my pack's house?) Her own German is stilted by her American accent, but it flows from her like second nature.

König laughs, there's a longing look to his eyes and his voice has that light teasing tone to it, “Das erste, was ich tue, wenn du zu Hause bist, ist, dir die Einstellung aus dem Leib zu ficken und dich mit meinem Blut und Sperma zu bedecken.” (The first thing I'm doing when you are home, is fucking the attitude out of you and covering you in my blood and sperm.)

It's clear that Bambi is not impressed by his words. She finds them crass, gross, and unfortunately it makes her cheeks warm and she is thankful that blushing isn't visible on her face. She arches an eyebrow and says, “Put the girls back on and supervise them properly. I don't need them getting hurt.”

“Hang up the call.” John says, he is behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist. He glares at the phone and at the man on the other end.

“Hm…interesting Kitz. I find it odd that you have decided to be a pack breeder. You know you are more deserving than to be passed around.” König has always had a way with words and getting under her skin. He was mean that way when he wanted her to hurt whenever she did something he didn't like.

‘And the fucker said that in English on purpose.’ She thinks in anger. But before she says anything, John is already snatching the phone and hanging it up. She's not sure what to be mad about first. The subtle insult that König said or the fact that John hung up her phone and took it, he just decided that the conversation was over.

“When I tell you to do something you do it Bambi.” It's the first time in a while he has said her name. Usually it's Sweetheart and it's said with a saccharine tone that drips just a bit in a patronizing way that almost exposes his dated view of hierarchy.

She turns to face him, “Excuse you!”

John's poker face is stone still and perfect. The two of them stare at each other and Bambi knows he is expecting her to bare her neck to his ire. She holds firm though and ignores her own instincts to apologize for raising her own voice. When neither of them makes a move, John hums in thought.

“Do you allow him to speak with you like that?” John breaks the silence.

“No, I don't allow anyone to disrespect me without consequences.” She crosses her arms, “And where do you get off taking my phone?”

“I ordered you to do something and you ignored it.”

“I'm not inclined to listen to you order me around. You are courting me. You are not my alpha and I'm not one of your little soldiers!” She stomped her foot and glared at him. “I don't even let Malik just order me around like that!”

“Last time I checked, you're very much mine.” There's an itch that needs to be scratched in the back of John's thoughts. He's offended that someone even hinted that he would use Bambi as a pack breeder. He's irritated that the German fuck looks at Bambi as if she's an option for him. He knows that look, full of playful want and smugness over the fact that there's a history there. He sighs and reels in his building possessiveness as best as he can. “Sweetheart” he begins, but she cuts him off.

“John, he unfortunately is close to Xavier and the kids in my family. I'm choosing to be cordial for the sake of peace, especially since he is staying with my pack for a while.” She places her hand on his chest, she's trying to placate him, deescalate the both of them. Bambi gives a small frown and she slides her hand up to rest on his neck, right at his scent gland.

It is the first time she has ever touched him there and John sighs. The alpha that is growling in the back of his mind isn't so easily soothed. He knows the moment they get home, his craving of putting her in her place will be strong. In his pack he controls everything, that sense of control has saved his men countless of times. It's relaxed his inner pup countless times, when he is able to dictate every little detail. It's why he has survived as long as he has and clawed his way up the ranks and made a name for himself. It's why people rarely question him, his need for control has helped him get what he wants and it has never failed.

“Fine Sweetheart. Let's go back to the others and we will revisit this conversation later.” He leans down and presses a chaste kiss to her lips. It calms him just a bit. But the second they get back home, he is pulling her into his arms, for a gentle reminder that she is his.

Kyle stands in the doorway to John's room. He was a bit concerned when they got home and John kissed him on the cheek. A murmured request to wait outside his door and check on him and Bambi every few minutes. He could scent the nerves on John, he always got antsy when he felt slighted. Usually his nerves were rattled by work, maybe an unwanted mission that promises to last longer than four months could make him feel this way. Interactions with his superiors could maybe make his eyes twitch. This though, the sound of that harshness of German and Bambi ignoring his demand for her to stop that conversation got him out of character. Kyle suspects it's because he doesn't like the idea of Bambi even knowing a mercenary. None of them like it really, but they've already asked Kate to check and see if König really does work for Temple Ballistics and Weaponry, and unfortunately the search came back positive. The former mercenary really does work for the Castello family, sources say that his contract was bought out and that's all there is.

He doesn't understand the timeline or even why his Dove would be near the man. From how her family acts towards him, he can understand why John's hackles were raised. Those two little girls had laughed when he spoke German to them, they were learning his language. Their own Dove was able to rebuttal easily, though she tripped here and there in her words, accent very clearly showing that she learned later in life. It was clear that she learned in preparation to welcome him into her life permanently and now her bilingualism is a relic of a failed relationship and also the omen of embers that aren't fully snuffed out.

“John, is she sleeping?” Kyle carefully steps into the room and approaches the bed. His eyes trail over their naked bodies. Bambi has bite marks peeking from the inside of her thighs, fingerprint shaped bruises on her waist, which is a feat because brown skin doesn't show bruises easily. He thinks the marks of ownership are gorgeous and he wants a matching set on his own body from John and he also wants to leave marks on their omega as well.

“She is asleep, yes.” He answers him quietly. He is dragging his fingers up her spine lightly, periodically resting his hand on the back of her neck. His thumb caressing her scent gland, before making the trail back to her hip. “Do you want to join us?”

Kyle doesn't need to be told twice before he is climbing in bed next to his alpha. He inhales the scent of sex, their combined musk makes him relax against John. “She was very upset during your conversation with her.”

John doesn't say anything but nods in agreement, “She needed reassurance that she would really belong to us and that we want her.” He doesn't mention any of the other unsavory things she hissed at him. How he said that she was theirs and how she didn't want to be kept around as a pack breeder. She was bothered by what was said to her. Kyle didn't need to know that though.

“She really thinks that or did you let your temper get the best of you?” Kyle snuggled up to him and began to trace patterns on Bambi's back, his fingers brushed against John's and then he held his hand.

“A bit of both.” He closes his eyes, “We'll get everything sorted in the morning. All of us and then this issue shouldn't happen again.”

Kyle closes his own eyes he's only slightly worried about that conversation.

A.N: Merry Christmas and Yuletide everyone. This chapter kicked my ass lol. I had a vision and I'm glad it worked out. I was just trying something new and I hope it paid off especially with how I wrote the main chunk of this chapter as a flashback with altering povs. There are some parts that need to be read carefully. That being said if you need something explained don't be afraid to slide into my inbox and ask.

Tag list: @curiouslittleprincess @leahnicole1219 @chickennuggetuwu @blackchickinthedesert @dragons-flare @gazsluckyhat

#call of duty fic #cod fic #black!oc #captain john price #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #Johnny Soap mactavish #john price smut #john price x black!oc #simon riley x black!oc #kyle garrick x black!oc #johnny mactavish x black!oc #omegaverse #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o #black fanfic #black oc #omegaverse!cod

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dreamofjoys · 2 years ago

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C/W: Angst trope with Malleus (the whole world is against the both of you), GN reader, reader is being criticised and magicless , angst Malleus

A/N: I’m feeling down so feel my pain…. MWAHAHAHAHAH

Love is meant to be a beautiful thing, and yet it was killing the both of you.

For the sake of love, Malleus had daringly bared his fangs to the people of his country, declaring that you are his lover, the only person he will allow to rule beside him. Everyday, the people in the parliament would try to change his mind, begging him to reconsider his decision. The idea was immediately shut down by the prince of Thorns. Whoever that defied him that day, was suspended from the courts for “disobeying” a royalty.

For the sake of love, you had to bear the criticism that were thrown towards you. The faes of Briar Valley point their fingers at you, eyes looking down at your human nature while their mouth mock at your lack of magic ability. Everytime you exit your room, you cover your ears,shut your eyes right, head down and go to wherever you were needed. The hate was slowly killing you, but you bite down your lips and tell yourself that it was all for the sake of love.

Love is meant to be a beautiful thing, so why are you and Malleus argueing now? He was unable to turn the court to support his decision in marrying you. You were unable to tolerate the hate that was being thrown towards you. Both of you were in an equally bad mood. And when you looked at each other, a thought suddenly appeared.

It’s because I love you, that’s why I’m so angry and sad that I have to bear all this hatred. What’s wrong with my love towards you? Is it a crime?

Love is a beautiful thing, and yet the both of you were suffering for each other.

“Should I just leave him?” You thought about it for a long time. Malleus has everything here, but you have nothing. You have nothing to lose. There’s no home for you in twisted wonderland, there’s no family here. You are just here by yourself. Malleus has the power, fame and glory. He has his people. But you have no one. You have nothing, except for your love towards him. And this love was something that the world couldn’t accept.

Leaving was the best option. It emotionally killed you, and you had expected Malleus to move on quickly -given the fact that there were many noble ladies lining up to marry him.

Little did you know that the day you left, was the day Malleus had completely died internally. Faes are loyal creatures who only love and have one partner for their entire long life. The love he had for you was so great that he decided to ascend the throne immediately and change the world for you.

If the current world can’t accept the both of you to be together, then let him reset and change this world. The new world would welcome you and Malleus, no one would ever mock you again, no one would ever have to nag at Malleus to find someone better.

The both of you can be together again. That’s if, the love is still there at the end of the day.

#twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #dreamofjoystwst #imagines #y/n #diasomnia #twst malleus #twst x reader #malleus draconia x reader #twisted wonderland malleus #malleus angst

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sainteclectic · 4 months ago

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Lifeblood {Chapter 2}

Sink your teeth into your prey gently. Blood loss feels a lot like love if you do it right.

Soul & Whole, Blood Drinking, Minor Descriptions of Injury, Suicidal Thoughts. 1.2k words.

Atlas watches as Harmonia hesitates, hands trembling, eyes wide with concern. They don't blame him—it's a bizarre situation, one they never thought they'd be in when they went up to the roof that night. Hell, he didn't expect to still be alive.

But here they are, face cupped by the hand of someone they barely know, entrusting him with the life they planned to throw away. A vampire, one that looks at him with such human worry. He should probably be afraid in this situation. Terrified, even.

They aren't scared at all. This is the first spark of excitement they've felt for a long time.

“Wh—Right now?” Harmonia readjusts his hand as Atlas tilts his head even further. “I mean, I… I haven't really done this before, uh—”

It's their turn to be concerned. “At all? How long have you been starving?”

Harmonia looks away and says nothing, and that tells them all they need to know. He must have been suffering for so long, ignoring his needs for the sake of others. It's a feeling Atlas knows well, one they'd never wish on someone so kind.

“Go ahead, please,” they say. “You need it much more than I do.”

“I—I think you need your blood to live too? Uh, I mean, last time I checked…”

Atlas only shrugs the jacket off his shoulders in response. The cold breeze of the winter night against his exposed skin makes him shiver, but he doesn't mind. They know it won't be cold for long, not with the warmth of fresh blood on their skin.

Harmonia reaches out his hand to their neck before pulling it back slightly, hesitant even with permission. The gesture, that silent reassurance that he doesn’t want to hurt them, makes their heart flutter. How could Harmonia ever call himself a monster?

They take Harmonia's hand in theirs and squeeze it with a smile. His nervous expression softens into one of apologetic gratitude as he leans in, mouth to their neck, before pausing again.

“Are you sure this is okay?”

His breath is warm against Atlas' cold skin, which makes them shudder for an entirely different reason. It's so soft, something so gentle and intimate despite the violence of what he's about to do.

“Mhm…”

Their voice is quiet, breathless as Harmonia latches onto their neck so cautiously. Careful not to hurt Atlas, even now, even as teeth sink into his flesh. A wolf biting into its willing prey with such care.

Care. Harmonia is treating him with care.

The thought makes Atlas feel dizzy, or maybe that's just the blood loss—but they haven't lost nearly enough blood to feel so lightheaded already, at least, not if the warmth rushing to his cheeks is any indication. Harmonia mutters something, probably an apology, and Atlas squeezes his hand again.

“It's okay, I'm okay,” they say, and God, what an understatement. Comfort and adrenaline mix into something closer to ecstasy, a level of happiness he's never felt, a level he didn't think he was capable of feeling. “Keep going, please.”

Harmonia hums in response, and Atlas realizes they can't feel his breath anymore. In fact, they can't feel their neck at all. It's a strange realization. This really should hurt, but the only sensation left is a pleasant tingling and a faint sense of pressure where fangs break skin.

How deep are they at this point? He can't tell anymore. They could be bleeding out right now and they would have no idea. Harmonia could easily kill him. Their head spins, and they should be afraid at this point, but they only relax further under Harmonia's touch. They wouldn't mind dying like this. He wonders, briefly, if rabbits would die this happy if they knew how much the wolf loves them. His limbs go limp.

Harmonia whimpers a little in response, clearly worried, but Atlas only nuzzles their cheek against his palm as he continues to feed. Everything feels so nice. So fuzzy, so soft, peaceful in a way he's never known. His head is swimming, drowning even, but the water is so comforting. Maybe the blood loss is starting to kick in, but they can only think one thing as their vision gets blurry:

The night doesn't feel so cold anymore.

Atlas must have drifted off at some point, because they open their eyes to find Harmonia staring at him with wide, panicked eyes. He continues to prop their head up with one hand as he uses the other to press his jacket to their neck, trying frantically to stop the bleeding.

“Hhhhey… Don' worry, 'm okay… 'kay?” Atlas slurs his words a bit—a lot—more than he anticipated, which makes Harmonia look even more worried. “Mm… Pretty face shouldn't look so sad…”

Harmonia's expression turns from panic to flustered confusion.

“Wh—Pretty? You think I'm…?” He shakes his head. “Focus, focus—Are you really okay? Do you know where you are?”

Where… they are? Atlas lifts his head to look around—and immediately feels his vision gets spotty. The world around them turns into a swirling mess of gray as their head falls back into Harmonia's hand. Through the haze, they see him looking at them with those sad puppy-dog eyes, and the thought of scaring someone so kind snaps him back to reality.

“Uh… Roof… rooftop. On th'... the roof.”

Their voice doesn't sound all too confident, but the correct response makes Harmonia sigh with relief. He lifts the jacket slightly to check the bite wound, wincing at the sight.

“I—I'm really sorry, I didn't mean… I drank way too much, I'm so fucking sorry, I should've known better, fuck—”

“Hey hey hey…” Atlas' quiet voice cuts off Harmonia's panicked rambling. “D'you… feel better? Less hungry?”

Harmonia blinks. “Huh? I… I guess so? Yeah, I guess I do.”

They smile up at him, head still spinning. The world is a miserable blur, something he's never wanted any part in. One of his very first memories is leaning over the side of a bridge, too small to reach the top of the railing, trying to measure a distance greater than the number he could count to.

It's ironic. That was going to be their last memory, too. And yet…

In front of Atlas is the person who saved their life, in more ways than one. A person he barely knows, yet one who looks at him with so much kindness, one who treats him with such care. They can't pry their eyes away from Harmonia, even with the wind at their back reminding them of that fall. For the first time in his life, he's not measuring the distance.

Maybe it's a farce. Maybe this feeling of safety and peace is just a fluke, and Atlas will go back to being miserable after this is over. But if this is their last memory instead, they wouldn't mind.

“...Thank you.”

Harmonia blinks.

“I—Thank you?! Why are you thanking me? I just drank your blood!”

“No,” they say. “You just saved my life.”

He stares at them for a moment longer in disbelief before letting out a fond sigh, gently pulling Atlas in closer. Once they're close enough to rest their head on his shoulder, he slowly lowers his hand. Atlas whines quietly at this, which makes Harmonia laugh a little as he wraps his arms around them.

“...You saved mine too.”

#aaaand here's the tumblr post version #cccc #chonnys charming chaos compendium #chonny jash #cj soul #cccc soul #cj whole #cccc whole #eclectic excerpts #decided not to make chapter names because. im lazy #cj lifeblood #lifeblood au

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badperson-8 · 1 year ago

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Butting In (Part 2) Satan and Asmodeus

Male/AMAB MC finds an intriguing sex toy – a magical fleshlight, which is automatically connected to the body of whoever haunts their sexual fantasies. How will each brother react if MC succumbs to the temptation and uses the device?

amabMC x Satan | amabMC x Asmo

2.7k words | NSFW | Porn without plot | gn!pronouns MC | AO3 link

Content Warnings: Dub-con | Anal Sex | Mentions of Blood and Violence (not during sex)

Part 1 (Lucifer, Mammon, Levi) Part 3 (Beel, Belphie) Part 4 (Diavolo) Part 5 (Solomon)

Satan

Satan breathes heavily as he opens his eyes and looks around. There are three unconscious bodies (maybe even corpses) lying at his feet. Their flesh is all torn up, lacking either an arm or a leg. Satan stares at his hands, covered in blood, trying to remember how he got to this point. As the red liquid dries up and loses its pleasant warmth, he recalls what exactly happened.

Satan was on his way to the bookstore to find a book from the Human world MC mentioned earlier, when he heard a strange commotion in the alley nearby. He had some spare time, so he decided to check what was going on. There he found three young demons who were having fun by torturing a cat. The poor creature had multiple wounds all over its body.

The next second, Satan was standing in his demon form with blood on his hands. Well, that certainly explains things. It’s a relief that the reason for his temporary memory loss was rage. It would be unfortunate if he started having memory problems; his brain is an important storage of countless useful pieces of information, after all.

Satan ignores the quiet whining of one of the demons - torturers of cats don’t deserve mercy in his book. It’s much more important to find the wounded kitten. It is known that cats have some mysterious connection to the Devildom, the land itself protects them, granting magical abilities that also include fast regeneration. They are much more vulnerable in the Human world than here, but still. It’s important to check this cat just in case, and maybe carry it to the vet clinic.

Satan takes a few steps further to the alley when he suddenly feels the overwhelming pleasure spreading across his whole body. The demon stops in shock, trying to analyze what provoked this reaction. Definitely not the recent massacre; Satan knows himself well enough to know that while violence satisfies his needs as the Avatar of Wrath, it doesn’t turn him on. Maybe the reason for such a reaction is the fact that it’s a rare occasion when he almost feels like a hero? Sexual arousal has a strong emotional component, after all. Even simple feelings like happiness or excitement can become erotic stimuli under certain circumstances…

The second wave of pleasure feels less overwhelming, because Satan is mentally ready for it. And he gets a chance to examine the reaction of his organism more attentively. He notices a pattern, which leads him to believe that the source of these disturbances is…

His own backside. Satan shakes his head, his mind refuses to accept this information. It is indeed a delicate place with lots of nerve endings, but it can’t produce such… reactions on its own, without any stimulation.

Satan frowns and closes his eyes, examining his magical energy. Just as he thought, there are faint traces of the curse on him. The demon growls when he feels how invisible touches slowly move past his anal sphincters and get into his rectum. He has never understood why nature decided to make this particular place so sensitive. And now he has to endure such humiliation because of this. Satan’s pupils become narrow slits as he sinks into pure wrath.

Satan snarls as he tries to ignore the distracting sensations and concentrate on the source of the curse. He can’t discover the essence of this spell or artifact, but he got something even better: a destination. Satan bares his fangs in something that almost looks like a victorious smile. His demon form makes him fast and efficient, so he jumps as high as he can and digs his claws into the brick wall, climbing up.

Satan reaches the roof and starts running toward the source of the curse, imagining how he will rip out the intestines of the one who is behind all this. The sudden feeling of something wet inside him makes the demon trip off, but he grabs the side of the building just in time to save himself from a nasty fall. Satan roars, feeling his blood boil with fury. He jumps back on the roof, but this time he gets on all fours and starts sprinting as fast as he can.

The desire to tear apart the fool who dares to do this to him overtakes his brain. Satan can only concentrate on the magical trail and annoying boner that makes the way more difficult and longer than it should be. He doesn’t even realize where he’s sprinting. His eyes no longer see the road, as he feels something hot and heavy pushing past the tightened rings of muscle. Satan can only hear his own heartbeat and the blood pumping in his head as he gets closer to his goal.

Roof. Long jump. Concrete. Porch. Door. Fuck the door. Window. Jump…

The window shatters loudly, scratching the demon, but he couldn’t care less. Satan jumps straight at the target, dropping them on the floor and climbing on top of them. He swings his arm forward, ready to dig his long claws into the flesh…

But as he sees MC’s face, he redirects his hand to the side, scratching the floor right next to their face. They stare at each other in shock, unable to understand what is happening.

Satan silently turns his head around and sees some kind of artifact attached to MC’s hard dick. Even his monstrous face, covered in blood, and sudden attack didn’t kill their arousal. In fact, it seems they’re getting even harder…

Satan immediately looks back at MC, his eyes widening even more. MC just lies under him silently, their brain completely shut down. Satan also has to gather all his strength to be able to think somewhat rationally. So, they find him… attractive? Even in his demon form? Even when he looks like… this? And it was them the whole time? They are… inside him?

A sudden moan from MC makes Satan almost jump to the ceiling like a scared cat. He only now realizes how fast his body relaxed as soon as he realized that MC was the cause of this… misunderstanding. His muscles stopped violently squeezing MC’s dick, so now the human must experience whole new sensations. Satan’s body feels it as well. Now, when his mind is not against the sudden intrusion, he starts to… enjoy it.

Satan tilts his head in curiosity, examining the human. His pupils slowly dilate as his shiny, green eyes absorb every hint of pleasure on MC’s face. His sharp, spiky tail carefully slides along MC’s body, stopping its tip near the artifact. It slowly wraps around the device, grabbing it tightly. Satan finds himself smirking when he sees the confused reaction of the human beneath him.

His tail gently moves the artifact up, along the hardened dick of MC. His claws uncontrollably rupture the floor near the human’s head as he feels the resumed movement inside. Satan and MC moan synchronically as the tail starts moving the artifact up and down, bringing them both immense pleasure.

Satan feels the human’s hands on his hips. Their trembling fingers attempt to unzip his pants and get to his dick. It takes them several tries, but they prevail in the end. MC starts massaging Satan’s cock, pumping it to the pace of their thrusts into the artifact. The demon growls in approval and satisfaction, quickening the movements of his tail.

The tempo of the pushes becomes intense and uncontrollably rough. Satan doesn’t dare to put his hands or lips on the human, fearing to injure them with his sharp claws and fangs. MC doesn’t have such a problem, though, so they use this advantage to tease the mighty demon. Satan grumbles, but it feels too good, so he allows MC to do everything they want.

It doesn’t take long for them to reach their peak. Satan comes on top of his human, shivering with his whole body. He inhales deeply, the smell of sex and pleasure fills the whole room and makes his head spin. Satan can’t hold in a soft purr as he settles on top of MC, not intending to get up anytime soon.

…Later that day, when Satan decided to finally release MC, they both visited the infamous alley. Bodies were nowhere to be seen, but they found a completely healthy cat, who ate all the treats they brought. It seems the Devildom’s magic treats cats even kinder than it’s described in books. And demolishes everyone who tries to disturb the peace, one way or another.

Asmodeus

Today is a big day. Asmo has been chasing this opportunity for several months. He finally became the new face of Goetia Cosmetics. This company primarily specializes in hair products, but after a recent rebranding, they decided to start releasing makeup kits. It was a huge deal ever since they announced it, and every model, influencer, and actor wanted to be the ambassador of the new cosmetic line.

Asmodeus wasn’t so desperate, of course. Well, he hid it very well, at least. In truth, he wanted this job just as much as everybody else. It was quite overhyped, true, and he totally understood it. But even MC, who wasn’t very knowledgeable about the fashion world of the Devildom, heard about this advertisement campaign. The second MC mentioned Goetia Cosmetics in a casual conversation with him, Asmodeus knew that he couldn’t let some second-rate model steal the spotlight. Not when MC had their eyes on this campaign.

The only problem was that Goetia Cosmetics didn’t want to hire well-established and popular celebrities. They were looking for a new face, someone fresh and unique. So they dared to refuse Asmo when he graciously offered his services.

But Asmo was in the business for too long to let this little unpleasant episode stop him. So, after a couple of polite, professional meetings and death threats, the company quickly understood how foolish it was to refuse the most beautiful and popular demon in the whole Devildom. They even raised the fee for modeling in their campaign after Asmo semi-publicly assumed that they were looking for a new face purely to pay less to a presumed young and gullible model.

But Asmo is already regretting his decision to join this campaign. Deadlines are always brutal in this sort of business, but this is a new level of incompetence. Asmodeus sighs, checking his look in the mirror one last time. The company managed to do wonders from a marketing standpoint. But when it came to creating the actual material for the campaign, it became clear that the people in charge weren’t ready for a project of such scale. Deadlines were moved and missed multiple times at each stage of the project, and now they’ve reached a critical point. His photos were supposed to be published long ago, but they didn’t even start shooting them.

So now, it seems like the whole photoshoot will last for only one day. Asmo has no right to make a single mistake, he can’t feel ill or tired. He needs to deal with it like always, professionally.

Even if he feels suspiciously pleasant sensations in the area of his butthole. Asmo sighs once again, not sure if he should be pissed off or happy. MC chose literally the worst time to find the little present Asmo left for them. Asmodeus thought that it would make for a thrilling little game. He had no doubts about who would be in MC’s sexual fantasies. So he waited. And waited. And waited. But MC took their sweet time.

Okay, Asmodeus didn’t explain what this device was made for, and he simply left it in MC’s bedroom as a surprise. Maybe he chose a not-so-obvious spot, but still. MC should’ve figured out what this thing does long ago. And they finally did it. Fantastic.

“Mr. Asmodeus, sir. We’re starting in five minutes. Are you ready?” A little, round demon with impressive horns squeaks at Asmo, trembling slightly.

“Yes.” Asmo simply responds, wincing as MC’s fingers gently penetrate his hole. The little demon decides that Mr. Asmodeus doesn’t want to be disturbed, so they quickly run away.

Asmo examines his face in the mirror, wondering whether he’ll manage to hide his growing erection and unavoidable moans while sitting under the spotlight in front of several cameras. He’s quite good at being sneaky and masking naughty activities in public. But this is too public for his liking.

MC’s fingers gently play with his hole and move deeper, no doubt feeling Asmo’s warmth inside the artifact. They’re taking their sweet time again; they clearly don’t intend to finish in the next five minutes. Such delicious torture. Asmo smiles softly, teasingly squeezing the fingers with his muscles…

“Mr. Asmodeus, sir! We’re ready to start!” The same round demon returns, interrupting Asmo’s thoughts. Have five minutes already passed? Preposterous. So he was glued to the mirror this whole time, lost in the sensations from MC’s skilled fingers. A new wave of rumors about Asmo’s narcissism will certainly start after this, but he couldn’t care less.

Asmo straightens up and pridefully walks towards the chair on which he’ll spend the next several hours. At least he doesn’t have to advertise clothes, only the makeup on his face. He crosses his legs and casually places his hands in the area of his groin, attempting to hide his quite visible erection.

A lovely makeup artist runs toward him, fixing the last minor details on his face before the photoshoot starts. This is the exact moment MC chooses to apply some lube inside the artifact, making Asmo shiver and passionately breathe out on the verge of a moan right into the makeup artist’s face. Needless to say, the artist runs away immediately, blushing and stumbling. Well, at least the whole predicament is entertaining. But Asmo needs to control himself better to avoid harassment lawsuits.

And MC definitely doesn’t make it easier for him. He feels how their hard dick thrusts inside, going all the way in in one motion. The camera clicks right in front of Asmo’s face, capturing all the little details. The demon clenches his fists, doing his best to maintain a joyful smile, but it’s hard when MC immediately takes the crazy pace and pushes inside him at tremendous speed. Asmo is well aware of how mind-blowing his ass can be. He’s the Avatar of Lust, after all. But he never knew he would wish to be a little less perfect.

Because MC on the other side simply loses their mind, ramming the artifact with all their might. Asmodeus has to utilize every last piece of his acting skills to not show what he actually feels. He desires to spread his legs and take the whole length of MC’s dick, over and over. He wants to milk the damn thing, absorbing every last drop of MC’s cum. He wishes he could whimper and scream from pleasure as loud as he wants.

But he calmly sits on the chair, politely smiling and obediently turning his head 10 degrees to the side so that the lighting illuminates his features better, just as the photographer wants it. Asmo’s boner leaves prominent wet stains on the fabric of his pants. He can feel it as he tries to stop his legs from shaking.

Asmo feels MC coming inside him, holding in a sigh of relief and smiling more brightly than ever. Finally, he gets a chance to take a break. Maybe he’ll even manage to make the boner go away if he concentrates on the photographer’s large pimple, which shines provokingly on his nose.

But the bright smile instantly disappears as he feels MC going for the second round. Such stamina is quite admirable, but not in this situation.

“Asmo? What happened?” The photographer asks with worry, noticing the change in Asmo's expression.

“…Nothing. Please, continue.” Asmo smiles once again, bracing himself for a very long photoshoot.

…The campaign was a tremendous success, despite all the little problems during the production period. Asmodeus managed to make a ton of high-quality photos for the ad. But there was one particular picture that was used the most and became the official photo of the whole campaign.

That photo pictured Asmo’s most genuine and happiest smile the world has ever seen. It was the exact moment when, after several hours of sweet torture and several rounds of getting his ass destroyed by MC’s dick, Asmodeus gave up and let himself come right in front of the whole filming crew and a dozen cameras. All while keeping his cheerful smile on. Because that’s what being a professional means.

Part 1 (Lucifer, Mammon, Levi) Part 3 (Beel, Belphie) Part 4 (Diavolo) Part 5 (Solomon)

P.S. The art doesn't belong to me, it's an official art from Shall We Date: Obey Me! (The Mysterious Box card)

#obey me #obey me ao3 #obey me fanfic #male mc #omswd fanfic #amab mc #obey me gn!mc #mc x satan #mc x asmo #mc x asmodeus #mlm #bottom asmodeus #bottom satan #obey me smut

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politemenacephd · 1 year ago

Text

Arachnophilia (Part Seven)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Content (Part 7): Miguel is rutting, reader is in heat, cock warming, rough biting/claiming bites, PinV sex, possessive sex, breeding kink, creampie & pullout marking, aftercare.

You're a new recruit to the spider society, and you've just been sent on your first mission on one condition: Do not contact Miguel's variant in this universe. When your mission goes wrong you break that rule very quickly, desperate for help, only to find that Miguel's variant here is not what you expected. He's stoic but kind, awkward but sincere, and he's also an enormous human-spider hybrid: a drider, both human and arachnid. You decide to continue seeing Miguel in secret, with the rest of the society unaware. You really want to stay friends after all. That is, until Miguel suddenly goes into a rut. Now you're his mate, trapped in a dizzying heat that only he can fix, trying to hide your relationship from your suspicious superiors. What could go wrong? Word count: 3040

The clarity you’d gained was an overwhelming comfort as you hurried back through the woods. With the baby issue sorted you knew now that you weren’t just using Mig, nor were you a depraved servant to your own body. You liked him, you wanted him, and that desire went right down to your core.

You stumbled through the glade towards his nest where you found a long, thick, string of web leading from the floor to the entrance. You dropped your bags in the dirt and grappled onto the sticky web so you could hoist yourself up.

‘Mig! Are you—’

A low, agonised moan filled the air. You paused with your hand on the entrance.

‘Mig? Mig, are you—’

Another moan, another whine. You felt your blood run cold. Your panic drove you to rush through the entrance. ‘Mig! What—’

Miguel wasn’t hurt like you’d feared. In fact, it was quite the opposite.

He was bent over the bed, furiously rubbing his erect phallus against the mattress. His face was buried in the silk sheet he’d made to cover you at night, the one thing in the house still saturated with your scent, your musk, your pheromones. He’d clearly already cum at least twice but it had offered no relief.

You felt your own ache triple over in your gut, a pull so hard that it made you choke on your own spit. You could see the sweat beading on his perfectly muscled back, the flash of his fangs as he panted. It was a beautiful sight. Slowly, you approached.

‘Mig.’

He looked up at the sound of your voice. His face was that of a desperate animal, with narrowed bloody red eyes and bared teeth. He was panting, heaving, his muscles tensed to the point that they bulged. You met his gaze without fear.

‘Sweet boy’ you whispered. His eyelids slowly drooped.

‘Poor thing.’

You bent down to your knees and slid your hand beneath his abdomen, gently grasping his cock. He groaned as you did, his mouth falling agape as venom squirted and pooled from his fangs. You saw goosebumps go up his arms from the sheer intensity of your touch.

‘I’m here now, let me help’ you soothed.

You began to tenderly stroke his shaft, using the copious pre-cum as lubricant to help slide your fist back and forth. You couldn’t fit your whole fist around it but you felt him throb with pleasure in response to your touch.

‘Mi tesoro’ he whined. He put his head in your neck and breathed deep.

‘My Mig.’ You whispered it earnestly as you let him affectionately nibble on your neck.

‘You came back’ he breathed. He sounded euphoric, almost dreamlike, as if he was waiting to be woken from a wet dream. You squeezed his shaft until he gasped, a little pain to wake him back up. When his eyes opened you kissed his lower lip.

‘I was barely gone a few hours, you silly thing. You got yourself so wound up.’

You bumped foreheads and pressed in close as you continued to stroke him, with his abdomen now arching to gently pump into your closed fist.

‘Mi Tesoro. I can’t- stand it—’

‘No, I know. I can’t either’ you whined back.

His hands moved on their own, sliding up your thighs to your clothed cunt. His claws brushed the wet fabric where your slick had gushed out on the run here.

‘Mi arañita’ he gasped. ‘I… I must mate with you, please.’

‘Please’ you whispered back. ‘Please, yes.’

He leaned in and breathed in deep at your shoulder. You closed your eyes and sighed, expecting to feel his lips once more, but for some reason his touch faltered.

When you opened your eyes, Miguel was rigid with rage. His face was utterly contorted, his eyes now completely red with just two little white pupils. You blanched.

‘M-Mig?’

‘You… smell like him’ he seethed.

You jumped as his claws extended, falling onto your back.

‘Mig, wait, I didn’t— I don’t understand, what do you mean I smell like him?’

He was crawling over your fallen body, forcing your body to the ground. You realized, up close, just how big his fangs were. You’d never, ever seen him like this before.

‘Are you still sealed?’ he hissed. You felt his fingers pushing on your cunt, feeling for it, and involuntarily moaned.

‘Y-Yes, yes.’

Even through the fabric he could feel the thick webbing covering up your entrance. He briefly pushed his head between your thighs, sensing your smell there, before returning to leer over your body. No, you were definitely still sealed. You still smelled of his seed. His good arañita was being truthful.

‘I can smell it. You smell like them. You smell like him’ he repeated. ‘Why?’

You thought back to Miguel grabbing you, his hand holding you against the wall. Shit, you thought, that’s what he can smell. ‘He- Yeah, I-- I was in the HQ, and he grabbed me to ask where I went. I pulled away and left. That’s it. I promise. I promise.’

You watched as Miguel’s brows knotted, his face lined with an anger you’d never seen before. He looked furious. ‘Ese cabrón’ he hissed under his breath. ‘I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him.’

At this point you were whining, physically shifting to ease the ache of the heat. You didn’t want to admit it, but his possessive behaviour was making it so much worse. Your unsatisfied lust was agony. ‘Mig, I— please, fuck, it hurts—I need you—’

‘Take them off.’

‘W-What?’

‘Your clothes. Off. Now’ he ordered. As your insides pulsed you hurried to obey, desperately stripping every piece of clothing aside.

The moment you were naked he mounted you from behind, with one hand on your back and the other pinning your wrists above your head. You felt his hot breath on your nape and mewled pathetically. God, your body was on fire.

‘I need to make sure- mm- that I teach him a lesson’ he purred. His weight was making it hard to breath.

‘Mig’ you whined. ‘I—’

In a flash his teeth sank into your neck, and your breath was stolen from you.

‘Mmf- mmf—’

He let out a muffled groan as he bit you. His rapid breath hit your nape as he bit on you like a cat holding a kitten, surrendering your body to a hard mating press from behind.

You could feel his teeth as they moved beneath the skin. It only stung a little, as his venom helped to numb the bite, but what you most certainly felt was the awe-inspiring power of your monster as he clamped you in his jaws.

He kept you held down as he mounted your back. You felt his hardened phallus starting to pump between your legs even while you were still sealed.

‘M-Mig, fuck, let- let me—’

He didn’t even seem to hear you. He was feral right now. You were forced to awkwardly wriggle your hand from his grip and maneuver it beneath your belly to try and pry the seal away.

His cock kept impatiently pushing on your hand, and the copious pre-cum he was leaking kept causing you to slip, but eventually you managed to rip the seal aside. The second it was gone he impaled you.

‘MM—’

You wheezed as he spread you, as he strained your muscles to breaking point. He quickly re-pinned both of your wrists back in place.

Inch by inch he slid inside, stretching and filling until you could feel nothing else. You felt his veins pulsing against your insides as your cunt clenched.

Miguel released you from his bite just to hiss. ‘Mine’ he seethed. He bucked once, hard, to prove his point, and you melted as hot pain seared through your core. You pushed back against him.

‘Fuck- fuck, that’s it Mig, mm- thank you—’

‘Mine.’ He repeated it against your neck.

‘Yours’ you whimpered. You felt his fangs nipping at your neck, threatening to bite you again as he continued his slow probing of your sore cunt. His cunt.

‘Mine.’

‘Y-Yours.’

‘Mine.’

He pumped inside you slowly, in a way designed to stretch. He was moulding you, fitting you to him, driving his genetic mark into every inch of your insides. You screamed for him with each thrust. Every toe-curling slip into those tight walls, each squelch of a retraction that softened the bulge in your belly, it was enough to make you shake.

Those pretty little tears covered your lashes once more.

‘Good.’

His low, gravelly voice turned husky as he started to move in you, as he sensed the way you clenched and whined for him. He wanted you to beg. He wanted you to plead. He wanted you to surrender everything.

‘Good. Good. That’s it. Good.’

Your toes involuntarily curled as he started to pulse his abdomen back and forth. It was outrageously wet, outrageously sensitive, as each slip made your legs tremble.

‘Mig’ you whined. He grunted above you.

He started to get faster. You could feel the pressure of the mattress against your belly as he forced you into it, mercilessly pounding your body into submission. His fuzz was rough on your naked rear, and his forelegs were digging into your waist as he held you taught.

You could feel his black fur getting wet as your slick squirted out. He didn’t care.

‘Good arañita, just like that. Let me breed you’ he hissed.

God he was so warm inside you. Even when rough the feel was euphoric, slowly fucking away that unbearable ache.

‘Mig’ you whined a second time. He panted on your neck until you started to sweat from the heat.

‘Do you want my babies?’ he purred, bending down to whisper it in your ear. The weight of his body was suffocating as he fucked you into a mewling mess.

‘You want my offspring, arañita? Do you want me to impregnate you?’

‘Y-Yes’ you cried, right as he began to bully your cervix. You could feel every inch of him as he started to hump to completion, and he was fucking away all of your inhibitions.

‘You’ll be mine?’

‘Yes—’

‘You want only me?’

‘Y-Yes—’

‘You want me?’

‘Yes!’

One of his lower spider legs had slipped beneath your belly and was starting to brush your swollen clit, pushing you to cum. He was grunting hard with each thrust.

‘You—mm—Are—mm—My—mm—Mate!’ he groaned, emphasising each word with another thrust. You squirmed and moaned his name in brainless ecstasy.

‘I won’t let- anyone- touch you like that again. If you want me, you are- mine.’

Right on the word ‘mine’, you orgasmed. You could barely breath as he crushed your shaking body beneath him.

‘F-FUCK- MIG—’

He uttered one more word right as his body tipped, unable to hold back anymore.

‘Mine.’

He practically growled when he came, his groan turned savage by his own hormones, and you whined as you felt him fill you again.

He let three or four thick spurts fill your cunt, allowing you to relish in how the warmth and wetness felt weighing inside you, but after the first four he retracted his shaft and dropped it hard onto your ass. He pumped the rest onto your back.

It was hot against your skin and thick enough that it barely slid or dripped, coating your spine in those heavy ropes of white seed.

You whimpered as he put a hand on your neck to keep you still until he was done rubbing himself out against your rear. He pumped himself dry and then collapsed.

‘Ah… that’s it’ he panted. ‘That’s- that’s it. Now you’ll smell like me again.’

As the heat dissipated you both lulled. He bent down to kiss and lick clean the bite marks on your nape. ‘Thank you’ he whispered into your hair, ‘thank you, thank you. Are you okay, arañita?’

‘M-Mhm.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes. Ah- fuck, I am- more than okay’ you panted. You turned to give him a shaky, dumb looking smile. He didn’t smile back, but the affection in his wide red eyes as enough. Miguel slowly rose up and began weaving a new sheet in order to clean your back.

The cold, fresh silk was a comfort on your skin as he pressed it against you. He noted the way you squirmed for it. He didn’t say a thing, but he found it incredibly endearing.

‘There. You’re done’ he said, alerting you to the fact that you were clean. He threw the sheet aside and gently scratched at your scalp. ‘Mi arañita. I am- glad, to have you back.’

You nestled your head into his hand, a hand so large it could almost cover your entire skull.

‘I’m glad to be back. I- hated being out there.’

He grunted at that. He seemed pleased. ‘I- in truth, I wasn’t sure you would come back. I was, afraid. I don’t like that I doubted you, but, I feel I ought to say it.’

As he finished his soft confession you reached up, using one hand to hold his claws against your head. You nestled upward until your cheek was in his palm.

‘I was- scared’ you admitted in a whisper. ‘But not of you. I always wanted to come back. And I did.’

You felt Mig’s hand tighten on your cheek. He squished you, once, a sign of his affection, and you relished in it.

However, as he withdrew, you paused.

‘Mig.’

‘Yes?’

‘I… I-I, took, birth control.’

A brief moment of silence followed. You had no idea what Miguel would say. In the dim light you couldn’t tell what the lines in his face were from. Anger? Sadness? Disappointment? Relief, maybe?

You waited in that agonising tension for an answer.

‘Okay.’

Blunt as always, Miguel offered you only that word as confirmation that he’d heard you. With great care he lifted your body bridal style into his arms and shifted you into a dry spot on the mattress, quickly covering you with a blanket. When you looked up at his face it was soft.

‘Mig, I—’

‘Do you still want me?’

Your mouth gaped at the abrupt question. ‘I- Yeah, of course. I- literally just had sex with you again, but, I’ll happily say it out loud too.’

Miguel grunted. He didn’t say anything else, but he seemed pleased.

You watched as he wordlessly crawled onto the bed and settled down beside you, offering his thick fluffy legs as warmth. You nestled against his abdomen just as you had before.

‘Mig? Are you okay?’

‘Do you still want me?’

He repeated the question so softly, barely a whisper on his rough lips. You, again, nodded.

‘Yes. I do.’

‘Then I am content.’

‘Are you, sure?’

Miguel let out a soft grunt of a chuckle as he pulled you in close. He looked happy, yes, but in a deeply melancholic way. ‘I know what I am, arañita. I’m not stupid. The rut made me… desire things I know I’m not fit for, and that’s not your fault. I’m not a good fit to- father, anything. I’m truly just glad you came back, mi tesoro. Really.’

‘Oh—wait, Mig- no, no no! No- Mig that’s not why.’

He glanced down at your stammered response in confusion. ‘What do you mean?’

You sighed and put a hand to his bare stomach. ‘Migs, jesus- it’s nothing to do with what you are. It’s- you know, it’s the fact its incredibly sudden. I’m just not- ready.’

The way his eyes widened was unbearably sweet. Bit by bit his face lost a little of that stoic resignation. ‘So… so, you would let me reproduce with you?’ he murmured. You gave a little shrug.

‘I mean, your physiology doesn’t scare me, if that’s what you mean. That’s not the problem.’

‘Just… You would need, different circumstances?’

‘Right, at least- I think so. I mean I still think its- enjoyable, like the idea of you breeding me. It’s just- it’s a little, sudden, right now. That’s all. Is that okay with you?’

The way his eyes softened as he pulled you in made you a little giddy. You felt his body bristling as those few simple words caught alight in his chest, gradually starting to burn away a lifetimes weight of self-loathing and loneliness.

‘There will be other heats’ he said gently. ‘Many other heats. Many other chances. Other chances when you are, more comfortable. When you are ready for it. Is that, okay with you?’

You breathed out hard through the nose. Thank god, he was fine with it. ‘Right. Yeah. Yeah, it is. Thanks, Mig.’

He allowed a small smile to cross his face. ‘Good. Until then, I will just consider this… marking.’

‘Marking?’

You shuddered as his leg suddenly split yours apart, forcing you to look down at your bare form. You saw his webbing on your vulva, your sex still raw and throbbing. He jostled you so that you felt his ejaculate squishing inside you.

‘Marking’ he repeated. ‘Marking you as my mate, for- future purposes.’

You flushed deeply, your face glowing.

‘Is- is that a, spider thing?’

‘Spiders are like humans, actually. They are one of the few species where they can choose. They can choose to keep trying for mates, hoping they don’t get eaten, or- they can choose to defend one mate to their dying breath.’

His legs tightened around you, pulling you in close. He released a contended sigh.

‘I am simply making my choice.’

‘Oh… well, I- guess I’m making my choice too.’

In that sweet isolation, just the two of you at last, you snuggled your head against his belly. His abs were soft and squishy on your cheek.

‘Mm… such a handsome spider.’

Your words were muffled by his skin, but they still managed to coax a smile from him. Mig let out a long breath through the nose, his version of a chuckle, as he tenderly cupped your head. You shifted so you could kiss his palm.

‘Qué chula’ he breathed. ‘Mi hermosa arañita. Thank you.' link to next part

#miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #smut with plot #drider #smut #monster human relationship

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astarionslittlejuicebox · 2 months ago

Text

A Thirsty Boy (Part I)

Author: @astarionslittlejuicebox

Imagine: A certain vampire spawn is a bit hungry. How will TAV react when she wakes up to this situation?

Pairing: Astarion x F!Reader

Requested: No

Trigger warnings: minor spoilers (Act 1), suggestive themes, language, mentions of blood

Word Count: 1278

Side notes:

I own no rights to the character Astarion.

It had been a couple of weeks since the giant mindflayer ship crash landed somewhere on the Sword Coast, and a couple of weeks since I had stumbled across the pale elf with ruby eyes that held a dagger to my throat during our first encounter. It had been weeks of the two of us traveling alone together as we made our way through the unfamiliar landscape. We had tackled a group of bandits raiding a temple, a small group of skeletons, a mysterious figure named (insert the guy’s name here), and found a hog drained of all blood a few days ago.

Tonight, I sat at the fire I had started while Astarion decided to spend time in his tent. I hummed quietly to myself as I poked at the fire with a stick. I kept glancing over to Astarion’s tent, wondering what the pale elf had been up to. I knew he was hiding the fact that he was a vampire of some kind from me, but I knew better than to press sensitive issues with someone who doesn’t want to openly divulge their information.

I mean, I wasn’t open about the murderous urges I’ve been having, so why should I expect him to be open about his condition? After a couple of lonesome hours, I laid on my bedroll in my tent and closed my eyes before drifting off to sleep. I hadn’t been asleep long when I got an odd feeling that someone was in my proximity, so I slowly opened my eyes to found Astarion with his fangs bared and ready to sink into my neck. As ruby red eyes met mine, he backed away and looked like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Shit.” He muttered in a defeated tone as I shifted to sit up and look at him with a raised eyebrow. “Now, before you—“

“I thought we were close enough that you knew you could ask for some blood instead of trying to sneak it, Astarion.” I said as I gave him a pointed look.

“I—“ He starts, but his eyes widen momentarily at my comment. “Wait—you knew?” He asks without his usual mocking tone.

“You have fangs, crimson eyes, predatory grace, and walk like you haven’t seen the sun in a long time.” I said as if it was common knowledge. “The only thing I’m not sure of is if you’re a vampire or a vampire spawn.” Astarion looked at me for a moment before he let out a dubious laugh.

“You knew this whole time and still travelled with me?” He asked with a smirk—though it wasn’t one of his usual cocky smirks. “Now, why in the bloody hell would you do that?”

“You could be no worse than the tadpoles we house in our brains.” I casually shrugged.

“And you have no fear I’d drain you dry one night while you sleep?” He asked as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’d had mild hope you’d ask if you ever became desperate.” I laughed and shook my head. “Plus, after we found the bloodless boar…I kind of figured you satisfied your need in other ways.” At this, Astarion drops his arms at his side.

“I—“ He started, but avoided eye contact with me. “—usually do, but I haven’t fed and I’m a bit too—“

“Say no more.” I said as I held a hand up and laid back on the bedroll. “Drink.” I tilt my head slightly to reveal my neck more to him.

“Wait—“ Astarion said with widened eyes.

“I mean it. You can drink, Astarion. At least enough to get you strong enough to hunt.” The pale elf slowly approached me and looked down at me.

“You…mean that?” He asked in a surprisingly soft voice, and I nodded in response.

“Unless it’s not as appealing now that you have permission?” I teased and he shook his head as he got on his knees beside me.

“I’m just surprised you’re so…willing.” He replied as he eyed my neck.

“If it helps ensure you survive, I do not mind at all.” I smiled at him and closed my eyes. “Just…don’t drain me like I’m a cup of wine.” I chuckled as he leaned forward and sank his fangs into my neck. I let out a soft hiss as his fangs pierced the delicate skin of my neck, but I quickly relaxed as he drank. After a few moments, I began to feel light-headed and tapped his shoulder.

“Astarion, that’s enough.” I said, but he continued to drink. “Astarion, that’s enough.” I said as I pushed him and he released my neck.

“Right. Right.” He said as he licked the wound and then smirked as he got up. “I am much stronger now. I shall go hunt.” He said as he slowly stalked to the edge of camp. “This…is a gift you know. I won’t forget it.” He said before he stalked off into the night with the grace of a predator. I watched him disappear into the shadows before I laid back down in my tent and fell quickly asleep.

I let out a groan as the sunlight began to shine under the canvas flap of the tent. My body ached and felt as though it weighed a ton of bricks, and my head felt as if it was split open. I dressed slower than a sloth for the day and emerged from my tent to see a grinning Astarion awake and sauntering around camp.

“Good morning.” Astarion said in a cheerful tone, and I cringed as his voice reached my ears.

“Morning.” I murmured as I head to the chest and dig around for a potion of lesser restoration.

“I must say that I have never felt better or stronger than I do today.” Astarion cheerfully spoke as I tried not to flinch when the bottles in the chest clanked too loudly together. “And you?” He asked as if it was a secondary thought. “How are you this morning?”

“I feel as though I got drunk on too much wine and have the worst headache of my life.” I said as I found the potion I had been searching for. “But I am glad to hear that one of us benefited from last night.” I popped the top of the flask off and downed the fragrant potion. I scrunched my nose as I swallowed the potion, but I immediately felt better. “Oh that’s much better.” I muttered as I put the empty flask in another chest before I turned to look at Astarion, who watched me with his crimson eyes.

“Look, we need to set ground rules.” I said to him as I closed the chests. “I don’t mind you drinking from me, but I have to be awake and aware.” I said as I crossed my arms over my chest. “And I need lesser restoration potions or scrolls or something to help with the blood loss.” Astarion’s eyes widened momentarily before his signature smirk graced his lips.

“Are you suggesting, darling, that you are open to me feeding on you again?” He asked in his usual seductive tone.

“You said you feel stronger?” I asked as I studied the vampire spawn, who looked more alive than usual. “If it benefits you, then I do not mind.” I answered before I turned to pack up my tent. “And, if you want to feed again tonight…you may.” I said casually before breaking down my tent. I didn’t catch Astarion’s mutter as he turned to pack up his own tent, but I had a feeling we would have a new nightly routine.

#astarion imagine #astarion x reader #baldursgate3 #baldursgate3imagine #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav

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fanfics4all · 4 months ago

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Lines Crossed: Part 2

Request: Yes / No Hiiii!!! I lowkey loved the Malachai x Reader fic lines crossed and was wondering if you could do a pt2 with smut🙃 Anon

Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night

Malachai x Fem!Jones!Reader

Word count: 2918

Warnings: SMUT!!

Y/N: Your Name

A/N: I really love this part 2!

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(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

The tension in Dad’s office was suffocating. Jughead, Sweet Pea, Fangs, and the new kid stood in a line, arms crossed, jaws clenched, like a bunch of kids caught red-handed- which, to be fair, they were. And across from them, arms folded, head held high, was me. FP leaned against his desk, his eyes slowly scanning the room, lingering on each of them before settling on me. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head.

“You know,” He started, his voice calm, too calm. “I expected this kind of reckless, boneheaded stunt from them. But you, Jughead?” He locked eyes with my brother, disappointment thick in his tone. “You’re supposed to be smarter than this.”

“Dad-”

He held up a hand, cutting him off. “No. You don’t talk right now.”

Jug clenched his jaw, hands curling into fists. “She’s dating Malachai.” He said it like it was the only argument he needed.

Dad barely blinked. “And?”

Jughead faltered. “And? And he’s a Ghoulie! Do you know what kind of guy he is? What he’s done?”

“Oh, I know exactly what he’s done.” Dad’s voice remained steady. “And I also know what the Serpents have done. Let’s not act like we’re saints here, boy.”

Jughead opened his mouth, but Dad wasn’t done. “What I do care about is the fact that you idiots stormed into neutral ground- your sister’s shop- beat the hell out of someone, and nearly cost her the business she built from nothing. Do you understand what that means?”

Sweet Pea and Fangs exchanged a look, clearly feeling the weight of FP’s words, but Jughead remained firm, still trying to argue.

“We were trying to protect her.”

Dad scoffed. “Protect her? By making her enemies with half the town? You didn’t protect her, Jughead. You made her a target. You think the Ghoulies are just gonna let this slide?”

No one answered.

Dad sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re damn lucky Malachai didn’t retaliate. If he had, this whole damn town would be up in flames by now.”

That shut them up.

Dad let the silence stretch before pointing to the door. “Get out. Now. And if any of you ever pull a stunt like that again, don’t expect me to clean up your mess.”

Jughead looked like he wanted to argue, but one glare from Dad had him shutting his mouth. One by one, they turned and walked out. Jughead was the last to go, pausing just long enough to throw a final glance at me like he was waiting for me to say something. But I didn’t. I just met his gaze, silent, steady. He shook his head and walked out, slamming the door behind him. And just like that, we were alone. Dad exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair before turning to face me fully.

“He’ll get over it.”

I snorted. “Doubt it.”

Dad smirked slightly, but it faded just as fast. He studied me for a long moment then sighed. “Has Malachai ever hurt you?”

I blinked at the question. “What?”

“You heard me.” He said, arms crossed. “Has he ever laid a hand on you? Threatened you? Anything?”

I shook my head without hesitation. “No. Never.”

Dad held my gaze like he was searching for any sign of doubt, any hesitation. He must not have found any because, after a long pause, he sighed again, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Jeasus Christ…” He muttered, almost to himself. “Out of all the people you could’ve fallen for…”

I swallowed hard. “I’m not sorry for falling in love with him.” My voice was quiet, but firm.

“But I am sorry that it means I have to fight my own family over it.”

Dad let out another long breath, looking more tired than usual. “You don’t have to choose, sweetie. Not with me, anyway.” He shot me a pointed look. “Jughead’s another story.”

I huffed a laugh, but it wasn’t really funny. “Yeah, I know.”

Dad nodded, then clapped a hand on my shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Just… be careful. Alright?”

I nodded.

He dropped his hand, then smirked slightly. “And for the love of God, don’t get caught kissing him in public again. I don’t need another headache.”

I rolled my eyes but smiled just a little. “No promises.”

Dad chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“I’ll go talk to the Ghoulie.” I said, standing up straighter. “I’ll get them to back off.”

Dad’s jaw clenches. “Absolutely not.”

I sighed, already expecting this. “Dad-”

“No.” His voice was sharp, final. “You think I’m gonna let you waltz into their turf alone after what just happened?” He shook his head. “Not happening.”

I crossed my arms. “Malachai won’t let them touch me.”

Dad let out a humorless laugh. “And you’re sure about that?”

“Yes.” I didn’t hesitate. “If any of them try, Malachai will probably kill them himself.”

Dad muttered something under his breath, rubbing a hand down his face. He knew I wasn’t wrong. Malachai had a lot of rules when it came to his crew, and of the biggest was that no one touched what was his. And like it or not, I was his.

Dad sighed, shaking his head. “I hate this. I really hate this.”

I gave him a small, apologetic smile. “I know.”

He stared at me for a long moment, then finally exhaled in defeat. “Fine. But you get in, talk to Malachai, and get the hell out. No games.”

I nodded. “Got it.”

Dad didn’t look happy, but he knew there was no changing my mind. He muttered something about stubborn kids before waving me off.

The Ghoulie’s so-called kingdom was just as uninviting as always. The House of the Dead loomed in the darkness, lit only by dim red lights and the occasional flicker of a cigarette. Music blasted from inside, bass shaking the walls. A couple of nice cars were parked outside, along with a few beat-up ones. The second I stepped onto the property, I felt the weight of a dozen eyes on me. It didn’t take long for the comments to start.

“Look what we got here.”

“A lost little Snake.”

“Fuck off, Serpent.”

I rolled my eyes. They all knew damn well I wasn’t a Serpent, but some of them were stupid.

“Relax, I’m here to see Malachai.”

One of the Ghoulies stepped closer, smearing. “And why the hell would he want to see you?”

Before I could respond, a familiar voice cut through the noise.

“Back off.”

The Ghoulies immediately straightened, their expressions shifting from smug to wary. Malachai stepped into view, his dark eyes locked onto me, his usual smirk tugging at his lips.

“You’re playing a dangerous game coming here, baby.” He said, his voice teasing but laced with something darker.

I met his gaze without flinching. “We need to talk.”

His smirk widened. “Then let’s talk.”

Malachai led me through the chaos of the House of the Dead, past the pounding music, the smell of cigarettes and beer thick in the air. The other Ghoulies watched as I passed, their gazes lingering a little too long, some with open hostility, others with smug amusement. I ignored them, focusing on Malachai’s broad back as he pushed open the door to his office.

Once we were inside, he shut the door behind us, blocking out most of the noise. The room was dimly lit, a cluttered desk in one corner and a couch against the wall. It was messy, but it was Malachai’s space, his territory.

I crossed my arms, getting straight to the point. “Are the Ghoulies planning on retaliating against me or my brother?”

Malachai sighed, running a hand over his jaw before leaning against his desk.

“They’re pissed, babe. They think you played them.”

I frowned. “I didn’t-”

“I know that.” He cut me off, his voice softer than usual. “But they don’t see it that way. And now they don’t wanna use your shop anymore.

I felt my stomach drop. “What?”

He exhaled, watching me carefully. “They don’t trust you.”

My hands clenched into fists at my sides. “Mal, that shop is everything to me.”

He nodded. “I know.”

“I worked so hard to get it running, to make it a neutral space for business, and now they’re just gonna-” I stopped myself, pressing my lips together. My emotions were bubbling to the surface, but I refused to let them take over. Malachai studied me for a second, then pushed off the desk and stepped closer, tilting my chin up with his fingers.

“Relax, Princess. I’m not gonna let that happen.” His voice was low, firm.

“They’ll get over it.”

I searched his face, trying to tell if he was just saying that to make me feel better. But Malachai wasn’t the type to sugarcoat things. If he said he’d handle it, he meant it.

I let out a shaky breath. “What about Jughead?”

Malachai sighed again, pulling back slightly. “That’s different.”

“How?”

He crossed his arms. “Because I can’t just let them get away with what they did.”

I took a step closer, pleading. “Malachai, please. My Dad is handling it.”

He scoffed. “Your Dad is a Serpent, Y/N. You really think my people are gonna be satisfied with letting a Serpent handle Serpents?”

I grabbed his hands, squeezing them. “I know it’s not ideal, but please, for me. Let my Dad deal with it.”

Malachai looked down at me, his jaw tight, conflict flickering in his dark eyes. He hated letting things go. Hated looking weak. But he also treasured me. I was one of the only things in his life that wasn’t about power or control.

He exhaled, his grip tightening around my hands. “You’re making this real hard, babe.”

I gave him a small, hopeful smile. “That’s kinda my thing.”

He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “I hate you sometimes.”

I grinned. “No, you don’t.”

His smirk turned devilish. “You’re gonna have to do something for me then.”

Malachai pulled me closer, his hands roaming over my curves possessively. His eyes darkened with lust as he pressed me against the edge of his desk, a wicket smirk playing on his lips.

“Something for you, huh?” I purred, trailing my fingers up his chest.

“And what exactly did you have in mind?”

He leaned in, his hot breath ghosting over my ear as he whispered. “Oh, I think you know exactly what I want, babe. The question is, are you willing to give it to me?”

My heart raced at his words, desire pooling low in my belly. I knew what he was implying, and God help me, I wanted it. I wanted him. Right here, right now.

“Fuck yes.” I breathed, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. He groaned into my mouth, his hands sliding under my shirt and caressing the bare skin of my back. Malachai pulled away just long enough to yank my shirt and bra off and toss them aside. His hungry gaze raked over my exposed body, lingering on the swell of my breasts before he leaned down and captured one nipple between his teeth, teasing it with his tongue.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy.” He growled against my skin, his hand cupping my other breast and squeezing.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk straight for a week.”

I moaned, arching into his touch as he sucked and bit at my sensitive flesh. My hands fumbled with his belt, desperate to feel his hard length against me. He chuckled low in his throat, helping me undo his pants and push them down along with his boxers.

“Mmm, look at that.” He purred, his thick cock springing free and throbbing with need.

“You’ve got me so fucking hard already. I can’t wait to sink into your tight little cunt.”

I licked my lips, my eyes darting between his face and his impressive hard-on. I wanted to taste him, to feel him stretching me open with his girth. But Malachai had other plans.

“Bend over the desk.” He commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

“I’m gonna fuck you like the dirty little slut you are.”

I did as I was told, bracing myself against the smooth wood as Malachai hiked up my skirt and pulled my panties down to my knees. I could feel his eyes on my ass, admiring the view as he rubbed the head of his cock against my entrance.

“Please.” I whimpered, pushing back against him. “Fuck me, Mal. Fuck me hard.”

With one swift thrust, he buried himself inside me, filling me completely. I cried out at the sudden intrusion, my walls stretching to accommodate his size. He felt so good, so right, and I knew I was already addicted to the feeling of him claiming me.

“That’s right, baby.” He grunted, setting a brutal pace as he pounded into me from behind.

“Take my cock like a good girl. Fuck, you’re so tight.”

I moaned wantonly, meeting his thrusts with equal fervor. The desk shook beneath us, the sound of skin slapping against skin mixing with our heavy breathing and needy moans. Malachai gripped my hips hard enough to leave bruises, using them as leverage as he fucked me with abandon.

“Fuck, I love this pussy.” He panted, one hand sliding around to rub my clit in tight circles. “I love knowing that this cunt belongs to me now. That you’re mine, all mine.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in my core. I could feel my orgasm approaching, building with each thrust of his hips and flick of his fingers.

“Malachai!” I cried out, my voice hoarse and desperate. “I’m gonna come! Don’t stop!”

“Cum for me then.” He growled, his thrusts growing erratic.

“Cum all over my cock like a good little slut.”

With a scream of ecstasy, I came undone, my vision whiting out as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me. Malachai continued to pound into me through my climax, drawing it out until I was a shaking, sweaty mess beneath him.

“Fuck yes!” He groaned, slamming into me one final time before spilling his hot seed deep inside me.

“Take it all, babe. Milk my cock with your greedy little cunt.”

We collapsed together onto the desk, panting and trembling in the afterglow. Malachai pressed soft kisses along my shoulder blade, murmuring praise and endearment against my skin. He pulled out with a sigh and I whimpered. He quickly pulled my underwear up and helped me up.

“I’ll talk to them. But if they push back, then I don’t have a choice, babe.”

“You’re their leader; they’ll follow you.”

“Yeah, we’ll see.” He grabbed my hand, pulling me in for a kiss.

“We should get you out of here now. I’ll call you once I finish talkin’ with them.” I nodded and let him lead me out of the House of the Dead.

Hours later, my phone buzzed in my pocket as I was working on a bike. I quickly pulled it out, seeing Malachai’s name on the screen. I answered immediately.

“Hey, how’d it go?” I asked, my voice hopeful.

There was a pause on the other end, and my stomach twisted. That wasn’t a good sign.

“They’re willing to let the Jughead shit go.” Malachai said, but there was something off in his tone.

I exhaled in relief. “Oh, thank God-”

“But there’s a catch.”

I froze. “What do you mean?”

Malachai sighed, and I could hear the frustration in his voice. “Babe… they want you to pick.”

My eyebrows pulled together. “Pick?”

“You gotta become a Ghoulie.” His voice was firm, serious. “It’s time to pick a side.”

My heart stilled for a second before it started pounding.

“Malachai…” I said slowly. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“They don’t trust you.” He explained. “Not after everything. They think you’re playing both sides, and the only way they’re gonna let this go is if you prove where your loyalty is.”

I clenched my jaw. “That’s bullshit.”

“It’s how things work, Y/N.” He said, his voice sharper now.

“You’re dating me. You run a business that they use. But you’re still a Serpent.”

I rubbed my forehead, trying to wrap my head around this. “I’m not a Serpent, and I told you, I don’t wanna choose.”

“Well, now you have to.”

I shook my head, my mind racing. “Mal, I’m not a Serpent, but you know what they mean to me. My Dad, my brother-”

“I know.” Malachai cut me off. “And I know what I mean to you, too.” His voice softened slightly, but there was an edge underneath.

“I don’t wanna make you do this, babe. But I can’t keep fighting for you with them if you’re not willing to show them where you stand.”

I swallowed hard. “And what if I say no?”

There was silence on the other end. Heavy. Final.

I felt my throat tighten. “Malachai…”

“I don’t want you to say no.” He admitted, quieter this time. “But I can’t protect you if you’re not one of us.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. This wasn’t fair. I loved Malachai- I really did. But I wasn’t just his girlfriend. I was FP’s daughter, Jughead’s sister. A Serpent by blood. And now, I was being forced to decide which part of me mattered more.

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @lover-of-books-and-tea @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches28 @kmc1989 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @ready-4-fanfiction @madammarvellous-blog1 @emo-godess-loves-you @hiya-imthatgirl @mindsetjupiter @averysinclaire @mittelerde1999 @sweetest-peas @rousewriter @camiconfessions-blog @thecaptainsgingersnap @cenyddtheunicorn @jacksxsouthsideserpents @lover2448 @mamacobie13 @scarrasco1325 @madebyleftovermuses @fandom-princess-forevermore @liz-owl @adamsbubblegumbitch

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howlingday · 4 months ago

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...ok I said I would do Oscar. And I will. But I might as well get the most controversial change out the way because if Ren was a redo? Then Adam is a WHOLE RESET.

Mainly because I tossed a lot of cannon because quite frankly.. look I hate cannon Adam with a passion and I want nothing to with that incel... So I only really kept the white fang aspect and the pieces I liked. He's still Adam.. kinda.. maybe.. ok not really but like can you BLAME ME?!

Alright me playing victim aside. Here's the Adam of RWBY: fate.

Adam Suzanne Taurus-Khan

Age: 19-21

Sex: male

Aura color: crimson and dark orange

Faunus trait: The horns of a bull before gaining the legs and a tail of one once he is saved by Blake and rebuilds himself

Semblance: “moon breaker”. Adam can absorb any form of energy into any weapon he wields before releasing it as a kinetic wave that deals extreme damage and temporarily causing the sky to go red for in a fifty mile radius to how much force the Kinect wave releases. Adam can use his semblance with any weapon due to the fact this is done by coating his aura around a weapon. He theoretically could do this with his bare hands however the pain mixed in with the amount of aura he'd be wasting healing and when he releases the kinetic wave would not be worth it.

Weapon: wilt. (At first a simple katana that Adam took very poor care of, however after Blake tuned it up, its sheath now has a trigger which usually fires a blank, sending the hilt of the blade flying at the jaw of the unlucky victim that I was pointed at. Adam can use this as a quick draw method to quickly deploy and strike whoever is the opponent. However if Adam loaded a dust crystal or round not only would wilt fire from its sheath but also absorb the energy released by the firing, allowing Adam to get a quick charge at the start of a fight.)

Background: Adam was surprisingly a normal person, he originally had the opinion that humans and faunus are equal since there was barely any difference between them. This was taught to him by his adoptive mother, Sienna Khan. While the two would receive some judgement even amongst a few faunus for the lack of blood relation, sienna still taught Adam some principles he would try to stick to. As he would grow he would be friend Blake, at first having a small crush on the girl before it changed, to be more of care. However eventually when Adam joined the white fang, they would take a mission, to one of the mines of the sdc.. Adam wound cocky and get caught. Before he remembered they did, the burning iron, the blazing scorn from that metal, THE CACKLING OF THOSE GUARDS- THE SCREAMS ADAM RELEASED AS THEY BRANDED HIM LIKE CATTL-.. Adam.. Adam changed that day, for a while he truly thought mankind was the faunus's equal. That there should be unity.. but then he felt the scorn, the hatred of humanity that branded itself upon his face, blinding him in one eye and forever marking him as a human's property- everything became clear. Humanity was not an equal. It. WAS. FILTH.. so Adam had a change of mentality. If humanity wished to make his people suffer, if they wished to wipe his people off the map, than he would wipe them out FIRST. However fate has another plan, if Blake has the heart to keep a man she called her friend from falling into being a monster, then perhaps Adam could be pulled out from the hate he was spiraling towards… or perhaps fate truly is cruel and turns even the most good of intentions, to monsters.

Oh joy... ADAM. Yeah, this one I would say DEFINITELY needs a reboot because, let's be real here; NOBODY liked Adam's reveal in Volume 3. NOBODY liked Adam's comeback in Volume 5. And NOBODY liked Adam's "defeat" in Volume 6. And by NOBODY, what I mean is NOBODY that I can think of.

By the way, I don't think you explain why it's called RWBY: Fate.

...SUSAN?!

Oh~? By the way, is there a particular bull you intend to make Adam? Because when you say "bull horns" I remember that Adam also had "bull horns" that didn't really look like "bull horns".

Ooh~... "When I strike, the sky itself bleeds..."

No Blush? No. NEVER blush for Adam. But in seriousness, I think applying Dust would be a sick application, especially for keeping the edge in the fight... Pfft...

Sienna adopted Adam, and he believed humans and Faunus could be equals... Until he joined the White Fang and was tortured by the SDC. Honestly, it kinda reminds me of Eren Jeager of Attack on Titan; he believed in living a quiet life until, due to tragedy, he chose to fight back against his opressors (humanity for Adam and fate itself for Eren).

I'm genuinely curious where you go with this idea. Because, let's be honest, Adam as a creepy, stalker ex DOESN'T WORK.

#RWBY #my thoughts #ReWriting RWBY #my answer #my answers #RWBY ReWriting #Adam Taurus

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ask-de-writer · 16 days ago

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CRISS CROSSLY : A Grumpy Goat *tail*

Return to theMaster Story Index

Return to MLP Fan Fiction

CRISS CROSSLY

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

4033 words

Writing begun 06/28/15

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions. I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fictions are actively encouraged.

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We were sitting out on the ledge in front of my cave. Coalsmoke was cheerfully peeking over my invisible shoulder at the page that we were reading. The Litch King, who lets his very few friends call him Clarence, was sitting over to one side, the bare bones of his ribcage casting bars of shadow over the pages. It was our usual happy Daring Do reading fest. We were re reading Daring Do and the Darkling’s Tomb, to be precise.

The day was about as fine as one could get. That was soon taken care of. Toiling up the trail to my cave was none other than Doctor Crossly, head of the Ponyville Medical Society and general pain in the rear. An expert at the vital medical procedure of CASHECTOMY.

He was toiling up the trail because, besides being out of shape, he was limping on both hind legs. As he got closer, we could all see big running sores on them.

I couldn’t resist it. We had to close the book anyway, so I glamored it to a big tome with ragged parchment pages. The cover said in letters of tarnished gold, “Vile Spells, Evil Enchantments and Other Amusements.”

Coalsmoke put a hoof to her mouth to suppress a giggle. She took the book of “EVIL LORE” from me and opened it. With a big, fake happy smile, she held the book where Doctor Crossly could see it and pointed a hoof at his sores. She said loudly and cheerfully, “Look, Grumpy! It worked on the first try! You guys are great teachers!”

Doctor Crossly stopped cold, just short of my ledge. He looked ready to rend us all with bare fangs, if he’d had anything but pony style choppers, that is. Perhaps the day might be more fun than his presence usually suggested, after all.

The so-called good doctor snarled at Coalsmoke, “Make fun all that you wish! We all know that the Evil Goat’s bogus magics are all psychosomatic! The victim has to believe in the curse for it to work at all!”

Coalsmoke, smiled, her perfect teeth standing out clearly against the pure black of her whole body, except for her cutie mark. “Really, Doctor Crossly? Is that why, in open court, in front of Judge Coldheart, you could not tell Grumpy’s illusions and glamors from real afflictions? Is that why you are here, to see the Witch Doctor?”

Doctor Crossly was grinding his teeth so hard that he was effectively enriching every dentist in Ponyville. Watching him, I made a mental note for future suffering, per Sweet Berry’s contract. (For details, please read, UNLIVING PROOF.)

Doctor Crossly demanded crossly, “I am here to demand that Grumpy not try to take credit for these sores. They are perfectly natural in origin! I have seen the registered contract between The Goat and Sweet Berry. There is no connection between the two!”

I serenely pointed out, “Then you have wasted your trip and brought yourself unnecessary pain. I NEVER take credit for the outcomes of my contracts. The ways in which my particular form of Non Equine magic work out always appear to be from natural origins. Taking credit for some of them would, in fact, be confessing to murder.

“No, I would never dream of taking credit. If I did, you could sue me. As it stands, the contract with Sweet Berry, and most of my other contracts, are simply in the form of closely hedged bets. You are safe from my braggadocio. You may leave.”

Clarence said softly but with such finality that it could not be contested, “Go. You have no welcome here. This place is for Grumpy and his friends.”

As he was turning to leave, the Doctor snarled, “You have not heard the last of this!”

I called after him, “I do hope not!”

He paused and called over his shoulder, “And why not?”

“Because Clown Acts are such fun to watch!”

Even going down the trail, he limped on both hind legs.

Coalsmoke, who detests Doctor Crossly, asked eagerly, “Was he serious? Why would a nice farmer like Sweet Berry take out a contract on Doctor Crossly?”

Clarence replied, “What is the ownership of Stronghoof and Strangle, the commercial Realtors?”

Without hesitation, Coalsmoke replied, “Fifty five percent is owned by Doctor Crossly and the remaining forty five percent is owned by the Ponyville Medical Association.

“Oh my! What did they do to her?”

I said, as I reopened our Daring Do book, “It was even worse than a simple cashectomy. First S&S made her a really insultingly low offer for her whole farm. They were planning to resell it to the Royal Road Commission for a fortune. Sweet Berry turned them down flat.

“That was when Doctor Crossly ‘found out that she had a nearly terminal cancer.’ She was going to need multiple operations and treatments. Her insurance and farm together would not come close to covering it all. He was going to make a fortune, force her to sell her farm at a ruinous loss, and take even that last money from her. He was going to leave her destitute and take credit for saving her life all at once.

“She came to me for a quick and painless way out of the difficulty. We uncovered his plot and I gave her a bargain rate on a slightly different contract than the one that she came for.”

Nodding happily, Coalsmoke returned to looking over my shoulder at Daring Do and the Darkling’s Tomb. She grinned delightedly at what she saw.

I’d left the interior wording alone but the glamor of a big tome of rough edged parchment pages was too much fun to undo just now. It looked like Clarence enjoyed it too. The Lord of the Dead has a mildly twisted sense of humor, along with both Coalsmoke and I. It is one reason that we all get along so well.

Reading resumed. Daring Do was in the dangerous defile leading to the ancient and cursed tomb of the Darkling.

As we put up the book to watch the truly lovely peach and purple clouds of Celestia’s sunset, Coalsmoke asked, “Is it too nosy to ask how long Doctor Crossly will be afflicted with painful things?”

I scratched behind the ear that I don’t actually have with a hoof that isn’t really there either. “No, not at all. Our mutual friend Clarence long ago revealed to me that, if nothing interferes, Doctor Crossly will live a ridiculously long time.”

Clarence nodded agreement.

I went on, “What the contract calls for is simple physical misery, with randomly scattered sets of up to three days of feeling comfortable and well, so that he never becomes used to the assorted forms of ick that he is going to get!

“It can be sores, boils, rashes, simple itches, toothache, joint pains or any other thing that happens to occur to Clarence or I. The restriction being only that he NOT die from it. Life long misery is the goal.”

Coalsmoke clapped her hooves in delight. “It couldn’t happen to a 'nicer’ pony!”

We all adjourned into my cave for roasted clover top/nettle leaf loaf with honey sauce to top it. It was excellent. The real joy of was watching Clarence eat his portion.

Not the chew and disappear bit, but the sheer enjoyment that he was showing at the discovery of a new texture and flavor. I was the one who introduced Clarence to real, solid food. Being technically dead myself, I don’t need it either. I do enjoy it though. Both for the comfort of a lifelong habit and the flavors and textures.

For Clarence, it is all new. He is somewhere around 3-4 thousand years old and in all of that time, nopony ever befriended him or simply shared a plate of something. I have been fixing that. In spite of his making me into the technically dead being that I am, Clarence is my friend.

Seeing Coalsmoke home later that night, by the light of the ever burning candle that is nestled between the horns of my skull, was another simple pleasure.

Things only got better when a small group of Anti~Goat agitators started to follow me. My body, for Coalsmoke’s comfort while in town, was glamored to be my handsome original self, except that I left the everburning candle between the horns. It wasn’t just for light. It was a simple warning.

Some ponies are so blinded by prejudice that they don’t see that far. Goat “in the wrong neighborhood” is all that they appear able to see. They followed me into the woods, just outside of town.

Appear suddenly became a problematic term. Glamors are easily cast and dispelled, if you know what you are doing. In this case, there were five of them. Two, while the others were not looking, suddenly appeared to be goats!

I appeared to be nothing at all, as in invisible. I did stay to watch the fun as the three ponies beat the crap out of their buddies. Once they were well and truly stomped, I let the glamors go and left aghast ponies staring at their hoofwork.

Wondering if they would have conscience enough to report the injured to the Ponyville authorities, I trotted up the trail to my place, stopping at the spring for a quick drink.

Up on my ledge, I found Clarence sitting out, giggling. “That was really mean, Grumpy! I liked it! Were you following Sweet Berry’s contract or was that a coincidence?”

I sat and scratched at the side of the neck that I don’t have with the left hind hoof that I also don’t have, except when using a glamor. After thinking hard, I replied, “No clue what you are talking about, Clarence. Nut cases followed me and wanted to beat something up. I just gave them handy targets from among themselves, that’s all.”

I was rewarded by Clarence’s lovely baritone cuuckle. “The ones that got beat up are Doctor Crossly’s office staff! Tomorrow, on top of the wasp stings that I am setting up for him, he will be short-hoofed at his clinic. Guaranteed to make him miserable.”

We sat in the cool and admired the lights of Ponyville spread out below us for a bit and went inside.

The next morning, I was awakened by the sound of official hooves pounding uselessly on my Military Siege Fortress rated iron sheeted front door. Technically, I don’t need to sleep, since I died. I do it anyway. It is a comfortable habit, like eating and drinking water.

I cracked the door open after setting the siege latches. It bounced hard against them but they held. They should. They are designed to take a standard Equestrian Military Battering Ram. The officers outside were in the uniform of the Ponyville police force.

“Let us in, Goat! We are the police!”

“No. If you had legal grounds to be here you would either have courtesy or a warrant. You have neither. You also have no legal jurisdiction. Only the Equestrian Military Police or the Royal Road District Police have any lawful jurisdiction here.

“That was formally Proclaimed as Law of the Land by the Princesses jointly after examining the past history of local (that means you guys) police misconduct here.”

“We are investigating the beatings of two ponies down in the woods between here and Ponyville! Deny it if you can!”

“Deny what? That two ponies got beaten up by three others? Absolutely nonsense to deny it. They did get beaten and I saw it happen.”

“So! You did beat them up!”

“What part of NO is unclear? The N or the O? I did NOT beat them up. I SAW it happen. After seeing Coalsmoke back to her estate’s gate, I returned home. On the way, a group of five, catcalling illegal anti goat slogans and the like, as well as personal insults, started to follow me.

“Shortly after we entered the woods, in what appeared to be a setup, three of them attacked the other two. When the beating was done I left and came home. That is the total of what I saw.”

“Why didn’t you report the crime?”

“What part of SETUP did you miss, officer? Didn’t you get your morning apple fritter and coffee?

“I was not even sure that the beating was real. It could have been meant to lure me out of hiding.”

“Have you actually seen the injuries or did you take somepony’s word for them? If they are in Ponyville General, they will receive regular dressing changes. You can easily obtain a warrant for the observation of the dressing change and ascertain the exact nature of the injuries.”

I held up a glamored goat hoof where they could see it. “Goat hooves are little and in two parts, like this one. I presume that I do not have to show you what a pony hooves are like. Big solid oval clodhoppers, like the ones you are standing on.”

I slid out a small tray. “Now put my five bit consultation fee in the tray and I will give you a receipt.”

“Why should we?”

“Two reasons, actually. First, if you have come to consult on a difficult and puzzling case, your visit is perfectly legal and proper.

“Second, if you don’t you can be on the receiving end of a formal complaint from a Royally Chartered business. One of only four in all of the whole Ponyville district. That could be inconvenient when you are being considered for raises in pay.”

The musical tinkle of coins was my only answer. I counted them and wrote them a receipt. I did not even need to ask their names. I read their uniform tags through the barely opened door.

After they were gone, I contemplated what I had just learned from them. That they were Doctor Crossly’s office staff I was already informed by Clarence. The fact that they were in the group following me and that I was blamed for the beatings sight unseen is what really interested me.

If Doctor Crossly was keeping tabs on my movements, that had all manner of amusing possibilities. Illusions and glamors are such fun when creatively used! Like last night.

I do not have to be paid to do them, unlike my regular defensive spells like Tanglefoot and Friday the 13th. Those, and some others are permitted for defensive use by a paid contract of long standing.

In a much better frame of mind, with a fried fescue omelet and several mugs of Rom Black tea, I began to trot down the trail toward Ponyville. I was glamored as my handsome gray, white and brown patched self, before I died. Well, technically, I was killed but the mistake was mine, after all. The blame is sort of a wash. Besides, my nifty, near immortal spirit body is one result. My friendship with Clarence, the Litch King is another. Really, it was a pretty good deal.

Some unicorns really do never learn. He was hiding behind a big rock, his magic ready to cast. He was ALMOST totally out of sight. The tip of his horn and the glow of his yellow magic stood out like a sore trotter. Seeing no point in defending myself AFTER his planned nastiness, I cheerfully whispered, “Blooper!”

That is the one word trigger on a Friday the 13th spell. The result was delightful. A small stone up the hillside slipped. The rattle of it startled him.

Being all set to fire off his ambush and hurl me or somepony off the trail, he let drive, smashing out the safety rail ~ Again. Cursing, he burst forth from his ambush onto the trail, trying to see what happened to his intended target. One forehoof slipped on a smooth rock and he face planted. On rock. The snapping of his teeth slamming together was music to my ears. He went out like a snuffed candle. Good thing too.

Any further struggles on his part would likely have made him Clarence’s meat. As in dead from going over the side of the trail. There was guard rail there for a reason, after all.

His life was saved by the same contract that let me use defensive spells. The contract specified NON LETHAL defense.

The same two Ponyville Officers from earlier in the morning came picking their way up the trail, just then. This time, they actually showed some good sense.

“Morning, Mister Goat. What’s happened here?”

I pointed at the unconscious form of the yellow eyed blue coated unicorn. “This moron tried to murder me. He hid behind that rock outcrop over there. Forgot that I could see the tip of his horn sticking up all surrounded by the glow of his magic, all gathered for use.

“He jumped the starting flag, as they say at the races, and let drive across the trail. Missed me but took out the railing. I guess he leaped out of hiding to see why he missed. Slipped and knocked himself cold.

“If you good ponies could horn cap him and manacle him I would appreciate it.”

Nodding, they did secure him quite efficiently. One then said, “We come to thank you, Mister Goat.

“We did what you said. Got a warrant to see the dressing change. Both of them had a mix of pony hoof marks and a lot that looked like goat marks. Problem was, all the goat marks was left hoof, which was mighty suspicious.

“We got statements. They backed up what you said about being attacked by the other three. We got warrants for them and caught one trying to burn a wood carved fake left goat hoof. Saved the evidence.

“The Ponyville District Attorney confronted them. They was represented by Mortimer Mollycoddle, the lawpony. With the evidence that we had, he advised them to cut a deal. They did.

“Turns out, they was hired by Doctor Crossly to beat them two, who worked for him as office staff. We went to get him. He tried to sneak out the back way from his clinic.

“We caught him because of the commotion when he disturbed a hornet nest near the back door.

“They are still trying to figure out WHY he had his own office staff beat up, but WE got credit for breaking the case! We could get promotions from it!”

I was listening in sheer amazement. And the cog wheels of my mind were clicking about in fascination. Too many coincidences, including this attempt at murder.

I stirred the fallen pony with a hoof. “Check this one out. Is he connected to Doctor Crossly in any way?”

The pony was slowly stirring. “I saw him for a vile itch. He told me that you cursed me and I had to kill you to break the curse!”

I crouched down beside him and said, “As far as I know, I have no contract concerning you at all.

“Where is this itch?”

He snarled, “Right there on my right foreleg!”

“I see it! Let me smell it please. I do think that I can tell you how to clear it up. It is no curse of mine, sadly.”

One of the police ponies asked, “Can you prove that Doctor Crossly told you to kill mister Goat?”

He curled a lip and said, “If they will talk. Both of his office staff come in as he was telling me to do it. They both heard it.”

I looked up. “I think that you have your motive, officers. This fellow should receive a seriously reduced charge.

“This smells like a skin irritant potion very useful in some cases. Can’t leave it on too long though. It will cause blistering like he has. Check with a herbalist to be sure though. If it is what I think it is, the potion can be stopped by washing it once or twice in tomato juice.”

I knew that a certain skeletal Alicorn of my acquaintance had a hoof in the developments. Romaine, the Ponyville Prancer’s roving reporter, was a little way down trail, getting photos.

I told the unicorn, “Sir, you were tricked into doing a serious crime. I have made my recommendation to the officers who have you in custody. I know them for good police.

“Take a deal if one is offered. Mortimer Mollycoddle is the best, most honest lawyer I know of. If he can do it, have him represent you. That is all that I can do for you.”

The officers led him away, down the trail to Ponyville and jail. I never even learned his name.

Romaine came up and joined me in gazing out at the view that might have been my last, if I was alive, that is. She got some excellent shots of the wrecked safety rail. Some of the deadly drop too.

“Why did he do this, Grumpy? I heard that there was a beating in the woods down there, on the path to your place. I got some shots of the victims in Ponyville Horspital.

I heard from one of them that three other ponies beat them up but they did not know why. They both work for Doctor Crossly in his office. I went to ask him about the situation and caught the mess as he was arrested!

“I came up here because I know that you registered a contract with Sweet Berry about him. What is going on? Do you know?”

“I know some and guess more, Romaine. Doctor Crossly appears to have masterminded both the beating of his own office staff and this little attempt to murder me.”

“Why? The Sweet Berry contract?”

I took the time to gaze out across Ponyville and the Everfree beyond it. “Only marginally, Romaine. I cut him out of a really unethical scheme to get very rich.”

I told her about the land deal and the phony cancer diagnosis that Doctor Crossly had tried to use to impoverish Sweet Berry and enrich himself. (For details please read, Unliving Proof)

“What really set him off, apparently, was not the contract. It was the money that did not fall into his saddlebag.

“According to the pony that was just arrested, Doctor Crossly applied a lotion that seems to have caused itching and blistering. He then told the poor fellow that it was a curse I put on him and could only be broken by killing me.

“Doctor Crossly’s assistants walked in during the instructions and overheard them. The Doctor hired three thugs to do a set up beating of them to silence them. They were supposed to use carved goat hoofs to do it but bungled the job. One phony hoof was recovered when they were arrested. The other was lost, or never got made, apparently.”

She took careful notes. Looking up happily, Romaine said, “This story is going to need careful handling. I will have to clear parts with the DA to be sure that the Prancer doesn’t mess up his case!”

Romaine took the time to enjoy the view herself before asking, “Grumpy, would you like to dine at Caramel Treat’s? On me, this time.”

“I would be honored, Roamaine. Shall we go?”

We were almost out of the woods, literally. “Look, Grumpy! Is that what I think it is?” Romaine’s camera was out and snapping away. She was getting fine pictures of the missing carved goat hoof. She documented it carefully because it was close to the plainly visible torn up ground where the beating happened.

We practically ran to Caramel Treat’s so that she could call it all in.

Caramel, in her pony form joined us at our table. Romaine was busy calling in her story and giving the Ponyville police the tip about the wooden hoof.

Caramel smiled as she commented, “You know, Grumpy, being in jail for as long as Doctor Crossly is likely to be will be a real misery for him.”

“I know, Caramel. I know,” I said with a happy smile, “Clarence and I will see to it. We do have a contract to fulfill!”

–THE END–

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thiswasinevitableid · 10 months ago

Text

What It's Worth (Indruck)

A big yeehawgust prompt winner was: Undead Cowboy. This fill is NSFW and does mention blood

The stars stud the sky, the sliver of moon rising from the mesa meaning Duck can see them clearly as he lays on his back in the dirt.

His bedroll is okay, but the memory of frost in the air makes him wish he’d had time to snag a few more spare blankets. But all he could manage this morning was the essentials.

He wasn’t going to spend a single minute longer in that damn place than he had to.

They lost the farm in West Virginia two years ago, when Duck was seventeen. His uncle, Papa Newton’s brother, had offered to let the family move to his property outside Santa Fe.

It seemed like a fuckin miracle. Until they settled in and Duck realized his uncle intended to treat them as free labor rather than family. If he has to polish one more round of dishes he’s gonna throw the whole dinner table out the fucking window.

A week ago, when his uncle started making noises about finding his “niece” a husband, Duck decided there was no point in sticking around. Not if that’s how his uncle intended to use him.

So here he is, as far from town as a days ride could get him, hidden from view of anyone on the trails. He’s keeping a small fire up; seems worth the risk to keep the coyotes and cougars from getting too close.

There are footsteps, barely audible, on the other side of the fire. A shadow, with two red pinpoints about six feet off the ground.

He doesn’t have a gun; unlike Winnie, his horse, they all belonged to his uncle, and the fucker might call him a thief and send the sheriff after him if he snuck one away.

“Do not be alarmed.” The voice in the darkness is lilting and weak, “You are in no danger…no danger from…from…”

A thud as the body hits the earth, landing in the ring of firelight. Duck cautiously sits up, buck knife in hand, as the stranger groans and raises up onto his knees with a woozy shake of his head.

The red Duck saw comes from the glasses the man wears on his narrow nose. His whole face is angles. His hair is silvery in the light, which is odd given the fact he appears only a few years older than Duck.

“You okay?”

The visitor grips the knees of his pants, “No. I am so very, very thirsty.”

“I got a little water to spare.”

A weak laugh, “Nono, that will not save me. I need…I need…” He tips his head up with a sigh, as if steeling himself in order to make the request, and fangs catch the scant moonlight.

Duck’s heard the stories about vampires and even weirder things out in the desert. He never put much stock in them; he spent his childhood in the woods, then the desert. He understands how easily folks can spook themselves out in the wild.

“Please say you ain’t after my blood.”

“I am. I have not fed in so long, I was too ambitious in my travels to Greensboro. Too weak to catch an animal. If I go much longer I will become feral, mindless, draining any passerby until they are a husk” he looks up, frightened, “Please, please help me.”

“Uh.” Duck looks around like someone wrote the right thing to do in the sand. He wouldn’t let a human die of thirst. And he doesn’t want anyone getting their throat ripped out. But this feels like a real good way to trick a kind-hearted traveler into being dinner.

“I will do anything you ask” a shudder and a groan, making the stranger hunch forward, “take me to bed, ask me for my weight in gold, the keys to the city, anything, please.” He sobs, trying to crawl forward but only making it to the bottom of the bed roll and clutching it.

“Okay.” Duck begins unbuttoning his shirt, “Okay. You can have a drink, but I, I keepin my knife on me, y’hear?”

“Perfectly. I would not begrudge you such measures, not when you are helping me.” He struggles forward until he’s straddling Duck’s knees. He’s dressed like the cowboys Duck watches with envy as they ride past the house, except every piece of clothing is black.

“Rather impractical in a desert, I know. But I find it suits me.”

“It does.” Duck doesn’t catch the answer in time. The last thing he needs is some fella thinking he’s flirting with him.

“You are very kind. Oh” he notices Duck pulling his shirt collar to the side, “I need not drink that way, I assume you do not wish me to be any closer than necessary. Your arm will suffice.”

“I, uh, I work with my hands and arms so this’ll be less of a pain in the neck. Or not but, uh, you know what I mean.”

The vampire nods, delicately scooting into Duck’s lap. He shivers as the visitor noses his throat, humming happily.

“You smell divine.”

“I been on the trail all day, doubt I smell like a basket of roses.”

“Better.” The voice purrs, “now, this will only hurt a moment.”

Fangs sink into his skin and his entire body lights up in pain, telling him to fight, to run like a jackrabbit. Then all at once it subsides, pleasure rolling like a wildfire on the prairie, lighting up nerve after nerve until he wonders if they’ll burn out.

The vampire has one hand in his hair, supporting his head, the other pressing down on his shoulder, and through the fire crackling in his brain he can tell he’s talking.

“...So good, thank you, thankyouthankyouthankyou.” The deep bite is over, but he continues nipping at the skin, licking and sucking at the blood. He’s wiggling closer, hips bucking a little, making the neediest sounds Duck’s ever heard between his thanks and praise of everything from Duck’s eyes to the way he tastes.

If he could guarantee the man on top of him would be like this, Duck wouldn’t be half as put off the idea of getting married.

Gradually, the touch on his neck changes to deliberate licks, the last one ending with a kiss as the vampire sits back on his heels. He looks drunk.

“I..I am very grateful for your help.”

“You don’t say?” Duck teases.

“Have I not made that clear–oh! Oh it is a joke.” He grins, mouth still a bit red, “You are a very charming human. And my offer stands; you may ask anything you wish of me as payment.”

He could get a train ticket, or the money to buy one. A place to stay. Clothes he didn’t have to fix up to be right himself.

“That’s real decent of you to offer but I wouldn’t make someone pay me for a drink if they were dyin of thirst. Don’t seem right to ask you to.”

“You are very kind. I will not intrude on you any longer.” The vampire tries to shift out of his lap and hisses. Duck looks down and sees why.

“Y’know, most fellas have a harder time doin’ that once they’re drunk.”

“It, it is nothing” he looks away, embarrassed, “it is merely the natural response to feeling full and safe while in the arms of a handsome man.”

“That so?” Duck licks his lips, “tell you what. Since you biting me got me all riled up, I changed my mind. I want this” he palms the vampire through his pants, “as my fee.”

“Gladly.” Wiry arms drape over his shoulders as Duck undoes the buttons and pulls his dick from his trousers. It’s a nicely sized thing, big enough to be tempting without feeling intimidating, and when he wraps his hand around it the responding squeak is almost a chirp.

“There we go, sweet thing, lemme get my hands on you.”

“Only if I am permitted the same honor.”

“Hmmm” Duck pretends to think as he steadily strokes the shaft, “dunno, why should I let you feel me up?”

A pout, “Because I will be so very good for you. I was good for you when I fed, wasn’t I?”

“You were, sweet as a peach. Okay, you can touchAHhey�� he laughs as hands greedily paw his sides and thighs.

“Thank you, oh you are lovely to touch, lovely to hold.” Kisses spread across the closing wound on his neck, “what a lucky creature I am to have found so wonderful a human oh, ohohoh” his hips jerk wildly and he cums on Duck’s fingers.

“Pent up?” He kisses a cheek that he suspects would blush if it could.

“So it seems. Goodness, such things seldom take me by surprise.” A playful kiss to his ear, followed by a nip, “shall I return the favor?

Duck feels one half of him lean into the idea, the other wrench so far back he thinks it might dislocate his joints.

“Nah. I’m, uh, I’m too, uh, tired, fuck, not not turned on, uh. Fuck.”

The vampire cocks his head, then nods, “Then I will not press the matter. Would you like me to stay awhile?”

“Yeah.” He murmurs, “Yeah I would.”

Duck nestles down into his bedroll as his visitor gets his clothing back into order, and falls asleep to long fingers in his hair and a gentle voice telling him of the moths and bats fluttering across the desert sky.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------

He goes home when his uncle finally finds him and tells him that if he won’t do his family duty, he’ll find someone to marry Jane, Duck’s sister, to.

Jane’s only 14.

Duck spends the whole ride home hoping the lousy fucker gets thrown by his horse.

A month later, he’s traveling with the old asshole and the equally cold-hearted, sneering woman he married to a party in Santa Fe. Mr. Indrid Cold, one of the area's richest and most mysterious residents, is said to be in search of a wife, and so Duck is in the most masculine dress he could find, hair still short and chaperones scowling as they enter the fine house off the city square.

Duck tries to occupy himself in small talk, and while some of the women there won’t give him the time of day, others invite him into their cluster to hold crystal punch cups and whisper some of the most ridiculous shit he’s ever heard.

“They say he’s a vampire!”

“Don’t be silly, my aunt said she saw him out in broad daylight.”

“Some of them can do that. It depends on their age.”

“Not this theory again, Josephine.”

“I told you, my name is Joe.”

“Anyway, even if your aunt did see him, that won’t help us. They say he throws one of these every few years and no one actually sees him in attendance. He just watches from somewhere so he can learn about us.”

Duck shudders at the idea; this whole thing is already a pain in the ass. It doesn’t need to be a creepy pain in the ass on top of that.

“Pardon me.” A man with the blandest features imaginable addresses the group, “may I accompany you for a turn around the gardens?”

He’s offering his hand to Duck.

“Is this a fuckin joke?”

A mild smile, “Not at all. I have been dying to speak to you since you arrived.”

Duck takes the offered hand, lets the man link their arms as they head into the courtyard. The gardens are stunning, if a bit overgrown, and Duck points out where a screech owl has hollowed out one of the trees.

“Glad they kept the ones that actually grow here. Some folks try to bring the trees from back east out to make their gardens and they just up and die. On account of it bein, y’know, a fuckin desert.”

“That does seem rather ill-advised.”

They talk more about Duck’s move to the desert, and the longer they speak the more Duck feels like he knows the man’s voice. He just can’t place it.

“I take it you are not a fan of the proceedings?”

“I, uh, I ain’t not, uh-”

“You do not need to lie, Duck.” A small smile.

“It just ain’t my world.” He looks down at the dress, “rather be in sackcloth than this fuckin thing.”

“Mmm, I imagine you’d make a rather striking cowboy.”

“Like to think so. Aw fuck.” He turns to where the clock is striking eleven, signaling the end of the party, “I didn’t hobnob nearly enough.”

His companion squeezes his arm, “I would not worry too much about that.”

They say their goodnights and he rejoins his aunt and uncle, only to discover that they’ve booked him a room at a nearby hotel while they stay in a finer one across the road. Almost like they’re hoping his being alone might tempt their host into appearing at the foot of his bed like a fucking ghost.

He chucks his party outfit into the corner, the night hot enough that he decides to risk sleeping in the buff. The church on the other side of the square has just finished ringing midnight, and his eyes are going leaden, when there’s a shuff of his window opening.

He’s five fucking stories up.

Frozen, he watches a huge, winged figure squeeze through into the room. It’s some sort of fucking moth-man thing, and it’s glowing, red eyes are looking right at him.

“Don’t come another fuckin step closer.” Duck grabs his boot from the ground, ready to throw it.

Four arms raise in placation, “You are not in any danger from me, Duck. You were before, you are not now, and you never will be.”

“Your voice…are you the fuckin-”

“-Vampire from your camp? Yes.” Reality snaps for a moment and then the silver-haired man is standing there, clad in a simple black shirt and pants.

“Holy fuck, I thought vampires could only turn into wolves and bats and shit.”

“My moth form is actually my true one. It is a long story. But the point of it all is: I am also Indrid Cold. And was your companion for much of this evening.” He clips a pin to his shirt and the same bland face comes into view.

“Jesus.” Duck breathes as Indrid returns to his usual human appearance and sits on the bed.

“Parties overwhelm me. A small enchantment is the best way to see if there are any guests I wish to know better. Up until now there have not been.” He sets his hand on Ducks covered knee, “why your aunt and uncle sent you here as anything other than a handsome bachelor, I shall never know. You looked so unhappy tonight all I wanted was to take you in my arms and whisk you off somewhere you could be yourself.”

“I, I didn’t mean to hide it from you.”

“I knew at the campsite. I can see the future, and when you rejected further advances it told me what was behind them.” A gentle, fanged smile, “you are a good looking man, Duck. I have not ever seen you as anything else.”

He relaxes, tucks his legs in so Indrid can come closer and stroke his cheeks.

“I throw this party every few years to keep my sire off my back about the matter of marriage. I suspect that may not be the case after tonight.”

“Y’know, getting down on one knee is more traditional than climbing through a window.” Duck teases.

Indrid laughs, “Nothing so rushed. I came because I could not stand another moment away from you. And because do have an offer for you. If you allow me to court you, know that I will never claim ownership over you, nor force you to live as you are not. If you wanted to ride from here to Alaska I would not stop you. Whatever freedom you desired would be yours. I’ve no need to control you, my sweet” he grins, “but I do ask for the chance to make you mine.”

The heat in his voice is clear as a spring sky.

“That so?” Duck kisses him once, “how are you gonna prove bein’ yours is worth it?”

A longer, deeper kiss, Indrid nipping his lip as he pulls back, “However you wish. Though the idea you are about to suggest is one I am very much in favor of.”

“Yeah?”

“If I might be so bold, ah, I…the futures show you enjoying it immensely if I take my true form.”

Duck hesitates, “Let me see it again?”

The bed groans as the mothman reappears. He’s toffee-brown, chest so downy that Duck’s hand sinks into it.

“Fuck, you’re real fuckin soft.”

“Thank you” A chirp of pleasure, “oh that spot has been itching for hours.”

“Which part of you did you, uh, see me enjoyin?”

Indrid opens his mouth, in which Duck can see rows of small, sharp teeth along with the pointed canines. His tongue extends, long and flexible, “ith!”

It should scare the fuck out of him, but all Duck does is kick the covers aside and lay back, spreading his legs.

“Get to it.”

“Gladly.” A fuzzy cheek tickles his left thigh as Indrid nuzzles him. Then he gasps as teeth drag down the skin.

“Do not think I did not notice your reaction to my bite last time. Most humans find it neutral or painful. Few moan as I drink them down.”

“Didn’t even know I was moanin’. Was too busy listening to you be a cute needy thing.”

“I was, wasn’t I.” The tongue teases his folds, “I will be as obedient and sweet as you desire, my darling one, for I do need you.”

Duck wants to say something flirty in reply, but then the tongue pushes into him and he moans. It’s incredible, pressing and teasing, happy little chirrs floating up from Indrid as he takes Duck to pieces.

When his tongue presses on a certain spot, Duck yelps, and his hands flail for something to grab. They land on Indrid’s antenna, and a pleading, chirping groan breaks from the vampire.

“Ohhhyes, it’s been ages since someone toyed with those.” He messily laps at Duck’s dick, “mmmf, you could make me do just about anything by pulling on them.”

“Want you to fuck me.” His horny brain blurts it out without warning and he clamps a hand over his mouth.

“Do you wish me to?” Indrid sits up, wings fluttering shyly and hands soothingly petting Duck’s legs.

“I do, I really fuckin do, but I can’t risk-”

“You would not be. I cannot have children with humans. At least not that way.”

“You sure?”

“Completely.”

Duck takes a deep breath, “Then come down here and fuckME, oh, ohfuck.” His heels dig into the bed as Indrid sinks into him. His cock must be as strange as the rest of him, if the way writhes inside him is anything to go by.

It’s also fucking huge.

“A-apologies.” Indrid is jerking and twitching, clearly trying to keep from moving to fast or pushing too deep, “I, I have never done this with a human before. I did not account for the size, god how tight you are, how small, oh you’re delightfully warm too.”

“Fuck.” Duck groans, tilting his hips to try and fit more inside him.

“Do not strain yourself. My, my anatomy will do the work in a moment.” He purrs, running two hands through Duck’s hair, “I am here to serve you, not make you exert yourself.”

He says it with such sincere affection that Duck leans over to kiss one, quivering wing.

“Oh that’s fuckin wild” He gasps as another part of Indrid’s cock presses into him, still flexible but firm, pushing him open. Several spread wider outside of him, catching at his dick and Indrid pushes deeper with hungry, demanding growl.

Duck doesn’t black out, but if you asked him to describe the what happens next in detail in court, hand on the bible he wouldn’t be of much use. His legs hook onto Indrid’s own, claws dig into his hips, and Indrid’s cock drives into him, his bulk meaning Duck’s face ends up pressed to his chest.

From there he has no choice but to cling to him, feeling the purr in his chest as he promises Duck he will do this and more whenever he asks, be at his service, be good for him because his body is worth that, because Duck is worth that, and just as tears prick his eyes from the intensity of sensation, from the fact the can feel himself cumming, tightening around Indrid as best as his body can manage, there’s a cascade of thank yous, and then his lover cums in him, so much that it runs back down the shaft and is Indrid trills and thrusts a final time.

“Goodness” Indrid pants, rolling them over so Duck is atop him, cock slipping free as he does, “that was incredible, but I do feel I must ask if you are alright.”

“Better than, sugar.” Duck smooths his hands over Indrid’s chest, “ain’t sure I can walk for a few minutes though.”

“Well then, if you need anything, I shall simply fetch it for you.”

“Indrid? Did you mean it? About wanting me to stick around.”

“Nothing would make me happier. But if you need time to decide, or if you do not want to stay, I will not be angry.” He grins, tracing a heart on Duck’s cheek, “though I will add, imagine the look on your wretched uncle’s face when he learns Mr.Cold would like you to stay and be courted, and that Mr. Cold has already bought a fine suit the handsome Mr. Newton.”

Duck chuckles, “Yeah, that does sweeten the deal. Ain’t the only thing makin’ it worthwhile though.”

Indrid chirps happily, and wraps his wings and arms protectively around him.

(To be fair, his uncle nearly fainting from shock the next afternoon is extremely fucking worth it).

#indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #monster boyfriend #yeehawgust 2024 #vampire au #cowboy au #terato

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