#jshauntedhouse2020

[navybrat817]

Run, Little Bunny

Pairing: Charles Blackwood X Reader Summary: A night at the Hollywood Haunted House spells trouble for you and your friend when you encounter Charles Blackwood.  Word Count: Almost 4k Warnings: Rape/Non-Con (do NOT read if this upsets you!), explicit sexual content, OC character death. Please read responsibly. 18+ Please!!! This is not beta-read, so any and all mistakes are my own!

A late addition to @jtargaryen18​​‘s Haunted House 2020! This is my first Charles Blackwood fic and changes have been made to fit this fic. I hope you all enjoy! Divider by @whimsicalrogers

"How did you manage to get these tickets again?" 

"A gentleman never reveals his secrets," Josh teased with a wink. “I just kept refreshing the page.”

The Hollywood Haunted House became an overnight success when it opened a few years ago. Each year, the owner carefully selected and replicated a famous “haunted” house from the big screen. This year, they chose to recreate Blackwood Manor from We Have Always Lived in the Castle. The tickets sold out months ago. It was no wonder. Sebastian Stan agreed to appear, thanks to his performance as Charles Blackwood. And it was for one night, Halloween.

“Do you think we’ll win the grand prize?” he asked.

“Maybe,” you answered in a sing-song voice. The haunted house this year was somewhat of a treasure hunt. Anyone who found the famous safe got to keep whatever prize was inside. Many assumed it would be cash. And with the price of the tickets, there would still be plenty for the charity donation.

"We both know your grand prize would be Sebastian himself," he joked. Yes, you had a crush on the man. Like so many others. "He's gorgeous and a gifted actor. I won't apologize for my taste," you said before you looked at the clock. "Are we really that late?"

"Shit," he muttered as he glanced at the time, speeding up a bit. You had to drive in from out-of-state. Traffic had been a nightmare earlier, as always, but you didn't realize it set you that far behind. At this rate, would you make it before it closed?

“They’ll let us in, right?” you asked as he drove even faster.

“The amount I paid for these tickets? They’re letting us in,” he promised.

You nodded, hoping he was right. It was like a doomsday countdown as each minute passed. You couldn’t get angry at Josh. It wasn’t his fault. It was also a free ticket since he insisted that it was a gift. Still, you couldn’t hold in your relieved sigh when you saw the house in the distance.

“Shit,” Josh swore again as he drove up the path. There weren’t any other cars there. Did they already wrap things up? Glancing at the clock, you wondered if they had since it was one minute to midnight.

After he stopped the car, you joked, "Would it be pathetic if I begged?"

“Bat those pretty lashes at them and they’ll do what you say,” he joked back, nearly jumping out of the car.

There was a slight chill in the air as you quickly followed. The outside of the house alone looked just like Blackwood Manor. You could only imagine what the inside looked like, if you could get in. Sebastian probably left by now.

When you spotted a figure at the door, Josh called out, "Hey!"

“What? We’re closed!" the man yelled over his shoulder. 

“There was traffic and we drove a long way. We still have one minute. I have our tickets right here,” Josh argued once you both reached him, taking the tickets from his coat pocket. 

He snatched the tickets from Josh and gave them a quick once over. He scowled at them, as if they somehow offended him.

"Please?" you asked softly. 

He turned his attention to you as a smile spread across his face. Something about it made you uncomfortable. It seemed malicious.

“Of course. I’m sorry. Please, go in,” he said, turning back to unlock the door. 

You raised an eyebrow at Josh. You weren’t sure what made him change his mind or attitude, but you were glad. “Thank you,” you swore.

“No, thank you,” he replied, holding the door open so you could both go in. “I almost forgot. No phones.” “No photographs?” Josh guessed as he grudgingly handed his over, watching as you handed yours over, too.

“You won’t need them,” he assured you as you went in. “Enjoy your time,” he added happily. He smiled at you again before he slammed the door.

“Weird. I was totally kidding about batting your eyelashes, but I think it helped,” Josh chuckled.

You laughed, too, but you still felt uncomfortable. You ignored it as you looked around. The resemblance was uncanny. It was like you stepped into the film as you stood in the foyer. “Wow,” you whispered.

“Yeah, wow,” he agreed as he stepped forward. “Worth the price of admission.”

“How long do you think it took them to do this?” you asked. The details were spot on. 

“It had to take them months to get all of this stuff.”

"If anyone knows, it's you. You are the movie expert," you pointed out. You wondered if that was the reason he decided to come here. You enjoyed the cinema, but he wanted to be famous. Maybe he thought Sebastian would be a good start. “I guess he isn’t here,” you added, unable to hide your disappointment.

“It is after midnight now. I’m sorry,” he said sadly. “But we’re here, so we should make the most of it. Maybe that prize is still available. And as the film expert, I don't think the safe is in the study. That would be too obvious."

"Maybe we should check the parlor," you suggested, nodding in that direction.

"I actually had an idea for a sequel that I wanted to pitch to him," he said as you walked into the room.

"You had an idea, huh? Do tell," you said, gazing around. It was beautiful, but still carried a sense of dread.

"So, Charles killed Constance and Merricat to gain their fortune, right?” he began, waiting for you to nod. It shocked you when you saw the film, but he thought it was a brilliant twist that Charles got away with murder. “He got what he wanted or so he thought. He soon realizes that money doesn't make him happy because he’s alone.”

“So, your sequel would be Charles...what? Falling in love?”

“In a way, he would. He wants love and he ends up finding someone. He decides to make them into the perfect, submissive housewife. Someone to serve and satisfy him. He just has to break them in.” he continued. You didn't respond as you listened. It sounded like a twisted fantasy.

“It would be a dark love, borderline obsession. He would be possessive, violently so. He doesn’t want other men even looking at you.”

“At me? You mean the character?” you corrected him, rubbing your arms.

“That’s what I meant,” he said, shaking his head quickly.

You weren’t sure if it was because it was Halloween or how he was describing it, but you felt the hair stand on your neck. Hearing that made you think of the film and how angry Charles could get. If your friend saw you shiver, he didn’t point it out. 

“Will his little submissive run?”

“Yes...but he loves the chase. And when he hunts his little bunny down, he’ll sink his fangs in and never let go. It takes some time, but they realize they can never escape him. They're bound forever and he's finally happy."

“Sounds kinky. I’m also officially creeped out,” you tried to laugh. He sounded serious and likely was. 

"You'll thank me one day when it’s on the screen one day,” he chuckled.

His laughter stopped when music suddenly filled the parlor, both of you spinning around.

“Oh, my God,” you exhaled as you saw him by an old record player. Sebastian Stan in the flesh. He was actually there. You hadn’t missed him. His eyes and jawline distracted you momentarily before you took in his outfit. He was dressed like Charles Blackwood and you had to give him credit for really looking the part. 

“What are you two doing in my home?” he asked as he looked between you.

You were about to tell him what a huge fan you were, but he was in character.

Josh chuckled and winked at you. “We’re looking for your safe, Charles. Rumor has it there’s a hefty prize inside.”

“Is that right?” he asked, bemused, as his gaze settled on you. You imagined him looking at you many times, but you never expected to see such hunger in his eyes. It was unnerving to say the least. "And you know my name, but I don't believe I have the pleasure of knowing yours."

"Where are my manners? I'm Josh."

"And you, little bunny?" 

Blood rushed to your cheeks in embarrassment. He must have heard Josh tell you about his sequel idea. You cleared your throat before you told him your name.

"It's a pleasure," he replied as he walked across the room. It was similar to a predator stalking his prey. "Truly a pleasure," he added with a charming smile as he took your hand and kissed it. 

You felt his lips linger on your hand as he waited for you to answer him. "It's a pleasure," you repeated. 

"I must say, you're very beautiful. Though your clothing is a bit strange," he said, his hand moving to your waist to touch the fabric.

The tension in the room spiked when he looked into your eyes. There was a burning desire and hunger still there, like he was ready to ravage you. It felt like he was trying to look into your soul.

Josh made a sound beside you, as if to remind you that he was there. "Should I leave you two alone?"

“You should. But before you do, why don’t we discuss what you know about my safe?” he offered, his tone less friendly toward your friend than the charming one he used with you. 

“I’d be happy to.”

He finally moved his hand from your waist to take your arm instead. A snifter was waiting as he led you over to his chair. You looked back at Josh who merely shrugged at you. Was this all part of the act?

“Little bunny, you’ll sit here,” he ordered as he sat down, gently patting his thigh. “Or would you rather I call you darling?”

“Whatever you’d like,” you said as you sat on his leg. You weren’t close enough for his liking apparently as he pulled you closer.

“So obedient,” he whispered loud enough for you to hear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Do you know how to make tea? And cook?” 

“I do, Mr. Blackwood,” you responded, playing along with his character as Josh took a seat. “Please, call me Charles,” he smiled, his voice velvety once again as he took his glass. “It’s a bit late for tea and a meal, but we’ll see how well you do tomorrow.”

You blanched slightly at the implication. Did he really think he would take you to bed with him? Of course, he didn’t. It was all part of the show.

“Now, what do you know about my safe?”

“We know there’s a fortune in there,” Josh answered, a small smile on his face. 

“And you thought you’d just take mine?” he questioned, his grip tightening on you. There was a slight growl in his voice when he said “mine” and it suddenly didn’t feel like he was talking about money.

"We just want what was promised to us. We came a long way just to see this place and you," your friend teased. He was enjoying this little game, but you didn’t like it. Something was off about this whole thing.

You heard the small gulp as he sipped his brandy. "And what about what was promised to me?"

"I don't understand," Josh replied.

"I suppose you don't," he said thoughtfully, his fingers tracing small circles along your hip as you stiffened. "So, you'll take what's in the safe and go away?"

"As soon as possible."

Charles set the snifter down as he finished. "It is rather late and I'd prefer to get to know my bunny without you here. So the sooner you can leave, the better."

"We came here together, so we're leaving together," Josh said, egging him on. You weren’t sure that was a good idea.

"You dare speak to me that way in my own house?" 

"Charles, can you please show him the safe and he'll be on his way?" you asked. You weren't serious, but you had to ease the tension.

"Since you asked so nicely," he replied, gripping your chin to face him. "I'll take you there."

"Great!" Josh exclaimed as he got up, reaching over and grabbing your hand to pull you up. The glare he got in return was enough to make him pause. “I’m sorry. I’m just eager.”

“As am I. The study is this way.”

“Guess I was wrong about the study,” Josh whispered to you as Charles stood up. No, Sebastian. This was Sebastian.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed since you got into the house, but you were just about ready to leave. The details didn’t make you feel in awe as you followed. It just felt creepy now. 

“I thought we’d have to hunt for this prize. This was too easy,” Josh smiled.

“Too easy,” you agreed as the safe was opened. It was shielded, not letting you see what was inside.

“Holy shit,” Josh exhaled when a jewel encrusted dagger was pulled out. “Charles, is this really the prize? That has to be a prop.”

“It’s your prize,” he promised, handing it over. 

Josh showed it to you, turning it over to look at both sides. You had to admit it was beautiful, the light making the diamonds shine on the gold handle. There were rubies and sapphires, too. “This has to be worth a ton.”

"Oh, this beauty is worth a small fortune," he said, admiring the knife as he took it back. "It's too bad you'll never get to enjoy it."

You screamed when the knife was shoved into Josh's throat, blood spraying from the wound as it was violently ripped out. His mouth fell open as he tried to cover the wound with his hand, collapsing on the floor.

"J-Josh?!" you cried as blood pooled underneath him, his body blocked as you tried to reach for him. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God! Why did you do that, Sebastian?" 

"Who the hell is Sebastian?" he snarled as he shoved you back with his free hand, his knuckles white as he still gripped the dripping dagger. “Do I need to kill him, too?”

You fell back as you wept. Everything felt off because this wasn't a game. This wasn't Sebastian. This was Charles Blackwood. You had no idea how, but it was. "Josh?!" you yelled, as if that would bring the light back to his eyes.

"You don't have to worry about Josh now," Charles smirked, turning his attention to you fully as your friend bled out. "I must thank him though for bringing what was promised to me." 

"What are you talking about?!" you cried. He was crazy. 

"There was never a prize."

"No," you whispered, your throat tightening in horror.

"It's...lonely here."

"He soon realizes that money doesn't make him happy because he’s alone.”

"I was promised my own little bunny to play with if I opened my doors for one night...you."

"He wants love and he ends up finding someone."

"Your friend thought he could take you away, but he can't have you. No one else can," he said as you got to your feet. 

“He would be possessive, violently so. He doesn’t want other men even looking at you.”

"You'll have the finest clothes. I'll keep a roof over your head and you'll cook for us. You'll keep my bed warm...and my cock."

“He decides to make them into the perfect, submissive housewife. Someone to serve and satisfy him.”

"You're going to love me," he promised, a glint in his eyes.

"It would be a dark love, borderline obsession."

"No! I want to go home!" you shouted. “You want to go home? You ARE home.” “This will NEVER be my home.”

"Then run," he said angrily, pointing past you with the knife.

"What?"

"Run. If you make it, you're free to go. If not, I get to keep you. I'll count to ten. Better run, little bunny."

"This isn’t a game!"

“Ten...nine…” he began as you bolted. "You're actually running?" he laughed at you.

You ran out of the study, your heart pounding as you rushed to the front door. You prayed that this was just a bad dream as you yanked the door open. It had to be. 

You froze when you stumbled outside. You couldn't see Josh's car in the distance. The man was gone. Hearing footsteps behind you, you took off again. Tears blinded you as you ran faster. Someone had to help you.

You almost lost your footing as you ran through the garden. You debated hiding, but where could you hide from him? He knew every inch of the place. 

“You want our first time to be under stars? That’s romantic, darling,” Charles called as he caught up to you. “...he loves the chase.” You were tackled from behind, a sharp pain shooting through your body as you landed on your hip. You tried to roll free, but he shoved your head in the dirt. 

"And when he hunts his little bunny down, he’ll sink his fangs in and never let go."

“Stop, please!” you begged.

“Your spirit is admirable, but I’ll have to teach you to properly beg for me.”

“He just has to break them in."

You whimpered as he rolled you over and brushed the blade along your neck. You didn’t realize he still had it. You felt sick. It was stained with Josh’s blood. 

“Let’s see what you’re hiding underneath these clothes,” he sneered, using the knife to cut and tear through the fabric. 

The air was cold as it hit your exposed skin. “Get off of me! I don’t want you!”

Charles stopped only for a moment, a sad look crossing his face before it turned to anger. “You don’t want me? Don’t WANT me?! Don’t you fucking say that. I don't deserve to be treated that way!"

You screamed when he raised the dagger. When he brought it down though, you didn't feel any pain. He stabbed it into the dirt beside you. If you could just grab it…

"You'll want me," he growled, grabbing your wrists and pinning them over your head. "I'll show you."

You shook your head in denial as you heard him unfasten his belt and pants. "I'm sorry, Charles," you tried to placate as he roughly pushed your legs apart.

"Oh, you're sorry?" he mocked as he released himself. You looked between your bodies, your eyes wide. You shouldn't have been able to see how angry and red the tip looked in the darkness, but tonight was full of horrifying surprises. "We'll see how sorry you are when I split you open."

"Please, don't!" you begged as you felt the head of his cock against your hole. You weren't prepared for him and you couldn't stop your scream when he suddenly impaled you. Your limbs went weak under him from the pure shock of taking him in. You couldn’t even register the pain immediately as he pulled out and thrust back in. 

"Knew you'd be tight," he said smugly as he moved.

You tried to block out the ache building between your thighs, willing your body to stay lax under his. He hammered into you with no regard for your comfort. Was that your punishment for denying him? Or did you commit some other sin in your life?

His grip on your chin was harsh as he brought your gaze back to his. "You look at me when I fuck you, little bunny. Watch me as I make you mine."

True to his word, he forced you to look at him as he slowly began to take you apart. Your legs twitched when you heard praises and filth under his breath. You couldn't block that out anymore than you could block the feel of his balls slapping against you with each thrust.

"Your pussy is divine. It's going to treat my cock well morning and night."

“No,” you whined as your walls began to flutter. He murdered your friend. It wasn't right to feel good. 

“I knew you’d love it,” he taunted as he fucked you into the dirt. “Just like you’ll love me.”

The mental anguish threatened to tear your mind apart as Charles took over your body. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want him. Home...you wanted to go home. It didn't matter what you wanted as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. 

Shameful moans spilled from your lips before he caught them with his mouth, his tongue moving in time with his hips. The kiss was degrading, humiliation filling you as he brought you higher. Your body was protecting you the only way it knew how right now.

"Keep looking at me," he demanded when he finally let you breathe. It only forced you to inhale his hot breath. The lustful look in his eyes would haunt you until your final moment in this world. Feeling his thick cock defile you would haunt you beyond that. 

"Charles...no…" you moaned as heat spread.

"You need to come, little bunny? Do it. Come on my cock before I come in you."

Ecstasy made your body seize, your orgasm rippling through you. As much as you tried, you failed to smother your moans. You didn't mean to let them out. You saw the look of triumph on his face through the fog, the realization making you shake almost as much as your aftershocks. He won. You let him win. 

The grunts he let out were deep, his thrusts erratic and ferocious as he continued to drive into you. He was chasing his own pleasure and you knew the moment it hit him as he spilled into you. 

That look of victory was still there as he continued to flood your unwilling heat. You would never be clean again.

You shuddered as you lay there, doing your best to focus on your breathing. It didn't help because you were still there. Josh was still dead. And Charles still had his cock buried to the hilt. His face began to blur and it took a moment to realize it was because your eyes had watered again. When you tried to swallow the lump in your throat, a sob forced its way out. 

He seemed to take pity on you when the tears fell. “There you go. Just let it out. So pretty when you cry,” he murmured, his thumb briefly wiping them away as they kept coming. 

You weakly pushed at him when he released your wrists, the knife beside you forgotten. He wrapped his arms around you which only made you shudder. It was too intimate. "I'll get rid of the body. You’ll draw us a bath," he told you, his hips slowly rocking again. "The garden could use some fresh blood.”

You could only nod as he kept you in the dirt.

"I'm going to take care of you and you're going to take care of me. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Charles,” you sniffled.

"They're bound forever and he's finally happy."

You were his little bunny now.

In the present, the man stared at the house with a satisfied smile. He thought his luck had run out, but you showed up just in the nick of time. Another successful year. Another innocent soul claimed. He wondered just which setting he would choose the following year. It didn't matter as long as the house was fed. 

"Happy Halloween," he whispered as his eyes went black.

[sweeterthanthis]

Scream For Me

Written for @jtargaryen18​ ‘s Haunted House challenge. Thank you for letting me take part and I hope you like my contribution! This is probably the darkest thing I’ve ever had the nerve to write, and I had a ball with it. So proceed with caution and read the warnings.

Pairing: Dark!SteveRogers x Fem!InclusiveReader (No descriptions of race, skin tone, size, no age specified - but legal, obvs.)

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: Noncon/dubcon, breath play, vaginal sex, face fucking, rough anal sex, filthy language, fear kink, slight authority kink, degradation, female ejaculation, mild sexual violence. 

I hope I haven’t missed any. Please take these warnings seriously, I would hate for anyone to be triggered. Enjoy!

When you’d found out about the celebrity charity event at the notoriously Haunted House in town, you knew you had to grab yourself a ticket. 

You’d heard a rumour that the people inside may have even been the real deal, and the mere thought of it had your thighs clenching together. Your eyes had rolled at the thought of it – as if Captain America himself would take time out of his busy schedule to spend the night in your little town. 

You’d always been on his side. Even he was a wanted fugitive of the United States, you knew better. You knew he was a good man. The best.  

You remembered the first action figure you owned, the very first time you’d seen him on the news. He’d saved the world more than once, and there was little anyone could say to make you change your mind. He was a hero. Your hero.

As you got older though, your thoughts started to change – to grow. As you grew into your later teenage years, you no longer saw him quite the same way. No. Now you were transfixed not only by his strength, but by the perfectly sculpted body that wielded that strength. The way his biceps would flex in those delightfully tight t-shirts, and the curve of his delectable ass. He was a god among men, and you couldn’t get enough.

You’d never admit it to anyone, but if you had a penny for every time you’d fallen back onto your pillow completely blissed out after touching yourself at the thought of what his big, strong hands could do to you, you’d be a very rich girl.

And then came the stealth suit and the beard, and you were done for. You’d have given anything to meet your hero, only now your thoughts weren’t quite so pure. Whereas once upon a time you wanted nothing more than to hug him and tell him how wonderful he was, now you’d much rather use his face as a throne. 

The mere thought of it made your skin prickle with desire.

Now old enough to appreciate him in all his glory, you found yourself comparing the guys you’d dated to him. Which you knew was ridiculous, considering you were literally holding out for a hero. You just couldn’t help it. He was fucking beautiful.

Even if it was a cheap imitation that you were paying to see, you’d convinced yourself it was for charity and that was the most important part. 

You could have cried when you tried to buy a ticket online and they’d sold out in minutes. You’d saved the $200 entry fee by working overtime on the weekends and now your only hope was that you could get hold of one of the extremely limited tickets on the door.

Approaching the house, you felt a cold chill run up your spine. Your fishnet covered legs were covered in goose bumps, all the way up to the hem of your denim skirt. Wrapping your leather jacket around you tightly, you exhaled deeply, mist escaping your lips as you took in the sight of children trick or treating, eccentrically carved pumpkins lining the pavements and the hustle and bustle of high school kids getting up to no end of mischief.

Your heart sank as you saw the length of the line for the ticket booth, mentally cursing your boss for making you stay later than usual. Joining the back of the line, you fiddled with the hem of your shirt while you waited.

After what seemed like hours, you finally reached the front of the line. You were the last to enter. The woman in the ticket booth beckoning you forward with two perfectly manicured fingers, animatedly chewing on gum in her Harley Quinn costume.

“What’s your poison sugar?” She asked you, focused entirely on her game of cards until she spied your shirt and smirked. “You want the Cap, huh?”

Looking down at the Captain America sigil on your white shirt, you nodded, wondering why she looked so damn pleased with herself.

“You’re a lucky gal, there’s one ticket left. That’ll be $200.” Reaching into the deep pocket of your leather jacket, you grabbed the neatly folded wad of twenties and slid them across the counter to her waiting hands. “You’re in for one hell of a ride sugar, enjoy.”

With that, she winked, placing the closed sign on the counter, and pulling the shutter down with a loud thud. Everything seemed quiet all of a sudden. Looking around you, you noticed the streets were empty. The only noise you could hear was coming from the speaker in front of the ticket booth, the typical spooky Halloween sounds echoing through the air.

You tentatively stepped up the rickety, wooden porch steps, your fingertips grazing the chipped wood of the handrail. The floorboards of the porch creaked beneath your feet; the toe caps of your Dr Martens illuminated by the orange glow of the pumpkins situated either side of the doorframe.

Reaching for the bronze doorknob, you hesitated for a moment, your hand hovering in the space between your body and the front door. Sucking in a deep breath, and completely unsure of what to expect once you were inside, you jutted your chin in the air and strapped your lady balls on. You had waited months for this moment, the possibilities clouding your brain for weeks prior to that night. You could meet your hero, or you could end up being disappointed with a cheap imitation and feel rotten for being scammed out of $200. You honestly thought it would end up being the latter, your hopes lessened at the sight of the deflated faces of all those who had exited while you were waiting in line.

Wrapping your fist around the doorknob, you twisted it and edged the door open slowly. Peeking your head around the heavy oak, you spied the long corridor laid out before you. Wilting candles sat in gold-plated candelabra’s that were fixed to the walls, dusty black and white portraits fixed haphazardly placed between the many closed doors either side of the corridor. You couldn’t differentiate the fake spiderwebs from the very real, very old cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, and you could have sworn the bats hanging upside down in the corners of the room were more than plastic novelty decorations. Taking one last look behind you back out on to the eerily empty street, you sucked in a nervous breath. You’d been given no instructions, so you had no idea what the rules were, if there were any at all.

Stepping fully into the house, you closed the door behind you. Wringing your fingers together nervously, the silence in the air almost deafening as you shuffled on the spot for a moment before taking a step forward. Reaching the first door on your left, you look up at it. Spying the symbol on the door, you suddenly realised what you were supposed to do as you recognised each emblem on each door. 

The one directly in front of you emblazoned with the image of a golden helmet, two long curved horns spawning from the crown of it. Loki. You felt a shudder run through you at the thought of it. 

Running your fingers along the frayed wallpaper of the hallway, you passed each door, halting when you finally reached the one you were meant to enter. Reaching up, you ran your fingertips across the red, white, and blue symbol – your other hand resting against the very same one splayed across your chest.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at your current state of mind, acting as if behind that door was the key to all your dreams and fantasies. It was laughable really. You mentally reminded yourself that this was a charity event, and the most you were going to get was a five-minute experience with a less than convincing, normal human, dressed in spandex.

Unsure of what to do next, you raised your fist to the door and knocked twice, the sound of skin against wood echoing through the corridor.  You waited, but nothing happened.

Two more times, but louder. Still nothing.

Something felt off about the whole thing, but you grabbed the door handle and twisted anyway. Something inside of you was pulling you to that door, to open it and see what was inside.

Pushing the door open, you could barely contain your confusion as you looked around the room in front of you. Dozens of little reflections of yourself glared back at you. A hall of mirrors dimly lit by a handful of tiny spotlights on the ceiling. Intricately carved oak framed each mirror, the floor a sea of rich mahogany wood. Truly the last thing you were expecting to find.

Stepping forward into the mirrored labyrinth, you ran your fingertips along the cold glass either side of you.

“H-hello?” You called, your voice shaky.

You could have sworn you heard the faint sound of respirations that weren’t your own, coming to a fork-like turning. You went left, your eyes still adjusting to the dimly lit room.

“You here to see me doll?”

Your heart in your throat, you turned on the spot and could have died right there in that mirror maze. There, standing before you, was the most captivating, gorgeous man you’d ever seen. His eyes pierced into yours as you tried to find the words, any words. With his arms folded across his hulking chest, he took one step forward.

His hair was longer, pushed back from his face, and a thick beard now lay atop his perfectly sculpted jawline. There was an intensity radiating off him that you would never have expected. You took a moment to take him in. His stealth suit adorned his god-like body, hugging every ridge of his stomach like a glove. You really needed to say something.

“Um…hi?”

The low chuckle that escaped his plump lips sent a tingle up your spine, your feet shuffling involuntarily as you stood there unsure of what to do.

“Fuck, at least tell me you’re more fun than the last one.”

Your eyes widened at the profanity spilling from his mouth, shocked at the fact that America’s hero had a mouth like a damn sailor. His mouth twitched up at the corners as he walked towards you, and you were sure that your heartbeat was ringing in the air as your most vital organ battered against your ribcage.

“What were you expecting little girl? Someone a little more chipper?”

“I’m not…is this even real?” You muttered; your brain unable to process what was happening.

Your eyes wandered once again, taking in the sight of his big hands covered to the knuckles in black leather, his thumbs hooked into the belt of his suit. “Is it? You tell me.”

As if through no decision of your own, your hand reached out to touch him, your fingers floating only inches from the muscular expanse of his chest as he looked down at you with a wry smirk.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as a cold sensation trickled through your fingertips, your flesh resting against a mirror as your own reflection stared back at you. He was behind you in a second, the heat from his body radiating through the leather of your jacket. His breath tickled the back of your neck as you looked into his eyes in the reflection.

“You are a pretty little thing…” His knuckles dusted the side of your throat gently, but the atmosphere surrounding you was anything but. Your brain was foggy, unable to fully comprehend the situation you’d found yourself in. You hardly recognised this man.

Turning to face him, your breasts grazed his sternum and you could have sworn he’d moaned at the sensation. Your mind was screaming at you to leave, but as you looked around you there was no door to be found. Daring to look up at him through your painted lashes, your body betrayed you. There was something primal about the way he was looking at you, his lips slightly parted as his eyes travelled the length of your face and down to your heaving chest.

“Nice shirt.” He teased, raising an eyebrow in amusement as your knees trembled. “Say something little girl, or I’ll find something else for you to do with that pretty mouth.”

You were frightened and confused. Your eyes pooled with anxious tears as you looked up into his eyes. There was a darkness in them that filled you with dread, and you wondered what had happened to him that took the light from his eyes.

“Are you o-okay, Captain?” You asked meekly, your body pinned between his chest and the mirror behind you. You tried to press your palm against his huge chest, a poor attempt at putting some distance between the two of you.

“There’s no need to be scared. I’m just peachy. So, what’ll it be? Trick?”

It felt wrong. Your mind was screaming at you to run, but as you looked back in the direction that you came from, the door had vanished. You’d had panic attacks before, but your chest had never been as tight. He gripped your chin between his fingertips, pulling your gaze forcefully to meet his. The need to escape his grasp was ever present in your mind, but the heat between your thighs was betraying that thought process.

“Or treat?”

The tip of his nose touched against yours briefly, and for a moment, you considered kissing him. And then you thought back to all the times you’d wished to be in this position – wished to have your Captain in front of you, ready to sweep you off your feet. But not this way, not this Captain.

You felt a rush of bravery, your knee colliding with his groin. A rush of pain swarmed your kneecap, yet he didn’t move an inch. Only tutted, like he was chastising a child.

“That...was not very nice, little girl.”

Your hands were pinned above you head in a second, your breasts pressed right up against him as he towered over you. “But if that’s how you wanna play this…”

You could feel your pulse thumping against your temple, space between the two of you now as he stepped back.

“Go. Run. But if I catch you, you’re mine.” He reached out for you, his knuckles grazing your cheek. “And because you’re such a pretty little thing, I’ll even give you a head start.”  

A sob fell from your lips, your head shaking from side to side. “I want to go h-home…”

“10…”

“Please, this isn’t what I wanted…”

“9…”

“If you just let me go, I won’t tell anyone about this. I promise.”

“8…”

“Captain, please…”

“You’re making this way too easy. You’d better run, little girl.” He took another step forward, his powerful form radiating sick confidence. “7…”

You had no choice, whipping your head from left to right, then left again – and you bolted.

Fear was thick within your chest, ragged breaths burning your impossibly dry throat as you desperately palmed at the mirrors before you, your brain unable to tell the difference between reality and illusion.

“6…”

It seemed to go on forever, and you could have sworn that that the house hadn’t been this large from the outside. A heavy sob escaped into the air as you mentally kicked yourself for not running in the other direction.

“5…”

Finally you reached a turning, bile rising in your throat as you anticipated his chase. You turned left, and then right – still seemingly no closer to reaching the exit. Your Dr Martens thumped against the wooden floor beneath your feet and your blood rushed to your ears.

“4…”

The further into the maze you got, the darker it seemed to become, and your eyes struggled to adjust to your surroundings.

“3…”

You tripped over nothing, holding your palms out in front of you to cushion the fall. Hitting the floor with a thud, you cried out, your knees crashing against the floor.

“2…”

Scrambling up on to your hands and knees, and pushing your hair back out of your face, you looked around you. Part of you just wanted him to get it over with, the suspense of his deep voice echoing throughout the air as he counted down as unbearable as the fear that was deep-seated within you.

“1…” You heard his heavy footsteps as he began his pursuit.

You’d reached a crossroads. Left or right. 

His footsteps were louder now, and you knew he was close. 

Left or right? 

You ran out of time, looking behind you to see his leather clad feet turning the corner. 

Right. 

You threw yourself up off of your hands and knees, your upper body driving your legs forward as you reached out to steady yourself on the mirrors either side of you. 

“I can smell you, little girl.” He cooed, making your insides churn. 

You were frantic, throwing your palms against every mirror you came across, each time your despair grew, the reality of what was about to happen settling in. You were trapped, caged in like a giselle being hunted by a lion, and all you could do was wait. 

When you saw the huge outline of him appear no more than twenty feet in front of you, your eyes clenched shut. As if some part of your mind thought you were safer that way. Of course, you were wrong. 

“There she is...” He spoke, to himself or to you, you weren’t sure. 

“Please...please, don’t hurt me.” You begged pathetically, your back sliding against the mirror behind you as you sank to the floor.

His feet were inches from yours as he knelt down in front of you, a look of sadistic amusement plastered all over his face. 

“I’m not going to hurt you, sweetheart. Well, maybe a little...”  Your stomach flipped nervously as his smiled widened. “But it’ll hurt so fucking good.”

His gloved hand reached out to you, and you admitted defeat. You were terrified, but your survival instincts had kicked in, and you knew the only way to survive was to give in. He wasn’t letting you go until he got what he wanted, yet you still weren’t entirely sure what that was.

“If...if I give you what you want, w-will you let me go?” You stuttered, your hand suspended in the air, his fingertips almost touching yours. 

His eyes darkened, and his smile disappeared. His huge palm wrapped around your wrist, yanking you to your feet with a harsh tug. 

“You know, you really ought to learn some respect. How about some fucking gratitude, a thank you for my service. Your just as disappointing as the rest of them...” 

Your head thumped against the mirror behind you, and you weren’t sure when he’d lifted you. His knee was wedged between your thighs, pressing up against your core, and his hand around your throat. He didn’t squeeze. He didn’t need to. The threat was enough to keep you still. 

“So fucking ungrateful, so fucking rude...” He was almost snarling at you, his hot breath warming your face. He was a man possessed. 

His hand grabbed at your breast, squeezing firmly. You sucked in a sharp breath, unsure of how to react. His beard scratched against the base of your throat, his lips pressed up against your ear. 

“I’m sorry. You’re a hero, Captain.” Your attempt to pacify him made him chuckle, the vibrations rumbling through your flesh. 

“Am I your hero, little girl?” He asked, his voice thick with deviance as he fisted your shirt in his hands. “Hmm?” 

He had been. 

“Y-yes, Captain.” 

“So you want to say thank you, right?” He urged, his grip on your throat tightening slightly. A frightened mewl fell from your lips, and it did nothing to deter him, instead causing him to grind his thigh against your most sensitive places. You wanted to vomit as your hips ground back down against him instinctively, creating a friction that was both terrifying and maddening. 

“Yes, Captain.” You tried to make yourself sound certain, but the slight tremble of your voice gave you away. 

“Look at you, trying to be a big brave girl. Adorable...” He belittled, releasing your throat from his grasp and taking a step back. 

“Jacket off.” He ordered, gesturing with his hand. You blew out a heavy breath, convinced that there was only one way out. 

You did as he asked, shrugging the leather off your shoulders and letting it fall to the floor at your feet. His gaze travelled down, eyeing your fishnet encased legs. 

“Now the skirt. Show me that pretty ass.” 

Your knees began to tremble, and you were sure the fear and uncertainly was radiating off of you. Your hands were shaking as you reached for the button sitting at the waistband of your denim skirt, unbuttoning it. Your fingers froze for a moment, aware that all you had on beneath your fishnets was a lacy, black thong. 

“Turn around, let me see it.” His voice was calm, but firm. His huge arms crossed over his chest as he waited. 

You turned on the spot, your back to him. You looked at yourself in the mirror in front of you, the image of him staring you down from behind making your legs quake. 

You took a sharp breath, trying to muster the bravery to do it. You weren’t sure why you arched forward, confused by the lustful undertones of the frightening situation. Dragging your skirt down over the curves of your ass, you let go, letting it fall to floor where your leather jacket lay. Stepping out of it, you kicked both items to the side, and waited for further instruction. 

“Look at that sweet little ass...” he crooned, and you couldn’t deny that your insides were fluttering at his praise. “Look at me.” 

Turning to face him, you reached for the hem of your shirt, pulling it up over your stomach to save him from having to tell you. 

“No.” Your eyes shot up at the sound of his voice, watching him shake his head slowly. “Leave it on.” 

You had to wonder if the thought of his infamous sigil slayed across your chest  turned him on, and a part of you hoped it did. You were still scared, there was no doubt about it, but watching his face, the way his brow furrowed and his tongue ran the length of his bottom lip, you couldn’t help it. You were aroused. 

“Get on your knees, little girl. Time to thank your Captain.” 

You were down quicker than you’d anticipated, your body betraying your mind as you kneeled before him - your thighs wide and your pussy, covered only by a scrap of black lace, pressed against the cold wooden floor.

“Fuck, you’re learning quickly. You’re nothing like those other girls who’ve been in here tonight, are you?” He unzipped himself, his hand reaching inside to pull out his cock. 

You hadn’t registered his words properly, too dumbfounded by the sight of the length of him. Just as you’d have thought, he was monstrous. Long, impossibly thick, the tip of him swollen and reddened, oozing with pre-cum. 

A lustful grunt emitted from the depths of his throat, looking down at your big, wide eyes. Subconsciously, you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, unable to look away as his gloved fist wrapped around the base of his length. 

“You ever sucked a dick this big, little girl?” 

Your eyes remained rooted to his groin, but you shook your head. You truly hadn’t. The thought of him splitting you open making your stomach flutter nervously. 

He stepped towards you, his toecaps touching your knee’s as his cock bobbed in front of you, inches from your face. 

“You’re going to suck it so good, because you want to thank your Captain. Right?” 

“Yes, Captain.”

The tip of his cock nudged your bottom lip, your mouth instantly opening in trepidation. It rested there, his eyes staring you down as you suppressed the urge to sweep your tongue across his slit. 

“Be a good little girl and suck, and don’t stop until I tell you to. Got that?”

“Yes, Captain.” You whispered, your top lip feathering against his throbbing flesh. 

He gave you no time to adjust, driving his cock down your throat on the first thrust. You coughed and spluttered around him, panicking as you struggled to acommodate him. 

Allowing you a moments reprieve, he pulled his cock free. 

One breath and he stuffed your mouth again, stroking the skin where your lips stretched almost painfully around him with his fingertips. You allowed your jaw to slacken, thrust after thrust punching down your throat, spit falling sloppily over the red, white and blue on your shirt. 

“Fuck, that’s it. You like it when I fuck your throat?” 

You nodded, driving your mouth down to meet each hit. 

“Tell me how much you like it...” He grunted, his fingers tangling in your hair, holding your mouth down onto him.

You mumbled incoherantly around his cock, the words practically inaudible. He didn’t seem to care though, simply pleased that you were obeying his orders. 

“Fuck, you’re such a dirty little slut. Look at you, dribbling all over my dick.” 

You weren’t sure when the fear inside of you dissipated but it had, giving way to unimaginable desire. You knew it was wrong, but instead of being deterred, you were simply bound to commit filthy, unspeakable acts before him. 

Whatever he wanted. 

Grinding your crotch down onto the wooden floor below you, you moaned around his girth, the feel of your throat vibrating around the tip of him causing his own knees to tremble slightly.

“You keep that up little girl, and I may just have to keep you.” 

You thought nothing of it, a throw away comment you assumed. 

Vulgar sounds filled the air as your throat gagged around him with each thrust, your lips closing around him and your cheeks hollowing. Tears streamed down your face, your make up well and truly ruined, just like your mouth. 

“Good girl.” He praised, pulling his cock free again. He took you by surprise when his lips pressed against yours, his beard scratching your chin. It was a brief, forceful kiss, causing your head to thump against the mirror behind you. 

“Look at yourself.” He demanded, pulling your head to the side and forcing you to take in the view that only he had been privy to up until that moment. 

Your lips were swollen, drool falling from both corners of your mouth onto your chest and your thighs. Your mascara was smudged, black tear marks adorned your cheeks like melancholy raindrops. 

“Such a pretty whore.” 

One hand still tangled in your hair, the other gripping your bicep roughly, he yanked you to your feet, spinning you round and shoving you up against the mirror, the cold against your cheek a welcoming sensation as your blood ran piping hot. 

There was no time for care, his fingers hooking underneath the the fishnet material covering your ass, ripping a whole in them forcefully. His palms slapping down against your cheeks surged you forward, your lipstick leaving marks on the mirror.

Your panties were next, gusset ripped in half effortlessly. You shivered, the cool air hitting your drenched pussy. 

Fifteen minutes ago, you were begging him to let you leave. Now you’d beg him to make you stay. 

“Look at that slutty little pussy, desperate for my dick.” 

You tried to grind yourself back on him, your hips winding pathetically as you tried to make contact. You felt his fingers trace a path from your clit, to your sopping wet hole and you couldn’t help but cry out lustfully at the contact. 

“Beg me, little girl. Be a good little whore and beg for my dick.” 

Two thick fingers sliding inside your pussy, stretching you out, had you whimpering. The delicious sting as he scissored them inside of you sent shock waves throughout your body. 

The tiny part of your brain that was still coherent screamed at you not to, not to give him the satisfaction, but you couldn’t help it. 

“Please Captain, please fuck me.” 

“Are you a good little whore? Do you deserve it?” He teased, adding a third finger for good measure. 

“Yes, I’m a good w-whore. I’ll be your whore.” His thumb pressed against your asshole, making your muscles tense up in fright. Your ragged breaths condensing the mirror pressed to your lips. 

“You know, a good little whore would let me stretch out that asshole too. What do you think?” 

He didn’t give you time to answer before his thumb slipped in, the fluttering ring of muscle clenching around his knuckle. You cried out, the foreign feeling between your cheeks a mix of discomfort and unusual pleasure. Pulling his fingers free of your wanting pussy, he teased your clit with the tip of his cock and it was a miracle that you managed to remain upright. 

“You gonna let me fuck that beautiful little asshole when I’m done wrecking your pussy?”

The sensation of his thumb hooking into you couple with the feeling of his thick, throbbing head stretching out your entrance had turned you into a desperate, needy mess. You would have said anything just to have him fill you up. 

“Yes, whatever you want. Please!” 

The breath was punched out of your lungs as he tore you apart. The pain was unbearable, a primal, throaty cry echoing from your mouth as tears fell from your eyes once again. 

“For a whore, you sure are fucking tight.” 

His hips smacked against your ass, flesh clashing with flesh as he rutted into you with wild abandon. His fingernails dug into your hips, one hand gripping you and the other reaching around, tugging your strapless bra down to your stomach and kneading your breast roughly. Rolling your hardened nipple between his fingertips had you writhing, pushing back onto him as if he wasn’t fucking you hard enough already. 

You felt your orgasm approach, warmth flooding your face and chest, knees shaking and toes curling in your boots. He could sense it too as your pussy fluttered around his cock. 

“Don’t you fucking dare. Whore’s don’t get to cum.” 

Sobs wracked your body, your eyes clenched shut as you desperately tried to obey him. But you were too far gone, teetering over the edge dangerously with nowhere else to go but down. 

Your apology fell from your lips like a prayer as you came, every nerve ending in your body aflame with shame and wanton satisfaction. A hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing dangerously and cutting off the air supply in an instant. 

“I told you, whores don’t get to cum.” He growled against your ear, pulling his cock free of your sloppy, fucked out pussy. “You’re gonna pay for that.” 

You tried to get free of his grasp when his cock pressed against your tightest hole, desperately trying to clench your cheeks together to stop him. You couldn’t breath, the hand around your throat ever-tightening and your face reddening. 

“Are you ready, little girl?” 

You shook your head desperately, your hands frantically clawing at his around your throat. He took no notice, instead chuckling darkly into your shoulder. 

You could finally breathe when he softened his grip, but the oxygen was soon knocked out of you when he slid his cock into your ass, the bulbus tip sucked in by your contracting hole. You cried out, the discomfort wrenching through your nervous system. 

“Fuck, that’s one greedy fucking asshole.” Gripping your throat again, he slid his cock in to the root. You swore you could feel him in your stomach, and you were torn between immense pain and electric pleasure. 

He gave you no time to adjust to him, no care for you wellbeing as he pounded into you, your breasts crashing against the mirror with each stroke. Hooking your arms behind your back with his free hand, he yanked you back onto him, the animalistic grunting sounds coming from his mouth invigorating your senses. 

“How does that cock feel in that ass?” He asked, pulling your head backwards and forcing you to look at him. Your face was soaked with tears, cheeks red raw. “You look so fucking pretty when you cry.” 

You couldn’t answer him, the intensity was too much. He didn’t seem to care. 

Out of nowhere, another orgasm approached, and the fear that ran through you was enough to suppress it. You couldn’t bear the thought of not finding some kind of blissful release, and if you came again without permission, you had no idea what he’d do to you. 

Your eyes rolled back into your head as he remained deep-seated within you, grinding his hips against the flesh of your ass. There was no pain now, just a feeling of fullness that you’d never even dreamt of experiencing. 

“You’re being such a good girl. Would you like to cum, little whore?” 

You nodded enthusiastically, desperate for it. You thought you might die if he didn’t let you. He released your throat fully, his hand slipping down your front, pinching your nipples for good measure before dipping lower.

“Tell me.” He ordered, his fingertips slipping back and forth across your sodden clit. Sparks began to rush through you, your vision hazy and your mind foggy. 

“Please, let me cum. I’ll be good, I promise. God, please.” You panted, his icy blue eyes glaring straight into yours, full of such intensity you could barely breathe even when his hand wasn’t wrapped around your throat.

“Scream for me, little girl.” 

And you did. A strangled, unrecognisable cry ringing in your ears. Furious, circular motions on your clit paired with the agonisingly delightful sting of him fucking into your asshole had you falling apart in seconds, soaking his hand and your own thighs. You could stand no longer, his arm wrapping around your waist to keep you upright. 

“You made a fucking mess, clean it up.” 

He gave you no choice, shoving his fingers into your mouth, the tips touching your tonsils as you gagged. But yet, your tongue willingly lapped at the moisture that glazed his skin, the salty-sweet tang flooding your taste buds. 

You watched yourself then, wondering how everything had changed so quickly. You didn’t even recognise your reflection. You were a boneless, fucked out, mess of a girl. Yet, it wasn’t shame you felt. Far from it. 

Pride was the only thing you could liken it to, pride that this godlike man behind you was a mess of rage and need, pawing and kneading at your flesh, teeth gritted and lips curled back. 

All you wanted in that moment was to be good for him, to be his well behaved whore. 

“I’m gonna fill this ass up with my cum.” He breathed, his final thrusts the most brutal and forceful of them all. 

The roar that came from his body made your entire form shudder. He was completely deranged in his pleasure, his cock still inside you as he pumped his seed deep in your belly. 

He composed himself, letting go of your body. You fell to the floor with a heavy thud, your body truly ruined. Cum dribbled obscenely from your used asshole, sending a warm trickle down the length of your pussy lips, a drop of it resting neatly on your clit like a rare pearl. 

“Happy Halloween, little girl.” His touch was almost gentle against your cheek, the satisfaction in his voice strangely soothing. “Shame its the last one you’ll ever get to see. You’re mine now.” 

[jtargaryen18]

Midnight in the Garden of Evil

Masterlist

Pairings: Charles Blackwood X Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Non-con, explicit sexual content, mild violence, breeding kink. Please read responsibly.

Written for my Haunted House Challenge 2020

Summary: You lucked out and got a ticket for the celebrity Halloween charity event at the famed Winter-Sun building. You were there to see Sebastian Stan as Charles Blackwood.

You got a lot more than you bargained for.

~~~

Your lungs burned as you reached the front of the Winter-Sun building. No one else was there on that slim carpeted runway, sectioned off by velvet ropes.

Your heart sank as you checked your watch to see it was one minute to midnight. You were too late.

Fuck.

Carefully, like someone was going to yell at you if they saw you, you made your way up that walk, over that red carpet, stopping where bronze posts held up one side of those ornate ropes. Was anyone there? Was there any chance?

Could you hate your job more? Your asshat boss threw stuff at you all day as if he were deliberately trying to fuck up this most precious of opportunities.

You’d worked a shit ton of overtime just to afford the ticket that you still couldn’t believe you were able to snag online. A chance to see the Sebastian Stan at this charity haunted house as one of your favorite literary characters – Charles Blackwood from Shirley Jackson’s We’ve Always Lived at the Castle.

Blowing out an exhale, you shook your head. You were too late.

Just as you turned to head back to the parking lot, a melodic voice stopped you.

“There you are!”

Okay, she sounded friendly which was the only reason you dared to turn back around.

Wow. The young woman making her way out the door of the historical building looked exactly like Constance from the movie. Oh, you couldn’t remember the actress’s name, but she had the same Snow White coloring with cornflower-blue eyes, blue-black hair, perfect porcelain skin, and a baby blue fifties dress that you’d kill to have.

You smiled back at her apologetically. “I just got here.”

She nodded, eyes shining. “And he’s waiting. Do you have your ticket?”

Sebastian Stan was waiting for you? Sending up a prayer of thanks, you walked to her, fishing your ticket out of your jacket pocket. Your hand shook when you handed it to her.

“Wonderful,” Constance said sweetly. “If you’ll follow me.”

You had no problem with that. You followed her into the building that you’d only ever been in once for a field trip in fifth grade. The hallway lined in offices looked ordinary enough. But she led you further, into the darkness beyond.

A cool breeze blew over you, the scent of something alive and sweet carried through the air. The sounds of birds, crickets. Wow, this attraction was really good.

“Enjoy,” Constance bid you, stopping at the edge of what looked like a magnificent garden swallowed in the nighttime shadows. When she motioned you forward, you willingly went.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” you heard a voice calling out in the darkness.

That was him. That was him. That was Sebastian.

Well, Charles.

Your heart raced in excitement as you stopped, standing next to the wide trunk of a huge oak tree. You went to step over a large root, to move out towards what looked like a path all lit up in the moonlight when your heel caught.

Heel? You were wearing flats with your jeans and a nice sweater. If it was like any other fan encounter you’d ever paid for you didn’t need to really dress up.

But speaking of dress, the silky skirt of yours fell just past your knees. Pale pink was a good color on you, it was true. But where did it come from? The stockings you wore with sleek black heels? Looking over yourself, you saw the dress came in at the waist, the bodice layered over your chest beneath the soft cardigan you wore for warmth.

Hesitantly, you lifted your hands to your hair. Sleek curls just reached your shoulders instead of the beach waves you’d touched up with your styling wand in the bathroom before you came over.

Was it an illusion?

“I’m going to find you,” Charles’ voice drew your attention back to the stone path lit up by the moon, flower beds bordered it on both sides, their colors swallowed by the night. “You’re not getting away from me, darling.”

Oh. You would have thought you’d like being called darling by Sebastian Stan as Charles Blackwood. Right?

Something about his tone, the impatience beneath it, had you a little hesitant. What were you supposed to do here? Should you hide and make him find you? Did he know you were there?

Should you run out to greet him? After all, you were really late, and you were sure he didn’t want to spend all night here for charity. Hell, it was generous he’d still been wiling to see you right at midnight.

That made your decision. Carefully stepping around the huge, gnarled roots of the oak tree, you made your way towards the path as Charles walked past. Your dress snagged on the rough bark of the trunk. You almost turned an ankle in trying to avoid a hole.

It wasn’t until a twig snapped beneath your feet that he stopped, turning where he stopped with a smirk on his face.

Oh, God, he’s beautiful.

At that point you smiled and waved. “I’m here.”

With his hands clasped behind his back, Charles walked in your direction. His gaze roamed over you appreciatively as you carefully made your way to the path in the heels you weren’t used to walking in.

You came to a stop in front of him, just taking in how handsome he was. His dark hair was swept back in elegant wavess, his slacks dark and the sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled up to his elbows.

Oh, this was worth the price of admission. This moment, standing mere inches away from him? It was worth every moment of overtime that you’d hellishly put yourself through.

Charles stepped even closer, making you look up now to hold his gaze. The faint scent of sandalwood and leather blended with nicotine and bourbon, the scent rich and masculine.

What did you do now?

Before you could say anything, Charles wrapped one arm roughly around your waist, hauling you tightly against him. His other hand clutched at your hair. Pain bloomed in your scalp as his fingers tightened there, pulling your head back while you winced.

“It… hurts,” you whined in his grip, letting him know in case he was just that into his performance.

“I want it to hurt,” Charles told you, his face moving down to yours until his breath pelted your skin and his lips were so close to your own. “Do you have any idea of how much trouble you’ve caused me, you little bitch?”

What? Oh, shit. You didn’t want him mad at you.

“I’m s-sorry,” you stammered. “I’m so sorry I was late… Please—”

His mouth cut you off, slanting across your own in a brutal kiss. His tongue pushed into your mouth, one hand holding your head in place. The other hand forced your lower body into his, grinding the hot length of his cock into you meaningfully.

Wait.

Planting your hands on his chest, the hard muscles beneath the linen unyielding, you tried to push him off you. His breath came fast. He looked angry, glaring at you, and running his tongue along his full lower lip.

“I think there must be a mistake,” you said quickly. “I’m here—”

“You’re here because I want you,” Charles told you in no uncertain terms. “And I’m going to have you. The sooner you get that in your empty little head, the better off you’ll be.”

“Excuse me?” What the hell was going on?

The hand in your hair yanked sharply. “Don’t pretend you didn’t know that all of this was for you. I went through hell getting my uncle’s estate so I could make it back here.”

Charles didn’t get his uncle’s estate in the story you knew.

“Where are Constance? Merricat?” you whispered.

“They died in the fire,” Charles said with a snarl, starting to walk with you along the path, away from the tree where you’d started. “All of them, even poor Uncle Julian… all died in the fire.”

Oh, God. Did he kill them?

“And now that I’ve got all of that money,” Charles went on bitterly, forcing you along the path with him, “those ill-gotten gains, I’m still not good enough for your fucking mother.”

Your mother had been gone five years. So what was going on here?

“I don’t understand, Charles.” You kept your tone calm, quiet.

There was a bench you were coming up on and when you reached it Charles shoved you down to sit there. Before you could do anything, his hand gripped your chin painfully, making you look at him where he loomed over you.

“You don’t understand?” Charles’ smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Then allow me to explain, darling. You’re going to be mine.”

You swallowed hard which was a fete with his grip on your face. Something was very wrong here.

“I really thought when I came back with the money that would be enough for your dear, sainted mother.” He spat the word mother with such disdain it filled you with dread. “But since she seems determined that you spend time with Hurstfield, then I’m just going to have to up the ante.”

Okay, so there was a story. Charles Blackwood killed his family from the story – it was Halloween – for money to court whoever you were supposed to be. But your “mother” still had cold feet and there was another suitor so…

“What are you going to do?” Your voice shook.

“The one thing I can do to ensure you marry me,” Charles explained, his eyes glittering in the darkness.

When he didn’t tell you what that one thing was, your heart lurched in fear. You had a pretty good fucking idea. Sebastian Stan or not, this was too real. You needed to find a way out.

You managed to dart away from him, off the bench. You stumbled up the path quick as you could but you didn’t know the path and Charles was hot on your heels. He grabbed the back of your dress and you went down, knees hitting the stones hard as did the heels of your hands.

“Help!” you screamed. “Constance!”

You were shoved down before you could rise, and Charles roughly flipped you onto your back. Grabbing you by the front of your dress, he shook you like a rag doll.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” he hissed at you, his glare moving over you. “Constance is dead. And this is going to happen. Although I’d really rather your mother think you being in delicate condition was consensual.”

Yep. That’s what you were afraid he meant. Okay then…

“Okay, time out,” you said frantically, trying to catch your breath as he tried to grab hold of your wrists. “Charles – Sebastian – please stop. I must have missed something when I bought my ticket, but I really don’t – Just let me leave. I’ll sign an NDA, whatever you want, but please… I need to go.”

Confusion bled into his handsome face. “Sebastian? Who the fuck is that? Someone else your gold-digging mother’s got designs on?”

“Please,” you pleaded with him. “You don’t have to stay in character. I just—”

He slapped you across the face with an open hand. Not enough to hurt you. It did get your attention.

Now you physically fought him, but Charles was much bigger than you. It was almost easy for him to trap you under his body, his will to use something hot and demanding had him raining hot, wet kisses over your face and neck as his weight held you to the ground. Cold stone scraped your back as his hips ground yours into it.

“I’ve wanted you since I laid eyes on you,” his voice was softer, a rough hand gripping the edge of your skirt and pushing it up, exposing your thighs to the cool night air. “You had to know that.”

Tears leaked from the corners of your eyes as you tried to push him off, tried to move his hand as it roughly slid up your thighs. The rough pads of his fingers lingered when they reached the border of your stocking and found smooth, warm skin.

“I’ve always wanted to meet you,” you admitted, squirming, trying to get out from under him with no luck. “Not like this…” You gasped as his lips danced up the slender column of your neck, as his fingers dove into the warm damp cove between your thighs. “Not like this.”

“Did you save yourself for me?” he whispered in your ear. “Am I your first?”

You were supposed to be a virgin? Seriously?

“Please let me go,” you begged him as his hand fisted in your panties, ripping them off with a sound that sounded obscene in the innocence of the garden.

“Shhh.” A big hand clamped over your mouth, his weight holding you to the path. His other hand worked his belt, the front of his slacks. In a frustrated frenzy, you tried to buck him off, kick him. Anything.

It didn’t slow Charles down. Somehow the bastard worked his slacks down, took himself in hand. The head of him pressed into you with urgency, as if he expected to impale you on the first attempt. You pulled your thighs together or tried to. Charles’s heavier thighs pushed yours wider, his cock sinking into you, splitting you open.

Jesus, he was big.

Charles’s eyes slid closed above you as he stopped pushing forward, a smile playing about his lips. “I knew it,” he whispered, fingers tightening over your mouth. “I knew no one else has ever been in this pussy before.”

When he pushed forward now, you winced at the sharp pain the movement brought.

What the fuck? You were no virgin.

The pain made you pause as he sank into you, not pausing until he couldn’t go any further. His hand slid from your mouth into your hair as his mouth claimed yours. Charles started to move in you, the size of him combined with the force of his thrusts to make you breathe through the pain.

“Going to fuck a baby into you,” Charles whispered hotly into your ear, his tongue teasing the shell. “Going to pump you full until you’re having my kid.”

You were blinking back tears, shaking your head in denial. How the hell did you end up here? Under this lunatic in your really expensive haunted house experience? Sure he was beautiful and he looked a lot like Sebastian Stan. But it was not the actor. But whoever he was? He believed in what he was doing.

And what he was doing was fucking you hard on the stone path of the mysterious garden. You were greatly relieved that your body finally worked to lessen the pain, weeping for him as he powered into you with strong, determined thrusts. More kisses rained over your face as a hand slid down to where his body invaded yours, teasing your clit with a delicacy that you wouldn’t have expected after his brutish behavior so far.

You resisted his attempts to make you feel good. At first. After a moment, the bastard knew what he was doing, you clenched hard around his cock. You squeezed him. His finger was a terrible tease around that pearl and the tenderness of it combined with the strength of his thrusts had your core tightening, had you fighting not to come.

No, by God, after everything the bastard wasn’t going to make you.

Oh, but he was.

Charles peeled the cardigan away from one shoulder, his hot mouth chaining kisses over the tender flesh of your shoulder. His tongue teased that sensitive zone of yours like he’d been aware of it for years, left you gasping as the rough finger circling your clit had your core clenching hard, had you ready to explode.

You blew apart, crying out in the dark paradise around you while the crickets and night birds continued on with their songs like they were used to yours. The stars overhead swirled in crazy patterns as you moved with him, your walls fluttering around him.

And it was good. So fucking good.

As you were trying to get back to this dark fantasy, to regain your breath, Charles’s hands were all over you, his thrusts falling out of rhythm as they grew in power and intensity.

“See, darling?” his voice was rough. “See how good it’s going to be when I’m your husband?”

Your husband…

Charles roared above you when he reached his end, his final thrusts edged with a bit of pain. You both struggled to breathe when he finally stilled, dropping more of his weight on you as he paused.

A gentle hand curved around the side of your face. His gaze moved over you, his smile wide. Charles looked happy.

“That was good,” he whispered, carefully sliding out of you.

And it stung, had you curling onto your side as he lifted himself off you.

His exhale was a heavy sound above you. “You’re a mess darling.”

One hand skimmed over your left knee and it hurt. The stocking was ruined, the skin broken and bloody. You knew without looking the other knee was the same. The heels of your hands hurt though whether it was from falling or trying to get him off you, you couldn’t say.

You felt him brushing the back of your dress, no doubt covered in dirt and debris from the garden around you. After a moment, he gave it up.

“We’re going to tell your mother that you saw some animal out here and you were so scared you fell, alright?” Charles asked meaningfully. “You’re going to assure her that you were fine. And you were grateful that I was there to protect you.”

You snorted. Right. You just wanted to get out of here, back to your apartment. You’d try to forget this ever happened.

You were never doing another celebrity event. Never again.

Like an old-fashioned gentleman, Charles helped you to your feet. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, he guided you up the path, the raw flesh between your legs aching, until you reached what looked like a modest country house. It was well-lit from the inside, warm and welcoming.

That must be the end of the “attraction.”

Charles opened the door for you, smiling at a slender, silver-haired woman who stood there waiting, wringing her hands.

“Sweetheart,” she called when her gaze landed on you. She flew at you, taking your into her arms and immersing you in a cocoon of motherly warmth and lemon verbena. “What on earth happened? Are you okay?”

Pulling back to look you over, she glanced at Charles warily.

He looked at you meaningfully.

Fuck. If it would get you out of there faster…

“I fell,” you explained meekly. “There was some animal from the woods and it… it scared me. I took off running even though Charles tried to stop me and well…”

“Oh, you poor dear,” the woman sounded sincere. 

“I was lucky that Charles was there to protect me,” you said finally, knowing it was what he expected.

“We’ll head up so I can take care of your wounds,” she said after a moment. “I’m sure Charles can see himself out.”

Charles’ smile might have fooled “your mother” but it didn’t fool you. He nodded and said, “Of course. Goodnight, darling.”

Wanting to make him happy, you nodded. “Goodnight.”

You expected to be led out another doorway but instead, she led you to an ornate staircase. Maybe that was the way out?

You glanced back as you carefully climbed the stairs, thinking to see Charles walk out the door. Hoping never to see him again. He grinned at you, pulling what was left of your panties out of his pocket like some sort of trophy.

It’s almost over. Almost over.

But when you awoke the next morning, bandaged and warm in the same bed you’d fallen asleep in within your immersive Halloween experience, it was to the sound of tapping on the bedroom door. Your “mother” looked in on you.

“Sweetheart, Charles is here to check on you.”

@my-favorite-fics-and-imagines @milkymil-k  @perplexed3001​ @chaoticfiretaconerd @lok1sgrl @weebid @supernaturaldean67 @notyourtypicalrose  @titty-teetee @tonib666 @iheartsebastianstan​ @rainbowkisses31 @alyssaforever2671  @xoxabs88xox @what-is-your-wish @what-is-your-plan-today @caffiend-queen @chrisevansgirl @justrae9903 @kitkatd7 @candy-and-writing @vitamingummies @rayofdawnworld @villanellevi @hv-chw3 @daughterofthenight117 @rissysthoughts-blog @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @richonne4life @21stcenturywitchcraft @maxwelllee2020 @imanuglywombat​ @marvelouspottering @nannies-dont-date @bval-1 @nannies-dont-date  @peaceinourtime82​ @nerdwholikesword​ @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho​ @shygirl-00​ @scarletsoldierrr @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​ @stargazingfangirl18​ @nekoannie-chan​ @buckybarnesplumwhore​ @capsicle-shield​  @just-one-ordinary-fangirl​ @abyssaint​ @lokislastlove​ @team-iron-wannabe-man​ @mariaenchanted​ @coldmuffinbanditshoe​

[threeminutesoflife]

Carry and Deliver

Pairings: August Walker x Reader Summary: Walker hires the White Widow to acquire a mother for his future children Warnings: Kidnapping, violence, mentions of animal testing Word Count: 4.5k 

a/n: for @jtargaryen18​ Haunted Halloween challenge❣️ one day- i won’t confuse my days- sorry, lady- Thank you for hosting this fun haunted house idea! Happy Halloween, everyone ❣️

Prompt: A celebrity haunted house for charity will be open one night only, Halloween night. You get there only a minute before the line closes and you’re the last person to enter. You are never seen again.

part 1 - Carrier and Deliverer: Chapter focuses on backstory of the haunted event and Halloween night

Alanna Mitsopolis had an exemplary history as a broker; whether the items were weapons of mass destruction, untraceable amounts of money, valuable goods, rare livestock, or desired people- she and her brother, Zola, pathed a seamless connection between buyer and seller. Any deals created under the White Widow name were not ones of failure.

And yet, as the ending of this Halloween night grew closer, an odd and unfamiliar feeling crept in her- concern.

With a gracefully, aggressive flick of her manicured fingers, she reviewed the electronic registry again. Your name sat at the top, a double star next to it with the admission box unmarked.

That tiny, pristine box sent a tighter twist of unease around her.

———

It was supposed to be an easy plan. Drawing you to Alanna would be the easiest- given the need for her to remain close to the veil's opening because of severe time limits. And with collected research, the Widow’s contacts would be able to pull your attention to tonight’s event and rig the event with barely any hindrance.

Plans to establish the Halloween house would be immediately set in motion after you confirmed a time for their complementary driver to escort you for the event. And Alanna would even enjoy a small feeling of accomplishment by personally listing your name down as confirmed.

And with a bit of advantage insurance for themselves, it wouldn’t hurt to spike your attention for the haunted house by announcing it would be hosted by your favored charity, Henry Cavill’s Witnessing Animals Prosper.

With the extraction planned out, your city’s downtown historic pharmaceutical laboratory was selected to hold tonight’s haunted event. Proceeds claiming to cover rehoming fees for experimental research animals would instead be filtered to the White Widow’s contacts for establishing an event near her portal’s opening and hiring the haunted house’s actors.

And during the time Alanna gathered information about you, she found the situation oddly amusing that her buyer resembled this celebrity crush of yours. Perhaps this would make your transition here and your acclimation to Walker easier.

Then again, she hummed to herself, maybe without his facial hair, Walker's looks would be a complete loss.

Regardless, once she dropped you off to Walker, your interests and comforts would no longer factor to her.

But before everything came together for her- they had almost fallen apart.

Because as the weeks drew closer to Halloween, the plan to draw you to them hit a small but significant snag. Alanna, already concerned about the time limitations with walking through the portal, certainly didn’t need to hear how you were ignoring the doctored contest entries’ emails.

Unfortunately, it seemed that not everything presented on the internet was truthful or clear. Alanna knew your favorite holiday was Halloween. She read it endless times in those endless ‘getting to know you” online surveys you filled out with friends. Yet, no one seemed to realize you actually disliked haunted houses.  

Hoping the adage of 'the more the merrier' worked for you- her contacts released an updated contest email and increased the complimentary ticket of one winning person to a group of four winners.

A few days later, you submitted a completed raffle form with your friends’ contact information.

Plans were moving steadily once again, until your day at work threw the Widow's plans into a more severe nosedive.

The one hitch for the Widow tonight was a missing you. The group's assigned driver immediately messaged the White Widow when you weren’t with your catty group of friends.

When the driver asked the group to verify their names and if you, the missing winner, were coming- the ladies rolled their eyes with a scoff.

Muttered lines of "who knows," "I suppose," and "can't believe she was the one to win" blasted from the backseat at him.

Friends, he thought, was a generous word for these lipsticked vultures.

He wasn’t sure of the dynamic in the group, but it was more than clear- it was not a welcoming one.

Maybe your travel would be a deliverance.

Your group of less than friendly girls venomously stood in line waiting for your arrival so they could enter. Still unaccounted for, Alanna was stuck overhearing your obnoxious friend, Jeanette, brattle on about wanting to fuck her brother, Zola, who was acting as the haunted guide for the night.

Playing her role behind the velvet rope, Alanna tracked how the night filled itself with bodies lining up before her, except the most important and profitable body- yours.

She rarely wanted to scream- unless it was with someone between her legs, but the aggravation with this particular deal was ulcer-inducing. The agreement of delivering Walker’s long-awaited order hung over her head.

Dimensional delivery had to be exact and it was not something she'd agree to often. Her ancestry line of White Widows allowed the females in her family to manipulate dimensional restrictions a few hours each Halloween.

Alanna always favored plotting and plucking expensive artworks and jewels; other dimension's weapons and electronics were especially appealing to her. But humans? They were so... time-consuming. The necessity of feeding and watering them until their buyer collected the order was never a delight.

But Walker paid handsomely for you, and being on Walker's favorable side was where she wished her business to remain.

The clock marched forward on the only night she could cross plains and with her parcel still being a no-show, she contemplated pulling the trigger on the backup extraction plan.

___

“These are the required ingredients. Confirm availability and delivery date,” August hit send and waited for a response.

According to Solomon Lang, it was time Walker looked toward the future- the generational future of The Apostles. At first, Walker rebuffed any part of Solomon’s futuristic notions about children. Rebuilding the world from its ashes into their ideal vision was the goal- and that achievement would be enough for him.

But Lang kept talking, trying to convince Walker how shared ideas only work when there are others to discuss them with. Others to carry them on. The Apostles couldn’t stop with only them.

What would happen if the world needed another wake-up call in the future? Who could guarantee that their shared ideas would be applied? Who better to understand and pledge the meaning of Walker's manifesto to heart than Walker's offspring?

After several long debates, Walker eventually agreed- his child with new world order beliefs and oaths could only be entrusted to carry the torch. However, he told Lang it would be his decision on who the mother would be.

Opening Walker’s attachment, Alanna frowned slightly as she read the detailed order numbers listed. Leave it to August Walker to make human trafficking a difficult task with his severely secular and highly particular choices.

Normally, the White Widow easily brokered desired objects under normal circumstances. However, this list proved to be more taxing- Lang wanted a promise of action, but Walker demanded a guarantee of his specific request.

And the hardest request to find was the one detail Walker coveted most.

It took time, more time than Alanna cared to admit, to filter through her channels and secure several potential dishes. Walker didn’t give her many options to pick from with his heavily, detailed list. And when she presented the taste menus to August, he declined them all- only becoming more agitated with each opinion.  

Each refusal agitated Alanna as well, none of her selections appeased all of Walker’s taste buds. Until she realized, she would need to expand her search.

Approaching Walker last Halloween, she informed him she’d be able to branch out further than humanly possible thanks to a small window of opportunity. But in proceeding with this route, it would be another year until she could retrieve his customized order. And cost exponentially more.

Walker read her message with a look of contempt. A belittling comment on the tip of his tongue until he opened the forwarded file she collected about you.

You were it- possessing the ingredients Walker listed. You were what he wanted. And all on display in a pretty package- an exotic meal that'd hit his palate just right.

And you had it, the key trait he coveted above all others- the one thing that made the search for you so damn difficult. The one detail he’d pay handsomely for upon delivery.

Looking at your photo, Walker admitted that Lane had a good notion about demanding future generations. Tracing over your listed details, Walker let his mind wander about the things you could provide for his children. What you could provide for him.

Some of your characteristics had him envisioning how he’d firmly knead you, molding you into a preferred direction- a challenging appetizer he couldn’t wait to sample. Other traits had him imaging how your softness would feel under his brutal hands- massaging you and your body with rich, buttery praises.

His pants tightened as he confirmed the order agreement and payment. He could wait a year for you. He'd use the time to prepare for your arrival; domination didn’t happen overnight after all.

“The entrée will be ready before midnight on October, 31st. Export policies and travel plans are friendlier and more accommodating,” Widow responded, a bit smug but more so relieved for locating someone who finally filled Walker’s explicit requests.

____

As Alanna allowed the last group into the building, your friends remained standing and complaining along the velvet rope. She couldn't wait to check off your name on the admission list and finish this hellish night.

The pressure for this delivery to run smoothly, slowly ate away at the lining of her stomach and your group’s constant whining of being forced to remain outside made her grind her teeth.

If she wasn’t physically next to you before midnight to complete the drop- she did not want to be the one to inform Walker that it'd take another year before he'd receive you.

_____

You cursed your boss, the traffic, the glowing gaslight on your car judging you for being a mess. Parking two blocks away from the haunted historic lab, you nearly hit the parking garage’s wall as you undid your seatbelt.

Hopping out of the car, you zipped up your personalized jacket from the city’s park and recreation department and slung your purse strap over your chest. Your sneakers slapped the cool concrete as you hurried to beat the haunted house's closing time. One block to go, you prayed you could somehow limit your friends' anger.

Weaving through the weekend Halloween party crowd, your stressful day replayed in your head. Because of course, despite submitting the time-off request to leave early weeks ago, your boss conveniently forgot and slipped out the door twenty minutes before you were supposed to leave.

Standing in the middle of one of the city’s recreation fields, surrounded by young children, your asshole of a boss waved and honked her horn from across the parking lot as she drove away.

And of course, the day you needed to leave early was the day several parents were late in picking up their little darlings. You had to pry Hunter off of Chase, reminding the twins not to fight because oxygen was an essential right. Then you talked down a screaming Gertrude after Masie ate part of her Barbie’s head clean off. You still weren't sure where the missing patch of hair from Gertrude’s doll was hiding, but something looked suspiciously shiny flossed between Masie’s teeth whenever she flashed a large triumphant smile.  

Seeing the historic lab insight, you promised yourself to start looking for a new job over the upcoming winter months. You didn’t want to end up wearing the fragrant mascot costume for the city’s spring festival again. It was filled with the hearty smell of volunteers past and the odor burnt itself into your nostrils for weeks afterward; hotdog water was still something you couldn’t stand smelling to this day.

“Where is she?” Jeannette grumbled, the cold weather air making itself known along her exposed legs.

“Honestly, why did you invite her, Candace?” Brooke whined.

Candance’s expression silenced them, “She’ll be here soon. And we only invited her because she invited us. She won the tickets remember? Not the other way around. We can lose her afterwards, so save the comments till we leave. We’ll have enough to talk about after dealing with her for a whole night.”

Jeannette and Brooke huffed quietly and rolled their eyes, not bothering to respond. Candance turned her head over her shoulder, a feeling of being watched, and locked eyes with the blonde who was handling the roped entrance.

Candance gave a half-embarrassed smile for being overheard but Alanna only stared back in return, annoyance painting her face before glancing at her iPad.

Hyenas, Alanna thought.

“Sorry! I’m here!” you shouted down the street, after finding your friends standing beside a well-dressed woman. Panting out another apologetic chant, your purse slapped your hip before you skidded to a halt.

“Oh, you absolutely are sorry- aren't you?” mocked Jeannette behind Brooke’s snickering.

You frowned slightly at their all too common jabs as you tried catching your breath. Great, you'd have to make this up to them somehow. Turning to Candance, you were about to apologize again when-

“-Yeah, I get,” she snapped, before remembering the tickets were in your name. “...Look. You're here now. The last group ahead of us just went in. We might be the very last group but at least they’re still open."

"Sorr-"

"-You got the confirmation code, so we can get in?”

“Yeah,” you pulled out your phone and brought the ticket code up to the ethereal looking lady in charge. “Thank you! I really didn’t mean to keep you all waiting. Thank you for still being open. It's been a day. My boss left me high and dry- forget how I requested the time-off. Then there were these wrestling twins and a case of Barbie doll cannibalism. It was a perfect storm.”

Alanna cracked a smile at your rambling, wondering if Walker truly knew what he’d gotten himself into with you, “No worries, little bird. You flew in just in time to begin your descent.”

The word descent seemed to knock you back into the here and now as her scanner beeped your access to enter.

“Right… haunted house time,” you said, preparing yourself.

Jeannette and Brooke already climbed the stairs to the building, shifting their weight from hip to hip, groaning as they waited for you and Candance.

“Come on, let’s go,” Candance encouraged begrudgingly. “Remember the email said there’ll be exclusive gift bags, personalized items from Henry. I’m not missing out on mine, move your feet faster.”

Brooke called your name with a taunt, “Yeah- just think of the animals.”

A sharp slam of a heeled boot echoed off the building silencing Brooke further.

“You all will get what you deserve," Alanna stood confidently and tucked the iPad under her arm, "…to have fun. Now, stand next to the entrance door. If you must leave early, there is an emergency exit before the halfway point. Pass the halfway point, you’re required to finish the adventure. Each room gets more interesting as you progress. A guide will be in the wings if you need assistance. Questions?”

Three no’s and one yes rang out, followed by three voices vehemently hissing your name.

“Would you like to say your goodbyes to one another before entering, little bird?” Alanna questioned.

“Goodbyes?” you murmured, reassessing how badly you needed a gift bag.

“Like B said, think of the animals,” Candance said impatiently. Grabbing your hand, she pulled you through the entrance following Jeannette and Brooke inside.

Alanna glanced at the clock, the dread in her stomach barely registered since it began lifting when seeing you run towards them. Now knowing you were inside the facility with enough time for a safe travel, she began the next step.

Snapping the button on her headset, she waited for her brother to answer, “Zola, our little package is inside and already a bit hesitant. Go hard. Separate her from others. I wish to leave without any more delays- this area smells offensive.”

_____

There are certain moments in life where mistakes are made- agreeing to enter the haunted laboratory was your first. The second was wearing your personalized work jacket.

The bright embroidery caught Zola’s attention as he stood before you inside the facility's lobby. This he could use and it wouldn't be too suspicious.

You already look uncomfortable, Zola realized how right Alanna was- apply a little extra pressure and they could leave even sooner without causing a scene.

“Good Evening. Welcome to our last run of the night. I’ll be your guide,” introducing himself, Zola ran his keen eyes over the four of you. “I believe you all will do nicely. We’re happy to have you here.”

“Waited long enough to get in here,” Brooke mumbled under her breath, glancing at you.

“Well, you’re here now,” Zola cut in. “Perhaps you heard horses walking by when waiting in line. They died over a century ago, some say they hear the sounds of hooves traveling over cobblestones.”

“A ghost horse?” Candance asked dryly.

“Test subjects, one of many. Died from infections. You see, doctors would scrape off patches of their skin and inject controlled substances to observe the reactions. For a cure, of course, not only because it was enjoyable to watch,” Zola added with eerie excitement. “People say they hear horses walking around the facility at night.”

None of you moved from the vestibule as Zola continued to describe in further detail the history of animal test subjects- how their skins colored and bubbled, blistered and scabbed.

Brooke squeaked when hearing there was a memorial for the horses because some were still buried on the grounds in unmarked graves.

“Anyways, how rude of me. Tonight’s about you,” Zola halted his words, his eyes locking on yours. “Are you ready for excitement and adventure?”

“...I suppose,” you answered. No, you thought.

“I am,” Jeannette smiled, stepping closer to Zola and edging Brooke out of the way with her elbow.

Noticing her movements, Zola took a step away from the group.

Why were people of this dimension so desperate to be seen? He thought with a grimace.  

“Wonderful. Head straight and follow the hallway, it’s self-leading,” he instructed dismissively.

Brooke snickered at Jeanette’s flirting failure, and Candance hissed your name to follow her.

Helping the inevitable pressurized snap of your group’s remaining camaraderie, Zola stepped forward and blocked you from them. He regarded you for a moment before leaning close.

“I think you’re ready for new experiences. If you wish to exit early, I’ll be close,” Zola offered with a toothy grin, running his hand over his groomed goatee, “to assist you.”

Jeannette bit down on her irritation and shoved Brooke forward, tired of watching Zola smear attention over you. With a yelp, Brooke allowed herself to be tugged ahead.

Candance groaned at how you were purposely ruining their night- always making her play mediator. Hissing your name again, she broke your gaze from Zola- missing his eyes trace your name sewn into your jacket.

With their attitudes, it won’t take long for them to leave her behind, Zola smirked knowingly.

___

The “fun factor” of the haunted house curdled fast. You were left too scared, too stupid, and too alone. After thoughtlessly giving away the ammo of your name, your group of sometimes-friends broke away from you quickly- disgusted how you always tried to outdo them. The longer and louder the actors called out your name with theatrical promises of bathing in your blood or wearing your skin, the more bitter the girls became.  

After making it through a zombie-destroyed kitchen, you took off the jacket and tied it around your waist but the damage was already done- on multiple levels.

Jeanette was harsher with you than normal, shoving into you whenever possible. She knew you wore that hideous jacket on purpose, always trying to steal her spotlight.

Brooke seethed as your body grazed hers when blindly reaching for a friendly hand in the dark. Whenever you got close to her, she muttered something inaudible and ordered you not to touch her.

Candance’s patience with you ran thinner than ever before. Forever the mediator between you, Jeanette and Brooke- she was tired of feeling responsible for you. She outgrew you long ago. Unfortunately, she didn’t show her irritation until you passed the house’s halfway point. Now, she opted to simply pretend you weren’t even a part of them.  

“Hey, wait up!” you pleaded, trying to untangle yourself from the dramatically web-covered tunnel.

They made it out quicker by helping one another and were about to turn the corner to head into the next room as Brooke yelled back, “Why would we?”

Jeannette and Candance’s laughter hurt your ears almost as much as the strobe lights hurt your eyes.

After that, you purposely lagged behind. They didn’t notice or maybe they did because they seemed happier. Shuffling your feet over the cracked linoleum, you felt like a zombie yourself. The thought that you drove yourself here alone was the saving grace of the evening.

Walking between headstones of the makeshift cemetery, you thought the scenery was fitting for how you felt as you watched your group of supposed friends laugh and hold onto each other ahead of you.

No. No. You would not cry in a haunted house, especially not because you were sad, you scolded yourself, angrily wiping away tears.

“You know, where I come from- we shoot people like them,” Zola stated, startling a curse out of you from his sudden appearance.

Offering you the crook of his arm, he weaved the two of you through the cemetery scene.

“Would you like that?” Zola asked.

"Would I like what?"

Zola moved his free hand into the shape of a gun, aiming his fingers at the girls ahead.

"Just like that, huh?" you raised an eyebrow at his antics.

He responded by making a cocking noise and pulling back the hammer on his pretend gun.

“You make it sound easy,” you answered with a snort.

“It is. If that’s what you’d like,” Zola encouraged, thinking of the extra fee he could tack onto Walker’s tab.

You pondered playfully for a moment while entering the haunted forest room, thankful for Zola’s humor by distracting your sadness. “No, I suppose not just yet. Perhaps something slower.”

Zola hummed at your answer, “I understand better now.”

“Better?”

“What lies within you.”

Before you were able to question his odd observation, you were swiftly knocked backwards.

An arm wrapped itself around your chest, shoving you harshly up against the heavy tree prop. Ramming his chest into yours, Zola pushed his forearm into your windpipe.

You tried screaming but your throat wouldn’t allow it- your muscles burned and squeezed together under the weight of his arm, your breath restricted.

“Shh- shh- Stop. No- No!... That’s it. Good, good..,” Zola cooed, tilting his wrist up to run the back of his fingers against your cheek. “Don’t ruin this for me.”

The back of your head painfully dug into the staged tree as you grabbed at Zola’s arm. The fear cut off even more of your breath, your chest gasping heavily against his- fighting for more air.

“Relax- Relax.. you’re wasting oxygen… good... you’re going on an adventure,” Zola relished the panic in your eyes. “Ahh, things are much prettier when drenched in fear. Don’t worry, I remember what you said- I won’t make it too quick for them.”

You heard your friends’ screams in the distance, the sounds no longer playful.

Zola slipped his forearm off your throat and gave your cheek one more tender stroke as your lungs greedily sucked in air. Suddenly, he shot forward again and covered your mouth, fingers digging deeply in your cheek before tearing your head to the side and jamming a needle into your neck.

Mirroring the tilt of your head, he rested his cheek on the top of his shoulder. Licking his dry lips into a grin, he emptied the syringe into you- enthralled by the way your pupils dilated for him.

With a desperate surge of energy, you shot an arm up and dragged your nails down the side of Zola’s face.

“Fuck!” He hollered, shoving you violently away. "I thought we had an understanding?!"

Your head bounced off the tree as Zola stumbled back, covering the torn skin on his cheek.

“Bought himself a fucking hellcat,” he remarked in shocked excitement, examining the tips of his bloody fingers. “What else are you hiding within you?”

“Him-Bought?” The drugs took control, melting the words together.

The traitorous jacket rippled up your back as you slowly slithered down the tree trunk. Your ass kissed the ground just before your vision faded.

The sound of hooves trotting over cobblestone echoed in your ears.

____

Your body felt like the perfect combination of numerous hangovers and charley horses- bones ached, muscles cramped. The fog around your brain began to lift with each shake and jolt but your vision remained dark. It took another moment to comprehend your wrists were bound- and eyes blindfolded, mouth dry and sealed.

Any attempts to sit up weren’t successful as your body jostled along the carpeted ground. You involuntarily twisted about- recoiling backwards, forwards. The rocking fueled the headache and soreness. Wherever you were- it was small, confined- another bump beneath you sent your body bouncing. Mobile, you were mobile.

And then it stopped. Your body jerked forward; you tried bracing yourself with your fastened arms, but your knee smacked up against metal.

It’s said pain is a reminder that one’s still alive- but in this moment of suffering confusion, you groaned with remorse behind the tape, preferring the chemically induced sleep to this aware state of gnawing pain.

You swayed in sync with the vehicle after the car doors slammed shut. Footsteps trampled loudly outside, circling.

Horses trotting cobblestones. You frowned in confusion at that odd, bizarre thought.

Muffled voices, deep. Pressing your shoes hard against the carpet, you pushed yourself closer to the trunk’s edge in the darkness. Attempting to make out their words, you steadied your breath. You bite the inside of your cheek in frustration, why couldn’t they speak louder?

Tab. Where was the pull tab to open the trunk? Feel for a trunk tab.

And then the thought occurred to you. You weren’t scared- just annoyed, definitely pissed and growing oddly curious about your predicament. Surely the realization of being tied, blindfolded and gagged in a trunk should terrify a person. So, why weren’t you?

And you, not being afraid in a situation like this- that should be scary in itself. But if you had to define the closest emotion you felt, you suppose it’d be- unsettling. You felt unsettled.

No, that seemed a bit dramatic even with the confinement you found yourself in. Being kidnapped and held in a trunk wasn’t horrifically unsettling to you- it was just... a nuisance.

Concentrate, you scolded yourself. Think logically. How'd I get here?... How'd I end up- fuck… that's not working... Where was I before being grabbed? At home? Work?... Why can't I remember?

No memory and tied up? Burning with discomfort, you kicked the top of the trunk.

A smack barreled down above your head along the trunk’s roof in return, reminding you of the headache and revealing someone was still there despite the outside silence.

You attempted to remember again, willing your memory to work- but a fog of puzzlement only coated it.

Sighing in defeat, you rested your head on the trunk’s floor. The carpet rubbing your cheek as you decided to save your energy. You'd figure a way out once the opportunity presented itself.

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Murder, He Wrote

Co-written with @southerngracela

Part 1 

Summary: You’re sent by your asshole boss to do a review of a Celebrity Host Haunted Mansion, hosted by none-other than the arrogant, wild-eye browed actor Lucas Lee, but you’re worried you’ve missed the boat…that is, until at the last minute, an email arrives to say they can let you in on the last admission that night, which just happens to be Halloween… When you arrive, you’re actually kind of excited and intrigued…but it isn’t long until that excitement and intrigue give way to fear when you find yourself in a helpless situation.

Warnings: A creepy house, bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  So this is a collaboration between myself and the wonderful @southerngracela for @jtargaryen18 ‘s  Haunted House 2020 challenge…and will be a mini-series, with an as of yet undefined number of chapters.

Once again READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Series Masterlist. 

"Y/L/N," your dick editor poked his head into your office rather gruffly. "I'm gonna need that celebrity haunted mansion review on my desk by tomorrow morning. I want to run it ASAP.”

"I can't even get in, not even with a press pass, I've been trying for two weeks, Mick!” you looked at him, your mouth slightly open. You’d told him this countless times at morning briefings. You hadn't even heard back from the organizers about sneaking around the press pass issue and offering an exclusive on the joint, a small fact you kept Mick in the dark about.

"Make it happen." He said simply, before he turned and left.

You glared at his retreating form. What the fuck did he not understand about the situation? Mind you, what did he understand about anything? There was a reason everyone working for him called him Mick The Prick.

There was also a reason he was being extra prickish to you. Earlier in the spring time of the year you’d run an article on Ransom Drysdale- the stuck up, trust fund asshole who had literally gotten away with murder. He’d confessed to murdering his grandfather’s house keeper, attempting to murder his grandfather and then, in a violent showdown with 2 police officers and a private detective present, he’d attempted to murder his grandfather’s nurse, Marta. And he would have succeeded, except the knife he’d used had been a stage prop. It was like some fucked up Murder, She Wrote plot, and when you’d interviewed the real life Jessica Fletcher (in this case the rather charming PI named Benoit Blanc who’d been a character to say the least) it got even more confusing. Ransom had hired Blanc in some elaborate scheme to frame Marta for Harlan’s death to do her out of the inheritance via the Slayer Rule. That had back fired spectacularly when she had unwittingly switched back the vials of medication Drysdale had tampered with, meaning Harlan had truly committed suicide. 

The article was supposed to be done showing his side of the story, a way for him to set the record straight, but the more you’d dug and spoken to people surrounding the case, the more you were absolutely convinced of his guilt, not least because he’d been acquitted on the murder and attempted murder charges on technical grounds due to his confession being, allegedly, obtained under duress and without a brief being present. The only thing they’d managed to pin on him was the arson which had burnt the Chief Medical Examiner’s office to the ground, and when his brief had successfully argued mitigating circumstances- he wasn’t of sound mind given the shock surrounding him being cut from his grandfather’s will- he’d basically ended up being released on license.

It was a joke, and that was basically what your article had said. You’d written a scathing attack on how money could basically render you untouchable by the law, highlighting the failures of the Criminal Justice System. At the time, Mick the Prick had been delighted with it, publishing it under your suggested head line “Murder, He Wrote”- ha, go figure, and copies had flown off the shelves, the article online going viral.

And then money had talked once more, and the Drysdale’s had threatened to sue for defamation. That in itself was a joke, as you knew full well his mother, Linda, was only doing it to salvage her own reputation, the same reason she’d worked so hard to find a lawyer to get him off the charges despite the fact she knew full well he was guilty as sin. Mick The Prick had attempted to throw you under the bus spectacularly when the board had come looking for blood, but as editor the buck stopped with him, and he was given a formal warning whilst you were forced to publish a retraction and offer a written apology much to your utter chagrin.

Which was why he was now making your life as hard as possible, and your Investigative Journalism skills, that you’d honed over the last decade; from high school paper, college tribune and now your current employer, over the last 10 years or so since graduation were now being focussed on covering stories about housewives who found Jesus’ face in a slice of toast, or in this case a fucking Celebrity Host Halloween Haunted House review. Whereas you had dominated the first 2 pages once upon a time, you were now lucky if you made it further up than page 11.

With a groan you banged your head on your desk. Why had you not listened to your dad and become a damned teacher instead of a journalist. Dealing with snotty nosed brats would be easier than this.

By the end of your day, you were burning what felt like the midnight oil however it wasn't very late at all. Dark had settled in but it wasn't late by time. Just before you were to log off and leave for the night, a TV dinner and pint of mint chip waiting for you in your freezer (and probably a job search too seeing as you would no doubt be fired tomorrow morning for failing on your deadline) your email pinged on your desktop. You frowned at it, wondering who could possibly be emailing you this late but then you recognized the sender.

It was the reply you'd been waiting on from the organizers from the Celebrity Host Haunted House. Clicking the email open, your eyes scanned the message. The organizer was setting you up with a private tour, TONIGHT. "9 pm," you finished reading aloud, relief flooding your entire body. It meant a long assed, sleepless night whilst you wrote your article, but it was better than the looming threat of unemployment. Plus, on the upside, as it was a charity gig the organizer had pulled out the big guns and the blurb on the email told you that it was to feature none other than Lucas Lee, a once-upon-a-time famous A-List Movie star, who was possibly just as arrogant as Hugh Ransom Drysdale, but you had to give it to him, in the films you’d seen he was actually damned good, and also pretty hot so…every cloud.

Glancing at your clock, you had just enough time to clock out and grab a quick bite at a drive thru on your way. The location was nearly an hour outside the city so you needed to get gone and fast. A quick reply telling the organizer you were on your way was sent out and you grabbed your coat, pulling it on over your sweater dress and were gone. 

It took a good hour like you'd estimated and that was with stopping for a quick meal, to reach the address your GPS brought you to. It was creepy even at its first glance so you could only hope this payed off. With a quick swig of your watered down and flat fountain drink, you grabbed your bag and phone, exiting your vehicle and locking it shut. The cool night air bit at your exposed cheeks and you were glad you'd worn your coat and tights.

As you stood, gazing at the dilapidated house you shivered, as though, ice had replaced you spine. The walkway leading up to house was cracked, blood red roses grew wildly in thick batches by the gate and the moonlight cast a ghoulish glow on the house. Vines formed a twisted maze upon the side of the of the house's walls which showed the black decay of neglect, in between which splotches of original paint hinted at the house’s former prosperity. Cobwebs covered the corners of the doors, tiny black spiders threading towards their prey and you gave another shudder, as far as first impressions went, yeah, it was fitting for a Halloween Haunted House tour.  

Pulling out your phone, noticing you had no reception (of course you wouldn’t, wasn’t that the cliché?) you took a few photos to use in the article and then gave a little squeak as the door creaked open on its own. Arching your eyebrow slightly, in a manner very much like the man you were here to meet, you strode forward and into the house. Immediately a musty, dank odour crept into your nose. The house was deadly silent except for the intermittent creaks and moans typically associated with a property that age. Black and brown mold dotted the ceiling of the tall hallway you stood in and the windows that framed the door on either side were covered with grime and dirt meaning the calm moonlight struggled to penetrate the darkness in thin thread rays, the main source of light being the open doorway. Sharp shadows roamed around the room and as your eyes adjusted to the dim light you noticed that there was a bright white envelope almost perched on the wooden table to the side of the hall. It was the newest thing in the room, so was obviously there for you.

You crossed over, the heels of your suede boots clicking loudly out in the silence of the hallway, and gently reached out for the envelope. A single word- Start- was written on the front in cursive, looping scrawl, very fitting for a spooky note. Another detail you committed to memory for your write up. You slid your finger into the crook of the envelope and slid it open. Inside was a small, white card, containing a message written in the same writing.

To ensure that you don’t become tomorrow’s big news, In this envelope you’ll find the first of 6 clues Of your super sleuth skills you should be proud, So make sure that you read your answers out loud. As one by one they lead to your ultimate demise. Which may or may not be a scary surprise…

Okay, now you were interested. This wasn’t just a walk through some scary assed, supposedly haunted house where Lucas Lee was no doubt set to jump out at you in some ridiculous disguise. This was a scavenger hunt, and your natural inquisitiveness was piqued. 'This could be fun', you thought as you reached for the next card that was in the envelope, reading the first clue. 

I’m tall when I’m young, and I’m short when I’m old. I also give heat but not enough to prevent cold

You pondered for a second, heat was leading you to think of a fire, and they certainly grew shorter with time, well eventually when they burnt out…but then again, the longer they went the hotter they got, and they certainly prevented the cold. Scanning the hallway for anything that might fit the description, your eyes flicked up to the ceiling which held an elaborate, but tarnished candelabra style chandelier. And then it hit you. Tall when young, short when old.

“Candle…” you spoke “The answer is Candle…”

At that the door leading to the outside slammed shut behind you, and you gave an involuntary scream as the dominant source of light was sealed off. You spun round to look at it, and then your scream turned in to a laugh as you shook your head, for an Investigative Reporter you prided yourselves on steely nerves but so far that was twice this adventure had caught you off guard.

Turning back round, you then spotted that the door at the end of the hall was open, and you could clearly make out a Jack-o-Lantern looking at you, the candle inside flickering. Its face was creepy, really creepy. The nose and eyes were harsh triangles and the grotesque, twisted smile it sported was constructed of sharp, jagged teeth. You reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone. You may have had no service, but the flashlight was working. Keeping the light held in front of you so you could watch your step on the cracked tiles of the hall, you made your way towards the lantern and found yourself in a large, run down kitchen. The lantern and your flash-light provided the only light in the room as the windows were all overshadowed by gnarly trees, their branches every so often scratching the glass as they swayed slightly in the wind outside. The only other sound to be heard was the drip, drip of the faucet in the porcelain Belfast sink. A closer look revealed the discoloration of the water, a brownish concoction as it swirled down the plug. There was an envelope on the side of the counter by the lantern and as you crossed towards it, a movement in your peripheral made you spin round only to see a lone mouse scuttling away across the dirty wooden floor. You placed your phone down, flash-light up causing it to light up an area of the Artex plaster ceiling, and picked up the envelope, tearing it open to find your next clue

Mr Jack-o-Lantern lights the night His eerie face is shining bright The ????? that shaped him lies around And holds your next clue safe and sound 

“Oh come on…” you muttered, “That’ ones obvious. Knife, the answer is knife…” You picked up your phone and shone it around the various surfaces of the kitchen and your eyes honed in on a wooden knife block containing a solitary knife. You crossed the room towards it and as you closed in on it, you noticed that the handle of the knife was an ornate silver filigree. It was no ordinary kitchen knife and as you pulled it form the block you realised it was in fact a dagger, antique by the looks of things. The blade was curved slightly, reaching a sharp point, the silver tarnished. But the more you looked at it, the more you suddenly became horribly aware that it wasn’t merely a dullness of colour at all. It was blood. 

“Dramatic…” you mumbled, and with a sigh you then realised there was no clue attached to it. Was this a distraction? A decoy? You were just about to stat ransacking drawers to find the actual knife you needed, when you glanced back at the block the dagger had been held in and noticed a flash of white peeking from underneath. Picking it up and moving it aside you smiled as you saw the same cursive writing, spelling out the word three. Seeing as you might as well play along, you used the dagger to slit the envelope open, tossing it back down on the counter as you read the next clue.

Many a Child on me they may play Any time be it night or day. My surface is hard, on it you can knock I have many keys, but can’t open a single lock…

“What has keys but doesn't open a lock?" You pondered aloud. Adjusting your cross-body strap, you sigh. Then the answer came to you, "a piano."

You fell silent, your mind racing to how the hell you were going to find a piano in this decrepit and yet enormous house. Then, your ears heard it. The subtle note from deep inside the house. It was a single key. But now that wasn't your concern, no, it wasn't the mice or the bugs or even the brown water. Your heart raced at the notion that someone was in fact in the house with you. 

"Alright, Lee, you were always one for a flare of the dramatics, let's see what you've got."

Step by step you followed the note that chimed every few steps and you found yourself beginning to wonder if it was a recording or if someone were really playing it, timing their play with the sound of your boots over the rotting floor. You wound your way through the narrow hall, ancient wall paper peeling from its tack, mastick and plaster falling away to reveal studs in places.  Finally, to your left you heard the key loud and clear. It was in that room. Steeling yourself for a possible encounter, you carefully pushed the sliding door away from its hinge. Your booted feet traipsed across the brittle carpet, dust swirling in the air in front of your face. Cobwebs adorned many of the surfaces and there were dirty white sheets covering the various pieces of furniture in the room. Apart from, that is, the large ornate grand piano that sat in the middle of the room. The stool in front of it suddenly jolted back and tilted toward you, making you scream at the  gracious invitation by an as of yet invisible host. 

“Get a grip Y/N” you mumbled to yourself. You were surprised to find just how much this place was starting to set your nerves on edge. You took a deep breath, the pounding of blood in your ears began to quiet and you took a look around the room. There was no one in there with you, you were alone. With slow, deliberate steps you moved towards the piano, your eyes sweeping over the mahogany surface, searching for an envelope with the next clue, but there was none to be found. The surface of the piano was thick with dust and grime, but as you scanned over it you suddenly stopped. On one of the white keys the dust was disturbed, as if it had been wiped away and you instantly realised that had to be the key that your so far elusive host must have been playing. You paused, biting at the nail on your thumb of you right hand, before you reached out with your left and tapped the key. The melodic note rang around the room, clearly, echoing in the silence and for some reason you were taken back to a part of the article you had been thinking about earlier that day, and how Detective Blanc had told you that he had ‘played a key’ during the various family interviews ‘to make my point without interruption’. It didn’t pass you by how fitting that actually was at that moment but you didn’t have much time to reflect on it, as you heard a creak and a grinding noise and you spun to your left to see a panel in the wall sliding open. It made you jump slightly, but this time you didn’t scream. 

Not for the first time, you had to admire the effort Lucas was going to here. It was clear he had a flare for the dramatic, anyone could see that from his films and interviews but this was pretty damned good. It was making you wonder how he was doing it. Was he somewhere watching, pressing buttons to enact the various parts of his show? Instinctively you glanced up, looking for a camera or something you were being monitored by but you found no evidence of anything. “Well, in for a penny…” you muttered, crossing towards the small hatch. It was just wide enough for you to get your hand into, but you really didn’t want to. You grabbed your torch and shone it into the hole, finding nothing but the envelope so deciding it was safe you reached in and pulled it out.

Sometimes coloured, sometimes plain sometimes frosted, sometimes stain Be you short or thin, or fat or tall, this simple invention, lets you look right through a wall

You pondered for a moment, before the answer came to you. Fairly quickly you might add. Feeling a little smug you smiled and cleared your throat “Window. It’s a window.”

Usually, at that point, something happened to point your attention to the place you should be looking but this time, there was nothing. Instinctively you looked out of the one on the wall by the piano, but as you stared at nothing but the darkness outside you realised that was too obvious. Just then your ears picked up a sound you couldn’t quite figure out, but it was familiar all the same. And then it came to you, it was the familiar click and clack of a skateboard, the wheels gliding over the brittle old floor and you span round in the direction it was coming from to see a window you hadn’t noticed before, this one was an ornate, stained glass window which bore some kind of flower design that faced directly out into the hall. 

He passed by slower than a flash but just enough to allow you to catch only a glimpse. You audibly gasped, your breath coming in a sharp intake of fright, because until then you had been alone on this chase. But it appeared you dramatic host had finally come out to play. He was merely a shadow, bulky in frame, tall and dressed all in black as he moved past but it was enough to puzzle you. You didn’t remember Lucas being that broad, or tall. With a frown you ran into the hall to catch him but saw nothing, and heard nothing, the only thing to indicate he had been there was a faint smell of the cedar and amber of what you assumed to be cologne. 

You paced quickly down the hall in the direction the figure had gone but as you passed the stairwell the light flickered on, instantly attracting your attention. You’d only briefly noticed the ornate staircase before, but with the lack of light you certainly hadn’t noticed the writing on the wall, dripping in fresh paint. Swallowing, as you mouth suddenly felt dry with fear you stepped onto the first stair, and as soon as you did you were plunged into almost complete black. Letting out a shriek as, once again, he’d managed to get the drop on you, you shook your head and reached for your phone, taking another few steps up so you were level with the next clue which you read aloud.

“Tonight is not all fright and fear, a trick or treat is waiting near, the bedroom holds a sweet surprise, there solve the clue to claim your prize”  you bit your lip and looked up at the top of the stairs, wondering when someone was going to jump out at you. Taking a deep breath, you made your way up, cringing at each creak your feet caused on the old warped wood, but it didn’t sway your determination to make it to your destination. Halfway up, a shadow flickered at the corner of your vision at the top on the landing and you froze, your mouth going dry once more. As you stood there, shining your light into the dark you caught the same scent from moments ago lingering in the air only this time it was stronger, far more powerful and you were able to denote even more of the notes within. Aalongside the amber and cedar your heightened senses picked up deep, earthy, sandalwood notes with a hint of citrus in the background.  And it was familiar for reasons beyond the fact you’d smelt it down stairs. But, as you’d surmised earlier, it was a cologne. Probably one worn by a few people you knew.

Yes that was it.

“Jesus Christ Y/N what has gotten into you?” You rolled your eyes and continued up the stairs, clearly your ‘Celebrity Host’ was once more nearby. You cautiously got to the top of the stairs and glanced around. Nothing. So turning to your left you entered the first room you found on the hall. It was empty bar a creepy looking doll that had been separated from its head which lay about a foot to the right. As you looked around the room, the wind intensified outside, the rustling of the leaves and branches became louder, as did the creaking of the house…and then you gulped, as you realised it wasn’t just the house that was creaking. In the corner of the room, the little chair had begun to rock, slowly. Blowing out a breath and shaking your head, you looked around at the thin strips of wallpaper which showed little trucks. Crayon markings scrambled upon the wall where wallpaper used to stick but other than that there was nothing in there bar some pretty good theatrics. You had to hand it to Lee, the creepy feel was fantastic and you were going to give him one hell of a write up for this. You took a while longer to take in the detail, smiling to yourself before you closed the door and headed to the one over the hallway. 

This room was a little lighter thanks to a lamp which stood on a nightstand. It wasn’t bright, by any means, but it was enough so that you could clearly see the bed in the middle of the room. And there, placed by the pillows was a thin box. On unsteady legs, you shuffled slowly towards the bed, the box before you making you quiver, your insides churning. A shaky hand tilted the lid open slowly, afraid something would pounce in a sneak attack. You shut your eyes ready to protect them in case a bat or bugs flew at you and when nothing happened, you opened them slowly and inspected the boxes contents. There was no envelope this time, just copy of a newspaper. Your newspaper. And you felt your blood run cold as you recognise the bold headline across the top. Murder, He Wrote: A twisted tale of Inheritance, Crime and Exoneration "Drysdale," you whispered in realization. But now, while you were well aware of what the article meant and who it was referring to, your brain shut down processing how on earth Lucas Lee and Ransom could possibly be connected. Your breathing deepened and you moved to pick up the article, but then the lid to the box caught your eye and you froze, for on the inside of the lid was another clue, only this one was a straight forward question which was spelled out using cut-out letters from the newspaper in question.

I’m light as a feather, yet the strongest person can’t hold me for five minutes. What am I?

You froze, for the answer was simple. Breath. 

And that was it, you needed to get out. You started to back away from the bed, but before you had so much as made it 3 steps you collided with something hard. A forceful arm across your front pinned you to a firm and broad chest that engulfed your frame while a cloth with a distinct smell and cool moisture covered your airways.

"Surprise" The voice in your ear, calm, deep and known, was all you heard before nothing consumed you.  

*****

When Y/N went limp in his arms, Ransom laid her across the bed only leaving the room to hurriedly cover his tracks, blowing out candles and removing any trace of her that had been in the house. His time as his grandfather's research assistant gave him far more experience than it should have. When he returned to the bedroom she was still out cold but light as a feather as he carried her downstairs and out the back door to the awaiting SUV, smug that his plan had gone so well.

But then, didn’t everything for him? He was Ransom Drysdale, and he was fucking untouchable.

He drove away from the scene of his new crime towards the city, driving through the dead of night, on the beltway, and continued twenty minutes outside downtown Boston before pulling into the garage of a large red cedar and quartzite home. He killed the engine and closed the garage door, pulling Y/N from the seat she was slumped in when it was clear to do so.

He couldn't be seen, he wouldn't be seen. He carried her inside the spacious home, his boots tapping heavily against the dark marble floor of the kitchen and finally the lush carpeted staircase that wound down into the basement.

This is where he laid her, in the basement, on a bed, but not just any bed, the one that would now become hers. He adjusted the lighting in the space, low enough not to disturb her, but bright enough to give the room a glow so he could finish what he'd set out to do. In the shock of the struggle in the bedroom, she’d dropped her phone and he’d made sure to smash it long before he left the haunted house, making sure there'd be no device to track her. He'd already disposed of her car while she was playing his little game, every loose end as far as he could see was tied up.

And now she was all his. 

He brushed the hair away from Y/N’s face where it had fallen over her eyes.  With gloved hands he manoeuvred her undone, black woollen coat off her body, leaving her in the bottle green turtle neck sweater dress and thick tights she was wearing before he tossed it over the chair in the corner of the room and then undid the zips on her brown suede knee high boots. He dropped them to the floor, kicking them towards the same corner with the equal carelessness he’d shown her coat. With a final meticulous movement he rearranged her on the bed, so he’d appear more comfortable and just before he left the room, he wrapped the cool, metallic cuff around the ankle. It locked in place with a clink and with a final glance at her still unconscious form, he turned and exited the room, the door latching shut and with the snap of the deadbolt he locked her in.

*****

Your head pounded, your nose burned and your mouth felt dry with the faintest taste of something foul lingering as you swallowed. The light was low but still your eyes ached. You tried to decipher exactly what the hell had happened to you while you got your bearings. You tried to sit up but your body felt heavy, the soft bed you now realized you were lying on was not your own. Your breathing rapidly increased as you started to move in fear but a clink caused a screech to escape your throat. You felt the weight of the cuff around your ankle and a full panic set it.

Your night flashed quickly through your glutamate and adrenaline flooded brain

You remembered getting the email from the Haunted Mansion supposedly hosted by Lucas Lee. You had arrived and were sent on what you thought was a fun and exhilarating maze littered with clues and riddles and then you remembered the last piece of the puzzle. You gasped as you remembered how his breath felt hot on your skin and how his voice registered in your mind.

"Drysdale," you repeated the last word you had spoken in a shaky, frightful voice. "No."

Rage and fear collided in your chest as you screamed out the only thing you could think of, "HELP!" A strangled sound left your chest followed by another cry out for help, "Please, someone, HELP!" 

The door to your room, now coming into focus around you, flew open and there he stood, smug smirk, raging ocean blue eyes, hair neatly in place, dismantling frame clothed in a black sweater and dark denim, heavy footfalls sounding against the thick carpet under his feet. 

"Nice to see someone's awake," Ransom deadpanned.

You stared for a brief moment and screamed for help again, louder, and louder, and louder until you felt your voice crack and strain, your cords burning as the sound shattered away. 

"Are you done?" He cocked his head to the side and folded his arms across his chest as he stood firm and tall in front of the bed.

"What the hell are you doing? Why am I here?" It hurt to speak but you had to ask. 

“Because I want you here, Sweetheart.”

"I...I'm not, don't call me that," you spat defiantly as he moved closer, taking you in, his predatory eyes moving over your body. This was it, you were going to die all because some trust fund prick was a hurt baby about an article (that you forcibly apologized for) revealing the sick and sadistic truth about him, his family, money and the justice system. 

"Are you gonna kill me?” You watched him carefully as he crossed the room towards you, trying to keep your voice calm so as not to betray the utter fear that was coursing through your veins at the fact you were trapped, fuck knows where, shackled to a bed with a murderer being your captor. “That's what this is about, right? My apology wasn't enough?"

"Your apology was forced bullshit.” He responded, his voice carried a hint of amusement, because of course, this was all a game to him. “You smeared my name, dragged my reputation though the mud and you expected an apology like that, half assed and full of more crap than your original hatchet piece, to be enough?" He was standing damn near over you now, a hand moving up your leg that was held by the cuff, your body frozen in a confused silent argument of fight or flight.

"You... Killed... Him." You grit out through clenched teeth, and his hand was on your throat before you finished your breath, squeezing just enough to make a point.

"No. I. Didn't." He lied and you had to hand it to him, a lesser person might have bought the garbage he was talking, because he was good at it. Lying must have been enough of a second nature for him that he actually believed everything he said himself. But then again, it wasn't actually a lie was it? Sure, he'd planned on indirectly killing Harlan and that plan had backfired and Harlan had actually slit his own throat. So at most he was indirectly responsible for his death, but none of that had stuck with the prosecution and so now here he was, a free man.

A struggled chuckle came from your tightened throat, "Jesus Christ, you actually believe your own bull shit don't you?"

"You've got a fucking mouth on you," he breathed as his body loomed ominously over the bed and your frame, tiny in comparison to his.

You swallowed, feeling the hard lump strain to pass his grip, "Not really, you just don't like hearing the truth."

His eyes bored into yours and you struggled for breath as his hand constricted around your neck whilst he squeezed a little harder "Oh shut up Y/N."

"Or what, Hugh?" You croaked. 

A little flash of anger tore through his ocean blue eyes like lightning in a storm. His eyes bored into yours as you fought to swallow. 

"Or I'll shut you up myself."

"Try me, you son of a...." You didn't expect his lips to cover yours but they did. Unexpectedly warm and soft, despite the painfully harsh kiss. You managed to pull away but his hand still gripped at your throat and you felt the fear constricting your chest. But you were damned if you were going to show him a shred of weakness. 

“You’re an asshole, Hugh…” It was all you had, the only thing you could use in your arsenal given your situation. You still had your voice. And you’d noticed that for whatever reason he appeared to hate that name.

“Don’t... fucking call me that!” his voice rose to a loud, angry instruction, apoplectic rage seeping from him to you, and it was almost stifling.

“Or what? You'll kill me?” your voice rose in both volume and pitch as your desperation began to show. “We both know you're gonna do that once you've fulfilled whatever sick, twisted little fantasy this is. What are you waiting for, Hugh? Huh?”

Ransom scoffed, "Kill you, no, see I'm gonna teach you a lesson. One about how money and status get you anything you want.”

You frowned, as you looked into his icy blue eyes, utterly confused “Anything you want? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You'll see Princess” was the sole explanation you got as he knelt between your legs.

You stayed stock still as large and surprisingly gentle hands trailed your curves up the outside of your thighs to your hips. As he reached the hem of your sweater dress he paused as you wrapped your hands around his wrists.

"Don't" you squeezed, attempting to stop his wrists and close your legs.

“This will be much easier if you just play-along, sweetheart” he muttered as he pressed his lips to your neck. You let go of his wrists and raised your hands, laying them over the wool of his cable knit, palms flat against the plain of muscle as you attempted to push him off.

“I said no.” you tried to keep your voice stern, despite the fact you were fighting back the fear and sadness at the realization of his task was now at hand. 

His large hands smoothed over your dress, cupping your breasts and he let out a moan as you bit back the bile in your throat that was threatening to spill from your mouth. You pushed harder trying to force him off of you but it was of no use, his broad frame caged you in, engulfing you under him.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.” He ground out, his lips inches from your ear as he nipped at your skin. He was impressively strong and balanced, his weight even through his body as he kept his knees between your legs, a hand against your breast and the other stroking your sides and up your thigh. All the while, his lips sucked at your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point as you turned your head away, tears filling your eyes

"Please, stop," you managed. "Hugh, stop!"

“I told you not to call me that.” He growled against your skin and pulled back, his eyes blazing as they locked on to yours. In sheer desperation, you managed to wrench a free hand from between you and gave him a slap, nails biting at his skin. Instantly you knew you’d pissed him off. His nostrils flared, his jaw set and as his eyes filled with fire and rage.

And you knew then, you were in for it.

“Bitch…” he snarled as he raised his left hand to his face where you had struck him, and then both his hands grabbed yours, yanking your arms up, pinning them above your head. You bucked upwards, violently in an attempt to shake him off, but it was futile. He was far too strong. His grip on your wrists grew tighter and despite yourself you let out a small whimper of fear.

In one hand he had the ability to cuff both of your wrists and he did so while his other grabbed at your dress, shoving it further up your body, fingers curling over the waist of your tights and panties, a handful of the material fisted in his palm. They wouldn't slide down quick enough and you felt your body lift away from the mattress slightly as he ripped away the material, the snap burning your skin. You fought, boy did you fight. You had no control of your hands or arms as he had them easily pinned, but your legs and the rest of your body gave as good as they could. You thrashed from side to side all the time screaming your objections. You drew your knees up to your chest in an attempt to buck him off. You screamed protests, threw every insult you had at him, but it was no use. He was simply too strong.

He didn't even bother with his belt or button, he just unzipped the flies on his jeans, pulled his solid cock free and slid in. You were wetter than you expected to be, but it still burned with friction and ached from the thick stretch against your tight walls. It hurt, definitely hurt.

"You know you want this. I know you want this." He rasped as he pulled out before thrusting back in, his face twisted in a look that was halfway between being smug and satisfied. Just looking at him made you feel sick but for some reason you were unable to look away as he continued his slow assault, before he picked up the pace slightly, his groans of satisfaction filling the room as he bottomed out, balls deep and it was at that point you closed your eyes and tried to block out what he was doing to you. But try as you might to remain mentally detached from the situation, your body was anything but. And the more he moved in and out of you, the more you could feel your physical reactions. You were powerless to stop them and the heat between your legs and in between your belly was spiking with each thrust into you.

It felt good. And you knew it shouldn’t. So you fought it, but eventually, you couldn't fight it anymore, not with  the way his thick cock filled you, velvety smooth skin sliding in and out of your defiant core. You didn't want to cum, but your body told your brain it was going to and Ransom nearly puffed his chest as he fucked you into your body's submission. 

"You're gonna fucking cum, aren't you Princess? I can feel it," he ground out, chasing his own release. You remained silent, breathing heavily as your insides coiled and tightened. "Fucking tight ass pussy," he gritted. You refused to cry out, not wanting to give him anything you were able not to, and it took everything you had to remain silent. In desperation, to quell the cry that was rising from your throat, you bit your tongue, tasting the coppery taste of blood in your mouth as you came hard around his cock.

“Fuck, yeah…see…” Ransom’s hips began to move faster, and then with a sudden movement he pulled out of you, making you wince involuntarily at the sting. He shot his load all over your thighs, a growl bubbling from his throat, the warmth of his release trickling down your leg made you feel even more dirty than you already did. 

“Not so fucking smart are we now, huh, miss Investigative Reporter…” his snap was snide, and childish, but you knew he couldn’t help himself. Your head remained defiantly in its position on the pillow, turned to the right, eyes focussed on a spot on the wall. “Look at me, bitch.”

When you didn’t do as he asked, he grabbed your chin bruisingly, making you wince as he pulled your face round so he could see you. You knew he would be able to see the tears on your face, and you hated that. Hated that he would see how much he’d hurt you, scared you even, 

His hand let go of your face and you stared at him, swallowing, trying to gather your voice in your painfully dry throat. 

"That's all you got? You're a fucking child, Drysdale. It's why you’re doing this." You said, your voice trembling and croaking from the fear and exertion of what he had just put you through and you shook your head. “You’re a fucking man child with mommy and daddy issues. A spoilt, little whiney brat who can’t bear to be told no.”

That struck a nerve, you could tell, as his jaw clenched tight and his fists clenched around the sheets by your side to the point they were shaking. He grabbed your chin once more with his right hand and pinned your face still, forcing your eyes to look back at his 

“You'll be begging me to accept your apology.” He snarled, his face contorted in rage “You'll see who the whiney child is soon enough. I promise Princess, it's not me”

As you looked at him, you felt your anger starting to simmer. This fucking ass hole had just raped you, and he had the gall to be saying you were going to tell him that you were sorry. No chance in hell. You knew you were screwed, literally and figuratively. Whilst he had you captive behind a bolted door, shackled to a bed you had nowhere to go, he knew that you knew that too and you could see it in his face as a smug smirk flickered on his lips. Well fuck this, if you were going down it was with a fight. With a sudden movement, that caught him off guard you moved your head slightly as much as you could in his painful grip, and spat right in his face.

Ransom blinked, his anger morphing to shock, then back to fury once more as he released your face and with a flash of his hand he back handed you straight across the face. The blow to your right cheek snapped your head to the left, sucking the breath from your lungs and leaving you a little dazed.

“Fuck you.” He sneered as he rose to his feet, wiping his face. Silently he rearranged his pants, tucking his now soft cock back inside them, and swept from the room, locking the door behind him.

***** Ransom stormed up the steps to the kitchen of the house, slamming the top door behind him and bolting that one shut too. He was furious that little bitch had scratched him and no doubt marked his face. He strode over the marble tiles of the room and walked into the large hallway and across into the den. He made his way straight to the bar, poured himself a healthy measure of good scotch, slopping a little on the dark wooden counter, before he glanced up at the large mirrored surface of the bar behind the shelves.

He could make out 3 vivid red lines down his left cheek where she’d dug her nails into his flesh and his jaw clenched. His hair was out of place, his cheeks flushed and his normally cold eyes were blazing with anger. But as he stood there staring at his dishevelled reflection, he knew it wasn’t the fact she’d scratched or spat at him that was pissing him off so much. It was the fact she had persistently voiced a name he despised, one that was used to control those lower than him in his every-day life. One reserved for The Help, for outsiders. It reminded him of his family, of his mother and father, the two people in his life who should have loved him unconditionally but instead had him out of ‘duty’ and had taken every opportunity to pass him off into the care of others they could. It reminded him of Walt persistently telling him he was a no-one, that he would amount to nothing over than a trust-fund baby. 

It reminded him of Harlan. The one person in that entire fucked up patriarchy that had shown him an ounce of care. But who had screwed him over in the end. The anger that had been simmering inside him boiled over, the blood pumped into his ear and with an angry yell and an almost involuntary action Ransom hurled the glass tumbler straight at the wall where it smashed against the tasteful silver and white wallpaper, the 25 year old single malt trickling down the wall…just like the tears and trickled down Y/N’s cheeks as he’d forced her to look at him whilst he took what was his. 

As she’d glared up at him he’d noticed a fierceness in her eyes that he was surprised to find had unnerved him a little, because she clearly wasn’t going to be as easy to break as he thought. 

“Fuck it.” He mumbled to himself, grabbing the bottle from the bar before he turned and left the room, taking a large swig as he went, the burn in his throat going someway to settling his nerves.

This would work out, because he was Ransom fucking Drysdale, a man who always got what he wanted in the end, and she was going to be no exception.

**** WIYPT Tag List:

Everything

@momobaby227 @marvelfansworld @cobalt-gear @djeniiscorner @ayamenimthiriel @coldmuffinbanditshoe @nerdofthefandoms @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @southerngracela @goldenfightergir @kellymat @what-just-happened-bro @jennmurawski13 @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @jtargaryen18 @redhairedfeistynerd @charmed-asylum @saiyanprincessswanie @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @jhayes6984 @anika-ann @icanfeelastormbrewing @gigglegirl77 @princess-evans-addict @mes-2016 @theladybiers @void-hoechlin 

Ransom Drysdale

@patzammit @icandothisallday @capsiclewinter​ @this-is-serenaa​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @perplexed3001​ @twittytelly​ @kelbabyblue​ @maan24​

If your name appears above but the tag isn’t live please let me know.

[rosalynshields]

The Soldier’s Chase

By: Rosalyn Shields

Pairing: Dark-ish Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Kidnapping, Violence, Killing, Explicit language, Reluctance/Non-con, Unprotected sex, Breeding Kink, Oral Sex (female receiving), Vaginal Sex, Smut. I hope I didn't miss anything.

This is for JTargaryen18′s Haunted House 2020 Challenge

The Premise: A celebrity haunted house for charity will be open one night only, Halloween night. You spent days trying to get a ticket online for the event. Thanks to a bad day on Halloween, you get there only a minute before the line closes. You’re the last person to go in and thinking that’s either really bad (everyone is tired or would be in a hurry to see you out) or really good (maybe you’d get some extra time with the one you came to see). 

You are never seen again.

While you are walking into the Haunted house... HYDRA is using Halloween to bring forth Captain America's Mate but it just so happens that the Avengers were attacking the base at the same time. You escape. Once Steve realized who they had... he immediately went on the hunt. The allure of having someone that is HIS and his alone is too tempting. So, you are in an alternate universe scared out of your mind in the woods being stalked by a predatory Captain America... who also happens to be a werewolf.

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

Y/N

You were running late. This was particularly annoying as you were on your way to a haunted house event in your area. It's a one night only charity event that you had spent days online trying to get a ticket for. Once you heard that Chris Evans was going to be there dressed up as Captain America you had to get tickets. Steve Rogers is quite the weakness for you, and you couldn't resist seeing Chris Evans rockin' the Cap look.

 Of course, everything had to go wrong today, normally you love Halloween but sadly you had to work that day. It has been the most stressful day filled with pointless meetings and small talk. You should’ve just taken the day off. From the moment you arrived you were running behind schedule which lasted all day. By the time you were finally able to leave work you were almost two hours behind your normal schedule.

 This only left you two hours to get changed and drive the hour to the haunted house. You can only pray there wasn't a lot of traffic because while normally it didn't take long for you to get ready you wanted to be perfect. The Haunted house rules wouldn’t allow you to wear a costume which was a shame since you had a few amazing costumes that would have gone perfectly within the Marvel Cinematic Universe but you had a few things that would work in a pinch.

 You could have gone with a 1940’s type of outfit that you knew would have made quite an impression on Steve Rogers. You figured that most of the other women who paid to see Captain America would go that route not thinking that you guys weren’t meeting the actual Steve Rogers. Who knows what was to Chris Evans’ taste? So. Instead, you decided to go with something similar to SHIELD Agent’s tactical outfit. 

 It wouldn’t scream costume and it made you feel sexy and badass and that's all that really mattered. Black long sleeve under armor shirt with a form fitting leather vest over it, black tactical pants and belt with black combat boots. If it had been a straight up costume you would have added a fully equipped utility belt and shoulder and hip holsters fully equipped with fake guns. Maybe you would have also sewed on a SHIELD patch or something as well.

 It was all pretty easy to move in and it was both airy enough to keep you cool but heavy enough to keep warm if need be. Since it wasn’t a costume you settled for your normal outing stuff as you are a lone female heading to an event alone in the city. It was probably overkill but you packed a couple of knives, a combat knife in each boot and pepper spray in your left front pocket. Along with your ID, phone, keys and a couple of pens 

 Hopefully, they don’t have a metal detector because explaining why you have knives on your person would probably be difficult. They weren’t large knives, but people tend to get touchy over that sort of thing. It was all for self-defense, you were one of the few that got self-defense classes that included close quarter combat and weapons. All in all, you managed to get out on the road within 45 minutes but knowing your luck today traffic was going to be insane.

 Traffic was insane. What would have normally been an hour drive max took almost an hour and a half. You managed to arrive at the Haunted House event minutes before they close the doors. It was pretty clear you were the last person there, which is either really bad because it's possible everyone is tired or in a hurry to see you out. Or really good and maybe you’d get some extra time with Chris Evans as Captain America. Swoon.

 “You barely made it in time, I was about to close up.”

 “Sorry, traffic was insane. Oh, here is my ticket.” you reply as you show your phone for the electronic ticket to be scanned.

 “Ah, you got the Captain America package. Go ahead, you should be able to get some one-on-one time with Chris Evans.”

 “Great. Thanks.” You replied, shoving your phone in your side pocket.

 As you walk through the doors (thankfully no metal detectors) you start to look around, you can see each room of the Haunted House was carefully constructed for each celebrity and their special characters. You kind of grin as you spot Henry Cavill as Geralt of Rivia and Sebastian Stan as Bucky Barnes. If you had time you would stop by their rooms as well but for now you wanted to see the man you thought of as your Captain.

 As you get closer to the Captain America room you could feel the anticipation rising, you had been looking forward to this since the first Captain America movie came out. You had always felt connected to Steve Rogers and you had no idea why. So, you resolved to meet Chris Evans and hopefully get over this strange obsession with Captain America. As you walk into the room your eyes widen as you take a look around. 

 It looks like a HYDRA facility that is in the process of being raided by the Avengers. You could see Chris Evans standing alone. He was leaning up against a control panel in his full Captain America gear causing your heart to skip a beat. As you started to walk closer to finally meet him you started to feel woozy. It was as if each step you took was being weighed down and your vision started to blur. As you reach Chris Evans darkness overtakes you.

 Chris Evans' mouth drops open in shock as he watches the girl in black disappear before his eyes just as he took a few steps towards her so he could talk to her. He brings his hands up to rub at his eyes figuring it was just a figment of his imagination. The Halloween spirit messing with his mind. It isn't till the next day when he hears about Y/N Y/L/N missing from the Haunted House charity event from the night before on the news that he started to truly freak out.

 ~~~~~

An Alternate Universe 

The doctor sighed deeply as he watched the last of equipment being set up. They had one shot at this, using a combination of science and magic to accomplish their goals. They are planning to use the magic of the full moon of All Hallows Eve plus the use of The Foster Theory which is portal technology to acquire an incredibly special person. A Mate. More accurately the Mate of Captain America. A Mate, a valuable asset. Once they have the Mate they can truly begin. 

 She would be the perfect undercover asset once they get her to comply. She would be the perfect subject to be brainwashed and secretly embedded within the Avengers. As a bonded Mated pair, they can have quite a bit of control over each other and not just emotionally. The Mate of Captain America under the control of HYDRA can accomplish much in HYDRA's name. First things first they need to bring her here, possibly through time and space. 

 It doesn’t matter from what time or from what country or dimension as long as they get her. They could not fail, they needed her for their plan to work. The doctor gives a self-satisfied smile as the last component is completed. All they have left to do is wait for the moon to be full. Then, they can flip the switch and say the words then she should appear. If she doesn't arrive then they have to wait another year for the perfect conditions to try again. The time has come. 

 The moon was full. The lead Agent walked up to the portal and nodded to the scientist. He started the scientific portion to make the portal and he proceeded to say the words that would focus the portal on the good Captain's Mate. At first the HYDRA scientists watched the alternate dimension taking notes on Subject M's world. Then the lead Agent gave another signal and they fine-tuned the portal to just their future asset. 

 They observed her long enough to realize where she was headed as they spotted him. She was about to meet with the Captain America of their world. They couldn't allow that to happen. They focused the portal again to get in as close as possible. The lead Agent nodded again at another agent. The new Agent prepared to grab Subject M once the portal was close enough. As she got closer to Captain America, they could see her clearly feeling the effects of the portal. 

 Once she was about 5 feet away from Captain America the unknown Agent's hand shot out. It went through the portal and grabbed the girl just as she fainted backwards. She fell back into the portal landing right into the waiting Agent's arms. They succeeded. All their planning and preparing. They succeeded! They brought Captain America's Mate from another dimension. Now all they had to do is prepare for Subject M to wake up so they may begin their good work. 

 Perhaps, she would be cooperative, but it was unlikely that the Mate of Captain America would be willing to follow HYDRA's plans. But with brainwashing much could be accomplished. Y/N woke up completely disoriented and confused with her head pounding. He hands went straight to her pounding head refusing to open her eyes. The last thing she remembered was seeing the handsome face of Chris Evans before nothing. Did she faint? 

 She didn't even get to meet Chris! The thought that perhaps he was still around you caused you to gingerly open your eyes. You winced as you took in the bright lights. Well, it looked as though you were still in the Haunted House. More specifically in the HYDRA base looking room. Which meant Chris Evans could still be there. You couldn't believe you fainted. You stop your rambling thoughts as you finally take note of your surroundings. 

 Your eyes narrow as you finally notice the dozen men and women surrounding you all wearing the HYDRA uniform. You also noticed the hard examination table you were laying on with distaste. What the fuck? You thought.

 "Ah, Subject M. You are awake. Thankfully, the interdimensional travel didn't knock you out for long."

 "Wow, you guys are really playing up the whole HYDRA costume. Also, my name is Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N." You informed him sitting up. You were amused and impressed at their dedication to their costumed personas.

 "Ah, Miss Y/L/N. I have some bad news. We are not playing it up as you so eloquently stated."

 "What?" You asked. You were very confused.

 "You are in fact here because we brought you here."

 "Okay… where exactly is here then?"

 "You are in HYDRA facility 7-5 Alpha but to be more direct you are actually in an alternate universe.

 "In an alternate universe? You are fucking with me, right?"

 "No. I am in fact not fucking with you," the HYDRA goon replied mockingly. 

 He then made a hand gesture to another Agent who started up a machine. A portal opened up. You gasped as the portal proceeded to show you Chris Evans frantically looking around before rubbing his eyes as the Haunted House closed. You could see the clear differences between the Haunted House room and this one. There, you could tell the HYDRA Base's so-called equipment was fake. 

 "Why am I here?" You asked. 

 It was vastly different from where you were now. Everything was real, the equipment, the portal. Everything. You swallowed the lump of fear as you shifted your legs. You moved both of your feet slightly. It was a very natural movement that looked like you were just shifting around or twitching. You noted the feel of the knives that were still in your boots. They didn't pat you down, they just laid you on the examination table.

 "We have brought you here from your universe as you are the Mate of a high-profile target."

 "Mate… what the fuck are you talking about?" You exclaimed.

 "Ah, you must not have Mate's in your world. 

 "No, HYDRA dick face. We do NOT have Mate's in my world."

 "Subject M, you will show some respect, or you will be punished as needed." He growled waiting for acknowledgement at your nod he continued. 

 "What do you know of werewolves?"

 "That they don't exist… They are fictional beings that can typically transform into wolves. They have supernatural strength and healing factors. Depending on the lore they can have special powers. It would be really fascinating except they do NOT exist."

 "In our world, werewolves exist. You Mate is one of the most powerful werewolves in our world and you my darling girl is his mate. His true mate.”

 “His Mate? His true Mate? I don’t understand.”

 "In our world a Mate is precious. Your perfect match in every way. Your mate can influence almost everything about you. You would do anything for your Mate. Mate bonds cannot be broken."

 “How could I possibly be someone’s Mate? I’m not a werewolf.”

 “In your world? No. In ours? Perhaps. Perhaps not." The goon shrugs. 

 "No matter, you are his Mate my dear and we have you. You will be our most valuable asset. Once you are prepared you will be given to your mate then you two will bond and then HYDRA’s plans will begin.”

 "So, who the fuck is my high-profile target of a Mate?" You ask, making sure to bring your hands up to mimic quotations around the word Mate.

 This is fucking bullshit. Sounds like they intend on giving me to some random guy to basically be raped to cement this Mating bond so they can control him through me.

 "Why, you were already on the way to see him in your world. His name is Steve Rogers, also known as Captain America."

 "Captain America?!? Captain America is a werewolf?" You exclaim just as a huge explosion goes off shaking the base. 

 "Sir, the Avengers have infiltrated the base." 

 "Agent 37, take Subject M out of here. Take her to safe house 9-3-5 Charlie. They must not retrieve her."

 "Yes, sir." Agent 37 replied before grabbing your arm to lead you out of the base. His grip was tight as he started to drag you through the halls. You could feel the walls shake with each explosion as they got closer. You don't know much about this world, but you had to escape. You do not want anything to do with the so-called unbreakable Mate bond.

 While you don’t exactly mind the idea of fucking Steve Rogers you had to get back to your world. You doubted he’d ever let you leave. Another explosion rocked the base causing the agent to lose his grip on your arm. You acted fast. You bent down to grab both knives from your boots before lunging forward in one fluid motion stabbing the agent with both knives. The wall behind you exploded giving you a way out straight into a forest. 

 Shoving your knives back into your boots you ran. 

~~~~~

The Avengers

The fight was brutal as HYDRA agents fought in mass doing everything, they could delay the Avengers. After a while Iron man and Captain America made it to the Control Room. Iron Man focused on taking out the HYDRA agents as Captain America was trying to protect the main console. He was still rusty on most modern technology, but they seemed hell bent on trying to destroy this particular equipment. It didn't take long for the final agent to go down.

 "Guys, as soon as you're done clearing the place head towards our position. I'm going to go through their tech and hopefully I'll have some information by the time you're done."

 Steve watches as Tony steps out of the Iron Man suit and starts to work on the slightly mangled console. Steve managed to keep the damage to a minimum when the scientists tried to destroy it, but it still had sustained some damage. Steve kept watch as Tony worked with his shield at the ready. They had cleared most of the base but there could still be HYDRA Agents out there waiting to ambush them. 

 It took Tony a little while to properly hack into the HYDRA network as some of the more sensitive components were destroyed in the struggle. Tony gasps in shock as he reads some of the doctor’s notes and starts to frantically look for the digital recordings that the doctor referenced. He didn’t want to tell Steve what they were up to until he could verify if they managed it or not. IF they managed it, he needs to know what happened to her, to Subject M. 

 “What are we looking at Tony? What were they trying to accomplish?"

 “Steve. You need to look at this.” Tony tells Steve with a note of urgency in his voice. 

 "What is it Tony?“ Steve asked. He then proceeded to put his shield back onto his back harness.

 "Tony, what's going on?" Natasha asked as she walked into the room followed by Clint.

 “From the looks of things, they were trying to bring someone over from what looks like another dimension."

 "Another dimension?" Clint asked.

 "How is that even possible?" Natasha asked.

 "They were using a combination of The Foster Theory and for lack of a better term magic."

 "The use of dimensional energy similar to the Bifrost plus an added magic celestial event…" Thor started.

 "Such as a full moon on All Hallows Eve?" Clint asked.

 "I know not of this All Hallows Eve, but a full moon would suffice as a celestial event." 

 "So, it's possible?" Natasha asked.

 "Yes, it's possible." Thor informed the group.

 "Who were they-" Steve started before shaking his head and continued, "-did they manage it?" 

 "That's what I'm trying to figure out but… Fuck. Looks like they managed it. Fuck."

 "What is it Tony? Did they bring back the Red Skull, Hitler or something?"

 "No. Maybe it's better to watch the surveillance footage as I try to explain."

 "Explain what? Friend Tony." Thor asked as he landed softly in the large room.

 "Before I have you guys look at this surveillance footage Steve you need to know… "

 "Know what? Tony?" Steve asked.

 "Yeah, Tony. You are starting to scare us."

 "Keep in mind she came from another dimension…"

 "Tony cut to the chase, you're stalling." 

 "Steve, looks like they found your mate. Your perfect mate and brought her here from another dimension."

 "What?!?" Everyone exclaimed.

 Steve stood there in shocked silence as he took it in. His Mate. His. Mate. His Mate. He just couldn't believe it. His Mate, who is from another dimension. He had to find her. He needs her. She would complete him. She would be the missing piece. His missing piece. The one thing that is his and his alone. He needed her. He needed the bond. They had to bond. A werewolf without a Mate is a loose cannon, the Mate-bond will stabilize him in every way he needs.

 He couldn’t wait to have her in his arms. To bond. To cover her in his scent and be bathed in her scent. To be inside her, to fill her up. He was going to fuck her until she was covered in nothing but his scent and cum. He couldn’t wait to taste her and have his face covered in her juices. He bets she tastes delicious. He was going to fuck her so hard and so good that she’ll never think of leaving him.

 "Show us the surveillance footage Tony. If they managed to bring her here. Where is she?" Natasha asked. Tony nodded before starting the security footage.

 They all watched silently as the HYDRA soldier adjusted a machine and said some words before a portal opened. Tony made sure to take mental notes of this alternate universe that Steve's mate came from. They needed to know as much as they could especially if she wanted to go back. The HYDRA Agents did some fine tuning of the console causing the picture to change within the portal and a female came within view. 

 They all assumed that she must have been Steve's Mate. Steve's Mate walked into what looked like a Haunted House. The portal was adjusted again and they all silently watched as she walked through several exhibits. Tony found it fascinating as he spotted a few movie characters for their world as well. They all gasped in surprise as they spotted a man that looked exactly like Steve. Right before she was yanked through the portal into their world. 

 They noted her name as they watched the brief conversation between the head HYDRA goon and Miss Y/L/N. As the Goon explained the concept of Mate's they looked at Steve with concern as they realized his Mate had no idea. Werewolves and Mate's do not exist in her world. Which meant she could easily reject him. Once they saw the attack begin a new Agent grabbed Y/N and practically dragged her out of the room. They all looked towards Tony.

 "Is there any more security footage?" Natasha asked.

 "Yes, I tracked her through the halls with Agent 37." Tony replies bringing up the footage. 

 They watch silently as the explosion takes out a wall near them causing Agent 37 to lose Y/N's arm. They gasp in shock as Y/N suddenly reaches down to grab two knives hidden in her boots. Natasha is particularly impressed at the fluid motion Y/N uses as she quickly stabs the goon with both knives. Finally, the wall behind her explodes and she makes her escape before any of the Avengers could rescue her. Self-saving princess for the win.

 “How long ago was this footage?”

 “About 10 minutes.”

 "We need to find her." Clint exclaimed watching Steve. He could tell that Steve was on edge as he kept shifted backwards towards the table his Mate was laying on. 

 He was the only one close enough to hear the low possessive growl Steve released when he saw his Mate walking towards his doppelganger in the security footage. Clint also heard the barely audible whimper Steve released at Y/N confusion and distaste at the concept of Mate's. Now, Steve kept taking deep breaths, holding it before releasing them. If he’s not careful he’ll go into a rut. Once Steve saw Agent 37 grab Y/N’s hand Steve snarled in rage. 

 No one touches his Mate. No one.

 "Mine." Steve growled before bolting. 

 “Shit.”

 "So, who's going after him?" Tony asks the group.

 "Fuck you Stark. An Alpha Werewolf in a rut induced rage after his Mate. No thank you."

 "He can contact us when he's ready for pick up. It's best not to get in his way." Natasha says calmly. 

 "I feel bad for anyone that gets in their way."

 "I don't." Natasha says simply.

 Steve took off at a full sprint down the hall and out towards the crumbling wall his Mate left through using his enhanced senses to follow her. Steve could feel the beginnings of the shift as he lost a bit of his iron tight control, he couldn’t help it. His wolf was very possessive over his Mate. He needed her. He stopped briefly at the body that had his Mate’s scent, he wanted to make sure he was dead and not just incapacitated.

 Thankfully, he was dead. His Mate took care of him. She’s perfect. He needed to get to his Mate. She was his. He was going to kill anyone that tries to get in between them. She is perfect. No one could have her but him. He would make her accept him. She will mate with him. He will make her scream HIS name. He will drown her in pleasure. She will bear his young. She is going to be the most perfect mate. 

~~~~~

Y/N

You ran. You could hear the soldiers behind you, they probably found the Agent you killed. You were sure they were looking for you, they needed you. You stop briefly to catch your breath leaning up against a tree. You can see the moon through the tree line, making you feel weirdly aggressive. You needed to be smart. You can't outrun them forever. They will find you. You could hear them moving through the woods. They were loud, not even trying to be stealthy.

 "Now, now. Miss Y/L/N we know you are close by. You have a very distinctive life signature as you aren't a part of this universe. We can always find you." That just means you have nothing to lose you thought. 

 You heard one of the soldiers as he got closer to your position. You still. You grab one of your knives hiding it in the folds of your pants. As the soldier passes you hesitated, before this night you had never killed anyone before. But you are in a different dimension being hunted by HYDRA and probably the Avengers. With that thought you silently step behind one of the soldiers, walking behind him a few steps completely silent. 

 It was strange, normally you were loud as an elephant in the woods especially in the fall with all the dead leaves. You shake off the lingering thoughts before grabbing your target. One hand went over his mouth the other that had the knife went straight into his neck. He died quickly and silently before you gently put him down. Another strange thing, you were a hell of a lot stronger in this universe. Those HYDRA men especially in all that gear shouldn't be light but they were.

 You shrug off all lingering thoughts of your newfound strength and take out two other HYDRA goons. All in the same manner of sneaking up behind them to kill them silently. You could feel your arms covered in blood. You were getting ready to take out your next goon before you heard screams. You doubled back to the last goon you killed and picked up his screams. You should have done this sooner instead of stalking the men one by one.

 "Captain America is in the woods. I repeat Captain Amer-" You hear before the voice is suddenly cut off with a gurgle. Clearly Captain America found him.

 "Listen up men, the Captain is in play and is looking for his Mate…." 

 "Mine," he growled. 

 The Captain's voice is deep and full of rage that you could clearly hear through the transmission. He interrupted what was sure to be the Commander's rousing speech. It isn't long before you start to hear screams and gunfire echoing all around the woods. You had been killing the HYDRA goons silently as possible to not be detected, Captain America on the other hand was making quite the ruckus.

 It sounded like he was ripping them to shreds with all the noise they made. You look around frantically. There wasn't really any place that you could hide but you needed to find something. If he had heightened senses, he might not be able to find you with all the death and blood in the air. You considered covering yourself in more blood or maybe hiding under a corpse. There were a few of them around. You shuddered in horror. 

 The idea of hiding under a dead body freaked you out too much. Before you can find an adequate hiding spot the screaming suddenly stopped. It was quiet. Too quiet. Eerily quiet. He was coming. There's a very good chance he killed everyone and was coming for you. You started to frantically look around. You need to hide as soon as possible. You dive into some dense bushes burrowing yourself as deep as possible. 

 You suddenly started to hear rustling nearby causing you to freeze in fear while studying your surroundings. It was like he just suddenly just appeared out of the woods. He didn't make a sound. The moon gave you a clear picture of him, of Captain America. He was covered from his head to toes in blood and gore. He must have killed everyone, anyone that got in his way based on the amount of blood on his body.

 "Mate." Steve growled taking off his helmet, dropping it to the floor while he sniffed the air. He knew she was nearby. 

 It was hard due to the amount of blood and gore on his body, but he could smell his Mate faintly. He had lost complete control when he heard the HYDRA Commander threaten his Mate. He shifted partly allowing his claws and fangs to come out before methodically killing each and every HYDRA goon that got in his way. He knew he must have been a sight to her, but he could also smell the blood on her. 

 They both had fresh kills on them. She smelled amazing. It was strange, the fresh blood only made her more tempting. It would be hard not to completely lose control when he finally mates her. As it was, his control was hanging on by a thread. He knew she was nearby, hiding. He took in another deep breath before going still. He found her. 

 You could feel every beat of your heart as it goes faster and faster in fear and slight arousal. You weren't sure why but when you shifted you could feel how wet your panties were. For some reason there was a part of you that enjoyed being stalked and chased. Also, the idea of him killing everyone in his way in order to get to you as soon as possible had you unreasonably wet. Clearly there was something about this universe that had you reacting oddly. 

 "Gotcha." Steve breathed in your ear from behind you. You jumped screaming as he grabbed you. He pulled you out from your hiding spot.

 "Oh my God.” 

 “Mate“ Steve starts to run his blood-soaked face against yours.

 “What are you doing?" You ask weirded out. 

 "Scent marking." Steve states simply before grabbing your blood-soaked hands and rubbing them along his face. You cringe away as you notice his claws, you face showing your distaste.

 "What... What's going on?" You ask before grabbing his face to look him in the eyes noting the fangs. His eyes are blown in lust and need.

 "You are mine. My Mate." Steve simply states before grabbing your face.

 "I'm not your Mate. I'm not even from this world. Or dimension or whatever that HYDRA dick said."

 "You are mine." Is all he says as he rubs his head alongside yours, giving you a blast of his personal scent.

 "Please just let me go." You whimper trying not to breath in, his scent is wonderful. 

 "I can't." Steve simply states as he starts to rub his body against yours. 

 You can feel his erection straining against his tactical pants. You are trying to hold your breath which wasn't exactly easy to do when you wanted to hyperventilate. Every time you breathed in Steve's scent you could feel your head getting cloudy. Your body would start to produce more wetness and you needed to think. This caused you to let out an aggressive growl which Steve instantly answered back with a slight whine at the end.

 "No." 

 Something inside of you, some kind of switch clicked on as you suddenly went from passive to aggressive. You started to fight. Kicking, screaming and hitting every inch of him you can reach. While he tried to restrain you, his arms went around your middle restricting your arms movement. Your hands went down towards where your knives were hidden. Grabbing one knife you flip it in your hand and stab backwards, your range limited due to his hold on you.

 You manage to startle him enough to let you go but not injure him. You use the knife to keep him at bay slashing at him every time he attempted to get close. You see his eyes narrow before he hits your hand hard. This caused you to let go of the knife, it flew away from you both. You had one knife left. 

 You didn't hesitate. You ran.  

~~~~~

Steve and Y/N

You ran. You used up a lot of energy and you had some issues breathing especially when you breathed in Steve’s tantalizing scent. You could feel him running after you, you were amazed that he hadn't caught up with you already. Something about this world has made you more than what you were before. You felt energized, like you could run forever when before you would have died after a half a mile. But you weren't a super soldier.

 “What’s wrong sweetheart? Have I not earned you? Do you know how many people I killed to get to you? To protect you?” Steve asks. He was running right next to you clearly keeping pace with ease.

 "Ahhh!" You screamed coming to a complete stop.

 "Son of a bitch." You started to pant out of breath. God you hated running.

 "Language. Sweetheart."

 “Fuck you. You don’t know me."

 "I know enough, my love. My Mate." Steve tells you before bringing you close, giving you a blast of his personal scent. You try not to breathe in as deep as you wanted. 

 "I. Am. NOT. Your. Mate." You bite out. His scent was clouding your mind.

 "Stop. Saying. THAT." Steve growled. He was getting pissed off at your lack of compliance. You. Were. HIS! 

 Your eyes go wide at his tone. You could see him losing more of himself. His eyes flashed gold and his fangs grew larger. He was starting to lose control. You had to do something. You just didn't know what. Perhaps, it would be better just to humor him. You didn't want him to lose complete control and hurt you. Plus, you still had one knife left, you just had to get close enough if you were going to use it.

 "Sorry, Captain Rogers." You tell him. His demeanor changes instantly.

 "It’s Steve, sweetheart.” Steve practically purrs at you. 

 “Steve. You know I'm from another universe. I don't understand what it means to be someone's Mate.”

 “It's okay sweetheart. I will teach you. Let me show you what it means to be Mates." Steve tells you before gathering you into his arms. 

 He breathed in deeply taking in your scent, holding you gently as you fought not to jerk in his arms. You squirm a bit as he rubs his blood-soaked body up against yours. He seemed very intent on rubbing as much of his bloody body up against yours. His body was firm all over and oh so very hard. It was hard not to marvel at how good he felt against your body. You could feel the blood and gore getting transferred over to your body.

 It was gross. Steve could sense your disgust and resolved to distract you as he needed to get as much of his scent on you as possible. He started with gentle kisses that he rained down over your cheek, jaw, neck moving your hair out of the way as needed. You took in a deep breath as you tried not to moan causing you to take in the full effect of Steve's scent. It was like a drug the more you smelled him the more you wanted to smell him. 

 Fact was, you just wanted him. Period. You didn't stop Steve as he slowly unzipped the leather vest. His scent drugging you into compliance. Steve drops your vest to the ground as he gently bites your neck. You let out a moan so soft that Steve's enhanced hearing barely picked up on it. The sound of your moan caused him to smirk widely into your neck. He was getting to you. Your neck has always been a weakness for you. 

 Steve seemed to be focused on the right side of your neck giving that area lavishing kisses, licks and bites. With his scent in your nose it was hard not to gasp and moan. You did manage to notice that Steve kept going back to a specific area of your neck. It was strange. Steve noticed your attention and decided to distract you with a deep kiss. You gasped as you felt his tongue slide into your mouth. 

 First you pushed at Steve's unyielding body, but it had zero results. Steve refused to move an inch away from your body. Steve grabbed the back of your head keeping it in place as he plundered your mouth. Your hands originally came up to fight him but as he kissed you... Your hands came up and wrapped them around his neck instead. One of your hands grabbed onto his shoulder and the other went straight into his hair. 

 Steve pressed one of his thighs between yours bringing it up to rub against your core inflaming you more. The hand in his hair tightened as you suddenly yanked his head to the right. You momentarily lost complete control and bit his lip hard as you rubbed yourself wantonly against him. Steve let out a loud growl in response before moving his mouth from your lips to your neck. You loudly moaned as his huge hand slid underneath your shirt and under your bra. He gently fondled your breasts, teasing your nipples with the rough pads of his fingers. 

 "My beautiful Mate. I can't wait to taste you. Too feel you. To finally be inside you. You are all mine." The sound of his voice snaps you out of your lust induced trance. You stiffen up in panic, grabbing Steve's hands moving them out of your shirt. 

 "No, please. You need to let me go. I have to go back to my world." Steve growled loudly in displeasure before grabbing you roughly.

 "No. You are MINE. You know you want this. You want me. I am your Mate. We are meant to be together."

 You started to struggle. Steve growled at you in warning before gathering both of your hands into one of his. He then walked backwards until your back was pressed into a tree. Steve rocked his body into yours briefly grinding his pelvis against your hip. You could feel every inch of his rock-hard cock pressing against you. You bit your lip trying not to react. Steve then shifted bringing his thigh up and between your legs pressing right into your pussy hard. 

 "Steve!" You yelped. The friction hit you just right causing you to moan loudly. You were close. 

 Your eyes flashed gold briefly before closing tightly. Steve grinned. He knew what gold eyes could mean but it wasn't a sure thing. Yet. So he proceeded. He needed to make you cum. First will be on his thigh, then on his fingers, then his mouth and finally all over his cock. Then he will claim you. You will be his. He grabbed your rips rocking you onto his thigh. You squirmed when his other hand started to roam down your body. 

 His hand slipped into your pants causing him to growl low and deep as he felt how damp the lace crotch of your panties already was. His eyes flashed gold as his wolf started to battle for control. He needed to claim you soon. Steve rubbed your panties causing you to whimper. He made sure to get his fingers good and wet before taking his hand out of your pants. He brought his fingers up to show you how wet you were.

 “See how much you want me?” Steve asked gently as he let go of your hands cupping your face briefly. 

 He gave you a soft brief kiss before bringing his hand up. Steve put his fingers into his mouth sucking your juices off his fingers. He moaned loudly at your taste. He loved how you tasted just as he knew he would. He couldn't wait to drink your juices straight from the source. He gently grabbed your hips before starting to rock you back and forth on his thigh. You arch your back in pleasure as your back hit the tree hard. 

 You try to rub yourself against him looking for the right angle in order to reach your peak. You needed to cum. You needed it. So bad. Your hands grip Steve's shirt bringing him in closer, you no longer cared about the blood or gore. He wrapped his arms around you bringing you up to his lips giving you a deep probing kiss. Before shoving one of his hands into your hair pulling it just enough. 

 "Steve!" You scream cumming as all over Steve's thigh drenching his pants.

 You felt boneless and lax the orgasm taking the fight out of you. Steve on the other hand didn't waste any time. He took off your under-armor shirt tossing it on to the forest floor. He briefly admired your black lacy bra before his desires overtook him again. His mouth went down to lick the tops of your cleavage before sucking your nipples through the bra. It didn't take long for him to get fed up and literally rip the bra from your body tossing the pieces. 

 You moaned your head falling back into the tree as you felt his mouth and hand move simultaneously. Steve wrapped his lips around your nipple while sliding his hand back into your pants completely bypassing your underwear. Steve moaned against you, as you were so wet and so fucking tight. It was only one finger! He spread your legs a bit before sliding two fingers inside you. His fingers curled up hitting a spot that had you withering.

 "That's it sweetheart. Cum. Cum all over my fingers." Steve demanded as you whimpered. 

 Steve's thumb started to rub your clit while gliding his fingers in and out of your pussy. You screamed as you exploded in pleasure cumming HARD before going limp as your legs failed you. Steve managed to grab you before you fell to the floor. He picked you up gently before moving you to a soft pile of leaves. Steve grabbed the top of your pants before pulling hard. 

 RIIIIIPPPPP

 His super soldier strength made quick work of your pants shredding them. They were shredded in half from the top of your hips to your knees rendering them completely useless. Steve didn't bother to stop to admire your matching black lacy panties before ripping them off. Turning them to scraps. He needed to taste you. NOW. Steve frantically licked and sucked down your body wedging himself in between your legs. 

 “Want to taste you. Wanna taste what’s mine.” He whispered. 

 He lowered his mouth to your pussy and licked a stripe from the bottom of your pussy to your clit. Your body arched up against him in pleasure. Your hands went into Steve's hair as he growled low and deep in your pussy. He loved your taste. Steve moved both his hands to your inner thighs, spreading your pussy lips with his thumbs. He dives right in, licking and sucking at your wetness. 

 "You taste so good baby." Steve murmurs looking up at you. His face was covered in your pussy juice. He dived right back in groaning and growling at your taste. The wet squelching noises were obscene as he tongue fucked you deep. It felt amazing. You were almost there, your orgasm was so close you could practically taste it. 

 "Please…" 

~~~~~

Losing control

"Please, what? Sweetheart. Use your words."

 "Steve, please make me cum."

 "My sweet little Mate wanna cum? Cum all over my mouth sweetheart. Gush all over my face." 

 You shudder, Steve's dirty talk bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Steve held your hips in a vice grip and started lapping at your clit with his tongue. Your hands tightened in Steve's hair pushing his head down and rubbing his face all over your pussy lips when he started to suck your clit. You tensed up as waves and waves of pleasure hit you sending you over the edge. You gushed all over Steve's face covering it with your juices. 

 Steve kept licking and sucking you through your orgasm bringing you down from you high as you pussy started to get sensitive. Steve considered keeping it up and making you cum all over his face again but he needed to be inside you. He needed to feel your tight little pussy wrapped around his cock. You looked at Steve's face covered with your juices and his hair sticking up every which way from you gripping him and grinned. He looked wrecked.

 "Stevie." You shoved your hands back into Steve's hair before pulling. You forcefully brought him back up to face level by his hair. You playfully licked his nose before rubbing your face against his affectionately. 

 Steve grinned. It was clear orgasms were making you more affectionate. It was also bringing out your wolf tendencies as you were currently scent marking him. Steve grabbed your face with both hands before bringing you in for a long and messy kiss. You felt boneless as you kissed him back tasting yourself on him. Steve's right hand started gliding down your body feeling every inch of your curves. 

 As he reached your pussy Steve gently slid two fingers inside you. He started scissoring his fingers to help stretch you out. After a bit Steve pulled his fingers out of you shushing your whine of displeasure. He backed up a little bit going to his tac pants trying to get the stiff material to release him. Finally, he grabbed at the crotch of his tac pants and pulled. He ripped just enough for him to pull his cock free, he didn't bother to take anything else off. 

 "Shit. Wait, Steve. We can't." You tell him as you take a good look at his cock. It was huge and thick. And oh so hard.

 "Can. Must. Mate." Steve grunts out as he strokes his shaft a few times. His control was barely holding on, he didn't want to hurt you by accident. 

 You start to struggle. You didn't know what would happen if you and Steve had full penetration intercourse. For all you knew it could bind you to him forever. Who knew if you could ever be returned to your world? The separation might kill you both, you just didn't know enough. Steve grabbed both your wrists gently pinning them above your head. His other hand went to his cock slowly rubbing it against your soaking slit. 

 "Stop. Steve, you need to stop. We don't know what this will do." 

 "No. Mate. Need." Steve shook his head. He dipped his cock in slightly but never fully sheathed himself just making sure to get his cock good and wet with your juices.

 "Steve, please." You weren't really sure what you were asking for. For him to stop. For him to fuck you. You really didn't know. 

 "Please what, baby?" He wanted you to say it but either way it wasn't going fucking stop him. He needed you.

 "Please, Steve. Fuck me."

 Your thighs shook hard as he reached down to line himself up with your entrance and he began to push in. He sank into you slowly stretching your pussy as he fed you every inch of his cock. Steve brought his mouth down to your neck kissing and licking as much as he could. He never stopped or paused until his hips were finally flush against yours. You felt so full, completely stuffed to the brim.

 "So tight. God, sweetheart. You feel… god never felt…. You were made for me." Steve manages to get out. 

 "I'm going to make you feel so good, my Mate." 

 Steve started slowly at first, almost pulling out completely before gradually pushing back in. You had never felt so full as his cock kept hitting places deep inside you. It felt so amazing. You started to rock your hips back against him. Steve let go of your hands as you wrapped your legs tight around his waist. Steve started to pick up the pace. 

 "That's right my Mate, you are going to cum. You are going to cum all over my rock-hard cock. I'm going to keep fucking you. Then my good girl is going to come for me again… aren't you?"

 "Yes." 

 "Yes, what?"

 "Yes… Steeeevvee…" Within seconds of your answer, your body seized up in a rush of pleasure cumming all over his dick. 

 "I can. Do. This. All. Day." Steve tells you.  Each word being emphasized with a thrust. 

 "Fuck!" You scream cumming again.

 Steve continued to fuck you while you gasped, writhed and moaned, completely mindless beneath him. He continued on and on as you kept feeling that rush of pleasure again and again. You lost count of the amount of orgasms Steve gave you as you just keep cumming and cumming all over Steve's cock. You could feel your body getting ready to tighten around him again as he wrapped his body around yours. 

 "That's it, baby girl. I'm going to cum all inside you."

 "Ste…" You couldn't answer. You were too overwhelmed. You were somewhat aware that his thrusts were coming harder and faster.

 "Are you a good girl? You want me to fill you all up inside?" Steve asked. This caused you to whimper in response as your cunt clenched Steve's cock at the thought.

 "Do you want your Mate's cum all deep inside your well used cunt?" Steve knew he was getting close. He knew he needed to cement the Mating Bond between the two of you.

 "Yes."

 "Yes, what my Mate. Tell me. What do you want?"

 "I want your cum. Please cum inside me."

 "Cum inside you what?"

 "Please cum inside me, Steve. My... Mate." You get out between clenched lips.

 Admitting that you were his Mate caused Steve to lose complete control. He thrusted hard and deep causing you to cum instantly. He needed to cum inside you and make you his. He needed to fill you up with his cum. He needed you to smell of nothing but him. His was going to fill you to the brim over and over again until he impregnated you with his young. He couldn’t wait to see you swell up with his cub. You were his.

 Steve brought his mouth down to your neck as he cried out above you. Licking your Mating gland before biting down his fangs piercing your skin easily. Steve jerked into you hard cumming deep inside you. At the same time, your head instinctively met Steve's neck and bit down. You both felt a jolt of pleasure as the bond snapped into place. This caused you both to orgasm again simultaneously. 

 "Mine." Steve told you. You could feel him. He could feel you as well. 

 "Mine." You agreed. You could feel Steve's feelings and thoughts just as he could feel yours.

 You could feel his reluctance to leave your body and his desire. He could feel your blissed-out state and your confusion as you have no idea what to expect from a Mate bond. Steve reluctantly pulled out the sting of his thick cock leaving your body caused you to wince. You can feel the trickle of cum dripping out of your well used pussy. It was open wide from his thick cock and leaving wet stains on the crotch of what was left of yours and Steve's pants. 

 "Oh, my darling Mate." Steve started to get hard again watching his cum drip obscenely from your well used pussy. He gently pushed his cum back into your pussy causing you to moan. 

 Steve felt the moan go straight to his cock causing him to instantly harden. You could feel he didn't want to waste one precious drop of his cum. Your eyes flashed yellow as you felt the urge to mate again. You wrapped a leg around Steve before rolling your hip. This caused you to flip your positions with you on top. With a show of your newly acquired strength you shoved him down. It was your turn to be in control. 

 "Mine." You tell Steve. Eyes still yellow before raising your hips up.

 "Mate." Steve gasps as you sink onto his cock slowly. 

 Once your hips finally met Steve pelvis you started to ride him frantically. Your hands digging into Steve's chest as you raised your hips up and down. The pleasure consumed you completely. You never noticed your hands. Your hands were slowly started to change from fingers to claws and your mouth started to grow fangs. Steve didn't notice at first as he started to moan and growl underneath you. 

 Once your claws started to pierce his skin did he notice your claws and fangs. He grinned as he healed instantly. Steve took care to watch his own claws as he grabbed your hips. He then planted his feet and started to thrust upwards causing him to slide deeper inside your pussy hitting your cervix with each thrust. It didn't take long for you to cum. You came all over Steve's cock with a scream. 

 "Steve!" You scream that ended in a howl. A howl that Steve instantly answered before cumming deep inside you.

 "Your mine. Forever."

 "Forever." 

 "Happy Halloween baby. I'm never letting you go."

[just-the-hiddles]

Haunted House | Adam x Reader

A/N: This is my entry for @jtargaryen18‘s Haunted House writing challenge.  I picked Adam naturally.  Just a note this is NOT the Adam from The Reluctants and my Adam and Charlie stories, it is a different Adam.  

Pairing:  Adam x Reader

Summary:  You purchased a ticket for a very special haunted house to see a recreation of your favorite movie Only Lovers Left Alive. But mysterious forces send you to an alternate reality where Adam is real.  And he is pissed you are in his house.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, mentions of death, implied smut, blood drinking, cursing, vampires, hints at possible noncon/dub-con at the end.  

The Whole Enchilada:  @winterisakiller @nonsensicalobsessions @yespolkadotkitty @hopelessromanticspoonie @pinkzz123 @jessiejunebug @cherrygeek86 @littleredstarfish​ @rjohnson1280​ @the-minus-four​ @wiczer​ @lotus-eyedindiangoddess @catsladen​ @coppercorn-and-cauldron​ @gerli49​ @lovesmesomehiddles @devilbat​ @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic​ @tinchentitri​ @theheartofpenelope @noplacelikehome77​ @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​ @snoopy3000 @voila-tout​ @wolfsmom1​ @queenoftheunderdark​ @xxloki81xx​ @thewaithfuckingannoyme @kcd15​ @amirra88​ @malkaviangirl​ @evanlys19​ @thejemersoninferno @sadwaywardkid​ @is-it-madness​ @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @peterman-spideyparker​ @caffiend-queen​ @sleepylunarwolf @anagrom​ @bradfordbantams​ @ms-cellanies​ @what-just-happened-bro​ @stubby-toe-589331​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @loki-smut-library​ @imnotrevealingmyname @trippedmetaldetector​ @tea4sykes​ @noambition-blog​ @sherala007 @vodka-and-some-sass​ @cursethedarkness​ @jewels2876​ @fixatedfandomhunter @myraiswack​ @lokikenway97​ @groovylokifanficpersona @ciaodarknessmyheart​ @bitchcraft-at-its-finest @hanyasnape @lokislastlove​ @stuckysdaughter​ @theunwantedomega​ @dryyoursaltyoceantears @petitefirecracker10​ @thummbelina​ @andreasworlsboring101 @krazycags01​ @howaboutash @thehumanistsdiary @daddylouislittle @flakyfreak @sigyn-nightshade @green-valkyrie @usedtobegoodfriend96 @salempoe @traumschiffe @letsdisneythings @arch-venus25 @thefuckthesaurus @karushinekomiya @black-ninja-blade @worshipping-skarsgard @songbirdonamission @freakishlyadorable @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @rorybutnotgilmore @give-him-a-banana  @idontevenknowwbro @nikkalia @lokilvrr @slutforhiddlebum @make-it-rien @nildespirandum @kimanne723 @build-a-bucky @ladyacrasia @dangertoozmanykids101 @mandywholock1980 @vengrl @delightfulheartdream @creator-appreciator @loki-yoursaviourishere @liz-rdwitch  @luke-windsors-diary

Taglists are open!  Please let me know if you wish to be added.

-

You huffed as you ran up to the dilapidated house on the side street. Fucking work, you cursed as you approached, seeing the house dim and dark. You took the front steps two at a time, meeting the bedraggled employee at the door.

“Am I too late?” You fished your ticket out of your purse.

The employee sighed. “No.” His tone said otherwise. “Listen, follow the signs, obey the posted rules, and tell Syd at the end you’re the last one out and I already left.”

He tore your ticket in half.

“Your name?” The teenaged boy rolled his eyes at you. “For Syd.”

“Chase.” He opened the door, and you rushed in.

“Thanks, Chase!” You hustled into the house and read the signs, turning to head towards the room dedicated to one of your favorite movies, Only Lovers Left Alive.

“Don’t touch anything!” Chase called out after you, before pulling out his phone and punching the screen. “Syd. Yeah, just sent her to the OLLA room. Do your thing.” His lips curled into an evil grin.

-

You couldn’t believe the detail of the room. It looked exactly like the living room from the movie, right down to the clutter on the floor and the guitars.

“Wow!” you gasped in a hushed whisper, as if you were disturbing the dead.

As you spun in place, you didn’t notice one of the ropes fall away, no longer blocking your path. You ambled, savoring every moment and soaking in every detail. You stepped over where the rope once hung into the scene.

“I can’t believe they let you get so close.” Your finger dragged along the edge of a Fender guitar. There was a quick shimmer of light in the air.

The floor creaked as you stepped around the perimeter of the room. The air smelled musty and stagnant. You tripped over a thick power cord and hit the floor with your knees, skidding on the threadbare Persian rug.

“Who the fuck are you?” someone snapped behind you.

You shot to standing and spun around. There in front of you was Adam.

“Holy fuck! They went all fucking out.” You ran towards him, earning yourself a furrowed brow from the man, who was a super convincing Adam. “Definitely worth the price of the ticket.”

You reached out to touch the wrist of the pajamas and the man jerked back.

“How in the hell did you even get in here?” he asked again.

“I bought a ticket. Same as everyone.”

“Fucking zombies.” He rolled his eyes. “You need to leave. This is my home. It’s not open for tours. Ever.” He spat out that last word.

You peeked around him. “Yeah, yeah. Very brooding, very Adam.” You gestured into the air. “Is Eve here?”

The man grabbed your arm as you tried to walk around him. “How do you know that name?”

You gazed up at him, staring into his unnatural blue eyes. “What do you mean, how do I know that name? I’ve seen the movie. And I thought you weren’t supposed to touch me?” You tugged at your arm, but he held you tight.

You wiggled free and moved to push past him, but he grabbed you with lightning speed.

“How did you…” you questioned, your eyes widened in shock. “Let me go!” You struggled against him. He let go, and you stumbled forward and through the doorway.

You expected to see the hallway of the haunted house, but instead it was an extension of the living room. You stumbled back against the chest of this man… Adam.

“This isn’t the haunted house.” Your eyes darted around the room. You noticed the ropes gone. “That means you… really are Adam.”

The man rolled his eyes at your comment. “Obviously.”

The edges of your vision drew in, fuzzy and black. You hit the floor with a thud. The man poked at your body with his bare foot.

“Oh dear.”

-

The sofa underneath you was both hard and soft. The padding worn through in places and essentially new in others, signifying the favorite sitting spots. As your eyes fluttered open, you made out a figure sitting at your feet, staring.

“You’re awake.” Adam commented. His voice held no malice but no concern either, but rather a statement of fact.

“I am. How the hell did I get here?” You rubbed the side of your head and took inventory and found nothing more serious than a bruised ego.

“I was about to ask you the same.” Adam commented. “This is my home. No one comes here. Ever. And how do you know about Eve?”

“You’re a character. In a movie. So is Eve. And this is the setting of it. Along with Ian and Ava.” you sputtered out.

Adam rolled his eyes at the mention of Ava. “Don’t say that name. And who’s Ian?”

“Ian. The musician guy who brings you stuff. Like guitars and what not.”

“There is no Ian.” He rose. “You need to leave.”

“But I don’t belong here!”

“Precisely why you should leave.” He offered a gloved hand to you.

“I don’t mean here.” You pointed at the couch. “I mean this universe, dimension, whatever you call it.”

Adam stared at you for a long time. You fidgeted under his gaze.

“Please let me stay. Just for one night. I’ll be gone before sunset tomorrow.” You crossed your heart with your fingers.

“Fine.” Adam walked away, exiting the room. You stood and stared at the instruments in the room. You reached out to touch one of them. “No touching!” Adam’s voice called out from someone in the house.

“How do you do that?” you whispered.

“Vampire hearing.” He came back into view. He shrugged his shoulders. “Since you seem to know so much, figured that wasn’t a secret.”

You smiled. “No it wasn’t. Which one is your favorite?” You spun in place.

“I don’t have favorites.” Adam sat down on the couch.

He opened up a metal canister and poured out a small amount of blood into a crystal cordial glass.

“Oh shit. You’re eating….” You backed away. “I should…”

In your haste, you crossed your legs over each other and lost your balance, slamming into the coffee table. The glass, the canister and the papers on the table went airborne. Blood seeped onto the floor, staining the carpet and the hardwood underneath as the canister hit the ground. Papers flittered in the air to the ground. Adam’s eyes narrowed at you.

“You have more, right?” His lips pulled tight. “Sorry?!”

Adam’s eyes darkened. “No, I don’t have more!” His voice raised and sharp. “You stupid zombie.”

“Maybe I can help?”

“You keep a refrigerated stash of O negative in your purse in case of emergencies?”

“No, but…” You tugged off your jacket and rolled up your sleeve. “I am O negative.”

Adam sneered at you. “You’re probably poisoned.”

“Have to have a social life to do that.” You offered up a wrist. “It’s the least I can do. Since I spilled your stash.” You shoved your wrist at him again. “Drink.”

Adam sat silent, your offer over in his head. “Come here.”

You strolled towards him, still holding out your arm. You winced and turned away. Adam chuckled.

“Sit down.” his voice offered no compromise. You plopped down next to him.

“Be gentle.” You closed your eyes and turned away.

You expected a sharp pain in your wrist, not soft lips against the curve of your neck.

“It’s better this way.” Adam’s breath hot on your neck, causing the hairs to stand on end.

“Better in what way?” you asked, trembling. Why did it feel so cold all of a sudden?

“Better for me.” He muttered against you as his teeth sunk into your flesh.

You gasped as pain flooded your body. Your hands clawed against Adam’s neck and chest. He twisted your body to lie flat against the couch, pinning you under his body. His lips sucked against your tender skin, not only drinking your blood, but marking you.

Adam shifted his legs, splaying them on either side. A hot meal, he thought. What a novelty. As the warmth of you coursed through him, things stirred. He pressed his pelvis against you. You moaned in response, not wanting to admit how long it had been since another… I guess you could say man… touch you how Adam was touching you.

As he released your neck, Adam sighed. “Oh yes.” His fangs poked out from his lips. His eyes, a solid black pupil. “You shall do nicely.”

He pulled you roughly to sitting.

“Do nicely for what?” you mumbled, lightheaded. You swayed side to side.

“To feed my hunger. All of my hunger.” He growled, licking along your neck before sucking one last drink from your neck., darkening the mark further.

“What about Eve?”

“Eve’s dead. Or didn’t you realize? Ava.” He heaved your body over his shoulder.

“What? Dead?!” You tried to lift your head, but it weighed a ton.

“Two years. Two years alone. Until you.” He laid you down on a soft bed in a spare bedroom.

“Hmmm…” Everything grew dark around the edges. “Until me.”

“And now you’re mine.” He closed the door and locked it from the outside.

Sirens went off in the back of the head but sleep took over before you could react.

[chuuulip]

Another Earth

Pairing: August Walker (werewolf) x Female Reader (red ridding hood)

Warning: 18+, PWP, Oral (M and F receiving), Unprotected Sex, Multiple Orgasm, Slightly ABO Universe, Rough Sex

Words: 7434

Summary: After a failed attempt to sign up for the Halloween haunted house to meet your Superman, the last minute ticket turned your night upside down as you were stuck in another earth.

A/N: Unbeta! Any grammar mistake will be on me. Divider by me 😆 This is for @jtargaryen18​ Halloween challenge, and I’m pretty late! Sorry for that life has been busy xD I still have another one in progress (the Andy barber one) and hopefully can post it soon! Thanks to @navybrat817​ and @venusdemonroe​ for giving me the idea for this story and help me discuss what a werewolf August Walker would do in this lol. Actually I wanted to mention a lot....of things but I guess it would be too much for a one shot lil but anyway Happy reading!!!

***

This year's Halloween event was mental. Several big haunted houses are hosted by celebrities. To name a few, there's an Avengers Tower haunted house, The Hall of Justice League, The X-Mansion, and even Walking Dead one. 

 You knew it wasn't easy. All of them have a huge fandom. The ticket was sold out immediately when it was open for sale, like 3 months before Halloween, and you were terribly upset. You were whining for a month straight to your boyfriend. Or more like your sugar daddy. He was patient and wealthy, but he knew he can't satisfy you enough, so he usually did everything he could for you. But that time, you just have none of it. The relationship, if you could ever say that, fell out immediately because you were unreasonable.

 You really wanted to go to The Hall of Justice League and maybe meet Clark Kent. The obsession started because he always visited your dream and mostly engaged in the steamiest dream ever. It's been your wildest dream, really, to have that body blanketed yours, in a really not innocent way.

 Just one day before Halloween, you finally secured one ticket for The Hall of Justice League haunted house. Of course, the first thing you did was scream. You had been on their waiting list since the ticket sold out, but you really lost hope since last week. But now, you celebrate it with a bit of a jump and constant scream.

 "What the fuck?" Your only housemate barged into your bedroom. Face annoyed.

 You stopped your silly jumps and looked at your housemate. With a broad smile, you hug your housemate and shake her body, "I got it! I got the ticket for The Hall of Justice League haunted house! Can you believe that?"

 The redhead hugged you, and both of you jumped in a circle. "Oh my gosh...I can't believe it! Congrats!!! I really hope you will meet your Kryptonite." she gave you her suggestive smirk.

 "I mean...a girl can only hope. But this is a charity event. I don't think he will be available. What if it's all a decoy and I only meet his wax figure?" you pouted at your friend.  

 "Well, at least you have the opportunity to see it yourself. But remember, behave, young lady, don't let him if he's there, I mean, witness your brattiness."

 "Aye...aye Captain!" you giggled but immediately gave your housemate a military saluted.

 That night you dreamed of those big blue eyes and his firm, fantastic arms on yours.

 ***

 Dress in your red riding hood costume, you patiently sat in the backseat of the Uber car. Well, maybe a little bit impatient, since it's already 11pm. 

 Everything just went down the hill since morning. You can't seem to find your Poison Ivy costume. Not to mention that you were late for work that morning. Your boss was a bitch since she seems annoyed at you every time the male employee or investor became too friendly with you. 

 Who can blame you? You were just good at acting all cute to them, and it's not your fault that they mostly thought you were a cute little employee. 

 You check your wrist. The expensive rose gold watch from your ex sugar daddy elegantly pointed at 11.30 pm. You sighed, "do you know how long I will arrive at my destination? It will close soon."

 "Hopefully, in 10 minutes. Dunno why it's jam-packed." Said the Uber driver.

 You huffed in exasperation, but there's nothing you can do. You arrived very last minute, like 15 minutes before the haunted house closed. Wearing black stiletto boots, you carefully made a small run into the stairs. The booth was stationed to the far left of the building. 

 "Good night, little red riding hood; you are lucky because we are almost closed. Can I see your ticket, please?" A man dressed as Edwar Scissorhands greeted you at the far left of the building. 

 You fished out your smartphone from your small basket bag and showed him your barcode. He scanned it and looked at the monitor in front of him. "Hmm, here for a kryptonite, aren't you." He eyed you up and down and smirked at you. "I hope you have a spooky night, little girl." 

 You smile at him and sashay your way to the entrance. Apparently, they makeover a warehouse into a vast real-life Justice League Hall. Like in the comic. A white half-circle exterior completed with two giant pillars at each side imitated the picture you only seen in comic books. It looks so magnificent. 

 You entered the door after you scanned your barcode at the scanner next to it. The whooshing noises startle you a bit, but you were too excited and step in immediately. 

 The inside was bright with a black marble flooring that shone bright; you even can see your reflection. There's a different section of the silvery door like in most sci-fi, alien invasion movies. So futuristic, so clinical. 

 You darted your eyes and found where you needed to go. A small rectangle monitor with a very digital clock font in it showed you 'Krypton' words. Without hesitation, you did a little run and waited in front of it. The small rectangle monitored turned to green, and it shone. It startled you, but you let out a sigh of relief when it just scanned your body from your head to toe. 

 "So much for a haunted house." You muttered. 

 When the door opened, you stepped in. It was a glass elevator. You circled your eyes and found everything was dark. When the elevator ran, bringing you down several floors, the surrounding changed. 

 Once, the darkness engulfed you like you were being shipped to the deep ocean, but it changed dramatically. Your eyes darted in awe as you drank on the scenery. The scenery of what you would call the imitation of Planet Krypton. So beautiful yet so harsh. 

 When the elevator stopped, the ding noise pulled you to the present. With excitement, you grabbed your smartphone and took several pictures of the scenery. It was just so surreal that a haunted house would make something like this. But you remember how expensive the ticket was.

 "This three grant haunted house better give me a chance to fuck a real-life Clark Kent." you cackled. 

 There's a weird tower with a green light on top of it. You assumed some futuristic objects were supposed to be 'kryptonite' as it floated sparsely in most parts of the supposed Krypton. A bit further, you could see a white crystal-like triangle building. Oddly enough, it reminded you of the Louvre Pyramid. This one just full of crystal-like pillars crisscrossed it. 

 Didn't want to waste your time, you decided what path you should choose. It wasn't easy. Your stiletto pierced to the weird substrate like mud but also crystal-like as if it's ice. Carefully, you mind your footing while again stayed alert. There's this odd feeling of being watched. But you reminded yourself that you were in a haunted house, so it's understandable.

 You let out a loud scream when suddenly a mummy appeared behind one of the floated crystals. "Holy shit, I didn't see that coming." you try to slow down your breath as you clutched the white ruffle shirt under your red corset.

 When you feel that you can walk again, you try to do it faster. Several times it looks like the Krypton had shifted in its light as if the sun rose and shone, but the next five minutes, it set. Made the scenery look like it was illuminated by the crystal alone, like a lamp.

 When many ghost-like mannequins showed up, it got scarier and scarier, and you immediately lowered your hood to shield you from some view. Your eyes perked up when you finally saw the path to the Fortress of Solitude. It was more like an icy bridge with a dark pond surrounding it. 

 As your right foot stepped onto the bridge, a loud noise of a clock surprised you. It struck once and counted until it stopped at the twelfth. It was so loud it's voice echoed. You can even feel it under the sole of your boots. 

 Stunned for a moment, your mind suddenly set on alert mode when the water from both ponds on each side of the bridge rippled. A dinosaur-like head appeared from both ponds. It has a single protruding horn. It opened its mouth and let out a loud growl. A blast of wind came out of it like a thunderstorm. It has sharp teeth like sharks that you assumed could quickly rip your body apart if it sank on yours. 

 "Holy shit. This is— this is a joke, right? It's not real?" Body trembled in fear; you ran your life out to the Fortress of Solitude. The monsters crawled up out of the water. Its slithered movement mimicked a snake, but it didn't have any problem crawling up without things to latch on. 

 You screamed as both of the monsters chased you. Run as fast as your legs allow you. This haunted house event might be too much for you. When you can see an oval object that looks like it can be a big mirror or a huge door, your gloved palms immediately bang on it. "Open the door!" You screamed. When the door finally opened, the two snake-like monsters that chased you suddenly disappeared.

 "Oh— oh my god. Oh my god…," you chanted as you let yourself drop down on the floor. 

 "I see you finally make it." 

 Your face turned to the left. In front of you, stood up tall and proud, Clark Kent with his superman costume. He's just so big. If you compared your tiny body to him, you definitely, nothing.

 You replied to Superman's bright smile with a scowl. Slowly you got up from the floor and cleaned your skirt. "Isn't that just too much? What if I fell to the pond? I can't swim, you know?"  

 He seems surprised, "apologized my lady. It was something the organizer will handle. I don't think they mean any harm."

 "Yeah...yeah… right." you walked closer to the hero and already fished out your mobile phone. "So… what did I need to do now I meet you, Superman?"

 "Hmm… most attendants ask for pictures. Some of them spent time just talking with me. Since you are the last one, you can take as many pictures as you like and of course. If you have any questions about my protection for the earth, I will gladly answer it." The tone in his voice was more soft than authoritative. 

 Think of not sabotaging your Halloween any longer; you tried to forgive the silliness of the whole new level of scary from this haunted house. It's hard not to show off your brattiness in this kind of situation. Still, you reminded yourself that he was someone you weren't familiar with—practically a stranger.

 Gave him a sweet smile, you took several pictures with him. At one time, you tried to bat your eyelashes at him and asked for a picture where you sat on his lap. You spent a solid 15 minutes talking to the handsome alien. Your fingers touched his biceps here and there. You knew that he knew what you were implying, but he didn't refuse you either. At least not blatantly.

 "I apologized, my dear, but I think it's already time." Superman gently put you back on your feet. You gave him an upset face, but you knew it's time to go home. You bid the handsome man goodbye and sneaked a kiss on his cheeks. There's a twinge of pink on his cheeks, and you jump triumphantly at that reaction. Of course, behind his back.

 Following the word of 'exit' behind the piles of the crystal-like shape props, you opened the door. The scenery in front of you caught you off guard. The harshed white tundra scenery was replaced by now dark, almost jungly like one. Unconsciously you stepped back and turned your body to come back to the exit door. How shocked you were when it vanished. Disappear without a trace.

 As far as your eyes could see, it's only darkness and mist. Only the full moon aided your visions. The exhalation of your breath came out like a plume of white steam. It's definitely colder here than the fake Krypton one. The cold air seeped into your skin quickly as if you were actually in the deep of a forest. 

 With a loud sigh, you walk straight. You tumbled and fell down on your knees as your boots got caught with something: either roots or a massive branch. 

 Tired and frightened, you screamed loudly. You weren't sure if this was the continuation of the haunted house or not, but what you want right now just to be back in your apartment and soaked in a warm, relaxing bath. 

 "Get me out of here!" you yelled again. There's a lot of sounds as if a lot of people stepping on branches. A screeching sound of an owl surprised you, but you tried to follow its direction with your ears. 

 There's no way you will wait here and do nothing. Oh...my phone! You fished out your smartphone, but it showed no signal. "Shit!." you muttered. 

 The sounds from a far away crept closed, and you knew it. "You can do it! There's nothing more frightening than that monster snake." tried to encourage yourself; you stood up and slowly navigated. You followed the noises that now closer, like an animalistic growl. It was so intense you can feel all the goosebumps rise up your skin. 

 You weren't sure how long you have been walking, but you stopped suddenly when there's not only a pair but like 7 pairs of reddish eyes glowed in the dark. 

 "Come here, little lamb. Don't follow that voice." a vaguely familiar voice distracted you from stepping forward. 

 "Who the fuck are you, and why you get in my way just now." your voice came out hoarse. There's a twinge of fear in it, and you knew it. You felt like backed down wasn't the best option you had right now.

 "I said, come here, or else I can't even save you when they get you." 

 You stilled as if you didn't hear him talking to you. "Wasn't this still one of the tricks from the haunted house? To let the people scramble in fear?" 

 "Are you out of your mind? Come here right now, or I left you to death. They will either rip you apart or play your body like a ragdoll before one of them eats you." 

 You screamed in horror as one pair of red eyes slowly came out. It's huge. Almost four feet of canine shook its fur. 

 You were hyperventilating right now. Body rooted to the ground as you were surrendered. Welcoming your fate. 

 "Fuck!" 

 You heard a curse from behind your back. Maybe the stranger gave up and left you alone to be eaten by the wolves. 

 The scrunched sound of leaves crushed was loud. Suddenly you felt strong arms hauled you upside down. 

 Your eyes faced the skin of someone's back. You craned your neck a little bit to get a better view of the wolf. Screamed escaped your lips when you saw not only one but all of them, in a pack, chased both of you. 

 "Stay still." The stranger yelled. 

 Did the best thing to not get thrown out by his weird, fast speed, you secured your thumbs in his belt loops. He ran, escaped the pack inside the deep of what looked like a pine forest. 

 You weren't sure how long you ran with him, but you felt that he's finally slowed down. 

 When the thud thud sound reached your ears, you opened your eyes and saw that the stranger walked up a stair.  

 You felt nauseated when he suddenly put you to sit on something that was apparently a countertop. The rushes of blood that circulated through your body made you regain your sense of surroundings. 

 "Where am I?" you didn't mean to add an ungrateful tone in your sentence, but it was too late.

 The stranger eyed you like you were some sort of ungrateful bitch, which maybe you are. "At my cabin," he said flatly.

 You haven't had time to look at him in the forest, but now, under the actual lighting inside his house, what you saw might instantly make you drooled, which you already did right now. Stand up in front of you, a shirtless beefy tall man that's definitely more than six feet tall. He has short dark brown hair with a somewhat thick mustache that's complemented by a stubble. The front strands of his hair were loose and slightly curled. Looks likely due to all the running.  

 The sudden chill of air made you shiver, and he didn't miss your reaction. He left you for a minute and came back with a rug. The sudden heat from it, when he draped the fabric on your shoulder made you let out a gasp of satisfaction. 

 But the next thing you know, he ripped your stocking. You were shocked, eyeing him in horror. "What the fuck are you doing?!" You threw whatever things that's on your reach. The loud sound of glass hit the wall, and the strong grip on your wrist instantly made your stop.

 "Be still!" His azure irises left no room for confrontation. When you felt a sting on your knees, that's when you realized that he just pressed some gauze on it. Likely soaked with alcohol first. There's quite a prominent stain of blood on your legs, and it almost made you nauseated. 

 "If you stop acting like a brat, you'll heal faster." He looked at you with that cocky smile of confidence. "Understood?" 

 You just nodded at him. He continued to clean the blood and inspect the wounds. The position where you were sitting right now made it easier to study him carefully. 

 Although you felt the temperature decreased significantly, the beefy stranger in front of you appeared very sweaty. 

 Immediately your gaze ran down to his neck and continued its way to his chest and his abs. The unmistakable bulge under his pants made you squirm unconsciously. You were in a haze of fear and lust; you definitely insane. 

 "Wha— what's your name, sir?" 

 His strong gazed felt as if his eyes alone can subdue you. Maybe he has these laser eyes like Cyclops, your inner thought buzzed with speculation.

 "August. My name is August Walker. What's your name, little lamb?" 

 How dare this man call you a little lamb? You cleared your throat and told him your name and where you were from.

 "New York? It's pretty far from here." He patched you up nicely. The water-resistant gauze looked really neat pressed on your knees and some on your shin. You were impressed.

 When your eyes returned to August, you gave him a smile that you hoped looked like a smile of gratitude. Not the kind of smile you always presented to any potential partner in bed, sultry, and flirtatious.  

 "I— I haven't said anything but— thanks. Thank you for saving my life." Your left fingers instinctively pat his right arms. The feeling of his skin startled you. It's warm; in fact, it felt like he had a very high fever.

 "Are— are you alright? Your temperature feels off." 

 "Don't mind me. Just take care of yourself." 

 You knew there's something off with him, but you weren't sure if you had a clear mind to think right now. Not with the wolf pack outside and his words on New York being far away from here. Where the fuck am I? 

 "I… I have a—,"

 "I suggest you stay here if you don't want to meet them."

 "But I…,"

 "You can use the bedroom there," his hand pointed to the door on the far end. "Feel free to use anything you want. Just don't come to the basement. I will meet you after a couple of days, and we figured things out." 

 His authoritative voice and dominant persona immediately made you want to counter his suggestion. The funny thing was, looked like he sensed it.

 He approached you, face just inches away from you. Your eyes immediately glanced away from the delicious plane of his sweaty chest. His fingers drew your chin up, so both of your eyes were at the same level. "Do what I said, understand?. Thrust me; you don't want to know the consequences if you violate my suggestion."

 Suggestion, my ass! Your inner mind ready to throw insults at him, but you quickly held it back. In the end, you nodded at him obediently.

 —

 That night you were restless. But in a weird sense, you felt comfortable staying in that cabin. The first night after August left you to your own devices, you had been pretty careful. Not touched a lot of things except food and items that help you with your long bath. 

 His cabin was quite spacious. The interior was a mix of something slicked and modern with an equal touch of classic. Tried to look homey. Not to mention his bathroom, it's super luxurious and made you feel at home instantly. Reminded you of your ex (sugar daddy's) bathroom. 

 Since you couldn't find another bedroom in that cabin and you don't feel like sleeping on the couch, you slept in his bed instead. After all, he said you can use the bedroom there. Still wearing your red riding hood costume, you slipped under the soft comforter. 

 After that, you woke up feeling a bit groggy. Aimlessly wandered around the kitchen, you weren't sure what to do first. Tried collecting your bearing, you tried to make a coffee. Or any equivalent things of it. Everything felt different; you just knew it. When the only thing you could find was several jars that you assumed were granules of tea, you brew it. You sat on the sofa that faced up a lake. The wall was made of glass, making everything well seen. 

 You walked closer and gazed at the vast pine forest in front of you. The trees were tall and big, so majestic. Somewhat it's different from the pine trees you usually see. The lake in front of you looked like it had two different colors, fusion together with weird looking fishes and plants that should grow on the land instead of water. Where the fuck am I? 

 The next day, you woke up feeling a little bit refreshed. You changed your slutty costume into one of the clothes you found in his closet. It was so soft and comfy. You knew when things were from high-quality material.  

 You continued your days by drinking your tea, ate whatever breakfast you can munch, and read a book that has these unusual fonts. You were sure it wasn't in the alphabet, but one day you absentmindedly swipe your fingers on some of the pages, and the font changed. Hell, it even translated into English in an instant. You were definitely impressed. 

 One thing you are sure of was, this place was strange. Wherever you were right now, it didn't look like it's on earth. Or the earth that you knew. Why were you so calm? Because you already freak out. After you freak out, you also wondered, did the haunted house event organizer realized that they were the culprit behind what the fuck happened to you right now? Did your housemate recognize that you weren't home for days? Or maybe she thought you fuck the Superman or perhaps found another sugar daddy? It was so absurd yet so real.

 The last two nights, you were struck in awe as your eyes were spoiled by two moons. Two fuckin moons. It was always quiet at night, but you heard all the howls that you suspected likely from the pack of those giant wolves.   

 It was pretty late, almost midnight. You finally found your small bag hindered under the sofa that evening. Now…, now you had some time to check it. The first thing you checked was if there's a signal. Definitely no signal at all. 

 You curled up on August bed while swiping the pictures on your phone. When you scrolled your pictures with Superman, you realized why August seems familiar. It was none other than August having quite the same face, the same build, even somewhat similar voices with Superman. 

 "Fuck...maybe I should ask August if he would like to be my Daddy while I'm here." Imagining him spoiled you with gifts and other physical attention made you chuckled at yourself. 

 Your fingers instinctively crawled under the gray long sleeve shirt you borrowed from his closet (again). Your brain projected an image as if it was August's hands that ran on your upper thigh. Find its way quickly to your wet core. Two fingers slipped under the black lace panty. The panty that you need to wash daily due to no other replacement available. Left you a couple hours with only his buttoned-up shirt without anything underneath. 

 The sound of a loud howl startled you. It was as if it circled you in close range. Moved as fast as you can, you snatched the oversize robe on you. Your eyes tried to creep behind the curtain in the bedroom. 

 You knew the owner of this cabin stated that you can't go to the basement. You wouldn't be so lucky if that giant wolf found you first and broke in. Although you haven't been really out of the cabin, you tried to inspect a little bit and found it odd that this cabin was apparently a treehouse-style cabin. How come there's a basement in the house.

 You exit the bedroom and go to the kitchen when you last saw August a couple nights ago. Next to the slick wooden cabinet was a particular thing that looked like a door. The surface of your palms works like a stethoscope, felt as if something with pressure from your hands. You tried not to get disturbed by the nonstop howl outside. When you hear something as if the door was shifted, you immediately step back. 

 "Oh my, finally…," you slipped inside the small door when it opened automatically. It was a small narrow corridor-like, and it was dark. Walk inside carefully, you follow the path that leads you to another door. The metal door let out a weird creaked as you pushed it open. 

 "Didn't I tell you not to come down here?" 

 Shocked was evident in your face when you heard his rather gruff tone. You step over, closer to where he sat, that looks more likely an even bigger size of the bed than the one he had upstairs.    

"Don't —,"

 He warned you, but you being you, could never obey orders. Although challenging, your eyes finally adapt to the only natural light from the glass wall. That said, you were totally confused as you can see the lake parallel to your eyes. 

 "What the… wait, how there's even a basement down here? Last time I checked, the cabin is a treehouse?"

 "It's camouflage. No one can't see it or enter from outside."

 "Holy… why there's a three moon?" you switched your gaze from the moon to August. Curiosity got the better of you when you saw his irises were now pale blue. You can still see the outer form that is August, but something was off. 

 A gasp escaped your lips as August rose up from the bed. The powerful moon shone his feature. He was taller, bulkier, and dangerous as he stalked towards you slowly. Your heart thumped erratically as you were cornered. Back supported by the glass wall as now you can see August in his other form. 

 "Holy shit. Wha—what are you?"

 "Told you not to go here, and you just can't listen, little lamb." his smirk turned maniacal as he looked at the fear on your face. His white fangs, longer than usual. His fingers also look unusual, claw-like. 

 "Are you— are you a werewolf?" 

 "Well...you can say that. I'm half human half wolf if you are curious." 

 "So why— why did you save me?"

 The tip of his nose inched closer to yours. You held your breath when his warm skin touched you. It moved to your left cheek and stopped near your ear. "I'm curious," he whispered.

 "I haven't really met a pure human in the same age range. So I have followed you since I saw you step out of that door. I follow you until you meet the other wolf pack, and I decide to help you instead of fulfilling my need." 

 "What need?" you asked him, dumbfounded.

 "This," he pulled away from you, his claw-like finger pointed out below his hip. Focusing on the long and hard appendage that was unmistakably, his cock.

 "Oh—I- I'm sorry?" you gave him your best apologetic face. Eyes seemed eager to stare longer, but you gazed away quickly. Wait, why did you apologize to him? You cleared your throat, "I— I actually not sure what I should do to help?" tilted your head to the right, you looked him in the eyes, almost challenged him.

 Despite almost getting eaten by wolves, August's menacing presence didn't really scare you. Maybe the fact that he was still human and less scary made it easy for you. Not to mention he's hot too, with all his glory. 

 His somewhat evil chuckled sent shivers down your spine. "If you really wanted to help, I think you know what to do, don't you?"

 "W-wait—is—does this mean we 'mate'?" you gave him a somewhat weird expression. "And—and you bite me, give me marks that I'm yours? And knot me, and I will have a litter of puppies, and I become your omega—,"

 His pale blue eyes stared at you as if you grew two heads. It softened immediately as he smiled. Broad one showed you a set of white teeth with extra long fangs. 

 "Oh, my little lamb...what have you read?"

 "Err— Omega verse? Fanfic?"

 He blinked. Gave you a quizzical expression.

 "It's— it's erotica. Where mostly the character you know—," you darted your eyes away from August. "—mate, err have sex. Mostly was written very explicitly."

 "Go on." He said.

 "They are wolves, scenting, imprinting. An alpha mates with omega, and it's been told in a variety of plots possible. Sometimes two alphas fight too." You were breathless. You didn't realize you explained it to him in a quick, incoherent way. 

 You staggered backward as he came closer, forgetting that you already cornered. His long fingers reached out to the white robe you put on you. Although his fingers had claws that looked alarming to you, his hand still skillfully unfastened the robe.

 "That's a bit of an exaggeration, I think. Pack and hierarchies usually form just for a mating season; they hunt together for food and shelter in the winter. We might be scenting people, I guess. After all, we have a very sensitive sense of smell. But no, we don't bite our mate." He took off the robe from your body, left you only with his grey buttoned-up shirt.

 "Well...I love that you are wearing my shirt as if you are mine already."

 You purse your lips at him. "Why aren't you in a pack? Isn't it a mating season?" 

 "I mostly can control myself during the full moon. That's the advantage of being half-human. I don't need to transform myself into a wolf and be in a pack. But I am an alpha if that's what you are curious about."

 "Can-can you turn back to your human form? Not like—you know, you aren't in your human form, bu—," your words were cut off by his thumb on your lips. 

 "You talk too much, aren't you, little lamb…," August leaned down and touched his lips to yours. Your first reaction was to freeze since you were afraid of his fangs. But his surprisingly soft lips coaxed you relentlessly, making you surrender as you closed your eyes. Opening your mouth, his tongue sneaked past your lips easily. His fangs poke at your lower lips, but it didn't hurt.

 The non so innocent kiss became more desperate. Your once shied tongue now dances together with August. Your once clasped palms that were situated on top of your chest now scraped at his shoulder. 

 Your eyes fluttered open as August nipped down from your jaw to your neck. Forgotten, you even close your eyes in the first place. His claw-like fingers unbuttoned his shirt on yours without difficulty, left you only in your black lace panty. 

 The feeling of temperature as if dropped significantly made you glued your body to August. Smooth skin of your chest pressed to his hot hairy one, seeking warmth. One hand secured behind your back while the other palm on your ass. Massage the globe there. 

 "Ohh…" you gasped as you felt his finger on your clothed core. 

 "Hmm… wet already, I see." he let the pad of his finger move up to your clit, while the movement of the claw added sensation to your already. Seeing your reaction, he repeated it a couple times. Made you a mess with only one of his fingers.  

 Arched your body a little bit, you were thrilled to see his expression. Traveled your hands down from his hairy chest; your eyes still focused on his face, while your palms found their way to his hard cock. 

 "Oh, so big…," slowly at first, you ran your hands at the tip of his cock. Even without looking at it, you knew it's definitely bigger than any cock you've ever seen. 

 Eyes widened as your hand slid down to the base. The other weighed his balls. "Holy…," your eyes looked down, stared in awe at his cock. 

 "Careful little lamb, you drooled on it."

 "Who's not?" You eyed him in disbelief.

 August let out a weird laugh, "I expect you to worship it, then." He looked at you with a bemused expression as you quickly worked on his length. Stroked it up and down repeatedly. 

 You go down on your knees, eyes crossed as you focused on his slit that oozed pre-cum. Unconsciously, you stuck out your tongue and brushed it on his slit. Wrapped your right hand at the base of his cock, your gaze rose up to meet his. Left handheld on his upper thigh for support as your lips covered the heat of his cock. You bobbed your head calculatedly as you accommodate him halfway. 

 "Such a good little lamb for your wolf, aren't you." August's right hand was at the back of your head as he nudged you none too gently. Made you choke at his cock, and pulled it out from your mouth. You gazed at the mix of your saliva and his precum in awe. But it didn't last long as August pulled you to your feet and picked you up. 

 He climbed up on the bed with you and laid on his back. He situated your hips and pulled it closer, so your opening was hovering on top of his face. On all four, for him. August was rewarded with a yelped and a moan as his tongue licked your clothed core. 

 The sound of fabric being ripped made you turn your head to the right. "That's my only pa— ohhh," your protest died right away as his tongue lapped your opening. The feel of his claws as he spread your ass cheeks added wonder to your pussy. 

 Trying to keep yourself busy, you swallowed the head of his cock for a starter. His cock was too big for you; your mouth can only allow half of it. Diligently, you tried to move your tongue while you suck on his cock, hands slid up and down. Feeling all the veins that encircled his length made you shuddered.

 August bucked his hips as you put one of your hands to massaging his balls. The action made you gagged as his cock entered further than before. But it didn't take a long time for you to stop due to his sudden attack on your pussy. 

 His tongue was not lapped at you anymore; it rammed inside your wet core like a starved man. You squealed as the end of his fangs scrapped at your now wet pussy. The pressure on your clit as the pad of his fingers made a circular motion left you breathless. It drove you to your high faster than you ever experienced. A surprised scream left off your lips as his tongue scraped your most sensitive part. Your body quivered as your inner walls spasm, hands held on his cock as you ride your high. 

 "Ohh— my god, ohh—my god—," you can still feel the kitten licked as August feasted on it. 

 "Ahh—that' s—that's good." You let your head rested on his left thigh. 

 "Now, for the main course." August's gruff tone pulled you back from your hazy state. His hard cock was evident on your right hand. 

 You felt your body shifted position, and now you were on your back. August spread your legs wide and shifted his position. The feeling of his heavy cock on top of your pussy made you nervous but also excited. Unconsciously you nibbled your forefingers while eyes traveled down to his long and hard cock. It made an up and down motion on your opening. You can feel your wet pussy clenched in frustration, ready to be filled. 

 "August please…," still nibbled at your fingers, you gaze at the wolf on top of you, one elbow supporting your upper body. He's so big, literally and figuratively. If you can't come back to your world, so be it. You didn't mind staying and being his plaything as long as he wanted you. 

 "Please, what my little lamb?" You pouted at that. You definitely weren't a little lamb. If anything, you should be the succubus. 

 "Please put that in me—," you writhed underneath him. 

 "Please put what?" His big body tower over you. His pupils dilated and only left a small ring of pale blue irises. His clawed fingers move up and down your thigh.

 "Ple—please, ohhhh, put that cock inside me! Fuck me, my wolf— nhhh—," your plead was answered when August suddenly pushed the head of his cock on your opening. 

 The back of your head fell to rest on the thick pillow as the intrusion of August's cock sent a surprising jolt on your body. You knew he's big. But when his cock finally spread your lips open and entered you, the overwhelming sensation was something you still didn't expect. 

 "Ohh— so big—," your pussy clenched immediately when August tried to push deeper but also slowly. The noticeable ridge of his vein scraped at your inner wall deliciously. With closed eyes, you gripped the edge of the pillow as you mumbled about how full you feel right now. 

 "Work your clit for me. Yes...make that tight pussy cream on my cock."

 "Oh—like this?" Your fore and middle fingers slowly pulled the hood and made a circular motion as August asked. 

 "Yes… Just like that…."

 It didn't take you long enough to feel the fast buildup on your lower belly. Something that never happened before. "Ohh—yes—I'm going to cum, my—ahhh," you work your clit faster as August cock made a shallow fuck inside you. 

 "Yes, cum on my cock, my little lamb. I want to see your pretty face when you cum for your wolf." His wolf tone deliciously affected your body. His growl sent an extra twitch on your clit. And you lose it when he thrust all the way inside your wet pussy. 

 You scream in ecstasy as your pussy quivered uncontrollably on his hard cock. You feel so full. The feeling of his cock all the way inside you made your brain feel as if it was submerged. Forgotten that you ever closed your eyes, you were rewarded by a sly smirk on August werewolf's face. His eyes were now all dark. His hair loosened, made the curls of it fall to his forehead. 

 "I see you enjoying yourself, my little lamb." His claws caressed your thigh gently.

 "Nnn—of course, I ahhh—I am." A little movement from August made you aware that his cock still inside you. Hard as a rock. 

 August lifted up both your knees and secured it with his hands. You lifted your upper body with your elbows as he retrieved his cock from your wet core. You gasped when you witnessed August pulled it out, inches by inches. Left only the head inside you.

 You moaned when he pushed again. Stretched you like no one else ever had. He did it slowly, knew that you still adapt to his girth. But the feeling when the tip of his cock scraped your most sensitive part every time he thrust inside you, you were tripped to your high even faster than before. 

 The moan of pleasure became incoherent as August sped up his pace. Repeated syllables of ahhh and ohhh accompanied your plead for him to fuck you like you were a female wolf. Released his pent up frustration to mate. 

 Both of you fuck like an animal who just needs to reproduce. Lust clouded the atmosphere in the room. Moaned and growled were sung like a prayer under the moonlight that shone its way to the basement. 

 His balls slapped against your ass every time he plugged in inside you. Sweats trickled down your body, and it looked even animalistic in August. His werewolf form was so majestic that you just wholly let him own you. 

 His feracious fucking looked like almost to its limit. The buzzed on your lower belly was ready to explode, but you held it.

"Fuck!" He growled.

 "Uhh—uhh—uhh—cum in me. Yes—cum in me, my wolf— filled me up with your thick hot cum!" You pleaded like a bitch in heat. 

 August slammed his cock deep inside you as he screamed and let out a long howl. The feel of his warm cum inside you triggered your orgasm. You wail as your inner walls contracted and squeezed his cock. Spurt and spurt of his cum filled your womb to the brim. Something that you never allowed any of your partners to do in the past. 

 You didn't realize that you lock both your ankles behind August ass. But also you sensed something changed. August was draped on top of your body, head sneaked at the crook of your neck. Still, in a haze caused by the release of oxytocin in your bloodstream, you missed the way August kissed turned into something more. He bit you. 

 The still clouded brain of yours pop-up an image of you becoming August omega. His only mate. Bear a litter of pups for him and live happily ever after in his house, in his world. Your pussy unconsciously clenched at his cock that was still inside you. You never really said this to anyone, but you imagine you live in another world since the first time you ever read a story about omega verse. 

 You mewled when the biting stopped. Maybe August bit you just for fun. When he craned his head up to look at you, something was different. His eyes turned back to his azure color. His fangs now short, back to its regular human teeth, and his body wasn't as hairy as he's before. He's practically not in his werewolf form anymore. 

 "You changed? Why?"

 He looked at you with his quizzical expression. "You wanted me to return to my werewolf form?" 

 You glanced away from him and kind of embarrassed to declare that his werewolf form was way hotter than his human form. Not that his human form wasn't hot either. Damn, you definitely bang him every time you can, but his werewolf form just made you curl your toes in an instant. 

 You cleared your throat and looked him in the eyes, "I like it very much."

 "Well...the full moon is still in the sky for quite some time. Are you ready for the next round, my little lamb?"

 "Yes, my wolf." You purred seductively at him and witnessed in delight his transformation before your eyes.

***

Comment, like and reblog are highly desirable! Spread the filthiness lol 💋

[awesomerextyphoon]

Slit Reflection

This is my entry for @jtargaryen18​​’s Haunted House 2020 Challenge. Mine was Sam Wilson. Credit for dividers goes to @firefly-graphics​. Check them out!

Summary: You’ve always loved Halloween, especially the haunted house at the edge of the woods. So happens when the ‘Star Spangled Trio’ enters the mix?

Pairing: Demon King!Sam Wilson x  Black!Reader (Fem)

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 3,054

Warning: Kidnapping, Forced Marriage, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Stalking, Breeding Kink, Mentions of Torture, and Non-Con/Dub-Con Smut. You have been warned.

Back to Masterlist

You’ve always loved Halloween. It was your birthday and the haunted house at the edge of the woods gave the best spooks and thrills. It was your first Halloween after undergrad and this year was different.

The Star Spangled Trio were celebrity guests and they were bringing two of the old rooms back!

It took you six days to get a ticket. You tried getting one online, every shop in town, but got nothing.

Finally, a new face at the library took pity on you and gave you the last ticket along with a book on demon folklore. You thanked the new librarian and rushed out of the building. Had you looked back you would’ve noticed a smirk on their face and their sclera and pupils turning black and gold respectively.

Halloween—the day of your birth—was here, and it was shit. Your toothbrush broke, your car refused to start, the job that you desperately wanted was dashed by yet another rejection email, and both your student loan and rent checks bounced. You just need to get through today.

You missed the cutoff, but got in because the person working the line was a family friend. Anxiously, you wait in line wondering how the haunted house in your small ass town managed to nab the Star Spangled Trio when you noticed the excited expressions of the people leaving. Now you’re super anxious.

By the time you entered the haunted house, you’re doing the breathing exercises to calm yourself. This was it! You were finally going to meet your all time heroes (and possible spank bank entries)!

The first few rooms were your typical haunted house fare which you loved, but were secondary to your excitement in seeing your heroes. Maybe you could get an autograph and hug from them!

You were about to follow the person in front of you into the haunted house’s hospital room when you noticed a light flickering to your left. It revealed a door done in the Neo-classical design with some Latin text engraved in the middle (had you studied Latin , you would’ve known that the text read “Reveal yourself, my beloved”).

Opening the door, you saw that it lead to the Hall of Mirrors. This part of the haunted house was always a favorite of yours, but both the itinerary and the ticket worker said that it was closed this year. The hall itself was chillingly quite and pristine as if no one else had stepped foot inside this season.

All of the mirrors looked standard for the haunted house; some of them made you laugh or briefly catch your breath. The one at the end of the hall caught you off-guard. It was at least 12ft (about 3.66m) high with intricate carvings of characters out of dark folklore and a single diagonal slit.

You were about to turn away when you saw nothing thinking it was a small haunted house joke at your expense when the mirror flashed.

In your place was the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen, but it still looked like you..sort of. Your hair was long, luxurious and gently flowing. Your eyebrows, eyelashes, and nails were immaculate. Your nose was adorably broad and your lips were sensually full (the type of full women would shell hundred’s if not thousands of dollars for). You wore a diadem with thick gold chains ladened with diamonds, onyx, and rubies and around your neck was a ruby and onyx amulet. You were dressed in a loose, yet sleeveless form-fitting Vivaldi red gown with hints of fiery red and a thin rosewood colored shoulder veil connected to the dress by a ruby broach in the middle of your cleavage.

You looked about four or five inches taller and the mirror version of you made you feel nervous about your curves being out on display.

Curious, you reached out to touch the mirror. Your hand was less than a centimeter away when your mirrored self opened it eyes. Suddenly, it grew curved horns and its eyes glowed pale gold.

The mirrored version of you grabbed your outstretched arm and dragged you through the mirror all while you screamed hoping someone would come to your rescue, but to no avail.

Samael, or ‘Sam’ was notified of your departure and the trio had to excuse themselves from the festivities to congratulate Sam on finding his bride.

You woke up with a start and shout clawing the air but stopped once you realized that you weren’t falling anymore. Instead, you were in a huge, opulent room filled with treasures that not even Windsor Castle had. Curiosity seemed to have taken hold of you because you walked out onto the connecting balcony to find that you were on a different planet/dimension/realm, whatever!

There were floating landmasses (the smallest of which was the size of your small town) and five planets ranging from Moonbow Gold to Venetian Red in color.

You thought about where the fuck you were and how you could get back home when a voice interrupted your thoughts.

The source of the voice was a demon with Antique Ruby skin with reddish gray undertones and Cinnabar and Rosewood colored hair. She had two short outward curved horns with a gold chain and aquamarine teardrop connecting them. Her eyes were an inviting aqua blue eyes with a dark red sclera.

“Hello! My name is Scheherazade, but you can call me Sherry. I’m your Lady in Waiting. I’ve brought some food.��� Sherry offered as she set the tray of food on a small table next to a dresser.

You smiled cautiously at your new elevated handmaiden,”Do you know why I’m-”

“Oh, I almost forgot! We need to get you ready for your presentation!”

The Fuck?!

“What do you mean ‘presentation’?,” you asked as nicely as possible, but reality came out more like a demand.  

Sherry stopped her ministrations and faced you,”Well, when the monarch, crown prince, or princess declares their mate, they are presented to the royal court,” she then returned to her task of finding a suitable dress for you not catching the mortified expression on your face.

This day can’t get any worse. Wait?

“What time is it?”

“Oh, yes, It’s pretty much always night here. The sun only comes out for three hours. Would you look at the time! Everyone’s waiting!”

“One last question,” you started as Sherry began dressing you,”Who am I marrying?”

“Why my second cousin, King Samael, one of the Three Demon Kings,  of course!”

You fought the impulse to faint.

It took thirty minutes for Sherry to make you look unrecognizable. Thankful for her assistance, you followed the floating torches to the throne room. The throne room was an enormous room with high wide vaulted arches, delicately carved pillars and columns, and a small bridge connecting the ground at the door to the center. The court comprised of beautiful yet fearsome demons of all shapes and sizes.

The king himself was seated on a grand, ornate throne atop a huge dais with at least 25 steps. He seemed familiar.

As soon as you were passed the threshold, the king raised his head and everyone stopped talking and cleared a path for you. Several courtiers whispered as you striddled towards the dais. When you finally reached the dais, the king got off his throne and walked down the steps to greet you.

You almost face-palmed. The king was Sam Wilson! Or at least, looked like him.  

Sam for his part was devastatingly handsome. He had a tall, powerful build, broad shoulders, bulging biceps, muscular thighs, short well-kept hair and beard with surprisingly kind eyes.  

“You’re even more beautiful than I imagined,” Sam uttered as he pulled you in for a hug. You could’ve sworn he sniffed your hair, but you didn’t want to go into that right now.

“Everyone!” The court turned to the throne,” Thank you for coming. I have finally found my bride. We will be married tomorrow night!” Sam exclaimed to thunderous cheers and applause. He slipped on a magnificent ruby and diamond engagement ring with a black gold band.

You could not believe this, “I can’t-,” you started, but Sam discreetly grabbed your wrist, “Pre-wedding jitters,” and led you to a side room.

You expected him to hit or yell at you like so many other royals in a similar setting, but instead he gave a sad smile and asked if you were truly happy in your old life. You thought about your crushing debt, little to no job prospects, both parents dead, no friends and you had to admit your life did suck, but he didn’t get to decide.

Disappointed, Sam casted a small compliance spell and pulled you in for a kiss. Your pupils blew out in lust and you lost yourself. When he finally decided to break for air, Sam stated that you will be his bride and he will not be denied any longer. You smiled and gave him a short but passionate kiss. He moaned but had to end it before he went too far.

Tomorrow night he promised himself.

He quickly called for Sherry to return you  to your quarters.

Sherry woke you up the next ‘morning’ with a small army of beauty experts and maids.

“Rise and shine, Your Grace! We’ve got a bride to present!” Sherry proclaimed.

Damn it! It wasn’t a nightmare.

They managed to stuff you into a marvel of a wedding dress. It was a Torch Red long-sleeved mermaid wedding dress with soft yet detailed lace work made to look like an enchanted forest, diamond, dark ruby and pearl beads, and a floor length train. On your head was a black gold spiked sunburst goddess with deep ruby roses and a simple ruby teardrop chain that rested on your forehead, the ends of which were wrapped around your horns.

“Not even Lilith could compare, Your Grace!” Sherry gushed at her handiwork.

The wedding procession and ceremony was done in a swift fashion as Sam didn’t want to wait much longer. The vows were short as well. You wanted to object, call for help, anything but a voice in the back of your mind beat you to it.  

A couple hours into the wedding festivities, Sam announced that it was time for he and his new queen to retire and led you to his quarters. It’s the fanciest suite you’ve ever seen dripping with luxurious reds, violets, and obsidian.

In all your awing of Sam’s quarters, you failed to notice him approaching you in only a simple loose shirt and trousers. He gently put his hands on your exposed shoulders,”Alone at last, my love.”

You recoiled, “Can’t we wait for a few days? It’s just…” you trailed off as soon as his jovial expression vanished replaced with something darker and hungrier.

“I’ve waited for so long to have you here with me, love,”  Sam confessed while you moved towards the exit,”and I will not be denied any longer!”

In an instant, Sam pulled you in for a demanding kiss. He pushed his tongue past your lips moaning when your tongue tepidly danced with his own and from the sweet taste of your mouth. He pushed you onto a bed that had to three times the size of a California King and his lips moved jaw and neck, egged on by needy whimpers and moans.

He took his time ripping off your gown, enjoying the view like a child on Christmas, ”Fuck, you’re so beautiful. Utter perfection,” Sam murmured as he watched your breasts bounced free. He alternated between sucking and pinching your nipples with his hands and mouth,”I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he whispered in your left ear and he continued to play with your breasts like a concert-level musician. All the while moaned and cried out feeling pleasure you never thought possible.

Once satisfied with his handiwork with your chest, Sam’s hands roamed over your stomach and hips followed by strategically placed butterfly kisses that made you squirm. He tore off the last of your wedding gown causing you to hiss at the sudden sensation of cold air touching your pussy.

You used your last bit of willpower to plead, “Please stop! I’ve never-,” Sam stopped and raised his head to look at you.

“I know, love. I’ll be your first and only,” and with that, he gives your folds one long, slow lick and growled at your sweet and tangy taste, “I’ve wondered how you’d taste. You’re even better than the best Kharian wine. I could get used to this.”

He dove back in and played your pussy for all it was worth. His tongue worked its magic stroking and circling your clit sending you higher and higher into euphoria. Sam kept you right on the edge of an orgasm, just enough to beg for release.

“Say you’re mine!,” you mewled in response, to blissed out to use words. “Say it or I’ll leave!”

“Please let me cum, My King!” you cried out when he thrusted two fingers into your pussy.

“That’s a good girl. Now,”Sam started as he vigorously rubbed your pussy,”cum for me, love.”

Your orgasm came like a tsunami and Sam made sure finish his feast.

You got out of your post-oral haze to see Sam looming over in all his naked glory. His body must’ve been made by the gods because it was divine. His frame was an ode to sexiness wrapped in sinful warm sepia skin.

Sam caught you biting your lower lip and cocked his head, “Like what you see?”

Damn that cocky bastard, but damn if he wasn’t right. Part of you wanted to fuck his brains out…and that was before you saw his cock. Standing proud and erect with angry veins, his cock had to be the biggest you’ve ever seen (not like you had much exposure, just a few pornos).

Sam crawled up to you, lifted your chin and gave a soft kiss on the lips sensing your unease, “Relax, love,” He then lined his cock to your entrance and slid in as gently as he could.

You hissed from the pain, he was just so damn big. Sam praised you on how well you fit around him like ‘you were made for him’. Once the pain subsided, you bucked your hips into his causing him to moan at the sensation. He smiled at your eagerness and picked up the pace, making his thrusts come out to just the tip was in you and slamming back into you. You cried out his name each time he filled you to the hilt, pleading with him to go faster. Soon he reached your G-Spot causing to orgasm again, this time with you crossing your eyes and coming with a squirt.

Not too long after your second orgasm, Sam came with an otherworldly roar and glowing bright gold eyes shooting rope after rope of thick cum into your womb. He then flipped you onto your stomach and forced you onto your hands and knees so that he could take you from behind.

He got ten orgasms from you, each one more mind-blowing than the last. Once he was satisfied, he let you sleep.

“Soon you will be round with my seed, and we will have many children. I can’t wait.”

Ah hour after you closed your eyes, Sam left his, now yours, quarters. “Make sure she doesn’t leave,” he orders the guards although, he’s confident that she’s not going anywhere with the way he hammered her.

He strode down the corridors until he reached the dungeon. There, he found a rather nice looking apartment-style cell with only one prisoner, your mother.

“I’ve taken your daughter. Do you want to see her before you go?”

You see, Samael, Mikael (Bucky), and Stelios (Steve) were demon warlords who began conquering kingdoms left and right 1200yrs ago. They fought their way to the last free kingdom, Kharan. By the time your grandparents were brought before them, they had killed your uncle, the heir to the throne. The king and queen begged for their lives and the kingdom to be spared.

The trio agreed on one condition: if the next child the queen bears is a girl, then she would be Sam’s mate (Mikael and Stelios already had mates).

The king reluctantly agreed. The queen gave birth four months later to a girl, but she was in demon form. The queen had two of her most trusted attendants spirit the child away to another realm and raised her as their own.

Sam had your grandparents slaughtered and razed Kharan to the ground for their trickery. No matter, he was immortal. He would bide his time.

Eventually, your mother was told about her true parentage and form. She learned to control her powers, found love and she too was with child.

Sam found her a week before she went into labor and said that it was time to collect. She promised you in her stead immediately in hopes that it would buy her some time.

It did. She was able to pass you, a cambion, off to a friend of hers who wanted a child but couldn’t conceive and gave Sam a fake baby. He had your mother thrown into the dungeons.

Sam searched for you, but discovered that your mother put a cloaking spell on you. So, he approached your mother with a deal: her freedom for you becoming his mate.

It took your mother three years of torture for her to say yes.

Once the spell was lifted, Sam went to work. He made sure your adopted parents had a little ‘accident’ when you were old enough to take care of yourself, made sure that no one would want to hire you, and saddled you with debt. He even got Mikael and Stelios to pose as ‘The Star Spangled Trio’ with him to finally get you to the Hall of Mirrors.

Your mother bowed her head in shame, “No. It’s best for her to believe that I don’t exist.”

Sam unlocked the cell door with a simple spell, “You’re free to go. Have a nice life,” and returned to his quarters to be with his mate and queen.

Your mother took one last look at the palace,”I’m sorry, my little moon and stars,” and disappeared into the night.

Taglist: @jtargaryen18​ @threeminutesoflife​​ @giorno-plays-piano​ @lookiamtrying​ @sherrybaby14​ @opheliadawnwalker3​ @life-of-yn​ @mcudarklibrary​ @marvelfansworld​ @imdarkinme​ @sapphirescrolls​ @samingtonwilson​ @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​ @pseudonymphet​ @dahkness​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @golden-ariess​ @chixkencxrry​ @anyatheladyclown​ @stargazingfangirl18​ @saint-bvcky​ @cherienymphe​ @iguessweallcrazyithinktho​ @cockslut-padalecki​

[holylulusworld]

October the 31st, the day I disappeared

Written for @jtargaryen18​​​ ‘s Haunted House challenge. I hope you like this A/B/O version...

Summary: A celebrity haunted house for charity will be open one night only, Halloween night. You spent days trying to get a ticket online for the event. Thanks to a bad day on Halloween, you get there only a minute before the line closes. You’re the last person to go in and thinking that’s either really bad (everyone is tired or would be in a hurry to see you out) or really good (maybe you’d get some extra time with the one you came to see). You are never seen again. You select the set of the celebrity you’re there to see. When you get too close, you step into another dimension - their world – and there’s no escape. (I used the given summary…)

Pairing: Alpha!Curtis Everett x Omega!Reader

Characters: Gilliam, Edgar, Ofc Jake, unnamed ofc’s

Warnings: angst, language, a hint of blood, mention of deaths, scenting, true mates, smut, unprotected sex, mating bite, dub-con (if you squint), possessive alpha

October the 31st, your world…,

“Come on, hurry up, Jake,” you groan, rolling your eyes at your boyfriend. He doesn’t want to go to the haunted house to look at guys who look better than him. “I was at that motorboat show with you too.”

“I wanted to look at boats, not other guys,” Jake rolls his eyes, stopping right in front of the house. “Can I not wait outside? Go and look at those wax figures and get all riled up for me.” He runs one hand over his crotch, and you sigh, asking yourself why you are with a guy like him.

“Yeah, you wanted to look at the boats but ended up ogling the hostesses. Don’t think I didn’t see you leave with one of them,” hurt you look at the house once again. The clock strikes five to midnight and you know, it’s Jake who cheated on you more than once or your favorite celebrities tonight. “You know, stay outside Jake. I’ve got this.”

You run off before Jake gets the chance to argue – not that he would want to enter the haunted house. “I’ll wait here, smoke a cigarette, and imagine you blow me off.”

Disgusted you run toward the door, showing your ticket to step inside the haunted house just in time.

The clock strikes midnight when you stroll toward your favorite character.

“Curtis Everett,” you swoon, looking up at the man you admire so much. “I saw your movie at least twenty times. I still can’t believe you didn’t make it.”

“Step closer to have a look,” the man who validated your ticket offers. “Don’t be shy.” Hesitantly you look at the man, shaking your head.

“No, Sir. I don’t think the owner wants us to touch the wax figures. I wouldn’t dare to risk I ruin it. I can watch him from afar but thank you, Sir,” you decline his offer as polite as possible.

“No worries, young lady,” the man chuckles, getting a device looking like a remote control out of his pocket. “You don’t have to watch him from afar any longer.” An uneasy feeling spreads through your body as you realize there are no other visitors around. 

When you entered the haunted house, at least half a dozen girls were swooning all over Chris Evans's characters. Some men admired Carol Danvers and others stormed toward Sebastian Stan's characters. 

Now suddenly everyone is gone, and you wonder where they all went to. Or should you rather ask what happened to them?

“What do you mean?” You gasp when the man’s eyes start to glow in the dim light of the room. He’s mumbling words in a foreign language, a dark smirk on his lips.

“Don’t be afraid, it will only hurt for a moment. I’ll get your soul and your body will turn to dust,” you look around the room, now seeing the dust in front of all the wax figures. Your heart hammers when you step backward, back bumping into Curtis's chest. 

All you can do is to close your eyes and wait for your end. The song your mother used to sing to help you fall asleep comes to your mind and you start mumbling the words. The man’s eyes widen, but you can’t see it when the words your mother taught you slowly calm you.

“No…no…I can’t lose control,” you feel hands grasp for you, souls screaming your name when an arm wraps around your waist, dragging you backward. You scream in terror, fight the embrace as the room starts spinning.

“Don’t take her soul away from me,” the man screams, dashing toward you but it’s too late. Whatever grasped your body drags you into another world with rules of its own…

“Is she one of the front enders?” You hear voices close to you. Your mind is still clouded with darkness and fear. “Girl doesn’t look like she belongs to the tail, Curtis.” 

“She doesn’t belong to them,” Curtis’s voice much closer now, his fingers graze your neck. “Now go and check the section. I can’t let anyone get her."

“Curtis, she could be a spy,” humming the tall alpha leans over your body to sniff at your neck, dragging his nose along your pulse point. “I’ll be right back.”

“Go, tell Gilliam we found a girl,” your eyes slowly flutter open when the alpha kisses your skin. “There she goes, little omega.”

“I…I,” Your eyelids flutter shut when you pray this is all a nightmare. His breath hot in your neck, his scent surrounding your senses the alpha brings you out of your prayers. “I swear that I’m not part of Wilford’s plan. I…”

“Who are you?” A knife pressed to your throat forces your eyes to meet Curtis's darkened blue orbs. “If you are not part of the plan you can answer my question.”

“You will not believe me,” lips quivering you look up at Curtis, knowing he will not trust anyone not coming from the tail end. 

“Try me,” he’s sliding his hand over your chest, gasping when you push your breast into his hand. “I want to know how you got this far. We control the water supply section.”

“I know,” your shiver, feeling his thumb pinch your nipple, slowly rolling it. “I will tell you how I ended up here, but you’ll believe I’m crazy.”

“I want to hear it, omega,” Curtis’s hand slowly moves down your chest, fingers curling into your crop top. You shudder when his fingers reach your pants. “Tell me about it.”

“I visited a celebrity haunted house for charity. I got the tickets online and the only person I wanted to see was you, or rather the wax figure they made,” you gasp when his fingers deftly unbutton your pants. “Suddenly everyone was gone but a strange man. He mumbled words in a language I didn’t understand. Then I felt the wax figure behind me wrap his arm around me…that’s all I think.”

“Online? That’s impossible. Everything and anyone outside the train got destroyed. There is nothing left,” Curtis dips on hand into your pants, fingertips grazing your clit. “You’re crazy or a liar.”

“I still got the ticket, alpha,” you grind against his hand, slick slowly soaking Curtis's fingers. “You can have a look. I swear this is not my world. I don’t know how, but I think that I ended up in an alternative universe.”

“Alternative universe,” humming the alpha makes quick work of your pants, drags the fabric down your legs, along with your soaked panties. “You’re crazy.”

“I told you that you won’t believe me, Curtis,” his lips press against yours, claim your soft pillow in a surprisingly gentle kiss. There is hunger hidden behind his eyes, but he doesn’t want to unleash the beast he released at the beginning of the revolt. “I don’t know how to get back.”

“You won’t,” Curtis states, ripping your top off your body to reveal your braless chest. He groans, head dipping to suckle at one of your nipples. “You’re mine now.”

“Yours?” you cry out feelings his hand slip back between your legs to toy with your clit. He’s slowly running his thumb around the swollen numb, bringing you to the edge of an orgasm. “I can’t be yours. Jake, he’s…” 

“I will not let you go,” you whimper, body craving the alpha. “I knew the moment I woke behind you that you’ll be mine. I could scent you.”

“Behind me? This is impossible. How can you…” Realization hits you. You didn’t end up in the world of Curtis Everett from the movie you know. “Edgar is still alive. This means things didn’t end up like in the movie.”

“We are not in a fucking movie,” he grips your hands, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand, to hold you to the ground. “You’re in my world now. I don’t care if you came from the front end or another dimension. No matter what – you are mine now,” his teeth sink into your neck right before he slips two thick fingers into your slicker channel.

You should be afraid, should fight his touch but your secret fantasy comes true and you can’t deny the alpha your body or obedience. Not with his mark on your neck.

“You don’t understand, Sir.” Jake pants, fighting the cops who deny him access to the haunted house. “My girlfriend, Y/N. She went inside that house like four hours ago and never came back. I can’t reach her phone.”

“Sir, we must ask you to remain calm. We are looking for all the visitors. All we found inside the house was dust in front of the wax figures.” Panicked Jake looks at the haunted house, screaming your name when he realizes he lost you forever.

“Y/N…Y/N…no…no,” he sniffles. “I’m so sorry for being an ass tonight…or like ever…”

“Mine, that’s who you are,” your clothes scattered all over the floor of the train, your face pressed into his dirty coat you kneel, shivering in anticipation. “I will not let you go.”

“I can’t stay,” Curtis doesn’t listen to your words. All rational thoughts left his mind the moment he caught your scent. “I need to go back. There must be a way.”

“There is no way you’ll leave your alpha,” you close your eyes when the tip slips inside. “I haven’t had a woman like you in ages…or rather never. You smell like hope.” His hips snap into your ass and you fist the coat, crying out at the wide stretch. “You feel like heaven in this hell.”

“Please…oh-god,” he sets a pace you can’t match. His hands touch every inch of your body. There is so much desperation in the way he takes you it breaks your heart. “Curtis…”

“I want to know your name, beautiful.” He whines, lips pressing against the mark he left in a haze. “You feel so soft against me, so pure.”

“Y/N.” You choke your name out, mind clouded with lust. “I swear I didn’t lie to you…alpha.” Curtis groans at your words, holding you to the cold ground, now speeding up. 

“God, I wish I could fill this tight cunt, but not now. When we took over the train, everything will change. I’ll get you round soon,” Curtis purrs. “I want you to cum for me.” You teether on the edge, ready to let go.

“Curtis,” a breathless moan leaves your lips when his cock rubs over your g-spot. Curtis pulls out to flip you onto your back. “Please don’t stop…”

“I won’t…never,” he’s forcing his way back inside of you. His dirty face buries into your neck and just now you feel his sticky skin and that his natural alpha scent mixes with the smell of dirt, blood, and death. 

Tears run down your cheeks when reality catches up with you. This is not a nightmare, nor a fantasy. Curtis Everett, the guy from a movie just claimed you. 

An alpha you don’t even know moves on top of you, cock spreading you wider than Jake ever could. You lose a part of yourself when you come undone, nails digging into his back.

“That’s it, Y/N,” his teeth sink into your neck again, this time he draws blood and you cry out, feeling his knot swell. “I lied,” he growls when his cum floats your belly. “Gonna knot you now…”

Curtis didn’t let up for almost two hours until he finally brought you to his hideout in a corner of the water supply section. 

“Mine,” his lips travel down your shoulder, nibble lightly at your soft skin. “So soft and warm.” You wish you could enjoy his touch or that you can feel your bond form. 

“I want you to tell anyone you ran from the front end. That Wilford tried to make you his omega, but you caught my scent, ‘mega. I can’t have them question you.”

“Curtis, I need to find a way to go back. I can’t live in a movie,” he fists your hair, forces you to crane your neck to reveal the mark he left. “Alpha?”

“I’m sorry to tell you, but you were lost the moment my teeth sank into your neck,” he smirks against your skin, erection pressing into your ass. “If only you would’ve run to the next section, omega. You could’ve gone home as long as you had your ticket.”

“What?” You gasp, struggling to get up. “No…no…you are supposed to be the hero…”

“In my world, you eat or get eaten. You asked me why Edgar didn’t die, well…” Curtis snickers, into your neck, not missing your body starts shaking. “It’s because we run the train. There was this nice man. He came to us, offered his help if we give him something in return.”

“The souls…the man was talking about souls,” you sniffle, hiding your face in the palms of your hands. “How could you do this?”

“We agreed and he sent us two or three people a year on Halloween. The poor bastards ended up dead, slaughtered by people of the front end. I never had to kill anyone. I just didn’t help them,” Curtis whispers into your ear. “You are different, Y/N. I scented you and knew, you’ll be mine.”

“He screamed and acted as if he can’t get my soul…”

“It’s his game, Y/N. He likes to play with his prey. This time, he got played, though. We found the sigils he pained on the walls of the train and removed all of them right after I dragged you into my world. There is no way back.”

“I’m stuck…with you…” 

“No such words, baby. I swear you’ll have a good life by my side. It’s not the life you chose, but it’s the one you’ll learn to love…”

One year later, Halloween...,

“There is nothing you can do?” Jake looks at the haunted house, stomach twisted in knots. “It’s been a year and none of the victims got found. Now they open it again as if nothing happened. Twenty people disappeared in one night.”

“Sir, I’m sorry,” the officer sighs. “I lost a friend too, you know. I wish I could stop them, but there is nothing I can do. I hope, one day we will find out what happened to our friends.”

“I do too…”

“She’s so beautiful…” Curtis watches you lie on his bed. Your belly filled with his baby you sleep peacefully. “I knew she would adapt soon enough. “Maybe one day she’ll accept I did this for her.”

“I don’t think she’ll believe you,” Gilliam sighs. “This was not the way we wanted to win the revolution. Using that monster to get rid of most of the people from the front end. Keeping a few hostages to work for us.”

“They did the same,” Curtis argues, eyes never leaving your sleeping form. He rarely lets anyone get close to you. Most of the time you must stay in the room he stole from Wilford. 

“Did you listen to your words, Curtis? We do the same and that makes us monsters too. The only difference is – we should’ve known better…”

All works Tags

@yolobloggers

@shikshinkwon

@miraclesoflove

@mogaruke

@shatteredabby

@soryuwifeyxx

@letsdisneythings

@i-love-superhero

@psychicforest

@thevelvetseries

@deanmonandnegansbitch

@sabascio

@goodgodimaweirdperson

@that-place-called-middle-earth

@trumpettay

@zxph-yr

@belovedcherry

@matsumama

@rynabarnesrogers-reading

@emoryhemsworth

@buckybarnesplumwhore

@wonderlandfandomkingdom

@kitkatd7

--------------------------------------------------------

Steve Rogers/Chris Evans Tags

@stylesismyhubs

@multisuperfandom

@mrspeacem1nusone

@fallenoutofrose

@rynabarnesrogers

@denisemarieangelina

@gabifernandessn

@heyiamthatbitch

@rosalynshields

@inlovewiththefictionalcharacters

@patzammit

@donutloverxo

@saiyanprincessswanie

@supernaturalwintersoldier​ ad

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Rose Red’s All Hallows Eve: Ticket Please?

Summary- 4.2k Curtis Everett x You. Your boyfriend got you tickets to a charity Haunted House, and the special features include immersed scenes from the movie of your choice. Once you hear that the one and only Curtis Everett from Snowpiercer is a part of the choices, you just have to go. Prepare for a night of apocalyptic fun! 

Warnings- Blood/Gore, brutal killings, swears. 

A/N- Written for @jtargaryen18 Haunted House 2020. This is a 3 chapter story that will be posted within a few days of one another. Be sure to read the warnings for each chapter. The page dividers were made by @firefly-graphics​ , I highly suggest checking out her work, its really excellent and a bit of everything to choose from. The manor described in this story, Rose Red, is a piece of work from Stephen King, and I highly suggest watching the tv mini series, if you can find it. Perfect for this time of year. Special thanks to @what-is-your-plan-today​ for being my Beta in this project. Happy Reading and Haunting! 😈🎃

“What do you mean Bryce that you can’t come? You promised you would! When is New York State ever going to open Rose Red to be explored like this again Bryce?” You spoke into your cell phone while looking in the mirror, currently doing a french braid to keep your hair out of your face. Your expression reflected back at you was a mixture of fury and disbelief. You had only been talking about this charity for 6 months, and here was your boyfriend backing out after he’d promised to come with you numerous times.

“Something came up with Maya, okay? You know my sister can’t do anything without fucking it up. Besides it's just a house” 

“Bryce, don’t talk about your sister that way.” You sighed exasperatedly before your voice dropped slightly conveying your disappointment “And it's not just a house, it's just the most haunted manor and grounds in New York. They had it condemned supposedly just for that reason! You really can’t come?” 

“You know that shit isn't real. Sorry Baby, but why don’t you take one of your friends? How about that Karen chick?” 

You gave a sigh and roll of the eyes, Bryce never bothered to get to know any of your friends, not like you did with his friends. “You mean Stacey? Her name isn’t Karen.” 

“Well, she’s like a Karen.” He retorted with a condescending tone. 

“Whatever Bryce, I’m hanging up now.” you snapped out, he was being an ass especially considering this entire night had actually started out as a treat to him from you.  

“Hey, Hey, I was kidding. Take Stacey. You know I wouldn’t be any fun, I never liked Snowpiercer, remember?”

“That’s not the point Bryce…” you sighed again. 

“Look, go have fun with Stacey, and tomorrow morning I will pick you up, we can go for a drive down the coast, just the two of us. Maybe have a long weekend in Hampton. How does that sound? I will even take you to that hotel you like. That one right on the beach with the view we stayed at last summer. We had fun there, didn’t we Sweetness.” now his tone was a hint of teasing and promise, and although you were still mad that he ditched you again, you felt a warmth bloom in your chest that he was trying to make it right. 

You bit your lip remembering, it had been a fantastic vacation, and Bryce really showed you a good time without ever having to leave the room. At your silence he gave a chuckle of triumph. “That’s what I thought, I'm gonna call them right now. Have fun tonight baby.” 

“Okay, but you better be here bright and early Bryce. Love-” Before you could even say the words, he hung up, and you hit the end call button, trying to get over the feeling of disappointment before you called Stacey. You could already hear what she would say, but as your best friend, she would be there. She always was. Dialing her number, you pulled out the tickets from your purse, allowing yourself a smile. 

What could you say, you were a fangirl. Snowpiercer was such an intricate dark story, you had fallen in love with it the first time you watched it on Netflix. So when Bryce mentioned his grandfather was helping sponsor a haunted house charity at the town's resident creepy manor, and it was featuring several film sets. Including none other than Snowpiercer, you just had to have all the details. It even went as far as Bryce having his grandfather putting in a good word of how much of a fan you were to get you in. You scrimped and saved, Bryce as well helped you with paying for the tickets. You had really wanted to do this with him too. No, he didn’t share your love for the story, but he was your boyfriend and Halloween was your favorite holiday. It was something you two could have shared. 

Oh well, next year we will do what he wants to do, you thought to yourself waiting for Stacey to pick up her phone. 

A familiar voice answered, jerking you from your thoughts. “What’s up? I thought you would have already left for the charity function?” Stacey questioned. 

“Slight change of plans, something came up with Maya, and Bryce can’t make it.” 

“Big surprise.” the answer made you wince, cause this wasn’t the first time you called Stacey about Bryce. “You want some company? I can be ready by the time you get here?” 

“Please?” you already had your purse over your shoulder and were heading out the door as she answered. 

“Don’t worry girl, I got you. See you in a few.” 

The line to get into the grounds was long, cars piled up as the two of you pulled to a stop. Stacey leaned forward to look out the windshield, giving a soft whistle. “Damn, they pulled out all the stops for this charity, didn’t they? Isn’t that the Rose Red Manor?” 

“Yea, they were able to get it for the night from the Governor. Pretty crazy since this place has been condemned, they were supposed to demolish it back when Ellen Rimbauer’s grandson sold it to New York. You know the stories here, don’t you? Men die, Women disappear never to be seen again. The house somehow has random room built on out of nowhere. No one actually knows how many rooms Rose Red has, and the grounds are much larger then the records state.” You let your foot off the brake, easing forward. 

“Shut up, that’s not true.” Stacey gave a shudder and you laughed, winking in a teasing manner. “How does a house keep getting bigger? I say bullshit.” 

“It’s all just for spooks, the place is safe or else they wouldn’t let us on the grounds.” 

“If I die Y/N, I’m haunting you.” Stacey jibed back, pulling up to the concession stand, and you rolled down your window. 

“How many, and what set are you here to visit?” a tired voice sounded at you while you pulled the tickets out of your purse and handed them out the window. 

“2, for the Snowpiercer, Curtis Everett set.” 

The redhead took your tickets, her green eyes flickering to check them before she gave a slight smirk of perfectly painted ruby lips. She leaned forward, to look into the car. “Curtis Everett you say? A personal favorite of mine, the set reminds me a bit of home.” Your eyes flickered to her name tag, reading Natasha Romanoff, it sounded Russian, where it is assumed the train derailed at the end of the film. “Curtis is a bit intimidating, but don’t get scared, it's all a part of the show.” She stamped your tickets and collected bracelets, handing them back to you which you and Stacey both snapped onto your wrists. “Enjoy, and make sure you have those tickets on you. The Wilford on set will be looking to collect them. Bozhe, pomiluy tebya.” God have mercy on you.

Your brows came together in confusion at the foreign launguage and gave a nod. “Thanks?” 

The woman smiled and snapped her window shut, ending the conversation. Pulling the car away to continue to park, Stacy wrinkled her nose. “What was that about?” 

“You got me. I don’t even know what language that was, I’m guessing Russian?” You watch and follow the people directing you to park and are soon in your designated spot. “Whatever, you ready?” The uneasiness slipped away as you got excited, cause lets face it, Curtis Everett had been a crush for you since you saw the movie. And now you were going to see him, well the actor in the role, once again. From what you could tell this charity was an a-list kind of deal, cause after hours of scouring online, you found nothing talking about Chris Evans doing this function. Maybe Bryce was good for something, you thought as you got out of the car, and then chided yourself for being so cruel to your boyfriend. After all, if it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t be seeing Curtis or the Snowpiercer set. While you two were walking, apparently the last ones in the queue, you pulled out your phone to send him a message.

Hey, Stacey, and I just got here. Miss you and Love you.

 It wasn’t even a few minutes till your phone pinged back 

Have a good time and don’t get too scared. 

Smiling to yourself at the glowing screen, you stuffed your phone back in your purse and proceeded towards the front where you showed your bracelets. 

“Ahh Snowpiercer, you actually go around back. Follow me.” Your host said as he led you around the side of the building, away from the last of the people disappearing inside. 

“We're not going into the house?” you couldn’t help but feel disappointed at the idea, it was supposedly one of the most famous haunted houses in New York State. The well-dressed host turned, looking at you for a moment before putting on a suave smile. 

“Since you are special guests, I’ll wait for you after your tour with Curtis Everett on Snowpiercer. Give you a proper tour of Rose Red. But I assure you, that you’re in for a better treat, this is a truly exclusive walk though as hardly anyone gets to explore this much of Rose Red. Did you know that Ellen Rimbauer also had a private train on the grounds? It’s not documented as extensively as the house is, but many strange occurrences have happened here as well. It’s rumored that a single match light can be seen running up and down the aisles. Workers will be glimpsed from the corner of your eye in the darkest shadows. The ones that have visited the train claim to feel extensive chills, and in the engine, ramblings and whispers of madness can be heard. Most assume it's the conductor, looking for his replacement.” Your host continued, while out of the darkness a massive ominous train loomed, vines all over it, and it almost had a skeletal appearance as windows were busted out of it, and it looked pitch black in all the openings. 

“The workers used the train to bring in materials from the harbor to the construction site. And in 1903, a riot happened on the train, the crew claimed that they weren’t being compensated for the conditions, and they demanded better wages. When W. Rimbauer refused them, they put a stop to the train for good. Resulting in many deaths.” Your host led you to the front car, in which a pale man stood with a lantern and a single red rose he was twirling in his fingers, and upon seeing the trio of you, he promptly slipped the delicate flower into his robe and smoothed down his outfit. Giving a wave, he stepped down and you noticed that oddly he was wearing what looked like a luxurious robe, his bald head shining in the glow of the lamp. The more you studied him, the more you thought he looked exactly like Ed Harris in his Wilford role. You were about to ask, when he interrupted you with his own question to the host. 

“Blackwood, this the Curtis couple? We were a bit worried you wouldn’t show up tonight. Which is a shame, as Curtis has been waiting for you.” He seemed to direct his answer solely at you, his pale blue eyes glinting gleefully at you, it was the only way you could describe it, but they still sent a shiver down your back. Ed Harris or not, he was a good Wilford, you thought to yourself as you tried not to let his act give you the creeps. Stacey pulled in closer to you, hooking her arm through yours and whispering. 

“You sure we should go on this train? It’s pretty fucking creepy back here. And where is everyone else?” 

Blackwood cleared his throat with a smile. “Now ladies, the Curtis scene was very exclusive. In fact, only you two were able to get tickets. Seeing how it’s away from the main house. But I’m going to leave you in the capable hands of Wilford here as I must return for the next group. I will be back soon to give you a house tour afterward. You ladies enjoy the fully immersed experience.” 

Your host left you with Wilford, who lifted his lamp to show a path that led down the side of the train. “It’s just a way down here, Curtis will meet you inside, and take you on the tour of Snowpiercer. Now, remember, he will not be breaking character as is per his instructions. We want this to be as authentic as possible.” 

You and Stacey follow along behind his seemingly smooth stride, both of you tripping up a bit although Wilford seemed to have no issues with the uneven ground. Both of you were panting a bit when he came to a stop, and held a hand up to a ladder, leading into the darkest opening you’ve ever seen. 

“There are no lights inside?” You drawled out and Stacey braced her hand against the train to catch her breath.

“How the hell are we supposed to see? And climb in with heels? No one told us that this was going to be an expedition just to see a movie set.” the woman snapped out, and Wilford turned that gaze from you to Stacey, giving a cold smile. 

“It will all come on once you're inside, everything is in its preordained place in Snowpiercer and we are allowing you to really see it all come to life. But before you two go on, can I have your tickets please? No one goes onto the snowpiercer without one.” His grin turned eerie in the shadows on the lantern he had brought with him, and you were quick to look away from it, 

Fuck he is weird. You shudder, while searching your bag and handing over both tickets. He immediately put them in his robe and held the lantern up so you could see a bit better to get inside. Grasping the ladder, you start to climb in, Stacey following right behind, holding onto the back of your shirt. One you stumbled in, and Stacey did too, you both turned to look back out, expecting Wilford to follow you in, but the door slammed shut, and a shudder went through the train, hard enough so you both yelped, falling into each other. 

“Y/N! What the fuck is this? We have to get out of here.” You could feel Stacey digging into your arms in a panic, and you stumbled back to where the door was, your hands slamming against freezing cold metal, your palms pounding on the vibrating metal. 

“Why is it vibrating? WHY IS THE TRAIN MOVING?” You started to yell, and Stacey moved up next to you, also slamming her palms against the metal walls. Blinding light made you both yelp and cover your eyes, stumbling to land in a heap when you pulled your arm away from your face, blinking to get your pupils to focus. It was an empty train cart, windows that appeared to be filled with bright natural light lined the walls, and at each end, metal doors that have yet to be opened. Stacey takes the first tentative moves to stand up, pulling herself to look out a window and her eyes widened in disbelief. 

“What is it?” You ask as you start to push yourself up to a stand, and she shakes her head as if to shake whatever she was seeing away, muttering over and over. 

“What the fuck?” 

You make your way over, and all you can see is snow. Snow and ice, speeding past like this train were actually able to run on a track. Buildings encased in snow, making way to nothing but white, everywhere. Even the windows had frost encasing around the edges, your breaths fogging the glass. 

“How? What?” you question, beyond confused and rubbing at your face to look again. How the hell could this be? You go to reach in your bag for your phone, and look down to see it is gone. And not just your phone, your bag. Scanning the train, there was no sign of it. Panic settled in a little more now that you didn't have a way to call for help should you need it.

Stacey pressed her fingers to the glass, her tone a bit shrill as if she was trying to convince herself it was make believe. “Gotta be like we're watching a screen right? Just supposed to look like the trains moving.” Although the train gave another shudder, swaying back and forth. 

You never got an answer, as one end the doors swung open and people wearing all black spilled into the train, all carrying axes, faces masked so you couldn’t see anything discernible about them. Except for flashing teeth among happy grins. Each one hefting their ax like it was a toy. Your confused addled brain screamed at you to pay attention. Danger. But you were in too much of a shock to really focus. 

Another whoosh and you spin around to see who was coming out the other side, Stacey whimpering in fear next to you, still staring at the first group. But your eyes raked over these men, dirty and worn looking. The one in front had a wide stance, his feet braced against the rocking of the train like he was familiar with it. A black trench coat swept around him, ragged sweaters piled over a broad chest and your gaze fell onto a familiar hard face, scanning his opponent, drawing himself into a more fighting stance. Curtis Everett. 

“Oh shit” it dawns on you what scene this was and you draw Stacey closer to you, and back against a wall. 

“What? Oh god, I don’t understand what is happening.” Stacey said in a panicked voice, and you shook her a bit. 

“I don’t know either, but stay out of everyone’s way, okay? Those axes are not fakes!” The weapons they held were clearly not props, the heavy blade handles slapped in palms, and gleamed in the winter sun streaming through the windows. A touch would easily slice into anything. And these two groups look ready to hack into each other.

“Shouldn’t they help us get out?” Stacey’s eyes rolled wildly, and you gulped, seeing the large trout get passed up, and just as you guessed, the ax easily sliced into the fish’s flesh, drizzling blood down to see  along the edge, dripping down the handle and to the floor. 

“I don't think so Stace…” You whipped back to look at the opposing group, feeling Curtis’s gaze seeking yours with a glimmer of hatred and confusion behind them. For half a second, then it was back on their enemies. You could see it, the taunting lunges each group made, and just when they both broke for each other, you screamed and yanked Stacey down onto the ground as they all collided. Attempting to avoid stomping feet and falling blades, you two tried to stick to the wall, screaming and covering your heads, blood splattering everywhere above you in hot sticky sprays that rained down on your two. 

Stacey wouldn’t stop screaming, her voice piercing above the noise of the fighting, bodies started to litter the floor, and you tried to make your way towards one of the exits, your hands and knees slipping in warm fluid. Over bodies you dragged yourself when Stacey’s screaming changed to one of pain and panic. Looking over your shoulder, she was getting dragged away by her ankles, her fingers trying to find a hold in the floor, nails raking through the blood to create long rakes through all the red. 

“Y/N! Y/N! Help!” she continued to scream, and you twisted to go back for her when she was whipped to her back and her arms came up in defense, trying to cover her face or neck. 

“No!” 

Whump! This is when you lost all your control and started to scramble back for her. There was so much screaming and you never realized it was coming from you. 

Whump! The ax planted in Stacey’s chest and she jerked upwards, trying to push the blade away, and the militants foot planted on her stomach, yanking her loose. You would still see her moving, still alive. You were closer. 

Whump! this one landed on her skull, blonde hair turning stringy red and his boot planted on her face this time, crushing in her forehead and nose as he yanked it out, once more red spray flew through the air. 

Several whacks fell on her, over and over, spraying you with each yank the axe gave off Stacey's body, the militant man grinning as her blood sprayed all over him, you, any nearby person. 

You were in shock, your hands to your mouth, as you saw Stacy's body collapse into broken pieces, blood spurting out of her mouth and she went limp right in front of you. His gaze fell to you and his wide bloody grin looked like he just won the prize, his axe lifting when he was suddenly thrown back and slaughtered himself. You didn't pay attention to who took him out, only catching sight of a whipping coat snapping in the person's actions, you turned towards your best friend's body, convinced she might still be alive. This was all just for fun, pretend after all, right? Snowpiercer and the Revolution did not exist. 

“Sss-Stacey?” you crawled over to her, your hands cupping her broken face and leaning over her still warm form, doing your best to hold what remained of her face together, as if you could just piece it back together like a puzzle. You kept shaking her, although she had several gaping holes in her body. 

“Come on Stacey, we got to move.” you sobbed over her, unaware once more of what was going on. 

You didn’t notice the fighting stop or the survivors rush to look out the windows in a panic, but you did feel a hand yank the back of your shirt to slam you into the wall and keep you pinned in place. Even as you struggled to get back to Stacey’s body, lying lifeless. You didn’t notice any of these things till a growl snarled in your ear. “Girl, stop it! What’s wrong with you?” A vicious shake thudded your head against the wall, and the crack against the back of your skull made your eyes roll back in pain. The world tipped upside down, Curtis’s scowling cut face tipped around, and you went under, the blackness welcomed from the hell you just experienced. 

“Hey Curtis, she’s awake.” was the first thing you heard, your head pounding and when you started to pry your lids open, figures were blurry, moving around, flashes of light blinding you till they were blocked back out by bodies. You gave a moan and lifted your hand to your face when the larger one slapped it away, and the cold slick hand grasped your throat, dragging you forward. “Focus Bitch, we don’t have all day.” Your eyes snapped obediently to Curtis, fearful and wide-eyed as you took him in. 

In the movie, he was large, towering over others. Here, as he was staring you down, face contorted to semi-controlled rage, and leaning over you so you could feel his hot breath wash over his face, how the blood dried to crack along his cheek, and eyes that you swore were debating snapping your neck.

“I don’t understand what is going-” 

“Shut the fuck up, you’re not asking questions here. Wilford sent you?” 

“Wilford? Yes, yes.” You stutter, his fingers squeeze further and you can feel the hot tears streaming down your face, landing on his filthy hands. “He put Stacey and I in here, m-m-my friend. She was…” Your eyes rolled to where her body was twisted strangely, smeared in gore from where she slid around, or someone tripped over her. All you knew is her eyes started up at nothing now. Her wounds were gaping and bled out. 

Curtis gave you a shake, his snarl brought you back to him. “She was what? What did Wilford send you two back here for?” 

“We were here for a charity! I was supposed to meet Chris Evans, You as Curtis Everett.” your voice started to rise in a panic, your hands grasping his wrist at your neck. “That’s it, why is the train moving? Why are you all using real axes, fuck I just want to get off.” You sobbed, the survivors looked at you with disgust, shaking their heads. 

“Once you’re on the Snowpiercer, there is no getting off.” Curtis leaned back a bit, looking you up and down as if inspecting you curiously. “You’re such a fragile little thing. Just like a baby bird, all brittle bones and helpless.”  

“No getting off? What are you even talking about?” your tears started to sting your eyes, the panic settling deep in your chest like your heart was about to explode.

Curtis ignored your question, his free hand tugging at your thin sweater and shaking his head. “Fucker didn’t even send you back here properly dressed.” 

You tried to struggle and Curtis slammed you back hard enough to make you stop.

“She’s fucking whacked out of her gourd. Gotta be a kronole head someone spouting that shit.” A young man said behind Curtis, and he got in your face, tapping your cheek smartly. “Girl snap out of it, that shite fucking rotted your brain.” 

“No Edgar, this is different, she's lying. Good at it, but lying.” Curtis made to stand, dragging you up with him. You stumble in his hold, falling against his body before he dragged you along, hissing in your ear. 

“I don’t know what Wilford was thinking Little Bird, sending you back to me with this innocent act of yours. But don’t worry I will make you sing.”

[jtargaryen18]

J’s Haunted House 2020

The Premise

A celebrity haunted house for charity will be open one night only, Halloween night. You spent days trying to get a ticket online for the event. Thanks to a bad day on Halloween, you get there only a minute before the line closes. You’re the last person to go in and thinking that’s either really bad (everyone is tired or would be in a hurry to see you out) or really good (maybe you’d get some extra time with the one you came to see).

You are never seen again.

The Collection

The stories with at least one new story posted each day of October. Enjoy!

Warning: The stories in this collection may contain dark themes, violence, non-con, dub-con and more. Please read responsibly. 

Overture (Klaus Mikaelson & Mike Weiss (not a romantic pairing)) by @jtargaryen18​

Haunted House (Adam (OLLA) x Reader) by @just-the-hiddles​

He Who Wields the Machete (Andy Barber x Reader) by @geniedetails​

Scream For Me (Steve Rogers x Reader) by @sweeterthanthis​

Murder, He Wrote | Part 2 (Ransom Drysdale x Reader) by @what-is-your-plan-today​ @southerngracela​

Hell Night | Part 2 | Part 3 (Curtis Everett x Reader) by @caffiend-queen​

Rose Red’s All Hallows Eve | Part 2 | Part 3 (Curtis Everett x Reader) by @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​

Possesionem (Brock Rumlow x Reader) by @nekoannie-chan​

Hunting Grounds (Ari Levinson x Reader) by @geniedetails​

Who Are You, Where Are We, And What the Hell am I Wearing? (Steve Rogers x Reader) by @brooklyn-1918​

The Soldier's Chase (Steve Rogers x Reader) @rosalynshields​

My Sweet Addiction (Carol Danvers x Reader) @imanuglywombat​

The Flip Side (Mr. Freezy x Reader & Mr.Freezy x Reader x Clay Apuzzo) by @mdemontespan1667​

Unhinged (Mr. Freezy x Reader) @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​

October the 31st, the day I disappeared (Curtis Everett x Reader) @holylulusworld​

Collide (Andy Barber x Reader) @avintagekiss24​

82 Alfred Street (Adam (OLLA) x Reader) @nildespirandum​

Slit Reflection (Sam Wilson x Reader) @awesomerextyphoon​

Hiding | Part 2 (somewhere in the night) (Jake Jensen x Reader) @bonkywobble​

Fallen (Clint Barton x Reader) @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​

Midnight in the Garden of Evil (Charles Blackwood x Reader) @jtargaryen18​

The Treat Is In The Trick (Nick Gant x Reader) @dbnightingale24​

High Castle (Geralt of Rivia x Reader) @searchforanotherway​

Carry and Deliver (August Walker x Reader) @threeminutesoflife​

Rose Red’s All Hallows Eve: Shall We Go Inside? (Charles Blackwood x Reader) @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​

An Irresistible Offer (Loki x OFC) @myoxisbroken​

Stephen Spooky (Stephen Strange x Reader) @sherrybaby14​

The Mad Hatters’ Alice (Jefferson x OC) @rayofdawnworld​

Beyond the End (Thomas Sharpe x Reader) @frostbitten-written​

Run, Little Bunny (Charles Blackwood x Reader) @navybrat817​

Another Earth (Brock Rumlow x Reader) @chuuulip​

Original Sin (Bryce Langley x Reader) @stargazingfangirl18​

The Virgin Mother (Bucky Barnes x Reader) @fadingfics​

[bonkywobble]

Hiding (somewhere in the night) - 1/4

Summary: Finally giving in to the teasing, you join your friend in visiting this year’s Haunt for Charity attraction. You think it’s bad luck when you’re the last person to enter, but entering isn’t the problem. It’s Halloween, and someone isn’t going to make it home tonight.

Pairing: Dark!Jake Jensen x reader

Warnings: Dark themes, violence. This blog and all works associated with are 18+ only. Minors please do not interact or follow.

Written for @jtargaryen18‘s Haunted House challenge. Thank you for letting me take part!! I’ve tweaked this slightly, I hope you don’t mind.

Dividers by the wonderful Daisy over at @firefly-graphics

“C’mon, just take the rest of the night off. I got these especially for us,” your surprisingly sober friend sing-songed, waving the two slightly crinkled tickets in front of your face.

You raised an eyebrow and blinked. “This bar can’t run itself, Aisha.”

Gently hanging up the polished glass above the bar, you made to grab for the next one but before you could do so the woman whose offer you had so quickly dismissed reached across the bar and snatched the polishing cloth from your hand. “It’s for one night only, and I know damn well you’ve got more than enough staff on tonight to cover your hermit ass,” she continued.

While you usually admired Aisha’s boldness, tonight it threw you off. The confident and enigmatic woman had first swaggered into the bar not even three months ago, taking a seat in front of you and smoothly ordering a shot of black sambuca as she had probably done many times before. Though she was determined to get to know the woman serving her nearly every time she came in, you had taken your sweet time in warming up to her. It wasn’t until one night she quite literally strong-armed an unruly customer who’d been making some pretty obscene comments into leaving that you had started to loosen up. 

You were quickly regretting having confided in her your desire to figure out the next ‘big’ step in life, FOMO worming its way into your daily thoughts. She probably thought she was doing you a favor by taking you out for a bit of fun, but the worries about leaving the other staff alone combined with the anxiety that came with taking those steps rushed in and left you hesitating.

Not to mention, haunted houses weren’t really your thing. They were usually pretty shitty and a waste of money, in your experience.

Deep brown eyes met yours and softened, having noticed your discomfort. “If it helps, it’s for a good cause. Can’t let the veterans down, can you?”

A loud sigh left your lips. Damnit.

Two car rides later you and Aisha found yourselves in front of this year’s haunted attraction. 

You let out a low whistle as you exited the car, ”Gotta hand it to ‘em, this house looks damn creepier than last year’s.”

A grin made it’s way onto Aisha’s face, “Let me guess, crappy skeletons from Target?”

“Nope,” you shook your head. “Killer clowns, but their only victim was the spirit of Halloween.”

A “yikes” followed by the slamming of the passenger door was the only response you received.

Minutes ticked by as you both trudged towards the entrance, the unstable ground outside making you grateful you had driven first to your house so that you could change out of your uniform. The sneakers you now wore gave you more grip than your work flats while your sweater hindered the slight chill from reaching your skin, still hot from working indoors.

The sizable building looked amazingly unlivable, the structure almost entirely covered in dead vines. Broken windows highlighted by moonlight and actors just ahead of the front gates dressed as the recently risen deceased further lent themselves in completing the eerie atmosphere. 

Oh, this is way creepier than the corn maze last year.

A shuffling from beside you snapped you out of your brief trance. To your right, Aisha patted her hands up and down her dark leather jacket. Teeth ground together as the thought ‘she better not have lost them’ ran through your somewhat tired mind.

A small victorious whoop escaped her painted lips, right hand firmly clasping a ticket.

“For you, my cantankerous lady,” she lightly jested, thrusting the ticket into your open hand.

“Great work, my ever-humble squire. But if you are indeed such a genius, do tell me where the other ticket is?”

Widened eyes moved from your face back to the jacket. Five seconds later a second ticket had still not been produced.

“Fucking shit. Damn it.” 

You rolled your eyes, simultaneously annoyed and amused by the scene your hot-tempered companion was making. Your suggestion of having you walk back to the car was swiftly shot down. “I’m gonna head back to the car and have a look, meanwhile you will stay right here and hold our spot in the line,” she asserted, her tone leaving little room for argument.

That didn’t mean you didn’t try. Before you could open your mouth to counter her, however, she was already moving away from you. “I mean it,” she said, finger firmly pointed at you.

The strands on the end of your sweater got longer as time passed, your anxious habits making you tug at them aimlessly. It was clear that Aisha had been gone for a bit longer than she should’ve been. Your hands started to move down to your pockets, but remembering that you’d left your phone in the car you abruptly stopped.

Crap.

You went to look behind you, but a sharp voice ahead of you recaptured your attention.

“Tickets,” asked a nicely decaying soldier, the cowboy hat he wore throwing you off momentarily.

Shit. You hadn’t even realized you were now at the front of the line.

Fishing the ticket out of your jean pocket, you slowly handed it over to the man. Hoping to buy some time, you implored him to let you wait for your friend while she searched for her lost ticket, insisting the people behind you go first. His face contorted in confusion at the sight behind you, and when you were able to fully turn around this time your heart sank.

There was no one behind you.

Seriously, where the fuck is she?

Without further delay the ticket was yanked from your grasp and a hand placed on your back, guiding you to the first door. Cobwebs and scratches adorned it, further fueling the sinking feeling in your gut.

“Hold on, just wait a fucking mo-”

The pressure on your back momentarily grew as the man forcefully pushed you inside, opening the door with his free hand, your protest ignored.

A single, dangling lightbulb was all that lit the hallway ahead. Stumbling, you attempted to backtrack and came face-to-face with your zombified doorman. The smallest of nods and a nudge of his hat's brim were all that he gave you before he swiftly shut the door, the noise of the lock clicking into place filling you with fear like nothing you had experienced before.

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Murder, He Wrote

Part 2

Co-Written with @southerngracela​

Summary: After your ordeal at the hands of Ransom, you’re not sure that things can get any worse. Famous last words….

Warnings: Bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  So this is Part 2 to our submission for @jtargaryen18​ ‘s Haunted House 2020  Challenge. Once again READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Series Masterlist. 

With his pride wounded, Ransom drank himself to sleep that night, his mind plotting and scheming of more ways to make his point clear. She was his now and nothing was going to change that. He'd decided it might be time to let her in on his secrets and breakfast seemed as good a time as any and, as such, presented her with a plate of bacon and toast along with a cup of coffee to wash it down. He didn't cook, not well anyway, his preference being diner out or order in. He supposed if this was his new normal, he'd have to learn a new skill. He cringed just slightly at the thought of such domesticity. 

When you heard the locks turn, your belly dropped out. You were shocked to see him, afraid of what was coming your way. If the events from the previous night were any indication, you had to steel yourself to once again fight back. Your tired eyes took him in. A plate and mug in his hands, jeans over his long legs, boots on his feet. Broad shoulders covered by a white ribbed long sleeve thermal shirt, eyes cold and distant, arrogant smirk over his lips. A smirk of your own barely parted your lips as you took note of the now pink lines adorning his right cheek, courtesy of your nails biting at his skin in the attack. You turned away from him, your body instinctively curling in on itself, chain stopping you from balling up completely when he approached. Your mouth watered at the smell of the bacon and coffee. You were hungry but your body fought to ignore the pangs, offering him that satisfaction.

 "I'm not hungry," you managed, desperately irritated at how weak you sounded. 

"Starve then," he set the plate and mug on the nightstand at your bedside. He stood rooted there, arms crossed over his chest. 

"People are gonna be looking for me, you know," you point out, sitting up a little more, confidence growing by the second. 

“You don’t think I’ve already thought of that?” His hands moved from across his chest to his hips. 

As you looked at him, that maddening smug look present on his face it suddenly dawned on you that he might have been more calculating than you’d imagined. And then you understood. You figured out what the connection between him and the actor you’d been supposedly meeting was. None. None whatsoever, except that Lucas Lee had been easy, collateral damage. "You set him up," your brow rose and shock filled your voice. "Lucas Lee... You set him up. What the hell did you do?" 

"Sweetheart, the guy's a complete tool, he walked right into it and he'll walk right out. Just a couple of hours of questioning and he'll be let go," Ransom shrugged as if this were nothing. 

"You're disgusting," you seethe. This arrogant asshole used someone just to get to you and he was PROUD of it. You didn't know what you expected, but the notion of the reality was appalling.

"You don't know the half of it," he winked.

"You're never going to get away with this," you managed to threaten. The look in his eyes caught your breath as he leaned in close, hands on the mattress on either side of your hips. 

"I killed Fran, got away with that. I nearly killed Marta, same story," he said, popping a shoulder up. "The point is, Sweetheart, I'm that good, they'll never find you."

"My family, my friends…they'll go to the police. Mick, my boss, he'll want to know where I am after not showing up today. You can't possibly have thought of everything," you shook your head as you wondered just how long he'd been plotting this. You’d only met the asshole a few months ago, interviewed him for a couple of hours max and then released the article days later. How on earth had that transpired into this utter shirt-show? The thoughts were spiraling so fast in your mind, it was dizzying. 

"Your boss got an email this morning saying you no longer wanted to work for him, and as for your family and friends, well let’s just say I know where they are. I know your little sister's routine. I know the time your mom walks your dog, and that she does it alone.” Ransom continued and you felt the cold course through your body “You do as I say, and they're safe. If not, well, I can pick them off, one, by one, without even getting my hands dirty," he pulled back, standing over you. "So many criminal junkies in Boston, Sweetheart. Plenty who will take the fall for a little hit,” and with that he turned on his heel and walked to the door. 

The true reality of your situation set in and you felt sick to your stomach, despite your hunger. You felt clammy and overwhelmingly dizzy. He had you. If he'd gone this far, followed your family, set up a well-known actor, plotted this entire plan down to how to convince Mick you quit, in a scary short amount of time, just to get to you, you were fully trapped. 

"What happens if you lock me down here...and something happens to you?” Worry laced your words. 

He turned over his shoulder, "I don't give a fuck." And he slammed the door, the sound of the locks echoing in your room. 

In a gut reaction you grabbed the plate of food at threw it at the door where it shattered into pieces, the bacon and toast falling to the floor with it. You screamed as you threw it, for if you hadn't you'd have vomited where you led. 

**** Ransom heard the scream and the smash of the plate and paused half way up the stairs. He took a deep breath, contemplating going back down and teaching Y/N some damned manners before he decided to leave it. He’d given her enough to think about for the time being, and besides, he didn’t want to lower himself to delivering another slap to her face like he had done last night. In all honesty, he hadn’t been expecting the site of the bruise on her right cheek to unsettle him as much as it had done. Her pretty face shouldn’t be marked in anyway, and looking at it had simply reminded him how he’d lost control. Of all the things he’d done, he’d never hit a woman before, despite murder and attempted murder. It left a bad taste in his mouth all things considered and a nasty twist in his gut that felt almost like guilt. But it wasn’t guilt, that wasn’t something he did either…no, it was the fact that in all of his actions, even the diabolical ones, he’d remained calm and in control. Until last night. He’d been feral, wild even, and it wasn’t a feeling he relished. But she’d pushed him to it, provoked him. It was her fault, not his.

He shrugged on his coat and grabbed his keys, before he headed out, locking the door and climbing into his black Mercedes SUV. God he missed his beamer, but this was a lot less conspicuous, just as he needed at the moment. He slipped his sunglasses on to shield his eyes against the bright fall sun and set off towards the City.

His mother was already seated and waiting for him when he arrived at the Harbor. He walked over to her table, pulling off his sunglasses and sliding them into the pocket of his camel coat, removing his trademark silk scarf as he went. He handed them off to the help showing him to his seat, asking him to bring him a beer, and sat across from Linda, who was watching him carefully as she lounged back in her seat, properly dressed as ever in a crisp pair of black trousers and a white long sleeved silk blouse. With her legs crossed, she cut quite the imposing figure, but not to him.

Ransom greeted her with a stiff nod and she frowned and gestured to his face.

“What on earth have you done to your cheek?” she questioned, clearly noticing the scratch marks. Ransom hesitated for a second, “Things got a little rough last night, ” he shrugged but his smirk didn't quite reach his eyes. Linda let out a slight groan as she grimaced “Jesus Ransom, I don’t want to know about your sordid little bedroom antics,” she scalded. “Then don’t ask, Mother,” He drawled, not missing a beat.

“Oh believe me, I wish I hadn't.” Linda rolled her eyes.

Ransom looked down at the menu that was on the table in front of him, giving it a cursory glance already knowing what he was ordering, the same as he always did when he was here, before he took a deep breath and raised his eyes to his mother. She wasn’t one for small talk, and neither was he, so he decided to get straight to the point.

“Why are we here?” he demanded “I mean, aside from the obvious guilt driven task of having lunch with your son.” “If you're going to be a spoiled brat why did you even agree to meet me?” Linda shot back and Ransom smirked.

“What was it you always told me mom? No matter how rich you are, never turn down a free meal.”

“Snarky smart ass” Linda retorted and it was his turn to snort as her brow furrowed.

“Now, now Mother. Those frown lines are getting worse” he arched an eyebrow and she glared at him before she sighed.

“I wanted to see how you were, is that so hard to believe.” “In a word, yes.” He shrugged.

“Well, it’s true.” She reached for her glass of wine and took a sip. “I've not seen you since you moved house.”

Ransom rolled his eyes, Jesus he didn’t have time for this shit. He took a deep breath and looked at her as she eyed him expectantly, waiting for his answer “Just fine. I'm enjoying my new place.”

“So, you like it then?” Linda set her glass down and leaned back once more. “I must admit when it came on our books I thought it would suit you.”

“It's different than Kenoak, less modern, but it does the job” he said vaguely and saw her body language stiffen.

“If you don’t like it why did you buy it Ransom?” her tone was exasperated and he had to fight back the grin that was threatening to spread across his face at the fact he was riling her. It was always so damned easy.

“Well, my last place had kinda turned into a bit of a media circus.”

“Yeah, I expect that’s what happens when you're involved in a homicide” she snapped back.

“Say it a bit louder.” Ransom deadpanned “I don’t think they heard you over by the bar.”

“Believe me, that wasn’t intentional.” she held his gaze “Your Granddad’s death isn't something I find funny, Ransom. Not that it ever occurred to you."

Ransom sighed. He was starting to get annoyed under her scrutiny and really wasn’t in the mood for a deep dive into the events of the past year.

“Not of sound mind, Mother.” He said, his voice a little softer as he reminded her of the argument his brief had made which had ensured his acquittal from his crimes, hoping it would shut her up. “Remember?”

“I know son, I know.” Linda leaned over and gently lay her hand on his where it rested on the table. Ransom took a deep breath and shifted in his seat. Physical affection from her always made him uncomfortable as he wasn’t used to it, but for some reason it was heightened in that moment. He sat and pondered for a second on what he had just said. His brief had spun the line about him being under emotional duress due to his granddad cutting him out of his will and whilst there was an element of truth in it, he’d been of perfect mental capacity when he’d enacted his plan. But, if it helped his mother believe that her only son isn’t a monster then…whatever. He pulled his hand back from her and she sighed, clearly mistaking his discomfort for guilt.

 “You know, you used to be such an affectionate little boy, Ransom.” Linda looked at her hand as if his rebuttal had burned her before she shook her head and reached once more for her drink. “I often wonder where your dad and I went wrong.”

Ok, so this he could deal with. The reminder that he was a constant disappointment.

 “Hard to say.” He snarked “Somewhere between boarding school and Harvard maybe?”

She rolled her eyes “We did what we thought was best.” She set her now empty glass down. “Clearly in hindsight...”

Ransom was saved from her self-indulgent moment of soul searching by the waiter who set his beer down in front of him and asked if they were ready to order. Ransom gestured to his mother who asked for the house salad with a side of tempura prawns whilst he went for his usual, fillet steak with all the trimmings. It was obnoxiously expensive but what the hell, like he cared. Especially not when his Mother was paying...

He took a long pull from his beer as the waiter topped his mother’s glass up from the bottle that stood in the ice bucket next to their table before she thanked him and he disappeared.

“You’ve not asked me how your father is.” Linda looked at Ransom who narrowed his eyes. Why does she care about that? But, deciding it was as good a conversation change as any he shrugged.

“How's Richard?”

Linda rolled her eyes but for the first time since he arrived he noticed a little smirk flicker on her lips before she looked at him. “He’s still your dad Ransom" she reminded.

“Ok, how is my dearest dad? Still fucking the 30 year old au-pair?”

“Yes, apparently, he's taking her to the villa.”

Now that did make him frown. The Villa that they owned in Lake Gada was his mother’s pride and joy.

“Seriously? You're just gonna let him do that?” Ransom’s tone was surprised.

“I have no choice.” Linda took a deep breath “Our divorce isn't final and he's contesting me keeping the property. It's not as cut and dry as one would assume despite his infidelity, numerous infidelities even.”

“He signed a pre-nup, Mom.” Ransom reminded her and Linda nodded.

“I know, but the Villa wasn't part of it. It's the one thing he can hold over me and he's doing just that.” She took a sip of her drink and snorted “Dumb bastard has nothing so he figures why not try his luck here. Fact is, he gets nothing else.”

“Good.”  Ransom retorted, a little viciously and Linda eyed himself shrewdly.

“Careful Ransom, you almost sound like you care.” She smirked and he rolled his eyes, not gracing her with an answer. “Anyway, what are you doing with yourself these days?” she moved the conversation on “And I don't mean with women as we've already established when you sat down. Any hobbies or God forbid a job prospect I should know about?” “Aside from my love life, I’m actually writing mother, believe it or not.” He responded, amused at the visible look of shock that crossed her face.

“You're....writing?” her mouth dropped open before she hastily shut it.

“Don't sound too surprised, Linda,” Ransom let out a low chuckle as his mother rolled her eyes at his use of her name. “Granddad always said I had a flare for it. Just-” he paused for a moment before he shrugged “-well, I guess I never really used it much.”

Linda cocked her head to the side as she considered him for a moment before her face softened and once more Ransom felt uncomfortable at her change in demeanour. “He'd be proud of you. I suppose it's what he's always wanted for you, to find something for yourself.”

And there it was. The reminder that he was nothing but a trust fund prick, with no future and nothing of his own to live off. He took a deep breath, gritting his teeth slightly before he responded with a false air of nonchalance.

“I see that now.”

“Good. I'm pleased you do Son.” Linda nodded. “I'm not glad about how it all went down but...well, as dad used to say, things have a strange way of working out in the end.” It was a funny choice of words, Ransom thought, but before he had chance to dwell on it anymore their food arrived. The conversation slowed a little as they both ate, growing a little stilted in places as he told her vaguely what his writing project was about- a private detective- go figure. Linda moaned about more about his father, and then she dropped something casually into the conversation that really did surprise him, that they were planning a memorial for Harlan. 

"When?" he frowned, swallowing a mouthful of potato.

“The end of this month, possibly the first week in December. It'll be after Thanksgiving.” Linda waved her hand before she paused, hesitating a little as if she was deliberating whether or not to tell him this next bit. And when she did, he fully realised why. “It was Marta’s idea.” The mere mention of that name was enough to get his hackles up and he took a deep breath, the nerve in his jaw twitching. He looked at his mother as she watched him carefully before he looked away and took a drink of his beer. “Hmmm” was all he could muster.

“Hmmm? What's Hmm, Ransom?” Linda looked at him.

“I figured with Harlan gone she'd be out of our lives.” He shrugged, feeling his neck grow hot. That bitch was responsible for all of this in the first place, the reason he was done out of his inheritance. If she hadn’t got her claws into him none of his would have happened.

“Yes, well, as much as it sticks in my throat that she got everything maybe if we play ball she'll come round to actually giving us all what we're owed.” Linda shrugged “And that aside...it will be nice to remember him.”

The rest of the lunch passed with simple conversation, Ransom steering it well away from the subject of his family. When they’d finished his mother, as predicted, picked up the tab and together they headed outside to wait for the Valet to fetch their vehicles. His mother’s arrived first and she turned to him, the pair of them engaging in the awkward, stilted kissing of the cheeks before she promised him his quarterly check from his shares in her company should land next week. With a nod and a thanks he bid her good bye and a few moments later climbed into his own car and set off back home.

***** With a yell you sat bolt upright, taking a moment to get your bearings as you emerged from the troubled sleep you had fallen back into. Yes, you were still here, in Drysdale’s fucking basement. The tears stung your eyes as you lay back, taking some deep breaths as you attempted to ebb the panic which was setting in. Your situation was disgusting and dire, you were trapped and therefore, you knew you needed to ask for the things you needed, not wanted, just simply needed, or in time, Hugh could add you to his notch post of growing murder victims. The question was, exactly how far could you push him for anything? One wrong move, as you'd learned last night, and you'd be regretting ever uttering a syllable. But you refused to go quietly, you'd be further letting yourself down if you did. You didn't have it in you. However, just how dangerous he was or could be now was no longer lost on you, you had the physical reminder in the biting sting of your cheek, throbbing and tenderness you felt between your legs, and the slight bruising around your wrists where he had pinned them above your head. You hadn’t examined the rest of your body to see what damage he’d done, you didn’t want to.

You ached all over from being led or sat on this damned bed since you’d arrived. The chain attaching you to the bed post wasn’t long enough to allow you to stand up and stretch our your aching limbs so for now you had to settle for attempting to massage some feeling back into your calves, your eyes casting over the various tears and ladders in your thick tights which you’d pulled back up last night with trembling hands after he had violated you.

The door clicked open and your head jerked towards the door as you scrambled higher up the bed, pressing your back into the headboard. You watched as your captor strode in, a packet of Biscoff in his hand pausing as his foot crunched over the shattered remnants of the plate that you’d hurled at the door. He looked up at you, raising an eyebrow, as if he'd forgotten he'd heard you throw it this morning. 

“I don’t like cleaning up messes” He said simply as he stepped over it, shutting the door with his foot.

“Pity you killed the house keeper then” you glared at him as he shoved another cookie into his mouth.

“Who, Fran?” he asked with a scoff, his voice muffled by his food.

“How many other house keepers have you killed?” you shot back and he gave a snort.

“None.” Ransom shrugged nonchalantly “But for your information, Fran was a useless dimwit. She only cared about two things. Drugs and getting paid.”

You frowned, was that supposed to justify his actions in some way? He too only cared about getting paid and what money could do for him. “And you care about what exactly other than yourself?” you shot back. He looked at you, a smirk crossing his handsome face as she shoved yet another cookie into his mouth, chewing slowly.

At that point your stomach growled with hunger, just another way your body had betrayed since you since you had arrived and you tore your face from his, turning it to the side.

“Now are you hungry?” he asked as you realised that was probably the bastard’s plan all along. With a deep sigh you looked back at him.

“Can I have one?” you asked meekly.

Ransom studied you for a moment, tongue poking at his cheek, before he strode towards the bed and offered you the packet. You took one and stuffed it straight into your mouth.

“No thank you?”

“Piss off.” You shot back automatically, swallowing your cookie.

His good demeanour ebbed slightly as an irritated look flashed across his face. “Don’t push me, Sweetheart.” his voice was low as he sank onto the side of the bed, looking at you “I think your situation is precarious enough as it is, don’t you?”

You merely glared at him, you had no comeback. There was no comeback. He was right.

“Now if I make you something proper to eat are you gonna take it or throw it at the door again?” he raised his eyebrows “Because, frankly, you starving yourself is of no real concern to me except I kinda think you’re gonna need to keep your strength up.”

It didn’t take a genius to work out exactly what for. But you were so hungry, and the battle inside you raged on before your self-preservation mode won out and you hung your head slightly, looking at the comforter you were led on. “I’ll eat.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard was it?” Ransom smirked again.

“No.” you replied, your voice devoid of emotion. “Can I have some water too?”

“As long as you don’t throw the glass.”

“I’m thirsty.” You replied simply “I won’t.”

He nodded and stood up, offering you the packet of cookies “Have those for now.”

“Thank you.” You took them from him, your tone a little sarcastic, your eyes rolling as you spoke. He looked at you and for a moment you were worried he was about to do something about your response but he simply gave a huff of laughter and turned to leave.

“I’ll be back shortly.” He said, closing the door behind him. 

You could no longer bite back the sigh of delight as you took another of the buttery spiced cookies into your mouth. It was rich on your tongue but it was food and you were so hungry. What you wouldn't do for a cup of coffee to go with. You surveyed the room as you chewed the Biscoff thoughtfully. The earlier despair you’d felt upon waking just before he had re-appeared was slowly giving way to determination as you realised that for now practicality had to win you over. Not only did you need sustenance and water, which you knew was on the way, you also needed clothing and access to the bathroom, which you now realized you were desperate for.

So now what, you thought to yourself. The fact that he was willing to feed you despite the fact you’d launched your morning’s meal against the door meant he didn't want you dead. Mind you, if he did you wouldn’t have made it out of that fucking dilapidated house so, just what kind of a game was he playing at here? You weren't sure what his end game was if it didn't mean your certain death. You just didn't understand and felt the struggle of thoughts seep into your mind as you contemplated each step. He doesn't want you dead, but you're locked up, chained up and he's obliterated your body by force. And that was only the first round. So far he's voiced his hell bent plan on keeping you here and making you suffer. And he's done a right job at it after just the first night. He couldn't keep this up for the rest of your life, could he? No, you didn't think, but he's gone as far as to know your every day, your family's every day, detail for detail. It couldn't possibly be for ironically a ransom, no, he had plenty of money still and if you were certain, his mother was still finding ways to slip him allowances and he'd managed to get a small chunk under the table and off the record from your publishers on your behalf. So no, it wasn't for money. Did he expect a better and firm, more sincere apology? Well he sure as shit wasn't going to get one now. Stupid, spoiled fuck. You outwardly scoff at the thought. What does he want that you have? The endgame is unknown but you were in the long game now, that much was apparent. You just had to not walk into verbal traps and wait for him to reveal his hand. But you guessed just by the times you've previously had with Hugh Ransom Drysdale that his hand wouldn't be revealed until he held the right cards.

True to his word Ransom came back what couldn't have been more than 15 minutes later. He handed you a plate containing a simple turkey sandwich, a bag of chips and a plastic bottle of water. “Just in case you get any ideas about smashing it and doing me in…” he said, placing it down.

“Murder is your speciality, not mine” you snarked back biting into your sandwich as the hunger you felt won out over the need to pee that you’d felt before. It was actually pretty good. The bread was fresh, the meat succulent, both more than likely from a deli and not a bog standard store. You ate eagerly, Ransom settled in the arm chair in the corner of the room by the low coffee table, his eyes watching you. You ignored him, concentrating on your food.

“So…” you said as you stuffed the last of your sandwich into your mouth “Are you gonna keep me down here?”

“Yup” he said simply, popping the P.

You swallowed and grabbed the water, cracking the top open and draining half of it in one, your hand trembling slightly. Thankfully you avoided spilling any. You screwed the top on and placed it back on the night stand and watched with horror as he rose from his seat and crossed towards you, sitting on the side of the bed

“So, because I don’t want anything to fuck up what we got here, sweetheart, I have a simple question which you’re gonna answer.” Ransom said, looking at you “Are you on birth-control?”

Your mouth dropped open as you glared at him.

“What the fuck?” you stuttered

“It’s a simple question that requires a yes or no answer.” His expression hadn’t changed, not one bit. Cool, calm and collected, like this was something he would simply ask anyone. As you stared at his smug face, your puzzlement at the seemingly straight outta left field question gave way to anger. He was asking you this, like it was his damned right to know, like he was your fucking boyfriend by choice.

“You tell me, I mean you thought of everything or so you took great pleasure in telling me last night.” You spat. Quick as a flash his hand grabbed your face, his fingers gripping your chin painfully and you let out a little whimper.

“Answer the question.” He said simply

And then you realised, it wasn’t really that out of left field at all was it? It was clear following last night what his intention for you was and like he’d want the added complication of any little surprises turning up in around 9 months. You swallowed, your eyes looked down

“Yes” you whispered, and he released your face.

“Good.” Ransom nodded “Makes things a lot easier.” “I’m not a sex toy, Hugh.” You glared at him and he looked back at you, giving a snort.

“You’ll be whatever I want you to be.” “You’re an asshole.”

“So it’s been said.” He shrugged simply, like he didn’t give a shit. Which, as you realised, he probably didn’t. People like him never did care what they came across like, arrogant trust fund prick.

With a sigh you pinched the bridge of your nose and glanced around the room you were in, as if you really hadn't paid much attention to it's details before. Ironically, if you weren’t here under duress it would actually be quite nice. The bed was large and comfy, there was a reasonably big bathroom attached which from what you could make out contained a fairly nice sized bath tub and a separate walk in shower cubicle. There was what looked like a built in closet next to the bathroom door, a night stand which contained a reading lamp to your right and on the opposite wall to the bed in front of you there was a dresser and a small shelf fixed to the wall a little higher, which was empty. To the left of the room was a large, plush armchair behind which another lamp was fixed to the wall and a fancy oak coffee table which matched the rest of the furniture. Above the chair, was a porthole like window, hexagonal in shape, but high enough to not allow for escape but for the warmth of daylight to seep into the space. 

A fucking studio apartment, that half of Boston would probably kill to own…and you were trapped in it. Well, certainly until you could think of a way to un-trap yourself so to speak.

You looked back at him and decided to keep pressing your luck a little. There were things you needed, starting with the bathroom, and you were damned if you were going to let him degrade you even more than he already had by letting you piss yourself.

“There are things I’m going to need.” You spoke, taking care to keep your voice neutral, attempting to avoid outwardly displaying the desperation you were feeling “A pee and a shower for one” you gestured with your head to the small bathroom.

“Well if you’re gonna behave, I’ll undo this.” He reached down and jangled the chain that was attached to the shackle round your ankle.

“Clothes too…”

“The closet is full.” He said simply “But you have to behave, Sweetheart, or you go right back on the chain.

You grit your teeth. Sweetheart, you were no more his sweetheart than he was Harlan’s favorite grandchild. “Like I have a choice.”

“You do.” He said simply “Behave or not.”

You let out a frustrated growl “I told you I was gonna, now just undo the fucking dog collar on my ankle.”

“Ooh, so feisty.” Ransom mocked and you glared at him.

With a chuckle he stood up and pulled the key out of his pocket, undoing the shackle round your ankle and stood back slightly. You moved and shuffled to the edge of the bed where he watched as you rose to your legs. However, after the ordeal you’d been through the night before, plus your no doubt whacky blood sugar level, your head span a little and you staggered forward. Ransom caught you, both his hands hooking under your arms as he helped you steady yourself, his touch surprisingly gentle as his hands slid down to your ribs, thumbs brushing underneath your breasts and you looked at him, blinking. His action had caught you off guard and if the look on his face was anything to go by it had caught him off guard too. There was a moment where you stood still before you remembered exactly what was going on and with an angry scoff you raised both your hands, palms flat on his chest and shoved him as hard as you could.

It didn’t move him much, a half a step back or so, but it was enough to make a point. The unexpected softness on his face turned to anger and a split second later his right hand was round your throat.

“I'm warning you…” he snarled, his large fingers flexing causing his grip to tighten, around your throat. He gave a sharp squeeze, not enough to cut off your airway, instead serving as a threat, telling you he could if he wanted to. He released his grip as the tears stung your eyes and he moved aside to allow you to move to the bathroom. You went as quickly as you could and once you were there you made to shut the door.

Only there wasn’t one. “Why the fuck is there no door?” you turned and faced him.

“Because I won’t clean up a dead body.” He shrugged “So before you get any dumb ideas, anything that could make you think about a means to an end isn’t in this room either.”

You looked at him, frowning before you realised what he meant and you shook your head. “Oh trust me, I’m not about to kill myself over you.”

“Good.” He said simply, “You have 10 minutes” he said, leaning on the frame where the door should have been.

“You’re not watching me pee, Hugh!”

At that his face darkened “Call me Hugh one more time, I dare you, Sweetheart.” His voice was laced with venom as his eyes flashed dangerously, but despite all that you couldn’t help yourself. It was the only weapon you had in your arsenal to deploy.

“Hugh.” you spat, raising an eyebrow.

His jaw clenched and in two large strides he was on you, his hand grabbing your forearm as he yanked you across the bathroom, your feet skidding on the tiles as you struggled for traction on the floor. You yelled out at the pain of his grip but no sooner had it started it stopped as he flung you unceremoniously into the shower cubicle. Your knees and hip collided painfully with the tray and you gave a scream as a torrent of freezing cold water hit you, soaking your sweater dress. You gasped and spluttered, struggling to your feet, the cold making your chest contract and he looked at you, his face back to its stony calm expression.

“10 minutes” he repeated.

He turned to go and in a fit of rage you peeled the icy, sodden jersey dress off and flung it at him. It hit him square in the back before it slid to the floor, splattering on the tiles in a sopping mess. You saw him take a deep breath, his broad shoulders rippling under his thermal ribbed top as he stood up square and turned to face you as you stood, teeth chattering in the still cold spray in nothing but your bra and laddered thermal tights.

“You’re really testing my patience, Sweetheart.” He intoned darkly, before he cocked an eyebrow “9 and a half minutes.” He left the bathroom and headed into the main room, and you turned away instantly cranking up the heat on the shower. As it warmed you through, the water beating down on you, you reached for the shower gel which was on a small shelf in the corner of the cubicle. You scrubbed and scrubbed, not caring how much you used, attempting to rid yourself of the dirty feeling of him as you recalled his hands all over you, his cock violating you in the way it had. You didn’t stop the tears falling, your resolve breaking, as you turned your face into the spray, allowing it to hide your tears, before you washed your hair in the shampoo and conditioner.  Eventually, when you’d done everything you could, you turned off the water, took a deep breath and squeezed your hair out before stepping out of the shower. Your eyes instinctively went to the doorway and you were relieved. You couldn’t see Ransom, which meant he didn’t have an eye-line directly into the shower, awarding you some level of privacy at least.

You grabbed a towel which you wrapped around yourself, before you took another and used it to squeeze your hair before you pulled it back into a messy bun out of the way, and stepped out of the bathroom.

 “That was 11 minutes.” Ransom said simply as you emerged into the main area of the basement “I’ll let the 90 seconds slide.”

You glared at him as he sat in the armchair, his broad frame filling it, right leg crossed over his left, an I don't give a fuck look about his face, and you knew at that moment you had never hated anyone more in your life than you hated him right then. You turned towards the closet and began to route through, the tears filling your eyes again as you concentrated on finding something to wear. You pulled a few things out, checking the tags. Not only did the prices shock you (it was all high end, designer stuff- what else would the spoilt, trust fund prick buy) but it was all your size. Which unnerved you no end. Pushing that to the back of your mind, as after all in the situation you were in it was the least of your worries, eventually you settled on a simple pale blue cashmere sweater, and a pair of jeans.

“Underwear?” you turned and looked at him. He nodded to the drawers built into the bottom of the closet and you opened it, taking a breath. Of course it would all be lace, sexy. You picked the most modest pair of black, lace French-style briefs you could find and the matching bra, tossing the lot onto the bed. You looked at him, cocking your eyebrow and he mimicked the action, gesturing with his hand.

“Don’t mind me.” The dismay washed over you as you realised what he meant and you took a deep breath “You’re gonna sit there and watch?”

“Yup.” He replied simply, popping the p loudly.

You bowed your head, knowing there was no point turning your back on him, he’d just force you to turn round. As you stared to pat yourself dry though your towel, you blinked back the tears as for some reason this felt far more humiliating and degrading that what he’d done to you last night.

****

Ransom wasn’t sure he’d ever exercised self-control like this, he normally just bought (or took) what he wanted, and before he’d wanted nothing more than to trace the beads of water which moved down her neck and back, collecting in the towel as she rifled through the closet. She reached for the panties first, and attempted to shimmy them on under the towel and he gave a click of his tongue.

“Oh no doll.” He smirked, “lose it.”

She glared at him, and he simply held her gaze, not looking away and eventually he saw her shoulder sag as she reached up with a shaking hand and unhooked the edge of the towel which was tucked in on itself and let it fall to the floor. He gave a loud hum of approval as he took her in, her long-lithe legs up to her hips, the curve of her waist, pert breasts and delicate shoulders and collar bone. She swallowed on air and he watched her throat bob, and he instantly found himself thinking how good she’d look swallowing something else. He shifted slightly in his seat, the crotch of his jeans now feeling a little tight thanks to his semi-hard cock, and she reached for the lace briefs stepping into them. As she shimmied them up, her breasts jiggled a little and he gave an inward groan. For a second he thought about stopping her, taking her there and then but now wasn’t the time. They had things to discuss, certain rules she needed to understand.

Plus, the waiting and the anticipation would simply heighten the pleasure later when he finally did fuck her again.

He remained still as she pulled on the rest of the clothes before she turned to him, her cheeks adorably flushed.

“Hairbrush?” she asked.

Ransom nodded to the dresser opposite the bed and she moved over towards it, opening one of the drawers. She reached in and pulled the item out, dragging it through her hair before she braided it quickly and then turned to him expectantly.

“Sit.” He said, gesturing to the bed. She did as she was told, sinking down onto the edge of it, her hands clasped in her laps, fingers of her right hand pulling at the ones in her left nervously.

“Ok…” he leaned forward, his hands resting on his knees as he looked at her “Here’s how it’s gonna work.”

At his words Y/N looked at him, and then her hands released each other and she folded her arms, crossing her legs on the bed, chewing on her cheek with a sullen look on her face. The look of someone that really didn’t want to listen but had no option.

Such a petulant brat.

“You’re gonna do what I tell you, when I tell you.” Ransom spoke calmly and authoritatively “If I want you, I’m gonna have you.” At that she took a shaky breath but her eyes remained on his as he continued “You behave, you’ll get rewarded. If you don’t, you’ll be punished.”

“Punished?” she sputtered. “What could possibly be a worse punishment than this?” she waved her hand and Ransom allowed himself a chuckle.

Oh, Doll, you have no idea…

“Do you really want to know?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow up.

“No.” she said, hanging her head slightly.

“Smart move.” He nodded.

“Anything else?” she looked back at him, the defiance once more filling her features.

“Yes, don’t call me Hugh.”

At that she smirked and he felt a flash of annoyance “Sorry, am I amusing you?”

“Nope.” She shook her head quickly, the smirk fading as quick as it had appeared.

“Good.” He said, his palms slapping his thighs as he stood up.

“Is that it?”

“For now.” He nodded.

“Do I get to make any rules?”

Ransom hesitated, and looked at her. He had to hand it to her, she was gutsy but that was part of the reason she was hear after all. He shook his head, chuckling slightly “This isn’t a negotiation.”

“Can I ask you for things?”

“I just said, this isn’t a negotiation.” He started to get a little bit irked at her attitude now, “You behave, you get things.”

“So you’re gonna leave me down here with nothing? No TV, no books, no stereo?”

“Behave and I’ll think about it.” He replied simply and when she sighed he knew she understood that arguing and bargaining with him was futile.

Ransom Drysdale bargained with no one.

“You know…” he said, stepping towards the bed and she instantly took a deep breath, shying away a little. The fact he had so much power over her was exhilarating and he smiled, stopping a foot or so away from the edge of the bed, his large frame towering over her. “I should shackle you again, for your back chatting and slapping me in the back with your wet clothes but I’m fair. I’ll let that go. I hadn’t explained my rules.”

She blinked up at him and he nodded towards the bathroom. “Put your dirty stuff in the hamper. I’ll be back later.”

As he strode towards the door he could have sworn he heard her mumble something, something that sounded suspiciously like she’d called him a prick. He stopped, smirking, before he fixed a hard look on his face and turned round.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” She said quickly

“Thought not.” He nodded, and with that he turned and left, locking the numerous bolts on the door behind him.

**** With a lack of anything else to do you cleaned up the water from the bathroom floor and tossed everything into the hamper like you’d been told to do and then, taking advantage of your new found “freedom” so to speak you set about exploring every single nook and cranny of your ‘cell’. You found the bathroom was fully stocked with all sorts of toiletries, sanitary products (fuck, you didn’t even want to think about what he was going to do to get his sordid little kicks when Aunt Flow came to visit in 3 weeks or so), there was a little make up as well in the drawer in the vanity unit that you’d spotted before and you pulled it out to examine it, once again finding it to be not your usual brand but high end all the same. Finding all this was only compounding your confusion as to what the hell his goal was in all this, but as you had realised before until he decided to show you those cards, you would simply be playing a guessing game.

In the drawers under your bed you found a few different sets of linen which was a relief as it meant you weren’t going to be at his mercy as to when you could change your bedding. Given what had happened the night before, you were half tempted to change them again but you hesitated and decided to wait until later, because you had a sinking feeling he was going to take you again, especially given his declaration earlier.

“If I want you, I’m gonna have you.”

If that was how your life was going to go for the foreseeable, you’d be going through a hell of a lot of bedding if you changed it every time he fucked you. Much more than was contained in the drawers anyway.

Pushing that horrible thought from your head, you took a deep breath, focussing on staying calm, staying collected, staying alive. She needed her wits, her strength, her continued ability of self preservation. And, given the fact that he's murdered before, you weren't entirely trusting his word of not wanting to kill you. You closed the drawers and then settled yourself down on the floor at the side of the bed nearest the arm chair and low coffee table indulging in a few yoga stretches and the like in an attempt to ease out your still aching muscles. You were sat on the floor, with your legs extended, reaching for your toes when he came back and with a little smirk on his face handed you a book.

“For the boredom.”

You blinked and then took it from him, shaking your head as you realised it was one of his granddads, most likely his idea of a joke. And what was more it was one you’d already read.

Nevertheless, not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, you thanked him and then stood up and dropped into the chair, opening the cover. How long had passed you had no idea, but you were a good few chapters on when the trust fund ass wipe re-emerged, and the smell of food wafted across the room. He set a tray down on the bed and jerked his head towards it, in a silent instruction for you to vacate the seat. With a roll of your eyes you tried to get comfortable on the bed to eat with said tray balanced on your knee and with an exasperated groan you looked at him.

“Is there any chance of getting some form of table and chair so I can eat off it and not where I’m expected to sleep?”

He looked at you for a second, before he shrugged “I’ll think about it, depending on how you behave.”

The chicken was dry, but you ate it anyway, remembering your earlier thoughts about staying strong. As you chewed you watched him where he sat in the chair in the corner of the room, looking at something on his phone. Having had time to think things over even more, you knew you needed to play this clever, get him on your side, let him believe that you could be trusted if you wanted to stand any chance of getting out of here. With a deep breath you supressed the desire you had to simply remain silent, sullen even and spoke.

“Are you not eating?” you asked him and he looked at you, surprise on his face.

“I had a big lunch.” He responded simply.

“Well I hope it was better than this.” You arranged your face into the best playful look you could muster “Because, no offence, it sucks.”

Ransom looked at you, before he snorted “Yeah, cooking isn’t my forte.”

“Maybe I could do it.” You offered “I’m not a bad chef.”

His eyes locked on yours and you concentrated on keeping the look on your face innocent as he studied you. Eventually he spoke again “Maybe. If you behave.”

Again, the focus on your behaviour. He clearly wanted you to be good, compliant maybe. Bolstered by the slight progress you were making into maybe understanding what you needed to do you continued. “So, did you go anywhere nice? For lunch I mean.”

“The Harbor.” He responded “Food was good, company was slightly irritating.”

“Company?” the surprise in your tone was genuine

“I met my mother.”

“Oh.” You replied, looking back down at the plate as you blinked back the tears, the thought of your own mother filling your head. She would be beside herself now. You took a deep breath, you might be able to be compliant but you were damned if you were going to show him any weakness, that’s what he wanted. Instead, you took another bite of your meal and looked up at him. “That must have been nice for you.”

“Is that sarcasm?” Ransom asked in an amused tone and you rolled your eyes.

“No, I was being serious. Mind you, you don’t strike me as being close to your family so…” you shrugged and shovelled a soggy piece of broccoli into your mouth.

“You’re smart, we're not.” He shrugged “But she wanted to know how I was getting on.”

“Bet that conversation was positively riveting.” You smirked “And that was sarcasm by the way.”

Ransom scoffed “It wasn’t bad to be honest, that was until she steered it around to Marta.”

“Marta?” you frowned, pondering what on earth could have brought their conversation around to that. “Why did you talk about her?”

“What is this Jeopardy?” he arched an eyebrow at you and you rolled your eyes. “Why not, I'll take Drysdale family politics for my share of the inheritance, Alec…”

“Watch your mouth, Sweetheart.” His tone was warning and his face stony. You swallowed and looked down at the plate.

“Sorry.” You said, keeping up your act. Silence fell again and you finished the last of your dinner and set the tray on the nightstand.

Ransom took a deep breath “Seeing as you’re so interested, Marta has approached my mother and the family about holding a memorial for Harlan.” You looked at him, and his eyebrows raised. “Ironic huh, the bitch who stole what was mine is planning a memorial for my grandad when she’s responsible for his death.”

At that you scoffed, he really was unbelievable and just like that your resolve to be nice started to ebb away at his utter narcissism “Are you for real? You’re responsible for Harlan’s death, and as for taking what was yours, you never had anything, none of you did! It was Harlan’s, you didn’t earn it.” Ransom glowered at you but you continued, shaking your head with a derisive laugh. “You know, the fact he would rather leave it to his nurse than his own family says more about you all than it does about her."

“What did you just say?” His voice was low, and there was an unmistakable flash of anger on his face.

“You heard me. Not that I expect any of that to bother you, Hugh, you do and take what you want anyway and fuck whoever gets hurt in the crossfire…” at that you gestured around the room, “prime example…”

There was a pause and in an instance you realised your mistake. You’d called him inadequate and worse, had broken one of those fucking rules, called him Hugh. His whole demeanour had changed, he was pissed. His jaw was set, his eyes dark, his entire body rigid.

Shit.

In a flash he was off the chair. You reacted equally as quick, jumping off the bed in an attempt to put some distance in between you. Why, you had no idea, it wasn’t like you were going to stop him, but maybe if you could buy some time you could talk him down as you backed toward the door. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” but your apology was cut off as he rounded the bed, grabbing your hair painfully, yanking your braid down so your head was tilted back, looking at him. You let out a scream of pain and moved your hands to grab at his wrists “Oww, shit…you’re hurting me!”

“Like I care.” He snarled “Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

That predatory look was back on his face and you knew you were in for it again, and your apologetic front flew completely from your mind. Like hell you were doing this without a fight.

“Fuck you.” You spat back.

“Hard way it is.” He shrugged.

His hand tightening around your hair, he manhandled you into the middle of the bed easily. You yelled, bucked, lashed out but as with the previous night you were simply no match for him. He easily pinned you down with his knees clamped either side of your hips, holding you in place as he yanked your sweater over your head, pulling it down your arms so they were pinned behind you back. It was uncomfortable but did the job perfectly you realised to your horror, because you couldn’t move your arms at all.

Ransom then moved, his large hands grabbing at the button on your waistband and you continued to struggle, trying to buck your hips but once more to no avail. He had your jeans and panties down to your knees easily, before he flipped you over so your face was pushed into the pillow where it muffled your screams slightly. 

One hand reached up, sliding round the front of your neck and he squeezed. This time it was harder than he had done earlier that day, and the pressure increased and increased, slowly shutting off your airway. You gasped, tears stinging in your eye as you desperately tried to move but it was pointless. Then, suddenly he eased off, and you drew in a harsh gasp of air, coughing and spluttering, still conscious that his fingers remained around your throat.

“Stop fighting it.” He instructed, his other hand sliding over your entrance, making you pull away from his touch, but to no avail as the hand that was on your throat slid down your spine and twisted the sweater, tightening your make shift restraints, jerking your arms even further behind your back. Your upper arms and shoulders screamed in protest and you let out a little sob of pain as he moved both his hands to your hips, tugging them up slightly. One hand trailed over your ass before he plunged two fingers into you and you jerked forward at the intrusion. Ransom groaned before he leaned over, his lips brushing your ear. “I can feel you. Your body doesn’t lie, Sweetheart.”

You turned your head away, pressing your cheek into the pillow and Ransom uncurled himself from over you and you felt him shift behind you. The tell-tale clanking of a belt buckle, followed by a zip and the rustling of fabric told you exactly what was coming. Despite your resolve to give him nothing, a choked whimper escaped your mouth and you turned you face, pressing it further into the pillow in an attempt to stifle your sobs.

“Oh no…” he said, one hand curling into your braid, yanking hard and jerking your head back. You cried out, your body was contorted in such an unnatural shape, back arched, arms pinned behind your spine, head jerked back. “I wanna hear you.”

He shuffled a little, and you felt the top of his cock teasing your entrance and then without warning he powered forward, stuffing you full, letting out a rumble of a growl as he did so.

“So fucking tight…” he grit out as he withdrew, then plunged straight back in, jerking your body as he did so. He took a few more deep, slow thrusts before he picked up the pace and began to piston into you, relentlessly. You felt each thrust, the slap of his balls slamming towards your clit. It hurt, just as it had done last time. He had zero self-control, grunting and growling as he bottomed out with every motion. The hand that was gripping your hip went beyond bruising, his dull nails biting at your skin as the other wound tighter around your braid, the odd angle of your body gritting at your joints. You were fighting tears and sobs as your body continued to betray you, soaking your walls, allowing his cock to slide in and out effortlessly. The hand against your hip glided along your side as a deep thrust came and you could feel it grip your breast between the mattress. His thumb brushing against your nipple through your bra. The friction of his piston thrusts, his hand forcing your bralete against your nipples and the yank of your hair was driving your body into sensory overload and filled you with burning sensations that verged on painful. The tip of his cock scrapped at your insides, no doubt bruising you. Your tears burned and your throat begged with dry thirst.

“Can feel you, Sweetheart…” he groaned, as he bottomed out, rotating his hips slightly making you cry out involuntarily “You feel close…you sound close…such a needy little slut.”

“I’m not a slut…” you sob, the feeble protest sounding as pathetic as you felt.

"Fucking look like one to me..." he growled, his hips rotating again, the burn in your stomach was now getting to hard to ignore. “Please…” you begged, “Just….stop…”

He answered your plea by driving deeper into you, picking up his pace once more and you felt yourself beginning to tumble.

"Oh God," the words flew from your mouth as your body shook violently and you took on your overload of orgasm and sensory extremes. You sobbed as your body betrayed you again with this man. Your mind screaming for understanding, your insides begging for more.

“Fuck…Sweetheart…” Ransom let out a groan as he picked up the pace, before after a few more deep thrusts, the hand that was holding your hair let go. Your head fell forward as you felt the warm ribbons of his come streak up your back before he released his hold on your hip and you collapsed onto the bed, your heart and self-respect shattered.

Every inch of your body ached thanks to the way you’d been contorted and as you lay still, trying to regain some control of your limbs you felt his hands press either side of your head and gave a sob as he leaned lean over your body, his ears brushing your lips.

“I'll take you like that every fucking day if I have to until you give in. Because you will.”

At that the feel of his chest that had been pressing into your back was gone and you heard a rustle of clothing and then footsteps across the floor before the door opened and his deep baritone filled the room once more.

“I would shackle you but I don’t think we need that anymore. You’re not going anywhere.” His tone was almost playful, like he was toying with you, teasing you. “I suggest you take a bath, you’re gonna be sore. That is, once you manage to work your way out of that sweater.”

And with a click followed by the familiar sliding of bolts you were sealed in your prison and you finally gave in to your tears as the sheer helplessness of your situation crashed over you in waves.

[mdemontespan1667]

THE FLIP SIDE

READER GETS MORE THAN SHE PAID FOR ON HALLOWEEN

ROBERT PRONGE X READER / ROBERT PRONGE X READER X CLAY APPUZZO

WARNINGS WARNINGS WARNINGS WARNINGS 

NON-CON / DRUG USE / VIOLENCE / GORE / VAGINAL, ORAL AND ANAL SEX / NON-CON / BLOOD USE DURING SEX / MENTIONS OF DEATH / NON-CON / USE OF FORCE FOR SEX / ANAL SEX / THIS IS DARK AF / DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THE ABOVE OFFENDS YOU / I’M NOT KIDDING THIS IS SUPER DARK / NON-CON/ THREESOME

18+ ONLY

THIS IS FOR MY QUEEN @jtargaryen18​ HAUNTED HOUSE CHALLENGE. I HAVEN’T FINISHED WRITING ANYTHING IN MONTHS SO HOPEFULLY THIS ISN’T MULE PUKE. I KINDA PROOFREAD IT SO PLEASE EXCUSE THE MISTAKES. I WANTED TO GET IT POSTED BEFORE I CHANGED MY MIND.

I ALSO HAVE TO GIVE A BIG SHOUT OUT TO @jtargaryen18​ AGAIN. WITHOUT HER SERIES PRETTY BABY THIS WOUDN’T EXIST. (I spent 20 minutes trying to figure out how to link it but I’m an idiot. You can find it in her MASTERLIST.)

“FUCK! Move it you goddamn moron. It’s the little skinny pedal on the right!”

You punctuated the tirade by smacking your hands on the steering wheel. 

If you were late because this fucking asshole couldn’t figure out how to fucking drive your wrath would blanket the Earth in pain and fire.

“Ok,” you thought to yourself, “that’s a bit much. Calm your ass down.”

Pulling in a deep breath you tried to relax but a quick check of your phone destroyed whatever miniscule inner peace you had found. 

11:30pm

If you didn’t get to the warehouse in 30 minutes you had not only cleared out your savings account for nothing but, much much more importantly, you would lose your one and only chance to mingle with THE Chris Evans.

Every year the abandoned warehouses in the now shuttered manufacturing district hosted haunted attractions. Local legends about murdered seamstresses or deranged psycho killers were the usual fare. You and your friends went every year even though you spent more time laughing than screaming. 

Tonight was different. The city was hellbent on revitalizing the area. However, tax increases had been voted down and the regular historical foundation fundraisers weren’t working. 

Miraculously someone on the Mayor’s staff’s husband’s second cousin’s uncle’s first wife knew someone who knew someone else who knew Chris. Somehow he had been convinced to do a one night only completely immersive Halloween event. 

By a unanimous vote it was decided that The Hitman would be perfect for the evening considering the city’s history. The promo material promised over 8,000 square feet of mafia-style murder, mayham, blood and guts all set to a 70’s backdrop.

So you’d drained your savings for the ticket and maxed out every credit card. There was no way in hell you were missing this.

11:40pm

“Dammit.”

This was all Chloe’s fault. She had called off sick this morning (you knew damn good and well she wasn’t sick. Bitch had drunk texted you at 3am) leaving you with all the prep work that the night shift had neglected to finish.

Gretchen wasn’t able to get in until noon. By that time you were so far in the weeds it would’ve taken a lawnmower the size of a tank to get you out. When the two of you had finished the prep for night shift you were already an hour behind. You had barely had time to shower and get ready.

Turning off the Interstate you sighed.

That wasn’t entirely true. 

What should’ve been a quick shower had turned into a steamy self love session. 

Just thinking about Chris with that long hair and that dangerous “fuck me” swagger had your hand moving south. 

Between one set of fingers working your clit and the other set rolling your nipples it wasn’t long before you were leaning back against the cool tiles panting. 

Finished with what you hoped was a little pregaming you had taken an hour to carefully apply the shimmering pale lavender eyeshadow, rosy blush and frosted peach lipstick. The low cut gold lame halter dress and strappy black stiletto heels completed the look. 

And, yes, you might have spent more than a few minutes admiring the way the thin fabric alternatively skimmed and hugged your body in all the right places. Your still hardened nipples just added to the look.

11:50pm

 You were here. 

Stepping out of your car the valet rolled his eyes.

“I know, I know I’m late.”

“Ten more minutes and the doors would’ve been closed for the night,” the valet huffed.

“I’m really sorry.”

You dug in your purse, grabbing a twenty.

“There’s another fifty if you can park me close.”

With a lecherous smile the valet took your keys, headed for your car. 

Taking a deep breath you opened the heavy steel door.

Your senses were immediately assaulted. 

Body odor, cheap perfume and stall cologne hung heavy in the air. 

A small disco ball attached to the ceiling reflected the dim lighting, cigarette smoke swirling.

“Hey!”

A meaty, sweat stained hand grabbed your upper arm.

“You’re fucking late bitch.”

Taken aback by the man you could only stutter.

“I’m sorry, I…….”

SMACK

Your head snapped to the side.

“I don’t give a fuck if you’re sorry. When I tell you to be somewhere at a certain time I fucking mean it. This guy is a heavy hitter and I promised him a prime piece of ass for the evening. If you fuck this up I’ll have you on your knees sucking dick at ten bucks a pop for the next year.”

Getting a good look at the balding, pot bellied man who had hit you fear spread through you.  

Jerking your arm away you went off on him.

“What the hell are you doing. I know this is supposed to be realistic but getting hit wasn’t on the release form.”

The man hit you again, this time knocking you to the floor. You looked around for help. However no one took any notice. 

Reaching down he dug his hands into your hair, hauling you up. As he wrested you toward the dance floor the sharp staccato of a car’s horn drew your attention. 

Before the door shut you caught a glimpse of a dimly lit street, vintage cars and a smattering of people dressed similar to you. 

The rotting warehouses were gone. 

You didn’t have time to contemplate what you had seen before you were being roughly pulled through the crush of dancers writhing to Ballroom Blitz. 

Your “guide” stopped just short of a  dark corner booth. 

“I need this deal to happen so you do whatever the man wants.”

You peered down at the table. It was littered with highball glasses filled with various quantities of melting ice and, from the smell of it, Crown Royal. Thick white stripes of cocaine were laid out like fenceposts.

“Look who finally showed up. Sorry, she wanted to make sure she looked extra sexy for you.”

A man bent over the lines, snorted it then looked up pinching the end of his nose. He traced his finger across the powder remnants, rubbing the residue across his gums.

“Fuck. She is a tasty piece isn’t she.”

 At that moment a flash of light from the disco ball illuminated his face. 

You found yourself staring into the cold blue eyes of Robert Pronge. 

No, you corrected yourself, not Robert, it was Chris. 

Except that wasn’t quite right either. 

You tried to pass it off as just good acting but something was wrong. 

Very wrong. 

A quick glance around only heightened your unease. 

It was all a little too perfect. 

The club looked aged. The carpeted floor was worn through in places, hopelessly stained in others. Behind the bar the mirror was gray at the edges, coated with decades of smoke. 

Your fellow “guests” seemed jagged and rough, their clothes and faces well worn.

But the biggest red flag was the smell. All the old warehouses invariably held the aroma of grease and oil the now gone machines had bled. Your friends used to call it Haunted House #5. 

Robert broke your revere by pulling you onto his lap.

“Wait, I’m not sure….”

“Not sure what baby.”

His attention turned to the other man who had taken a seat at the booth.

“I thought you said she’d be ready to go Preston. If you don’t want me to do the job I’m sure you can find someone else.”

The man you now knew as Preston answered in a rush.

“No, no , she’s ready.”

He pinched your arm.

“Tell him your ready sweetheart”

You shook your head.

“No, somethings wrong. I….”

Robert leaned into you. 

“I’ve been rude baby.”

His breath was fetid, a combination of cigarettes and whiskey.

“Here,” he brought a glass filled to the brim to your lips, “I started the party without you.”

Gripping your jaw he forced your mouth open, pouring the burning liquid down your throat. 

Preston smirked as you sputtered and coughed. 

“Uh Robert, you mind if I take a bump.”

Robert handed a rolled up one hundred dollar bill to the odious man. 

Preston chose the biggest line. When he finished he handed the bill back.

“Maybe your plaything needs one too. Get her motor running real good.”

Robert tried to place the bill in your hand.

“Uh no. Really I can’t.”

You figured the chances it was really coke were slim but things were spinning out of control. No need to tempt fate.

“It wasn’t a request.”

Robert stuck the bill in your nostril. He bent your head down to the table. 

“Go on,” he whispered, “It’ll feel good.”

With no alternative you sucked the white powder up your nose.

The burn was immediate. You shook your head and tried to clear it.

“Good girl. Now we can really start the party.”

Robert reached down, popped the button and unzipped his pants. He guided your hand to his massive hard on. You pulled your hand back like you had touched fire. 

His hand seized you by the throat.

“I was promised a good time. As far as I’m concerned you’ve got some lost time to make up for.”

He guided your hand back, covering your hand with his.

“See,” Robert used your hand to pump his cock up and down, “It’s easy.”

When he removed his hand your movement was sporadic.

His hand tightened around your throat.

“I know you can do better than this baby.”

Afraid to refuse you evened out your strokes, swiping across the head to gather the pre-cum that had formed. His hand dropped away from your throat.

As you jacked Robert off under the table he and Preston continued speaking. You tried to pay attention but it seemed to be all code words and gibberish. 

“Fuck baby, this ain’t working.”

Robert pushed the table back a few inches.

“Time to really earn your pay. On your knees.”

Your mouth dropped open in shock.

“What. No. This, This has gone way too far.”

Standing to leave, he snatched you by the waist. Gripping you by the back of the neck he forced you down on the carpet. He yanked you between his legs, crossing them behind you. 

“Open your pretty little mouth.”

“No,” you shook your head vehemently.

Sighing Robert slid his hand under your dress. He cruelly took a hold of your breast and squeezed. The pain finally became too much and you opened your mouth to scream. He took full advantage, shoving his cock into your mouth. The bunched up fabric of his pants kept you from taking his full length. 

Your relief was short lived. One handedly he maneuvered his pants lower. One push and your face was impaled on his cock, the tip pushing deep into your throat. 

You choked, his pubic hair catching the tears that had started to fall. 

Letting go of your neck he hooked his hand into the front of your hair, lifting your head just enough to see him.

“If you’re a good little whore I’ll let you do it yourself.”

He pressed your face down again, holding it until you were slapping at his legs. 

Lifting your head he spoke again.

“But if you’re not I’ll fuck your face until your throat bleeds and I won’t give a damn if you can’t breath. I’ll shoot my cum down your dead throat. Do you understand.”

You weren’t sure if it was the terror or your sense of self preservation  that had you nodding your head.

Robert smiled and picked up his glass. He swirled the amber contents, taking a sip.

“You better get started baby. I’m not a patient man.”

A chuckle drew your attention to Preston who sat watching intently. 

Trying your best to ignore him you placed your hands on Robert’s knees for balance and started bobbing your head.

Wanting it over you pulled out all the tricks you knew, hollowing your cheeks so you could take him deep, using your tongue for added friction.

After a few minutes he uncrossed his legs from behind you. He shoved one leg between yours. 

A low moan of shame formed as the tip of his booted foot slid easily across your pussy lips. 

“Baby likes it rough huh. I knew that bump would get your engine going.”

He used his other foot to push you down farther, spreading your legs.

“Fuck my shoe whore. It’s nice and dirty just like you.”

You rocked your hips, dragging your clit across the tip of his shoe, the slightly longer sole flicking your clit almost painfully. 

Moving back and forth your mouth and hips found their rhythm. The cocaine in your system had you whining, your body primed to cum. 

Abruptly Robert caught your head with both hands. His foot left your pussy as he mercilessly fucked your face. 

The thrusting of his hips wobbled the table knocking over the glasses, the alcohol spilling down your back. 

You felt his cock twitch a second before he came, his hot cum coating your throat. 

He rode out his orgasm then pressed your face hard into his crotch.

“Swallow every drop baby.”

Content that you  had followed his order he lifted you back up onto his lap. 

“Damn sweet thing, You’re a mess.”

Pointing towards a hallway he said, “Go clean yourself up. Bathroom is just down there.”

The eagerness to leave must have shown on your face.

“Oh no, we ain’t finished yet. The night’s just getting started. You got 15 minutes.”

In your haste to leave you tripped over his legs. You landed ass up on the table. He ran his hands between your legs, swiping through your slit. 

“Mmmmmm,” he brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them one by one.

“Poor cunt didn’t get hers did she. We’ll fix that when you get back.”

Slapping your ass Robert sniggered. 

“Clocks ticking.”

Regaining your footing your half walked, half ran toward the corridor. 

This was fucked up. Seriously fucked up. It was just supposed to be a meet and greet. How the hell had it gone off the rails. And what about those cars, the street, this place. 

Lost in your thoughts you missed the ladies room. Turning around to retrace your steps you gazed across the bar. Like a beacon in a storm an exit sign burned bright.

You had to check the urge to run. That would only draw attention. 

Instead you waited until you could blend in to a group of giggling women headed for the dance floor. 

As they branched off you made a run for it. 

You hit the exit door hard, damn near flying through it.

The parking lot you expected to find wasn’t there. Instead there was a dark alley. It smelled of garbage and urine. The air was full of exhaust. 

“What the fu….”

ZING

Something sticky and wet splattered your face, neck and upper body. Whatever it was dripped from your cheek. 

You stared at your hand and saw that it was covered in blood. You drew in air to scream but a hand slammed across your mouth.

“Jesus Christ Clay. This bastard was supposed to be dead an hour ago.”

“Lay off man. Traffic was a bitch.”

“Get him in the fucking van. We gotta get him to the loft. Preston wants proof in two hours.”

Watching the dark headed man throw the dead body into the van broke your shock. 

Crazily you struck out, kicking and frantically throwing your elbows. 

“Grab some rope Clay. Little whore here needs to be taught a lesson.”

Clay strutted back from the van.

“Thought we had a schedule to keep Freezy.”

He handed the rope to Robert. 

“What do we have here.”

The brunette lifted your chin. 

He looked familiar but you couldn’t place him. In a different time and place you would have found him attractive, maybe even vibrator worthy. A rush of slick flooded your pussy. 

“Hold her so I can tie her up.”

 You were pushed forward into Clay’s arms. 

Robert wrenched your arms back, wrapping the rope from your armpits to your wrists. 

“I don’t know what’s going on anymore but I swear I won’t say a thing if you let me go.”

You continued to ramble.

“Not a word. I’ll donate more money. I’ll leave a good review. I swear.”

Clay clenched his jaw.

“What the fuck is she talking about.”

“Who the fuck knows. Just shut her up.”

Clay thought for a minute then ran to the van. He returned with the dead man’s tie. Robert moved his hand and Clay showed the tie in your mouth.

Robert pulled up your dress. Unbuckling his pants again he pulled your back to his chest, holding you in place. 

“We ain’t got much time. You in or not.”

Clay’s hands worked his zipper down.

“Hell yes.”

He lifted your legs, wrapping them around his hips. You could feel him at your entrance. 

Running his finger across your cheek he painted your lips with the congealing blood. 

“Now you look like a good whore.”

Snapping his hips’ Clay was balls deep in one thrust.

“Damn Freezy, she’s tight as fuck. You been in this yet.”

“Not yet.”

Clay leaned in, licking the blood from your neck.

“Not like you to take sloppy seconds my man.”

“I’m getting something tighter.”

It took a minute for Robert’s meaning to filter in. You tried twisting away but the two men held you.

Clay yanked the tie from your mouth.

“Spit.”

When you refused he backhanded you.

“My good friend Robert is gonna fuck that nice ass of yours. If you don’t want him going in dry you better spit.”

You tried to spit but fear had dried your mouth. 

Clay shoved the tie back in and slid his hand across your chest gathering more blood. He ran the same hand through your slit.

“Fuck, whore’s wet as hell. It’s practically running down her legs.”

He massaged your slick and blood mixture around your tight ring pressing his thumb in and out.

“That’s enough. Hold her legs up. I’ll get in first then you can get in.”

Clay did as Robert said, holding your legs up and back. 

Robert aligned his cock with your hole and pushed in. 

The pain was excruciating. You weren’t an anal virgin but he hadn’t given you time to adjust. 

Clay moved closer, his erect cock glistening with your juices. 

He elevated your knees and thrust in.

They fucked you in tandem, pulling out and pushing in. 

You struggled against them both but it didn’t matter. 

Defeated you laid your head back on Robert’s shoulder, letting the men use you like a rag doll.

Robert came first. His cock went stiff and he bucked up into your ass. He pulled out, his cum dribbling down your ass. 

With Robert disengaged Clay took hold of your waist. His thrusts became deeper and harder.

“Play with her clit Clay. I promised her she’d get hers.”

Robert took over holding one of your legs up which freed one of Clay’s hands. He rubbed along your slit, settling next to your nub. His thumb circled it slowly. Your body trembled. Robert pulled the tie from your mouth.

“Ask for it baby. Ask and ye shall receive.”

“No, please, please….”

“She thinks she’s better than us Clay. Doesn’t want to admit that we can make her cum.”

“Too bad.”

Clay redoubled his efforts, assaulting your clit. The pleasure grew until he tipped you over the edge. Your hips bucked against him as you came. 

He followed a few minutes later. 

Both men dropped your legs. Too shaky to stand you fell to the ground. 

Robert pulled a gun from his ankle holster and pointed it at your head. 

“Wait Freezy.”

“Why. We’re done with her.”

“What if we keep her.”

“Why. She’s just a cheap piece of ass Clay. We can get a dozen just like her inside.”

“Yeah but we got her broke in. And we can do whatever we want. Noone is gonna care. The only person who knows you were with her is Preston. I can take him out easy.”

“Whatever we want huh,” Robert said.

“Yup. The possibilities are endless.”

“Alright. Get her in the van.”

Clay tossed your limp form into the van. Your head bounced off the van floor.

Before closing your eyes you heard the plaintive sound of Don Henley's voice:

Last thing I remember

I was running for the door

I had to find the passage back

To the place I was before

“Relax,” said the night man

We are programmed to receive 

You can check out any time you like

But you can never leave

(Eagles

Written By Don Felder, Don Henley, Glenn Fry

Hotel California

1977)

 It’s been awhile since I’ve written and since this is pretty DARK I’m only tagging a few people

@sagechanoafterdark​ @imanuglywombat​ @sapphirescrolls​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @imdarkinme​ @the-soulofdevil​ 

I’m working on a permanent Taglist so if you’ve asked to be tagged please forgive me.