#cevans characters

[when-all-the-world-is-asleep]

Roo, you always do SUCH a good job writing Lloyd and he is such a creepy bastard. Good luck, dear reader... you'll need it.

Get Lost

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You get caught in the corn maze after dark but you don’t think those footsteps belong to someone trying to help you find your way out.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: this is the fifth and final of my autumn fics as decided by all of you!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Jaden points across the dash, receiving a swat from Alexandria as she tries not to veer. 

“Hey,” she cries out, “don’t do that. I can’t see over your ugly sweater.” 

“Oh, whatever, Lex,” he snips, “I was just trying to show you that.” He points again, this time without blocking her view, “you see that sign ahead?” 

“Sure, I see it,” she leans over the wheel as your nail taps across your phone screen. You huff. You wish they’d stop arguing for one moment. “A maze?” 

“A corn maze. Doesn’t that sound fun? I haven’t been to one since I was a kid.” 

“Of course, you haven’t,” you scoff and let your phone hang carelessly in your hand. “We’ve all seen that movie with the evil kids. Who wants to go running through a field?” 

“I do,” Ashton says, “better than driving around looking for those shoes that don’t exist.” 

His girlfriend, Samira, laughs and leans into him. You blow a raspberry. 

“It’s all the way out in the middle of nowhere,” you sneer. 

“Well, Mrs. Xanny, you never want to do anything so your vote counts for nothing,” Jaden retorts. 

“Excuse me,” you roll your eyes. 

“I’m up for it,” Ashton raises his hand. 

“Me too,” Samira mimics him. 

“Me three,” Jaden declares. “So looks like you two are outvoted.” 

“Whatever,” you mutter and Alexandria sighs. 

“Fine, but nobody better leave me behind. I’m not getting lost because of you idiots,” she growls. 

“Don’t worry, Lexi, I’ll hold your wittle hand,” Jaden teases. 

The others laugh and you go back to your phone. You’re more interested in the new heels at your favourite boutique than some dirty and scarecrows. Alexandria steers on as she continues to snap at Jaden to stop distracting her. Her driving is a lot scarier than anything that might be hiding in the maze. 

You swipe and tap and tune out the world around you, especially the two lovebirds exchanging not so subtle touches beside you. Jaden had to insist on sitting in the front. Finally, the car rolls, the axle jostled by the lumpy ground, and you look up at the gray sky. You hate daylight savings. 

When the wheels are still, you’re reluctant to get out. You could offer to watch the car until they get back. It’s cold and you don’t feel like slogging through soil and seed. 

“Hey, Lex,” you begin. 

“If I’m going, you’re going,” she snips as she undoes her seatbelt. 

You curl your lip and make a face at her back. The others are already out of the car. Jaden’s bouncing eagerly, Ashton’s staring at the gate to the maze, and Samira is draped off her boyfriend’s arm. They probably just want to find a dark corner so they can makeout. They are so high school. 

“Fifteen bucks?” You read the sign above the table, “blech. I could put that towards my hair appointment tomorrow.” 

“Oh, boo hoo,” Jaden snorts. 

“Don’t act like you don’t have the money,” Samira jeers. 

You call these people ‘friends’ lightly. You all just kind of stick together out of familiarity. Most people you’ve met aren’t much better so why risk downgrading. 

You take a step and feel your tall heel sink into the mud. Ew. 

“Oh, my boots,” you whine as you lift your sole, the muck dripping off of it. 

“Wash em after,” Ashton says. 

“These are Louis’,” you snarl. 

“And you have at least three identical pairs at home. Lighten up,” he barks back. 

You cross your arms and seal your lips with a wry smile. You’re not arguing with him. He’s been a jerk ever since you turned him down at his sister’s twenty-fifth. You suppose it was his birthday two, them being twins and all. Not that he looks very much like Alexandria. 

You trod after the four others, trying not to step too deep in the mud. You growl at the ground. You know what’s not dirty, a salon or a store. 

“Nice boots,” a deep voice rolls over you as you join the queue for tickets.  

You lift your head and look over at the man nearby. He steps up next to you as you eye his bristly upper lip. It’s a look, not a good one. 

“Brave girl going in alone,” he comments. 

You frown, “I’m not,” you step closer to your friends and they chatter. 

“Oh, coulda fooled me,” he remarks as he reaches into his jacket. “So, those Louis boots... those are last year’s...” 

“How would you know?” 

He shows the lining of his jacket. Also Louis. He pokes his fingers into the interior pocket and slides out a pack of gum. He pushes out a piece and pops it in his mouth. He tucks the pack back into his pocket and drops his hands to his hip. 

“So,” he chews the gum loudly. “You’re not really dressed for a maze.” 

“And you are?” You scowl, looking him up and down. He copies your posture and does the same to you. 

“I’m not here for the maze, baby girl,” he winks and snaps the gum. “But you have fun.” 

He turns and struts away before you can respond. Your lips open in confusion. What could he mean? You blink and shut your mouth, stepping up between Alexandria and Ashton. 

“So, how long are we going to have to stand around?” You ask. 

🌾

You hold your phone up in irritation. Your bars are totally gone. Great. This maze thing is so fucking boring. What are you supposed to do now? 

You sniff and shake your head. You sigh and put your phone in your jacket pocket, keeping your hand in the fleecy insert as the chill creeps up your leggings. You guess you’ll have to help or whatever. 

“Alex--” you look ahead then back, and side to side. Your heart leaps and you rush forward as fast as you can on your six-inch heels, “Alexandria? Ashton?” You look around the next corner and the opposite way along the other pathway. “Samira?” 

You spin again, your ankles tangling together. You blink as the tall corner adds to the dimness setting over the horizon. You gulp as your heart pounds in your throat. You slip your phone free once more and turn on the flashlight. 

You aim it ahead and listen for voices. You don’t hear much past the dense wall of stalks. As you brush a bit too close, you cry out and back away from the hanging husk. You shake of the crawling sensation and turn back and forth again. You lost your sense of direction. 

You look up at the sky. The clouds are thick, you can see neither moon or sun. You stop and pull your phone closer. You bring up your maps but it’s just a blank screen. Still no signal. 

Fuck it. Just walk, you’ll find the way. 

You shine the light ahead of you, your heels sinking into the mulch of footsteps, husks, and stones. You walk unevenly over the soft ground. You mumble obscenities as your arches start to bemoan the height. If you had known about this special excursion, you could’ve worn your Uggs. 

There’s a scuff, a strange echo of your own steps. You stop but it keeps going. You squint and twirl around, the light glinting off the corner and slicing through shadows. “Hello?” You call out. 

The footsteps continue but no one answers. You can’t tell if they’re ahead of you or behind you. Or to the left. Or right. You sway back and forth. This is getting weird. 

You take a breath and set your feet. You nearly trip as your heels dig in once more. You grunt and pull them out. You’re about to just scream for help. 

A sudden rumble makes you squeal. What the hell was that? You twist around and it happens again. It’s laughter? Someone’s laughing at you? 

You look at the tall stalks of corn, searching between the tight rows. 

“Alright, not very funny. Ashton....” you holler. 

The laughter gets louder. 

“Jaden,” you hiss. 

The laughter stops. 

“I really am not amused, okay? I want out. I never even wanted to do this stupid thing--” 

“Those boys are long gone, sweet peach,” the voice drawls around you like the wind, “I’m all man.” 

“Where are you? Who are you?” You ask. 

“I’m right behind you, baby, and I’m your knight in shining armour,” he purrs. 

You gasp and turn around. You beam the flashlight of the phone in the man’s face. You only get a glimpse of that short brown mustache before the cell is knocked from your grasp. 

“What are you tryna do? Blind me?” He snarls as your phone disappears between the corn. 

“What-- What do you want?” You step back, dragging your heels from the mud. 

“I wanna help, baby,” he slithers. “You seem lost.” 

You blink at him. He’s a dark silhouette against the greyness trapped in the maze. You bristle and look over at the corn. 

“Sure, I’ll just grab my phone, thanks--” 

“Ah, ah,” he comes up to meet you, blocking you with his arm. “I don’t work for free, honey pot.” 

“Fine, then go away,” you spit. 

“Woah, ho, you haven’t even asked what I want in return, sweetie,” he brings his other hand up to touch your cheek and you flinch away. 

“You’re not getting it, dude,” you back up. 

“Just a little suck. Hell, you give the little guy a nice kiss and I won’t even make you finish the job--” 

“Ew, no way,” you smack his hand down as he reaches for you again. “Fuck off--” 

He’s quick. He grabs you by your jaw and snarls as he looms over you, “for such a pretty mouth it sure is fucking filthy. Won’t matter what I put in it--” 

“Hey,” you grunt and writhe in his grasp, twisting your hands around his thick forearms, “get off--” 

“I’m trying, trust me--” 

You ram your knee up and feel the crunch in his pants. He wheezes and lets you go. You shove him and stagger backwards. You look at the corn one last time. Your phone is somewhere in there. 

As he cradles his crotch and snarls, the urgency of the moment slaps you across the face. Fuck your phone. You need to get away from this creep. 

Thank god you got insurance on your cell plan. You turn and lift your knees. You land on your toes, keeping your heels off the ground as much as you can. You’re not going very fast and you know you look ridiculous but you don’t care. You want to go home. 

You pump your arms as you breath hitches. You hear groans and another set of steps, just like before. You get to a corner and turn before you crash through the corn. You heave as you race away, ankles threatening to bend. At what point do you just ditch the Louis’ and mourn them with your phone. 

You cough and slow down. Shit. You’re in terrible shape. You look over your shoulder, your breath foggy in the plummeting temperature. You don’t see him. You don’t hear him either. Good. 

You turn-- 

“Boo!” The man startles you so you shriek. 

You stagger back as he cackles and you hurl yourself forward. Your feet catch as your heels stab the ground and you stumble with your arms flailing away from him. Your shallow breaths thunder around you as you charge through the maze only to find yourself trapped at a dead end. 

You stop and waver, lungs filled with fire. Fuck, fuck, fuck! You stomp with each internal proclamation. 

“Look, sugar tits, you can keep running and I’ll keep chasing,” the man struts up behind you as you spin to face him. “But it all ends the same way.” He sets his feet wide and cracks his knuckles. “And since you bruised my left nut,” he snarls, “you can kiss that better first.” 

“Uh, like why are you doing this?” You ask. 

He chortles, “like because I can.”  

You snarl and cross your arms, “you’re a loser. And you’re old. Like, can’t you find someone your own age to creep on?” 

He laughs louder but there’s not much humour in it. He stalks closer and your defiance glimmers, just a little. You don’t know where he gets off. Does he really think he can just tell you what to do? 

“So, I knew you were gonna be a handful,” he grabs you by the neck and you wince. You slap his wrist and he tuts, bringing his other hand up to grope your chest, “in more ways than one.” 

“Hey, fuck--” you grit out. “Hey!” 

“Look, sweetie, it’s a simple transaction. I pull my pants down, you keep those teeth to yourself, and be real nice to me,” he glares down at you. “The way you crushed my balls, you’re lucky I don’t make you lick my boots.” 

“What is wrong with you?” You growl. 

“Oh, a lot,” he smirks. “Now, those boots must kill your feet so...” he jerks you roughly, “on your knees.” 

Your eyes tinge just a little but you won’t cry. Not because of him. You gnash your teeth and grimace at him as he peels his hand away. 

“You got one thing going for you, baby, and that’s that pretty face. I can change that, trust me,” he warns. You swallow avert your eyes. He chuckles again, “god, I love that pout.” 

You bat your lash and fight to keep the litany of insults inside. You caterpillar faced fuck. You viagra powered moron. You overgrown frat boy. 

“The next time you open your mouth, it better be to gobble my cock,” he sneers, “so don’t even say it.” 

You look at him again. You set your eyes and your jaw. You step closer and he lifts his chin just slightly as he stares you down. 

You grab his belt and he twitches. You unbuckle it and whip the ends aside. You pop the button open and yank the zipper apart. He watches you, his eyebrow tweaking. You push his fly wide and roll your eyes as you feel his naked pelvis beneath your fingertips. Of course, this weirdo is hanging loose. 

You reach under his pants and angle his hard dick through the teeth of the zipper. You stroke him up and down with a dry, tight grip. He hisses and shifts his weight. 

“Careful, like sandpaper,” he rasps. 

You tut and look down. You huff. You move one foot back and bend your leg. You put one knee to the ground then the other. You make a face as you come level to his tip. Ugh. 

“Don’t look so fucking enticed,” he barks. You roll your eyes again and he swats your head. “Keep doing that and your eyes are getting stuck.” 

Old. Man. 

You pump him again and slowly, inch by inch, lean in. 

“Ah, I said kiss the left one first, then you can get to the main dish,” he puts his hand on his hip. 

You swallow and push down a tide of disgust. You lift him and lean your head to the side. You crane around and pucker, pressing your lips to his left ball. He twitches and groan. 

“Damn, those lips are soft. Do the other one.” 

With bile brewing in your stomach, you obey. You pull back and put his tip to your lips. You narrow your gaze at his pelvis and spread your mouth around him. You wet his swollen head then work your way down his length. He might be a desperate loser but he’s not small. 

You bob up and down as you take more and more of him. He curls his fingers into his hip as his other hand goes to the back of your head. He urges you on and you bat his hand with yours. You push back against him and flick your eyes up. 

“You are a stubborn one,” he rebukes. 

Your lips meet your hand and you pump him emphatically with both, popping off his tip so he whimpers. He clutches a wad of your hair as his eyes gleam desperately. 

“I kissed it better,” you wipe your mouth, “you show me the way out, and you might just finish, old man.” 

He stares down at you. Agitation and amusement battle across his expression. He takes a breath and lets it out. 

“One last kiss and I’ll get you out,” he says, “And then you’ll get me off.” 

The cold air swirls around you and the darkness floods through the corn. You squeeze him slightly and put a sloppy kiss on his tip with a loud muah. You let go and tickle along his length. You grab onto his arm and pull yourself to your feet. 

“I want out. Now.” 

“Alright, princess,” he snickers. “Don’t you worry, I got a throne you can sit on when we’re home free.” 

[krirebr]

random hoeing:

Steve catching you in the rain, his white shirt completely soaked and transparent

Ok, this has to be Neighbor Steve.

Warnings: explicit language, more fluff than I normally do, completely unedited, 18+ - MINORS DNI

After Steve caught you ogling him during the heatwave, the tone of your conversations when you run into him in your building has gotten decidedly flirtier. But for whatever reason, that's where it's stopped. As much as you've tried to send signals that you are very open to more, he's never taken you up on it. Which is fine. It's fine. Totally fine. You are very cool with it. The thought of it definitely doesn't make you shrivel up inside. You are so cool.

All of that is the furthest thing from your mind right now, though, as you and your dog run through the rain. It'd been such a nice day, but as you hit the halfway point of your usual longer route, the sky unexpectedly opened up and you and your poor dog were hit by an absolute downpour. Now, finally home, you're both completely soaked and desperate to get inside and dry.

After some fumbling, you get the door to your building unlocked and opened. Just as you're about to get inside and let the door close behind you, you hear your name ring out. You turn around to see Steve hurrying up the path. "Hold the door!" he yells.

You freeze, doing as he asked. Holy shit. He's just as soaked as you, but while you're sure you look like a drowned rat, he very much does not. He– Well. He– He's wearing that damned white t-shirt again. Except it's not white now, it's translucent. You can see everything – that tattoo you spotted before, and a few more to go with it, an incredible set of abs, nipples. Holy shit.

He quickly ushers you inside, thank god, because you can't move on your own, your eyes still stuck to his chest. "Fuck, that came out of nowhere, huh?" he chuckles.

The moment you're out of the rain, your dog proceeds to do her best to shake herself dry, as if the three of you weren't already dripping all over the entryway. "Oh, shit," you mumble, reaching for her without really knowing what to do.

Steve just laughs. And then does it himself, shaking out his golden locks. Part of his hair flops down over his forehead, and you do your best to hold in your gasp. Really it's just so unfair that he could get caught in a rainstorm and come out looking like that. What the actual fuck? you think to yourself.

Except, judging by the way his head whips around to look at you, maybe you didn't think it. Maybe it was more out loud than you'd meant. Oh god. You immediately start babbling, which is unfortunately just as uncontrollable as the initial slip-up you're trying to make up for. "Oh, god, I'm so sorry. I just– I mean– Look at you!" You throw a wild gesture at him as he just stares at you with his mouth open, trying to take in your ramble. "It's cats and dogs out there and you look like that?? While I–" another wild gesture, at yourself this time. "I just– How is it fair that you're so beautiful??"

"You think I'm beautiful?" he finally manages to interject.

"Huh?" And that's when your brain finally catches up. Oh dear god. What is wrong with you?? You cautiously glance at him to find him staring at you, not upset, but like he's trying to figure you out. Fuck it, you suddenly think. You've already embarrassed yourself. You have nothing left to lose. "You wanna get dinner with me sometime?"

You swear that the smile that blooms on Steve's face is bright and warm enough to dry you both off. "I was starting to worry I was reading your signals wrong. Yeah. Yeah, I'd love to."

Your answering smile is strong enough to push all the clouds away.

☔

Thanks for the fun prompt, Eva!

Tag List

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[rosedpetal]

A Good Father

Summary: Ransom shows his family he knows how to take care of his own kid.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader (as his baby mamma)

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: none

Author's note: this is a repost.

Masterlist

If years ago someone ever told Ransom that he'd get married and have children, he'd laugh in their faces. Whenever anyone in his family brought the topic of him settling down, he would leave the table and curse at them.

Until you came in the picture.

He was having the worst day ever, and he desperately needed a cookie. So, he went to the grocery store and was about to pick the last package left of his favorite cookies on the aisle, when you swayed your damned hips and got the package first.

Ransom was livid. He threw the most embarrassing tantrum ever, threatening to call security on you and ruin your life, but you just laughed at his face and asked if he wanted to share. Share! How dared you?

So, you bought the cookies and gave him half. After the first bite, his mood improved and he actually asked you out on a date. It was the best night of his life.

Five years later, you were married and had a baby. You moved to a nice house in a quiet neighborhood, and even adopted a stray dog (well, he just got home from work one day and the puppy was chewing on one of his expensive shoes, while you had the widest grin he ever saw on someone's face).

Ransom loved you with all his heart. And when you gave birth to your baby daughter, he loved her beyond words.

But right now, you were set on making him miserable.

"I'm not talking about this again, Hugh." You pointed your finger at him and he flinched. You never called him by his name. "You're going and you're taking Lily with you. Her nanny is sick, and I have to work."

"But babe-"

"Not. Another. Word." You gave him one of your deadly stares, and he actually felt sorry for Lily having such a scary mother. After petting your dog's fur, you turned to Lily on the highchair and peppered her face with kisses, while she giggled. "Mommy's gonna miss you so much baby boo, you tell me if your daddy misbehave!"

Ransom tried not to roll his eyes at you. You pecked him on the lips and he pouted. Before you left the kitchen, he called you:

"Babe, don't forget your jacket. It might get cold."

You smiled at him. You knew he was upset for having to take Lily to his family's horrible get-together.

After your car left the garage, he looked at his chubby baby, wondering if he'd succeed in shielding her from the evil of his family.

Things change after having your first child. First, Ransom started saving money. No more shopping sprees for him. Then, he actually tried to get his own thing, in which he failed miserably. Seeing his struggle, his good old grandad secured him with the ownership of their publishing company (for Walt's despair). The only catch: he'd have to show to family meetings at least until Harlan Thrombey's death. 

Which was how he was stuck in this mess in the first place. 

Ransom was not stupid. He could handle these annoying game nights, dinners and whatever by provoking everyone and leaving after setting the mood for a big fight.

But bringing his baby with him?

Big no.

Well, you shared his opinion on this. You two would avoid having Lily in their company as best as you could, but some things couldn't be helped.

Your trusted nanny called in sick, and you couldn't bring Lily to work.

Ransom wanted to cry. 

He took the fussing Lily out of the baby seat and struggled to put her in the carrier attached to his front, got her pink bag on his shoulder and closed the door of the car with his feet (how you managed to do all these things so gracefully were beyond him). He got on the front porch of Harlan's home and wanted to scream. What the hell was his great-grandmother doing there, sitting alone on that chilly afternoon, with such a thin blanket covering her?

"Hey Nana, why don't we go drink some tea inside?" He offered. The small old woman nodded, in a way he new she didn't actually acknowledged him.

Fuck his family for treating Nana like she was something disposable.

Ransom took Nana's small hand on his and carried her to an armchair in the living room, where Fran was serving tea to Harlan.

Before Ransom could even say "hi" his grandfather was already up and speaking in his "baby" voice with Lily. His daughter giggled, showing her cute teeny tiny new teeth.

It was fucking cute, but the days of Lily's teething made Ransom and Y/N traumatized.

"Hi to you too, granddad." Ransom rolled his eyes, sitting across his grandfather's seat.

"Tea?" Fran offered Ransom. He thanked her, an habit you made him build. Saying "thanks", and "please", things his parents didn't bother to teach him. He wanted Lily to be better than him, and by that, he had to make himself better than whatever he was.

The first time Ransom apologized to Fran, the woman was so shocked that she broke in a fit of hysterical laughter, while Marta just blinked like she was imagining things.

Ransom took a walk with Lily still safely attached to his chest. He didn't want to admit it, but she was getting heavier and harder to carry all the times. God, after five minutes he needed to sit down on a wooden trunk to recover.

Feeling like his breath was coming to normal again, Ransom went back to the house, noticing that there were more cars parked there.

Here comes the shit show.

At the dining table, Richard's voice mixed with Walt's, like they were competing on who would talk louder. Linda absently smoked a cigarette, promptly ignoring Joni. Jacob and Meg where fighting over politics or some shit, and Donna was on her phone.

A miserable-looking Marta sat between Fran and Nana on the small couch on the corner.

And Harlan ignored the rest of them, with a glass of whiskey dancing in his hand.

"Oh, there he is! And look who is here too!" Linda beamed, putting out the cigarette. 

Ransom grimaced when his mother's nicotine smelling hand brushed against his daughter's face. Lily was so calmed before, and it broke his heart when she started crying her lungs out, like she wanted to be away from Linda's greedy presence.

Lily's crying made everyone shut up. She was born eight months ago, and they saw her only once, when Ransom and Y/N took her to Harlan's when she was a newborn. Linda and Richard tried to visit Ransom's house a few times, but they quickly grew bored of the grandparents role.

Joni, Donna and Walt couldn't really care less for baby Drysdale. Meg tried to be as nice as she could with Lily, but she was terrified of babies. As for Jacob, Ransom didn't want that little creep close to his daughter.

"Oh, Ransom, is she hungry or something?" Linda grimaced at Lily's screams. 

No, mother, she's upset because she hates you. Ransom wanted to yell at Linda's face, but he just took Lily in his arms and rocked her gently, kissing her sweaty temple and running his thumb over her tears.

"Shh, love. 'S okay, daddy's here for you. My brave little girl, everything's gonna be alright, I'm here for you." Ransom whispered gently to Lily.

Linda gulped, suddenly feeling her eyes watering. She wondered if she could go back she'd be a better mother. She doesn't remember ever holding Ransom like that, not even when he was a baby. She didn't even breastfeed him, and she and Richard never woke up in the middle of night to soothe Ransom's cries. Not when they had nannies for that. Not when they could buy their way of not giving him their time or affection.

"You're good with her, son." Richard cleared his throat, feeling the same guilt wash over him.

"Of course I'm good with my own daughter." Ransom scoffed, still rocking Lily in his arms. He lowered his head to her. "There you go, baby. Wanna hang out with auntie Marta while daddy spend some time with these assholes? Huh?"

Marta smiled a little at the snarky remark, and Ransom passed Lily to her, who was already making grabby hands for Marta.

Of course she likes the immigrant nurse, Linda bitterly thought.

"Wow, that was so cute, Ransom!" Meg complimented. "You make me think even I could be a good parent! No offense, of course."

"None taken, cousin. Having children is life changing if you're ever willing to have your own."

"Ohhh, I miss when Meg was that tiny. You were the cutest thing ever, baby." Joni took Meg's hand on her own. Donna and Walt's gaze strayed to Jacob, who smiled at them.

The memories of Linda, Neil and Walt's feet running in the house flooded Harlan's memory. How he missed them like that. How he missed his deceased son and wife. 

The atmosphere in the living room was way more harmonious, almost soothing. The Thrombey-Drysdale family was taken aback by Ransom's behavior. They never thought he'd be a good father.

[royalsweetteaa]

Hi! I really like your HC AU. Could you do one of how Cevans characters would react to reader flinching during an argument?

Oooh I love this idea! 🥹💔 Let’s get to it!

POV: Y/N flinches in midst of an argument.

Warning - The following HC contains: angst/fluff, comfort, reader has hinted trauma.

Steve Rogers

Steve would cut himself off and stare at you. “Doll, why did you wince like that?…did I raise my voice too loud? I didn’t mean to if I did but I….you know me…I have never and wouldn’t…” Steve begins to ramble a little with his words as he processes what just happened. “Who hurt you, my love? Please, tell me…I’m worried…this had to have come from somewhere, right?” Steve asks as he’s ready to receive an explanation while pulling you in to stroke your back gently. He listens, already plotting in his head to pay ‘someone’ a visit responsible for your trauma response.

Ransom Drysdale

Ransom raises his eyebrows as he sees you flinch and he furrows, confused. “Kitten,…did you seriously think I was about to hit you just now?” Ransom would ask with his arms crossed. “…Do you think I would steep that low?” A part of him takes offense as he first assumes that’s the whole story, but the pieces pick up slowly that this could have come from a previous encounter. He sighs, realizing he’s handling this poorly. “Darling…I didn’t mean for you to react that way. I hope you’re not scared of me…are you?” He’s relieved when you shake your head, and he decides it’s best if you both take a break from arguing. He comforts you, reassuring there’s nothing to be worried about. He hopes you’ll eventually tell him and explain on your own why you flinched.

Andy Barber

Andy would shut his mouth the moment he sees you flinch, and he would stay still as he processes the moment. When he receives your look of feeling guilty, his face softens, “Oh honey…it’s okay, let’s stop arguing about this and talk about what happened, okay? Did I scare you?” He asks first, not wanting to put much pressure on you. He wants to know right away if it was him who had caused you to flinch, and he wants you to feel safe so he speaks in his most soothing tone. When he sees you’re not reacting negatively to his closeness, he pulls you in to an embrace, making you feel safe.

Jake Jensen

Jake would stiffen, wondering what just happened to make you flinch. “Are you okay? You just flinched as if I was going to…” his heart breaks in a million pieces as he puts two and two together. He carefully takes your hands to give you reassurance. “Baby, what happened? Was it me?…You know you can talk to me about anything…I’m all ears, always.” Jake would reassure as he makes you sit down on the couch with him encouraging a chat about it. This incident would bother Jake for a long time, and he would often catch himself in future mid-arguments asking if he’s not coming across as too aggressive to make sure you won’t react like that ever again.

Johnny Storm

Johnny’s sentence would die out the moment he sees you wince and ask, “What was that?”, distraught and confused. “Did you just…” he doesn’t complete his sentence as he flattens his hands and raises them. “Babe,…I’m never putting my hand on you…my parents, while they died when I was very young raised me good enough to know that’s never okay…I wouldn’t do that even if you called me names or cursed at me like Ben always does!” He makes light out of the situation to distract you and pulls you in to caress you when he sees a small smile form on your lips, already leaving you two to forget about what you were even arguing about.

Ari Levinson

Ari’s response to you flinching would be to take a step back and give space between the two of you. He’s encountered women with traumatic responses before and knows that to deescalate the trigger, he needs to show he isn’t going to do any harm, like raising his hand. He would then say to you in a soothing voice, “Sweetheart,…I apologize if I came off as heated just now…let’s put this aside and think of something else, alright?” He would then crouch down, look up at you and making himself small to further deescalate your trauma response. You would respond getting closer to him and come into his welcoming and warm embrace, as you know Ari’s safe. It’s all forgotten and Ari doesn’t see any point of bringing up the argument again. Your feeling of safety comes first.

Thank you @imyourbratzdoll for helping me out a little on this one! ♥️🥰

Hearts & Reblogs are very appreciated! <3

[delicatebarness]

The Mercenary’s Daughter | Prologue

Summary: Lloyd Hansen trained his children to be the perfect weapons. His only girl, the exception, was his favorite and the best.

Warning: Emotional Pressure | Emotional Neglect | Child Training | Physical Intensity | Parental Expectations | Conditional Approval

Word Count: 307

Support: Ko-FI

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

A/N: This story came to mind because @lanabuckybarnes and I discussed how Lloyd would react if a baby was left on his doorstep. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

The Mercenary's Daughter: Let me know if you'd like to be tagged | @soelstress

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @lanabuckybarnes

“Again,” he commanded, his voice low but unyielding. Filling your lungs, the morning air was sharp and biting– a cold that matched your father's gaze. His hands were clasped behind his back, standing across from you with a steady stance. His eyes scanned your body with critical precision, taking in every detail and making mental notes of every flaw as you gripped the wooden training staff in your small hands. 

You shifted your feet, breathing calmly and bracing for the strike you knew would come. He never held back, not when it came to you– his only daughter, his favorite. He trained you to be better and pushed you the hardest. You had to be faster, and quieter– a weapon sharper than his older children, his sons.

He nodded, signaling for you to begin, and you did. Your small frame moved with precision and instinct, straining every muscle. You kept up with the grueling pace he demanded. Beads of sweat rolled down your forehead, not once did you falter. He expected excellence, so you were nothing less than perfection. 

“You’re not like your brothers,” he said, his tone softer after the hours of drills. Yet, there was still that edge that kept your attention. “You’re sharper. Smarter.” The tiniest glint of pride flashed in his eyes, so brief that for a moment, you doubted if it was real. But, it was still enough. It was everything.

Outside the Hansen family, you were known as “The Child.” A shadow, a whisper. A name spoke in fear. But to your father, Lloyd Hansen, you were his creation– the exception. And, as the early morning sun rose over the estate, a pale light shining over the training yard, the weight of his expectations settled over you. 

You promised yourself one thing at that moment: You would never let him down.

---

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Wax and Wane

Pairing: Werewolf!Andy Barber x Reader

Summary: You were drawn to Andrew Barber like a moth to flame, and now that everything you were is burned away, you cling to him in the ashes.

Word Count: 1,269

Warnings: Darkfic, Dubcon, Horror Au, Werewolves, Smut, Borderline Monsterfucking (lol), Implied Stockholm Syndrome, Breeding, Dead Dove: Do not eat, MINORS DNI!

A/N: my second entry for my Friday the 13th challenge! so as some of you all may recall, the “A.B” initials on the charm bracelet in Talking to the Moon implied the existence of other women, and maybe other pack members…😈 mind the warnings my loves! enjoy! divider by @firefly-graphics

The sound of the bell rouses you, forcing you to sit up groggily as you blink at the dark room. The heavily draped window is dark too, and when you look blearily for the digital clock on the bedside table, it confirms your suspicion. 

 The bright numbers read 3:17, and for a moment you consider turning back over and going back to sleep, but the little bell next to your bed sounds again insistently. 

 I hate that fucking bell. It’s an antiquated remnant of the house’s past, from a time when your lavish bedroom was once part of the servant’s quarters, the bell a means to summon you. Now, however, it serves a somewhat different purpose. 

 Is it really different? He calls, I come.

 Andy’s side of the bed is cold, you note as you roll out from underneath the covers. You peek through the curtains out at the moon, a dark sliver eaten out of the bright circle. It won’t last, though—it’s due to be full tomorrow, maybe the day after, so Andy’s side of the bed will remain cold until then. 

 You hate that you miss him, a little. He is a good conversationalist after all, your man—your monster. 

 Andy is supposed to be with the pack—you know this from past experience. It’s strange he’s waited so long to leave, and you know that now he must have certainly missed his chance. You make your way down the long hall, the only sound the whisper of your long robe against the cool tile. He isn’t downstairs, not when you exit the grand staircase and into the dark living room. The house is intimidating in the dark, but you’ve done this enough times now that you could probably do it with your eyes shut if you wanted to. You go through the kitchen, pausing briefly before the cellar door. 

 When you open it, Andy is waiting for you on the other side. It’s easy to see the change is almost upon him. His bare chest is heaving, shiny with sweat. His eyes are fever bright, nostrils flaring from the scent of you. When he licks his lips, your pulse quickens, and you wonder if he can hear it, if he knows. 

 I should have seen it coming.

 You should have—but Andy had blinded you. Love blinded you. You had not noticed your friends dropping from your life like irate flies as you found yourself too busy with Andy Barber to see them, your family held at arms length by their disapproval of your wealthy, mysterious new beau. People falling like dominoes until you were alone—

 And alone, you were weak.

 When the man had become a monster, you had clung on instead of running. And now, you think as you lightly finger the raised scar on your chest, it’s too late. The long scratch marks that if you measured, would be exactly Andy’s finger-widths apart. 

 There’s something under my skin, too.

  You allow him to pull you to his chest as he inhales deeply, pressing his face into your hair. The smell of him does something to you, too, igniting a warm tingle deep in the apex of your thighs. The distinctly male musk, tinged with something animal, primal. His fingers tangle in your curls for a moment before he lets go, his hands wandering appreciatively down your sides and over the curve of your hips. 

 “I thought I was going to have to come get you,” he says, his voice low. There is amusement there, too. “You have good timing.” 

 Most people don’t pay close attention, so generally, even when Andy is out and about this close to the change, no one notices the tells. Not like you. His nails are longer, sharper and stronger. His canines longer, thicker—it makes him lisp, just a little. And his eyes…

 The darkest, stormiest blue. 

 Andy slides a finger beneath your chin, tilting your head up. You sigh into his mouth as his lips meet yours, his teeth pulling at the plump flesh until it swells. Hungrily he swallows the resulting whimper, and when his tongue sweeps into your mouth he tastes like gin—he’s been drinking. Andy’s hands slide up your sides, displacing the robe as he pushes it from your shoulders. 

 “Smell like honeysuckle,” the words are murmured low against your throat. You squeak when his fingers sink appreciatively into the soft skin of your ass underneath the hem of your nightie. He inhales again, teeth tugging at the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “And rain.” Thick fingers wiggle between your thighs, and you widen your stance without being asked, and Andy hums with pleasure at finding you damp already. 

 “Missed you.” 

 Your breath catches as he circles your clit, before sliding down to tease at your entrance. When he pulls back, you try to stifle the whine that grows in your throat, but you don’t kill it completely. 

 “Get on the desk.” 

 This room serves as Andy’s unofficial second office. Where, if you looked, you might find pieces of evidence that were conveniently “lost” during trial—things that might make their way into Andy’s pocket if he had a particularly stubborn problem. 

 Nothing that would be of use to you now. 

 His eyes rest on you with almost physical weight, you can feel them boring into you as you lean up onto your toes, bending across the dark wood. You peek over your shoulder, and you sink your teeth into your lip to keep from gasping. When the change is close, you know Andy is… bold. Aggressive, even—-and tonight is no different. He openly palms his cock through his open pants, staring lustfully at the glistening folds between your spread thighs. He grins at you, and your cheeks burn but you don’t look away. 

 “I told you, runt,” he says, the points of his sharp teeth hanging over his lip. “I missed you.” Andy is on you in two easy strides, resting a hand on your hip as he rubs the head of his cock against your pussy. This time, you can’t help the shuddering moan that leaks through your clenched teeth. He bends over you until he can rest his lips on the back of your neck, and they curve against your skin. “I see you missed me too, didn’t you?”

 “I did,” you admit, your cunt sucking desperately at the tip of his cock. 

 “Mmm, good girl, so honest.” The pleased hum that vibrates in his chest fills you with a shameful sense of pride. You are a pretty bird in a pretty cage for as long as he’ll have you—but you can’t bring yourself to hate him. You moan as he begins to push forward, his hand heavy on your hip.

 “I know I’m supposed to be with the pack,” Andy grits out as he begins to stretch you open. You stare with lidded, unseeing eyes at the bookshelves in front of you, his words echoing in your ears. There’s a sort of doubling when he speaks again, two voices in one mouth. There is Andy’s voice, the one you know, and then something dark. Animal. 

 “But you feel so good like this.” 

 You know the beast is crawling just underneath Andy’s skin, staring out at you through his eyes. Your only saving grace is the fact that they want the same thing—

 “I know you like it too, pup,” Andy’s teeth scrape hungrily against your neck as he splits you open inch by delicious inch. “You always did have a thing for monsters.” 

 end

Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library​ for updates. ❤️

[holylulusworld]

The assistant (6) - Good times

Summary: You are invisible most of the time.

Pairing: Former!Boss!Steve Rogers x Former!Assistant(plussized)!Reader

Possible pairing: Jake Jensen x Reader, Lloyd Hansen x Reader, Curtis Everett x Reader, Ari Levinson x Reader, Andy Barber x Reader, Mike Weiss x Reader

A/N: Okay, I went a little crazy with all the CEvans charaters in this one.

Warnings: angst, flirty CEvans characters, language, plussized/chubby reader, protective brothers, Lloyd being Lloyd, fluff, domestic brothers

The assistant masterlist

<;< Part 5

Here are the nicknames every brother gave the reader:

Lloyd – Cupcake; Jake – Sweetie; Ari – Sweetness; Curtis – Sunshine; Andy – Pookie; Mike – Flower

“What’s your plan, Lloyd?!” Andy sighs as his brother refuses to tell him about his plan. “I told you that I’m all in. I’ve missed my family…and…”

“And?” Lloyd asks. “What else did you miss?”

“The business, okay. My life is boring and lonely. I can’t breathe right when I’m home at the empty house. The one Laurie wanted me to buy. I hate it there.”

“Congrats on realizing your life is shitty since you left us,” Ari snickers. “How about you find some pussy to get over that uptight bitch you left us for?”

“Ari, don’t,” Jake warns. “We agreed on leaving the past behind. Let’s celebrate that the lost brothers returned home.”

“I second that,” Curtis grumbles. He lifts his glass before downing it in one go. “So, have we already decided on who is allowed to make a move on Y/N first.”

Jake jerks his head toward his brother. He gives Curtis the stinky eye, daring him to make a move on you. “She’s my friend, not yours. I saw her first. I talked to her first. Keep your hands to yourself.”

“Back to the plan you mentioned,” Mike shyly looks at Lloyd. He’s unsure if his brothers even want him to be a part of their plans, but he will try anything to earn his place in the family again.

“You will love it, Mickey,” Lloyd snickers. “We will steal Captain America’s shield. That asshat won’t know what hit him.”

“You want to steal his shield?” Andy furrows his brows. “That’s your endgame? Shield theft. I thought we want to pay him back for humiliating and hurting Y/N.”

“Lloyd, that’s one stupid plan,” Jake groans. “I thought you are the mastermind here. What do you want with the shield? I wanna punch his face.”

“He’s a super-soldier, right?” Mike looks at his phone. He’s watching a video of Steve fighting the Chitauri in New York City. “Damn, he breaks through walls and punches aliens with that shield. I don’t think we will be able to steal the shield.”

“How about we leak nudes of Captain Asshole?” Jake suggests. “Or maybe a sex tape. We need something really dirty and disgusting.”

“I bet he has a small dick. We could just take a few pictures and leak them,” Lloyd hums. “It’s not the worst plan. Lemme think about the details.”

“Hey, don’t take over my plan! It’s mine. I will think about the details.” Jake complains loudly.

Ari rolls his eyes.

“Guys, this is an awful plan. Do you honestly believe the Avengers don’t have a public relations team helping them find shit about the so-called heroes on the internet? Have you never asked yourself why there are no embarrassing snapshots of one of them to find?”

“If you don’t like this plan. What’s your plan?” Jake snaps at Ari. “Rogers is a super-soldier. Y/N doesn’t want us to hurt Rogers.”

“She doesn’t want us to get hurt,” Andy corrects. “We won’t be able to physically hurt Captain America. We need to outsmart him.”

“Let’s steal the shield then,” Lloyd grumbles. “It’s our best shot. He loves that piece of metal. Without it, he’s only a guy in a costume.”

“You mean he’s a guy in a costume with super-strength, and the ability to run through walls,” Andy sarcastically says. “All your plans are, doomed to failure. We need to hit him fast, hard, and without mercy.”

“Aw, look at Mr. Lawyer. He wants to play the big bad mobster again,” Lloyd teases. “Tell me, Andy. How do you intend on hitting a super-soldier fast and hard.”

“What if we drug him?” Mike throws in. “We can drug and kidnap him. If we got him in our clutches, we could give him hell.”

“Hmm…that’s not the worst plan.” Lloyd nods.

“Guys, I finished dinner,” you poke your head into the conference room. “Do you have time for food and a break?”

“Food?” Jake licks his lips. “Of course, sweetie. We will have dinner with you. Right, guys?”

“Sure.” Mike gets up from his seat to follow you like a puppy. “What are we eating, Flower?”

“Flower?” you cock your head to look at Mike.

“Uh-I think the nickname suits you. You’re beautiful, and kind, and you brighten a room when you enter it.” He walks next to you. “Thank you for the breakfast. It was delicious.”

“It’s the least I could do. Your brothers were all so kind and helped me get over the loss of my job, and everything happening with Steve Rogers.”

“I’d like to help you too. What do you want me to do to him? Name it, and I’ll do it.”

“Mike, you should enjoy having your brothers back in your life. Focus on your family and start anew. Forget about Steve Rogers. I intend on doing so. He never appreciated all the hard work I put into organizing his life.”

“Don’t you want to pay him back?”

You shrug. “I quit and walked out of the Avengers building, my head held high. I could’ve made a fuss. But I hate being the victim. People like Sandy believe they always get away with the shit they pull. I believe, one day, karma will bite them in the ass.”

“I love the way you think.”

You chuckle. “Let’s get some food into you. You look so thin.”

“Cupcake, we will never let you go,” Lloyd exclaims before he shoves the last spoonful of food into his mouth. “Damn, you cook like an angel and look like a sexy devil.”

“Lloyd,” Jake grunts. “Stop hitting on her!”

“I don’t need to hit on Y/N. She’s already enchanted by me.”

“Sunshine, the food was great,” Curtis tries to stop his brothers from fighting over you and win you over at the same time. “A toast to Y/N and the wonderful meal she prepared for us.”

“So, Pookie,” Andy’s deep voice catches you off guard, “what are your plans for tonight? Do you have time to tell me more about your contract and what happened with Rogers?”

Lloyd frowns deeply. Not only did Andy give you a nickname, but he also leans closer to you to grip the backrest of your chair.

“We need to keep an eye on Andy,” Ari whispers in Jake’s ear. “He tries to snatch Y/N out of our hands. Our brother is a dangerous opponent. Andy looks like the domestic dream of every woman.”

“Can we not forget about all of this? I’m ready to move on,” you softly reply. “Jake, I’d like to take over the position you offered. I love taking care of paperwork, and cookies.”

Jake grins. If you work with him from now on, he’s got a better chance to win your heart over before one of his brothers gets his hands on you.

“I want to blow his ass up with a hand grenade for hurting you, cupcake. Say yes,” Lloyd almost whines. He’s itching to pay Steve back.

“No violence, Lloyd,” you tut and point your fork at the cocky mustache enthusiast. “I told all of you so. All I want is to start a new life.”

“Alright,” Ari claps his hands. “It’s decided then. You will move in with us and work with Jake from now on.”

“Wait! I didn’t agree to move in with you!” You roll your eyes as the brothers protest loudly. “Guys, I got an apartment.”

“Sweetness, we got a mansion with ten bedrooms. You’ll keep the room you inherit. It has a balcony, a walk-in wardrobe, a fireplace, and a comfortable queen-sized bed.”

“Ari,” you sigh deeply, “that’s not the point here. We don’t even know each other. All you know about me is my sob story.”

“I know you,” Lloyd runs his index and middle finger over his mustache. “I checked your background, cupcake. I know every detail about you and your life and decided to keep you.”

“And if we start a war with Captain America it’s safer for you to stay here, with all of us,” Curtis says. “We can get all of your belongings in no time.”

“We know your apartment was furnished,” Jake says.

You bury your face in your hands and groan. All brothers insist that you must stay at their place. Even Andy and Mike who just met you.

“Guys…”

“Sweetie, please stay here with us. What if Sandy tries to get back at you?” Jake begs. “Rumors say Stark fired her.”

“I don’t think she’ll try to…” You frown. Sandy never liked you. She did everything in her power to get your job and office. “Or would she?”

“See, we don’t know yet, Pookie. Stay here, and we handle the rest.” Andy looks you up and down, humming as you shift in your seat.

Six pairs of stunning blue eyes are set on you.

You sigh and nod. There is no use fighting six stubborn brothers. “Only until we know if Sandy is planning to get back at me…”

>> Part 7

The assistant

@babygirl-one-and-only​, @curlycarley​​, @yoruse​​, @nikkitc0703​​, @mswgtsd​, @albinotigerpython​​, @acornacreacure, @liloxclu @mochionly​ @deansonlywife​

More tags in reblog.

[thezombieprostitute]

Which CE character would help with calming overwhelming anxiety?

Short answer, a lot of them.

Ari Levinson, Curtis Everett, Steve Rogers: They know what to do and immediately step in to take care of you. They're your weighted blanket. Your reassurance. Your teddy bear. Whatever you need them to be.

Cole Turner, Jake Jensen, Johnny Storm: These guys initially panic. There's a lot of trial and error as they learn what works and what doesn't work. But you're definitely their priority throughout the whole thing.

Andy Barber, Frank Adler, Nick Vaughn: These guys seem like the type who would help you out, but I don't know enough about them to say one way or another.

[coltrainbat]

Small sized reader wants to get tied up so she could get fucked hard by her husband, Steve rogers

Roped Up

A/N: Enjoy 💕☘️

WARNINGS: SMUT MINORS DNI. 8k filth, daddy kink, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, rough sex, orgasm, P in V, bondage

You watched as Steve cut off the rope holding your Christmas tree together. You didn’t know such a small, mundane movement could turn you on. His veins pulsated as his used the sheers to cut the taunt rope, his tongue sticking out a little as he focused on the task at hand. Catching the loose rope in his hands as it sprung around the tree. You sat on the couch, glass of wine in hand admiring the man in his grey sweater and jeans.

“What you want me to do with these bub?” He held up the long thick ropes in his hand, 4 strands of beige yarn. You got up from your spot, hand falling to his waist and pulling him closer into a kiss. “I have an idea.” You purred into his ear as blush rose to his cheeks.

“What is it honey? Seems you’ve had a bit too much wine baby girl.” He pulled your chin up to him.

“I’m just drunk on you.” You took the ropes from his hands, turning around and making your way up the stairs.

He almost tripped following you up the stairs, quick on your step as you rushed towards your bedroom, giggling at the sudden game of cat and mouse. Until you felt the sudden tackle of Steve behind you onto the bed, falling into a fit of laughing you turned onto your back.

Eye to eye with the gorgeous man. He ran his nose along your jaw, nibbling at the skin on your neck.

“What’s your idea gorgeous girl?”

“Tie me up.” His head peaked up, a quizzically look on his face as he studied your face for a hint of humour. “What?” “Like my wrists and ankles. Tie me up to the bed and then…” You wrapped your arms his neck, bypassing his lips quickly towards his ear “Fuck me.” You bit your lip noticing the sudden darkness of his eyes.

He groaned, grabbing the ropes from beside you.

“Starfish. Now.” You hurried to the top of the bed, lying on your back, still in your baby pink slip. You reached to pull it over your head.

“No. Keep it on.” He growled at you, pulling on your left ankle roughly. He positioned the rope in a circle around your ankle, tightening the strand in a quick motion

“That too tight?” He looked up at you, concern on his face. “Tighter.” You purred at him. He smirked, tightening it harder so it pinched against your skin. You moaned at the feeling of pressure. He anchored it to the golden bed post.

Repeating the action on the other foot. He placed his knee on the bed, moving up towards you, grabbing your hands and cuffing them over your head, fastening them together against the headboard.

Moving down past your lips, you groaned at the lack of kisses. “Stop whining, or I’ll tie your mouth up as well.” You bit your lip as excitement formed between your legs.

Leaving soft, wet kisses against your neck, moving your dress to the side with his face, he cupped your breast in his hand as he placed the nib in his mouth, sucking lightly, grazing his teeth against the sensitive nipple. You moaned at the sudden pressure.

He pulled away, towering over you as his fingertips grazed along your body.

“You’re so petite baby, look at you all helpless and tied up.”

Desperately wanting to rub your thighs together to ease the ache between your legs. You tried to move into his touch, unable to get a few inches off the bed with the tight restraints holding you down. Steve quickly bunched the slip over your hips, exposing your heat to the cool winter air.

He blew hot air onto your core, you squirmed at the contrasting temperatures.

He stood up, slowly pulling his sweater over his head and throwing it across the room. His hands palmed over his thick chest down towards his zipper.

All you could do was watch his taunting strip tease, desperately wanting to run your nails down his chest. Revealing his hard member, he pulled down the final layer of cloth. The cotton that confined his hard, thick cock from your aching hole. Moving his head down towards your now soaking pussy, he gave a soft kiss to your puffy folds. Peaking his tongue out to taste your arousal. He simply couldn’t help himself to tease you, addicted to the taste of you he devoured your sex, vacuuming up your fluid with his mouth.

His head rose, rubbing the glistening sheen on his chin with the back of his hand.

“You ready baby?” He rubbed his bright pink head against your messy wet folds.

Even in moments of deep intense pleasure, Steve would still take the time to ensure your comfort. It made you want him more.

“Just fuck me already.” You groaned, desperate to feel him.

He pushed against your tight hole, desperate to feel his length be wrapped up by your velvet walls but also conscious to not hurt you.

“More” you moaned. It was all he needed

Your habit during sex was always to run your hands through his hair and down his back towards his juicy peach of an ass, leaving long red lines. Your instincts want to give in, but you can’t even touch him beyond the feel of his chest against yours as he lays his weight on you.

Mouth finally reaching yours, as his tongue explored, fighting for a sense of control you’d never get as you shoved your tongue deep in his mouth. Moaning at the sensations of his small little patch of hair rubbing over your mound, the feeling of his head grazing your g spot over and over. Trapped between his biceps on either side of your head.

The position while limited, Steve used all his skills to keep a decent pace, hitting your g spot continuously, his hand trailing down to your lower stomach, pushing down on his member that was visibly inside of you.

“That feel good baby? … look at that - you can see me inside of you.” The depth of his thrust only pushing you further towards an orgasm,

“Daddy I’m gonna cum!” Your hands pulled against the tight restraints, desperate to release the coil inside of you.

“Cum baby you earned it.” With that a flush of liquid poured out of you, pushing out his cock in the process.

“I wasn’t finished.” He growled, shoving his cock promptly back into you, increasing his laboured thrusts, chasing his release as he pooled a hot shot of cum into your cervix. His teeth gritted as he held onto your throat for leverage, enjoying the sight of your eyes rolling back into your head as his bulbous tip assaulted your now sensitive insides. Unable to push away from his grip or tear at his back, tears started to form in your eyes as you lay helpless for him to use as he pleased.

He collapsed on top you, breathing into your ear as he came down from his high. Slowly moving upwards, he untied your wrist with a swift pull, your hands immediately falling to his back muscles, pulling him closer to kiss you passionately, desperate to feel him.

He grabbed your hands and softly massaged away the redness from your wrists. Placing soft kisses on the indents from your resistance.

“We are keeping the ropes.” He groaned at you.

You chuckled lightly, kissing his forehead as you finally were able to move freely.

[urcatslitterbox]

Having extremely dirty thoughts about an alpha watching their omega cum on their teddy bear

[candy-and-writing]

taking inspiration from @comfortcap and sharing my thoughts on which midnights songs i think best fit cevans characters

chris: paris, karma, sweet nothing

steve: the great war, question...?, bigger than the whole sky

ari: maroon, snow on the beach, dear reader

andy: you're on your own kid, high infidelity, midnight rain

ransom: vigilante sh*t, maroon, bejeweled

curtis: vigilante sh*t, labyrinth, anti-hero

jake: anti-hero, karma, you're on your own kid

let me know your thoughts and if you agree/disagree and why 🧐🧐🧐

[when-all-the-world-is-asleep]

Roo, you did a fantastic job on nailing what a creep Steve is in this one omfg The reader doesn't have much choice--if she tries to say something, Steve will spin it around on her :( I wouldn't be surprised if he went down the delulu road... after all, she doesn't have a ring on.

Right This Way

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, age gap, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You get lost on a campus on your first day of college and a helpful stranger shows you around.

Characters: Steve Rogers

Note: this is the third of my autumn fics as decided by all of you!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You’ve leapt over one hurdle for the day but it won’t be the last. Your first lecture is done, but now you have to find your way to the second. Typically, you’d be on your way home. For years, you languished in part-time or sabbatical coverage but now, you have achieved regular faculty status. It might not be the school you hoped for, but these days, a job is a job. 

You gather up your things as the class disburses. A few keeners come down to ask you about the midterm and you assure them it’s only day one. Full details will come soon. In the meantime, they can review the readings schedule. 

You set your phone on the corner of the table as you search for your wireless mouse. You bring your own. You’ve had enough experience with neglected classroom equipment. 

“Hey, Miss,” a deep voice rolls behind you and swings you around. A young man with golden hair, a square jaw, and a letterman jacket stands across the table. He is a factory-issue frat. You had your share of those in your own time as an underclassman; as a professor, they don’t often bother you unless they get an F. “Just wanted to chat about a few things I got this term.” 

“Oh, sure,” you say as you reach for your phone. His eyes follow your hand. His cheek dimples. 

“You on your way to Ford too? We can walk and talk if that’s easier?” He offers. 

You’re not sure if you should take his eagerness as a good sign. At least he is mindful. At first glance, you don’t expect that. 

“Um, if you don’t mind, I have my next class there,” you agree. 

You hike up your bag and black the screen of your phone. You’re a bit embarrassed that he noticed the maps wide open on your phone. You’re still gearing your way around. 

He waits patiently, bouncing in his brown leather Vans as you round the table. “Steve, by the way.” He offers his hand in an overly formal gesture. You know that brand of frat. They put on that gentleman act for the elders. It’s a charm you would’ve fallen for twenty years ago. 

“Nice to meet you, Steve,” you shake his hand then continue to the door. 

He hurries past you and pulls open the door ahead of you. Again, that overly helpful gesture twinges your suspicion. He must be asking for something big. 

“So, I play baseball,” he begins as you set off down the hall. He quickly catches up, walking parallel with you. “And I just got my schedule. I can get coach t give you a call if you need but I’ll be out of town for a few classes...” 

“Right, baseball,” you repeat. You’re not fighting the senate on this one. They prize their start athletes much higher than due dates. “I’m sure we can figure it out. Did you have your schedule with you?” 

“Um, you know what, I don’t have it printed but I can email it,” he says. 

Once more, he opens the door ahead of you. You step out into the early fall sun and descend the steps. It’s a quick conversation, it might be awkward to stick around. 

“That works,” you agree. “I don’t want to keep you so if you want--” 

“Nah, really, I’m headed in your direction,” he insists. “You do know where that is, right?” 

You look at him. His blue eyes gleam. You peer around and shake your head, “that way?” You point. 

He laughs, “no worries, professor, I got you.” 

He puts his hand on your lower back and points in the opposite direction. You turn to move away from his touch. You blame the little club he’s joined in his youthful arrogance. They never do abide by the rules. After all, he is asking for exception, so why wouldn’t he overstep other barriers. 

“So, you must be new,” he intones. 

“Here, yeah,” you confirm. 

“What else do you teach besides Renaissance history?” 

“My specialty is medieval but I’ve taken on various subjects; ancient warfare, Victorian culture,” you rattle off. You know he doesn’t really care. For the jocks, classes are simply an afterthought. “What got you into this subject?” 

“I like art,” he says. “Figured it wouldn’t be a bad elective.” 

“I hope,” you reply. He points you around the curling path. You hesitate. You peeked at the map. This seems wrong but you did find the only dead end on campus earlier. 

“You seem young for a prof,” he says. 

You snort, “I don’t give extra credit for compliments.” 

“I mean it,” he argues. 

“Right,” you huff dryly. “Steve.” 

He smirks as you glance at him, “wow, you got that professor voice down. ‘Steve’.” He mimics your tone and chuckles. You shuffle closer as you pass a group of young girls but he doesn’t seem to notice them. 

“Like I said, it isn’t my first gig. Just new around here.” 

“I think you’ll like it,” he intones. “Nice campus, nice people,” he preens. “A few profs pop by the parties even. Open invitation.” 

It’s your turn to laugh, “oh, I’ve outgrown that.” 

“Classy lady, I’m sure,” he agrees. You’re not sure if he’s complimenting you. “Well, what about back in the day?” He wordlessly gestures you along as he guides you. “You are party girl? Sow your wild oats?” 

“That was a long time ago. It’s probably better left back then,” you deflect. 

“Come on. I won’t judge. I’m a bit of a square myself. I’m the designated tidier. I pick up after all the drunks,” he snorts. 

You hum. You don’t miss those days. Everything was so much more stressful. Not just classes but everything outside of it. Who to hang out with, what to where, where to go. 

You slow as you look around again. You’re behind one of the large gray buildings but not too sure where. It’s a path lined with trees and abstract statues. They’re benches and an engraved stone wall memorial. You don’t see any buildings close by. Maybe it’s one of those at the other end. 

“Told you, it’s a nice campus. Doesn’t seem like you’ve gotten to see much of it,” he says. 

“Not yet,” you agree. 

“It’s a short cut. Trust,” he says. 

You nod and continue on. He turns towards the twisted metal owl and you go with him. You really don’t think he’s going the right way. You sneak your phone out of your pocket and press your thumb to the screen. 

Suddenly, you’re nearly knocked off your feet at he bowls into you. 

“Woah,” he collides with you so hard your phone falls onto the ground. “Shit-- I mean, holy cow. Sorry, miss. I tripped on--” He steadies you with a hand on your shoulder. “Did I--” He looks down at your phone on the stone path. “My bad.” 

He scoops it up before you can and you recoil. Your eyes wander away from him and you examine your surroundings. The trees, the statue, it all blocks you off from the main path in an eerie way. You can hear the bird’s tweeting and the coeds chatting but you can’t see them. 

“Damn,” Steve’s voice draws you back as dread simmers in your stomach. “I think it’s cracked.” 

He walks ahead of you as he examines it. You trail him, “it’s fine. I can take it to the store and have them look--” 

“I’m real sorry, professor,” he cradles the phone between his large hands. “I’m such an oaf. Bet I’m not gonna get that extension now, huh?” 

“Everything’s okay, Steve. You can give me my phone,” you reach for him as he leads you into the shade of a large oak. “What are you doing?” 

He pulls his arm back, aims, and throws your phone. It flies through the air as you gasp and lunge forward. What the hell? 

His arm wraps around you from behind and he swings you back. You cry out but only for a split second before his palm smothers your mouth. He leans his body weight back and brings you down with him into the grass. What is he doing? 

You struggle to get away. You grab at his arm hooked around you and claw at the grass with your other hand. You writhe and try to twist away from him. He follows you, crushing you to the grass beneath him. You wheeze as his weight forces the air from your lungs. 

You flail both arms and sink your fingers into the dirt as you fight to drag yourself from under him. You can’t. He growls as he pulls his arm from under you and grips the back of your skull. He keeps your head twisted on your neck, clamping it between his large hands. 

“Shut up,” he snarls. “Be good for me, professor, and this will all go quickly.” 

You gurgle into his hand as your heart hitches. Why is he doing this? You said yes. You didn’t argue. 

“I’m going to move my hand and you’re going to stay nice and quiet, aren’t you?” 

You try to scream into his palm and he wrenches your head down into the ground. The grass is soft but the impact is enough to make your nose fuzzy. He hushes you. 

“I mean it, alright? Shut your mouth or I’ll fill it with dirt,” he snarls. 

You whimper and nod, puffing against his palm. Your body tenses before you slowly make yourself go limp. You lay your head against his hand and let your arms still. You raise your hands slightly to say, ‘see, I’m good’. 

He huffs and slowly drags his hand away, smearing your spit across your cheek. You sniffle as your eyes prick and you inhale the scent of dirt. You can hardly breathe as your chest throbs and burns. 

“Ah, don’t act so hard up,” he chuckles. “Bet you don’t get a lot of guys these days,” he pushes his knee between both of yours. “Sad, cause you don’t look half bad in this.” 

He tugs your skirt up your legs as he shifts his weight around. The satin tickles your thighs and sends a shiver through you. You close your eyes, your forehead flush to the ground. You liked that skirt so much. You bought it just for your first day. 

The thought stabs into your heart. You push your hands flat to the ground and brace yourself. Denial cords around you as terror clogs your throat. This can’t be happening but it is and all you can do is let it. 

“Mm, not bad,” he rasps as he pushes between your thighs. “Come on, loosen up for me.” 

He moves your slack legs apart and runs his fingers along the cotton of your panties. He purrs as he traces the edges along your ass and back again. He snakes his hand under you and presses against the fabric and feels your folds through the thin layer. 

“I’m so goddamn hard right now, you have no idea,” he says.  

You chuff out air. You try not to hear him, not to feel him. He slips his fingers beneath your panties and rubs your lips. He pets your head as he cooes in your ear. 

“See, I’m being nice. Isn’t that nice? I know you wouldn’t be shaking like that if you didn’t like it.” 

He rubs between your folds roughly as he presses his crotch against your ass. He rocks against you as he teases you. You scrunch your toes tightly as a tingle crawls along your thighs. No, please. You don’t want to feel anything. 

He purrs as he continues to move his pelvis, breathing heavily behind your ear as he growls. He stretches his fingers along your cunt and delves into you. He pushes his hand further and curls his finger through your entrance. 

The heel of his hand brushes against your clit as he moves. You whine as the coil winds around and around and around, tying up your guts in knots. You shudder and bring your hands to your hand, digging your nails into your scalp as you spasm. You cum, slickening his touch as a mortifying moan escapes between your lips. 

He slides his fingers out of you. You groan. Your tears leak out and trickle onto the grass. He trails his hand around, leaving wetness along your shirt. He angles above you, pushing your knees apart with both of his. He splays you and tugs your panties to the crease of your thigh. 

His zipper slices the moment. Your breath cramps in your chest as you hold it in. He guides his tip along your thighs. He feels you quiver, teasing and toying, as he rubs up and down your folds. He slides up by your cheeks and you clench. He laughs and traces back to your entrance. 

He uses his thumb to push his tip through your resistance. You tighten around his intrusion and squeak out your breath. He shushes you and you swallow down a sob. He inches into you, his own exhale flowing over you like a cold storm. 

He sinks in to his limit and you bury your toes into the dirt. You heave as he pulls back and thrusts in again. Your shoulders curl with tension and your spine locks. He pumps again and moans, petting your hair as he falls into a rhythm. 

“God, you’re tight,” he grits. “I heard... well, I guess everyone lies.” 

He runs his hand down the side of your head and beneath your forehead. He forces your head up and nuzzles your hair as he tilts into you. He puffs across your scalp. 

“I didn’t see a ring,” he reaches up to clasp your hand, twining his fingers through yours as he continues to rut. 

He keeps you like that, fucking you harder into the dirt. He lifts his hips, slamming them down so his zipper bites at you. He pounds at you relentlessly, shallow breaths mingling damply in the cool autumn breeze.  

You open your eyes and stare across the grass. Your vision blurs around the tree trunks and wooden benches. Your grief and glazes over and drowns you in horror. 

“Welcome to campus, prof,” he growls between nipping your ear. “Oh... and don’t worry about those missed classes. I didn’t make the team.” 

[kqutie]

THE PRINCESS' SEVEN MERCENARIES

CHAPTER THREE : A DIFFERENT MORNING

relations. : cevans various/reader -- steve rogers/reader ; curtis everett/reader ; ari levinson/reader ; lloyd hansen/reader ; andy barber/reader ; jake jensen/reader ; ransom drysdale/reader

chpt. sum. : your kind hosts allow you to stay the night without further questions and you say thank you by preparing breakfast. the kind gesture means more than you know.

tags. : disney princess reader ; snow white and the seven dwarves au ; fairy tale au ; fluff ; domestic fluff ; reader cooks breakfast ; the men are grateful but also don't know what to say ; these men need a hug and a kiss ; a/b/o universe but it's not the central point ; disney princess reader and her seven sexy mercenaries hehe~ ; cutie pie curtis ; whiny jake ; flusterd steve ; grumpy lloyd ; pouty ransom ; teasing ari ; lovely andy

length. : 4.2k

← two. a fateful meeting | navi. | series masterlist

While Andy and Ari got you settled on the sofa downstairs, the rest of the mercenaries went up to their makeshift conference room. Everyone had their own bedroom, another luxury they demanded from their year contract, however, the conference room was also available upstairs. It helped them with differentiating work and mental repose. Unfortunately, they haven’t been able to luxuriate in the latter aspect as much as they would like. Their living room is left largely, untouched, their kitchen hardly used for its intended purpose and their conservatory collected webs and dust in their absence. 

The year-long contract they signed with the new client was proving to be more challenging than they originally thought. The year deadline was already starting to look incredibly insufficient for the operation they were tasked with. To add to that, their non-negotiable asset for the large cottage as a homely base wasn’t satisfying its intended use for reprieve and was a hard pill to swallow upon realisation. They all looked forward to the stability a home provided and with it, room to live in and rest rather than just work. Alas, their mission was important and needed their full commitment, that was the deal. Having their heart’s desires so close yet unable to partake in was disheartening. And now, they had to house a pitiful intruder too. The bitter reality that someone had been able to indulge in their luxuries was infuriating.     

“I want her out of here by sunrise tomorrow!” Lloyd hisses through clenched teeth, his attitude easily ignored by Steve, who doesn’t even flinch at the stench of displeasure radiating from the pacing alpha. 

“She won’t be staying long at all, Lloyd. She’ll be gone by tomorrow, at least.” somewhat satisfied with the proposal, Lloyd leans back in his designated seat. Steve was trustworthy in that sense, he kept his word, and that’s why he’s the captain of the team. 

Steve focuses his gaze on Curtis, who fixes his gaze back, “Curt, you’ll be escorting her to the nearest village tomorrow. Make sure she settles down at an inn before leaving her be, okay?” Curtis answers with a simple nod but his eyes reflect a muted eagerness for the next day to come. 

“Excused from the mission, eh?” Ransom ponders for a moment, “Tomorrow’s operations will largely depend upon me but I still need a guard to keep close and protect my hide; Curtis has always filled that role,”

“Ari can fill in,” 

“But the bastards at the society are accustomed to Curtis, they’ll ask questions,” Ransom protests with a frustrated exhale. Even his nervous tick makes an appearance whereby he starts trying to unravel his cable knit sweater at the seam of his sleeves. 

“Figure something out.” Steve firmly addresses, “I don’t want her walking to the next village on her own, she doesn’t know where it is and she could get lost,”

Exasperated, Ransom begins to grumble under his breath and would have escalated if Jake hadn’t been at his side to calm him down. Being the only two betas, they understood each other and largely relied on one another for things they couldn’t as easily go to the alphas for. That meant providing a stable foundation to lean on when the other is upset or troubled. “Are we clear, Ransom?”

“...Yes Captain,”

“Good. You’re good with your words anyway, you’ll come up with something convincing,” Steve offers a confident smile that Ransom begrudgingly scoffs at but everyone knows how backwards Ransom’s antics can be — he’s already come to terms with the change. “I don’t think half of us managed to get the things we wanted done today so same thing tomorrow boys. Lights out. I’ll wait here for Ari and Andy so I can tell them what’s up before bed tonight,” everyone nods and finally leave for their rooms, their forms already taking on an exhausted arch. They were ready to call it a day. Full of the hearty meal you had cooked for them, sleep came far more quickly than it usually did.  

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

“Are you sure you’re comfortable?” Ari asks as Andy retrieves some more pillows to tuck in around you. The giggle you let out is music to his ears and he can barely contain his smile. 

“Very comfortable, thank you,” you turn to Andy as he offers a pillow to tuck by your legs and another for you to cuddle to your chest. Smiling up at him, you whisper another grateful ‘thank you’ and he smiles. He’s more than happy to cater to your needs. Both of the men were, hence why they volunteered to help you get settled for the night. They even willingly offered up their rooms for you to sleep in but you gracefully declined. You mentioned how you didn’t want them getting an achy back for sleeping on the small sofa. Your thoughtful response warmed their hearts — you’re a very precious, little thing, the cutest omega they’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. 

“Well, we’ll leave you to sleep then, good night,” the two begin to leave. 

“Goodnight! And thank you again for lending me your sleep shirt,” Ari turns and smiles, suppressing the heat that threatened to explode across his cheeks at the reminder that you were sleeping in his shirt. You were so small compared to him, that his shirt easily appeared as a dress on you. He’s never seen such a beautiful sight before.   

“You’re welcome, goodnight,”

As the two walk up the stairs, Andy turns to his mercenary teammate with pressed lips, “I could have lent her a shirt for the night too, you know…” 

“Yeah but, first come first served,” was Ari’s simple reply. 

“...at least she gets to sleep cuddling my pillow tonight,” It was a small quarrel that easily blended with playful tones and the two ended the talk with matching smirks. Both were equally eager to follow their alpha instincts and care for a sweet omega like you – between them, it was a weakness, truly.  Before calling it a night, they met up with Steve by the conference room door. He informed them of the plans for tomorrow and both easily accepted. Steve made sure to ask if Ari was alright with filling in for Curtis just to be sure but the bearded man didn’t fight the decision. Curtis would take good care of you, Steve made a good choice.  

“Lucky Curt,” Ari shakes his head as Andy laughs. 

“Yes yes, lucky Curt. Lights out, you two,” Steve pats both of them on the shoulder with a light chuckle and moves to his room.  

Mornings were a dull, almost robotic occasion. Plans of operation would have been discussed the night before so that mornings weren’t disoriented and some sluggishness was allowed, although quickly curbed. The team went to bed with the mission as their last thought and woke up with it as their first. 

But not today. 

It was peculiar waking up to such a delicious smell in the air but the bizarre occurrence quickly reminded the hardened mercenaries of what had happened the night before. And, for the first time, in a long time, their morning wasn’t spent prioritising the mission over. Their hunger reigned instead, their heads filled with thoughts of a warm breakfast and a pretty face to greet them at the dining table. What a treat…

Rushing out of his room, Jake comes face to face with Ransom. “Finally warming up to our pretty intruder eh, Ran?” the magi-tech genius teases as Ransom rolls his eyes. 

“I’m not admitting to anything. I just want a good breakfast for once,” Ransom combs his fingers through his ruffled, morning hair and begins making his way down the stairs.

“Me too,” Jake agrees through a sleepy yawn, his hand inching up his pyjama shirt to scratch at his belly. Behind the two, Ari, Curtis, Andy and Lloyd also step out of their rooms, all were still in their sleepwear and slightly groggy. If it was any normal day, they would have been alert and wide-eyed already but the smell of a good breakfast was rather tranquilising.  

“Smells delicious,” Ari comments, scratching at his beard and heading downstairs. 

“There better be bacon and eggs,” Lloyd comments as he does his best to comb back his hair with his fingers and straighten the stray strands of his moustache. 

“Regardless, a good breakfast is better than no breakfast,” Andy says, trying to loosen up the kinks in his shoulder and neck as he traverses the stairs. Curtis follows silently behind them all, his usual thick beanie replaced with a nightcap. He silently salivates at the thought of a decent breakfast. But, if your cooking the night before was anything to go by, the breakfast spread would be just as delectable. 

When the group entered the dining room and kitchen, they weren’t surprised to see Steve already occupying his space at the table, drinking a mug of coffee and a relaxed posture. If their captain was indulging in breakfast, that gave them the full go-ahead. 

“Good morning boys,” you cheerily greet them from your place at the stove. You’re still dressed in Ari’s spare sleep shirt, which comes down to an inch above your knee. And it appears as though Steve had offered you a pair of his home slippers. The footwear looked comically big on you and they couldn’t help but smile at the image. Ari’s smirk is wider than normal but realising that it was his shirt you were wearing, it wasn’t hard to guess why that was the case. 

“Good morning, indeed!” Jake cheers and speedily takes his seat while the others follow behind him much more leisurely, “Dinner and breakfast! Thanks so much!” 

“You’re welcome,” you giggle. “I didn’t know how you liked your eggs so there’s scrambled and sunny-side up. Steve said you’re not fussy but if you want it done a particular way, please say so,” 

With an arrogant smirk, Lloyd tests your offer, “I like my yolks very runny, not jammy like these ones,” some occupants at the table glare harshly at him but he isn’t phased until you’re willingly cracking another egg into your pan. 

“I’ll make you two,” you happily chirp, unbothered by his demand, “you’re really tall and big though so maybe three?”

“J-just two is fine!” Lloyd stutters with a blush on his face. He didn’t expect you to comply so easily and your innocuous comment about his physique threw him for a loop. For a moment, he believed there was something wrong with the customary regulation earring he wore. All persons with second genders were required to wear one by law to keep their influence minimal, regardless of whether they were a beta, alpha or omega. Questioning the device also meant questioning Jake’s genius and that was profound. Jake meticulously kept all of their tech functioning smoothly; it couldn’t have been that. 

“Alright, don’t worry if you want more okay? Just ask,”

“Uh y-yeah…” Lloyd spots Ransom snickering at him from across the table — it was unusual to see their resident executioner and assassin caught off his guard and flustered like this, naturally he couldn’t help laughing. With a harsh kick to his shins, however, Ransom was doubling over in pain and Lloyd was the one smirking instead. 

The spread for breakfast was buttered toast with blackcurrent on offer, fried or scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, buttery sauteed mushrooms and tomatoes, and a light avocado salad. For drinks, you made some coffee with their stovetop, stainless steel coffee maker and poured apple and orange juice into jugs.  Everyone helped themselves and you were happy to see them enjoying their meal so openly. 

They were very kind to let you stay without forcefully prying for your private information, cooking for them was the least you could do. The atmosphere was also very good, having everyone eat together like this reminded you of the times you would eat with the palace staff at the kitchens. Silas, the head chef, made it a point to serve your meals personally, every single day, for every meal. Now you get to honour his good gesture by paying it forward to the people who have treated you kindly.

“This is so good!” Jake expresses through a mouthful of buttered, jammy toast, Ari helpfully handing him a napkin while he sips his morning coffee. 

“Thank you,” you chirp with a giggle and continue eating your breakfast too. 

“What’s that over there, pet?” Ari speaks up, taking another helping of the sauteed mushrooms and tomatoes to have with his scrambled eggs. The bearded man in gingham pyjamas was nodding to the occupied counter full of wooden tupperware. 

“Oh!” you finish your mouthful first, “They’re your lunches,” the entire table falls into silence, shocked and in awe of your thoughtful nature. This is the first time they’ve ever had a homemade packed lunch. It feels like such a privilege, they don’t know what to say. “I didn’t know what you guys liked so I just made some lightly fried chicken sandwiches with lettuce, cucumber and tomatoes, mini cheesy potato croquettes and, for dessert, mini chocolate pancakes.” turning to the table, you smile shyly, “I hope that’s okay. It looks like you guys work long days and the best way of getting through it is having a good lunch… I really can’t express how grateful I am to all of you,” 

Nobody knew how to voice their gratitude articulately, they were all so touched and also incredibly pleased to have something delicious to look forward to. It’s hard to work up much of an appetite when they’re knee-deep in their work so they don’t realise how starved they are until they have certain tasks done. The accomplishment helps them relax and they finally realise their level of hunger. By that point, they don’t care what they eat, as long as they have something with substance, they’re fine. It was nice not having to worry about their lunch for a day. Not because they’re so busy with their operations but because they know they have something delicious already prepared for them. It, somehow, made facing the work day much better. 

“You’re an angel,” Ari smiles warmly beneath his beard and you look down at your plate, unable to meet his kind blue eyes without getting warm in the cheeks, “thank you for being so thoughtful,” 

Steve smiles also and nods in silent appreciation when you finally look up and meet his eyes. Andy can’t help but shake his head in disbelief – you’re a momentary blessing in their lives, it’s such a shame you’ll be leaving so soon. Looking down the table, he spots Lloyd and Ransom with the same slack-jawed expression and almost laughs at their wonder-filled eyes. Just last night they were complaining about you and now they’re tightly wrapped around your little finger. It was rare to see the conquering of such antagonistic characters, the amusement was natural. 

Meanwhile, Jake is rocking back and forth in his seat, probably being held down by Ari so that the overexcited Beta doesn’t jump your bones in his excitement and gratitude. Curtis is as silent as ever but has a much softer look in his eyes when he looks at you. His gratitude is silent but will be paid forward in full soon enough. Andy doesn’t doubt that Curtis would fight off a bear, a wolf and a mountain lion, simultaneously and win for your safety when he goes to escort you later on.     

“Have you told her about the plans today, Steve?” Andy voices, immediately catching your attention and perking up from your plate of food. 

“Right,” Steve gathers himself, slightly embarrassed that something so important managed to slip his mind despite it being a major factor in their plans. He supposes that he’s just as affected by your sanguine presence as the rest of the team — even Ransom and Lloyd, no matter how much they like to deny it. “Curtis will be escorting you to the next village for today. Unfortunately, the rest of us have important business to attend to in the city and cannot accompany you. Curtis is an exceptional guard though, so you have nothing to worry about.” Steve’s soft expression and kind smile suddenly turn firm as his gaze leaves you to meet the eyes of the other men, “Speaking of, we need to hurry up. We can’t delay much longer this morning.” With a hard nod, everyone (except you and Curtis) finish off the rest of their plates and hurry away. 

“Lucky Curtis…he gets to eat breakfast peacefully and escort the pretty lady,” Jake whines, casting a sorrowful glance over his shoulder as Andy chuckles and slings his arm over the Beta’s shoulder. 

“Lucky we had breakfast today at all,”

Turning to Curtis, your round questioning eyes prompt him for an explanation. The tall guard silently debates if he should answer immediately or not; he rather enjoys having your gorgeous eyes on him. Cute, pretty thing. He doesn’t think he’s ever had the privilege to be around someone so lovely. He’s rather happy he has the honour of escorting you today. 

“We don’t have to rush like they do. It’s, also, not worth asking what we do for a living, that’s confidential information.” his straightforward answer flusters you and your only reprieve is having another spoonful of scrambled eggs. “Let's just enjoy our breakfast,” Curtis chuckles deeply when you don’t meet his eyes but give a shy nod as you stare fiercely down at your plate. 

He thinks you’re absolutely precious. 

After some time, you start clearing up the table while Curtis makes sure there aren’t any more leftovers. You were surprised at his great appetite but judging by his large frame, you guess it wasn’t too much of a shock; he can easily eat four times the amount your portion for a meal. 

“Does everyone just leave?” you ask, looking over your shoulder as you dry your hands with a kitchen towel. 

Curtis shrugs, “They have nothing else to do at the house, why not leave right away?” He wonders what you’re thinking of doing as you gather up the boxed lunches and move to their cosy foyer, where their coats are hanging and their primary worn shoes are stored. 

It doesn’t take long for the team to come down and look questioningly as you stand by the door. You had set the packed lunches on their slim foyer table and they spot how you’ve carefully labelled each one with a loose slip of paper. Seeing their name in your elegant handwriting affected them more than they’d like to admit. Even though the lunches would be the same, knowing that you took the time to somehow personalise them was heartwarming to see – not that Lloyd or Ransom would freely admit it. 

“What’s all this?” Steve asks, collecting his boxed lunch as he approaches you by the door. Everyone else was still putting on their coat and lacing up their shoes. As the Captain, Steve, naturally, was the first one ready. Behind the group, Curtis leanned against the stair bannister, he wanted to see what you planned to do. 

“I just wanted to see you off,” Steve thanks you with a kind smile though a lingering, unanswered question gives a slight arch to his brows. Before the blonde captain can reach for the door handle, however, you’re reaching up to hold the lapels of his coat and gently tug him down. It was only a light tug but the action was so surprising, that Steve easily folded for you. On the tips of your toes, kiss his cheek sweetly. “Thank you for letting me stay the night. Have a good day at work and I hope you enjoy the lunch I made you,” astonished at the scene, the team couldn’t fully appreciate the sight of their openly flustered captain as he readjusted his coat and coughed into his hand. To think that someone so demure and innocent could break down the hardened mercenary captain so easily.

“You’re very welcome, thank you for everything,” Steve gives you a final nod and opens the door. He already anticipates you giving the same treatment to the rest of his men but he’s still red to his ears at the gesture. None of them saw that coming.

Rushing to get his shoes on, Jake manages to get second place and eagerly awaits his cheek kiss too. Again, you thank him for allowing you to stay and wish him a good day before making him promise he’ll eat all of his lunch, “I won’t leave a single crumb, princess!” you almost stutter at his term of endearment but quickly disguise your shock by pressing a kiss onto his cheek. He almost forgets to bring his lunch as he stumbles out the door with the goofiest smile on his face. 

Next was Ari who smiles fondly at your attempt to reach him despite already being on your toes. He doesn’t do you any favours either by stubbornly staying in place. And he stays standing, even when you lightly tug on the lapels of his coat jacket, urging him down. 

“Y-you’re too tall, Ari,” the bearded man laughs and finally leans down.

“You really are an angel,” he whispers into your ear as he receives his kiss. Unable to resist, he presses a kiss to your forehead as he straightens up to join Steve and Jake outside the door with his boxed lunch. Admittedly, his action made you hot behind the ears and up your neck. You were still in his sleep shirt too! 

Next was surprisingly Ransom, who looked at you with unfriendly eyes but you remained unphased. With a kind smile, you reach up and press a long kiss against his cheek. Your other hand even comes up to press against his opposite cheek, holding him closer for longer.

“Why was that kiss so long?” he asks, avoiding your eyes as he fixes up his hair in the hallway mirror. 

“I just wanted to kiss you longer, I guess,” your innocent chirp has the usually put-together man floored. He stumbles out of the front door with his lunch in an almost identical fashion to Jake. Behind him, you smile, happy to have received a more favourable response than his sour scowl. Jake giggles and points at him mockingly but receives a smack upside the head for his audacious impishness.

Andy approaches you next but bends down to kiss your knuckles, “I’ll savour every bite,” his sweet gesture and comment flusters you so much he has to wait for his kiss a little longer than the others while you stand there, fidgeting and forgetting yourself. 

“Thank you, Andy,” you whisper against the skin of his cheek and pull away. The clean-cut man momentarily savours your words and the sweet way you say his name before joining the rest of the team outside. 

“Finally,” Lloyd huffs, uncrossing his arms as he approaches with a deep-seated frown. 

“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting Lloyd,” 

“Don’t say my name like that!” he snaps with bared teeth. If you say his name in your cute-ass voice again, he doesn’t know what the full consequences will entail. 

You giggle, pulling him into a long kiss, just like Ransom, with one hand pressed against his opposite cheek to keep him in place. “Sorry, Hansen?” you try his surname to see if that was a better way of address but you’re only given a scoff and a cold shoulder as Lloyd stomps out of the door with his heavy, leather boots. 

From the front door, you wave the group off sweetly, “Have a good day at work! Stay safe! Take care!” They’ve never had someone so sweet and pretty, and kind wish them well like this. They all engrave your image to memory, hoping to return to the moment every morning after you finally leave. 

They really don’t want you to go at this point…

When you can’t see them any longer, you finally close the door and turn to Curtis, who appears to have been staring at you this whole time. His blank expression and steely eyes make you tilt your head curiously. 

“What’s wrong, Curtis?”

He’s tempted to say nothing but as the silence draws out, he finally succumbs to his childishness. Because it really was childish of him – he’d never felt like this before. “...I don’t get a kiss…” he grumbles like some toddler who feels he’s received unfair treatment. Which was, technically, the case.

“Who says so?” with a giggle, you approach the giant man with his nightcap still on and gesture for him to bend down. He only does so slightly. It was a silly thing but he loved the image of you going onto your tip-toes to kiss the others’ cheeks and he wanted the same treatment; he only leans down enough for you to barely reach him. 

“Thank you for everything, Curtis,” you whisper sweetly before kissing his cheek, “You’re very kind for letting me stay,” you won’t forget how he was the one to stop you from leaving the night before. 

Stretched to his full height again, Curtis smiles down at you,  “You’re welcome.”

navi. | series masterlist | four. the liberal guard →

a/n : the original chapter was getting too long so i decided to split it into two. that way, we can have a chapter dedicated to just Curtis and the chapters stay bite-sized. thank you for taking the time to read my work, my loves, and i hope you enjoy! special thank you to all the beautiful lovelies that are already supporting and loving on this series, it really means so much to me!

taglist : @imyourbratzdoll @lovinglimerence @saturdayrj @baw1066

[royalsweetteaa]

I absolutely love your character HCs and would like your opinion on another: CE Characters reacting to random physical affection. For example, they're reading something and you caress their cheek, run your fingers through their hair, start scratching their back, or even a quick kiss on the cheek?

I’ve been sparing this for when I’m in a certain mood and I’m so ready to write out this HC now. 😌♥️

Steve Rogers

Steve is sitting at the edge of your shared bed, getting ready to take a nap as he’s tired after days of hard work at S.H.I.E.L.D. You decide while he’s sitting there that you should get behind him and give him a back rub. He’s surprised as he looks behind, and that’s when you continue to do a back massage.

“Oh that feels really good, doll. Thank you…is there anything you would like me to do?”

He always wants to service you back, but this time you deny him other than have him stay where he is so you can show care to him. He appreciates it a lot and from then it becomes a frequent occurrence.

Ransom Drysdale

Ransom is sitting on the couch, reading through a magazine about the nominated mystery novels, among those being Harlan’s newest book. He’s so into the reading of reviews that he doesn’t notice you getting behind him, and his head goes blank when your fingers run through the root of his hair. It’s unexpected but it feels heavenly to him, - but of course Ransom being Ransom ruins it as he gets defensive.

“What are you doing that for?” He asks, and you respond how you simply want to take care of him. He laughs as if he finds the idea is amusing to him, and dodges his head away from your touch, “I’m fine, I don’t need you to do that.”

Ransom later groans in frustration when you’re not there, realizing how much of a mistake it was to deny you because he knows he won’t have you touching him like that now unless he asks for it. He hates asking for things like that, but he has to learn from his consequences after all.

Andy Barber

Andy is standing by the kitchen island, sipping on his hot coffee while reading the news on the news paper. It’s a morning routine, and that’s why he doesn’t expect anything other than a kiss as a usual morning greeting from you when you come downstairs. However, as he puts the paper aside and meets your lips, you hold his cheeks with the palm of your hands for a deep kiss.

His eyes widens a bit, not expecting something so intimate from you first thing in the morning, and he speaks when you break away, “Woah, honey. Does it happen that I have done something in particular to receive that kind of greeting? Because if I have I’ll have to do it more often.”

You chuckle, shaking your head as you respond something in the lines of you doing it because you love him.

Johnny Storm

Slight NSFW

Johnny is in the living room couch eating his ham sandwich while watching WWE, unaware you’re right behind him. With the both of you being playful comes with shenanigans, and now you are given the opportunity to do something to take him by surprise. You give his hunched shoulder a kiss, and as he leans back to see your face with a dopey smile you grab a handful of his pecs for a squeeze, making him burst out laughing from the ticking sensation.

He puts the plate of food on the table before jumping over the couch, attacking you with physical affection and being grabby with your breasts as you laugh and push him away playfully. “Baby, you started it, it’s only fair I get to do it back.” He says, not letting you get away. You eventually give in to his embrace.

He loves surprises, especially of those being from you where you touch him in the most interesting places.

Jake Jensen

Jake spends time playing video games mid afternoon on his time off, hoping to reach high levels before he inevitably has to go weeks without playing as he goes on missions again. You check on him, chuckling to yourself as you overhear his series of roasts to the team through the headphone microphone as he gets ahead of them. You decide you don’t want to disturb him, and walk over to place a quick kiss on his cheek which makes him stiffen from the sudden affection but he welcomes it.

“Aw thanks, babe…lemme give you one too.” He requests softly, and you get closer giving access to your cheek, receiving a gentle kiss from him.

He decides he hasn’t had enough and leads out to spend time with his girl, not caring that he’s loosing scores as the game carries on.

Bryce Langley

Bryce has been watching tribe documentaries for hours at his place, to the point of having to lay down on the couch with his eyes getting tired. While he naps his eyes, you come by, placing yourself on the empty space beside Bryce’s head on the couch. You sigh, turning off the documentary and Bryce furrows his eyebrows in protest, but before he can say anything, he is given a massage on his scalp, making him relax again.

“Oh fuck, that feels nice, baby. Keep going…” he requests with no shame, the feeling too good to deny.

Ending the evening with a head massage was certainly not in his plans, but Bryce can’t say he minds it at all. Your affections comes above his obsessions.

A/N: Ari will be added when I have an original idea for him. T.T

Hearts & Reblogs are very appreciated! <3

[delicatebarness]

The Mercenary’s Daughter | Chapter One

Summary: Nick Fowler is tasked with the elimination of a well-protected weapons broked. He learns that the target may be connected to Lloyd Hansen.

Warning: Implied Violence/Assassination | Underground Dealings | Mention of Weapons | Organized Crime | Corruption

Word Count: 685

Support: Ko-FI

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: The book club read the prologue of Cry Baby back to me today so out of embarrassment, I wrote another chapter of this. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

The Mercenary's Daughter: Let me know if you'd like to be tagged | @soelstress | @that-one-fangirl69

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @lanabuckybarnes

Neon and noise filled the city, but Nick Fowler tuned it all out as she stood in the small, dimly lit bar on the edge of town. He hated meeting in a crowded area, but his handler insisted on meeting face-to-face for this mission. Nick wasn’t in the business of asking questions.

The door creaked open, and a man sat on the stool beside him—a middle-aged, cheap-suited, and slight-framed man—Nick’s handler, Elijah. He always had a way of blending into the background. No one would give Elijah a second glance, which was exactly why he was good at what he did. 

“Fowler,” Elijah greeted, placing a thick envelope on the bar with a nod. 

“Clarke,” Nick replied, side-eyeing the envelope. It was always business with the pair, no small talk or pleasantries. 

Sliding the envelope closer, Elijah tapped it once with his finger. “We need someone with your particular skill set. A high-profile target.” 

Nick flipped through the papers inside as he lifted the envelope. His blue gaze scanned the contents. It included a name, blurry surveillance photographs, and a list of recent movements– the standard information. He knew this target was protected, well protected, and heavily involved in the underground dealings overseas. 

“The weapon broker?” Nick asked, his voice flat as he paused on a few details in the file. 

“Among other things,” Elijah replied. “Supplying hardware to the groups we try not to speak of. And, other intel suggests there are plans of a major deal within the next month, and we want to intercept him… discreetly.” 

Already mapping the logistics in his mind, Nick nodded along. “Where is he?”

“France, there’s a private compound in Chantilly. Security is tight– high walls, and heavily armed guards. No one gets in or not without the right level of clearance.”

Nick took a sip of his drink, raising his brow with a smirk. “Sounds like my kind of job.” 

Elijah’s expression remained serious. “Fowler, this isn’t a typical job. A source says the broker is working closely with someone we’ve been watching– Lloyd Hansen.” 

Something shifted in Nick’s expression as he looked up. Lloyd Hansen was a whispered name within their circles and an air of mystery and menace. He was a dangerous man to cross– a former military contractor, rumored to have high-level contacts and a network of operatives. 

“Lloyd’s got a stake in this deal?” Nick asked, intrigued more than ever, now. 

“We aren’t sure for now,” Elijah retorted. “It is reported the broker is close to him. It’s believed that if we can take the broker out, it could disrupt any of Hansen’s plans and force him to make a move.” 

The pieces of the mission slotted into place in his mind as Nick processed the intelligence. He had heard all of the rumors, hundreds of times– the elite soldiers who were trained to move in shadows, their loyalty bound only to him. Most governments could only dream of the kind of network he had created, and Hansen was a master at wielding it like an empire. 

“So I go in, eliminate the broker, and see if Mustache rattles?” Nick questioned, more to himself than Elijah. 

“Exactly,” the man replied, his voice steady. “We hope that if Hansen is invested, he’ll come out of the shadows.” 

Closing the file, and placing it back in the envelope, Nick gave Elijah a brief nod. “Consider it done.” 

“Good.” Elijah narrowed his eyes. “And Fowler– watch your back with this one. Lloyd Hansen is not the kind of man to take such interference lightly.” 

A smile tugged at the corners of Nick’s mouth. “I’m counting on that.” 

Elijah rose, leaving the bar without another word and disappearing into the crowded city. Rubbing his hand down his face, Nick let the weight of the mission settle over him. France, a fortress compound, and a target tired to one of the most dangerous men. The job was risky, there was no denying that. But, that was what made Nick interested.

Pocketing the envelope, the agent finished his drink and slipped out. He had a flight to catch.

---

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[when-all-the-world-is-asleep]

Eva. You have made me so weak in the knees for Orc Curtis... I need to lie down for a long time.

Forage and grind

orc!Curtis Everett x female reader

summary: You always felt like you belonged there. Naively, you even felt safe. But when his silent observation snaps into action and you learn why you caught his interest, belonging starts to hold more terror than longing.

warnings: orc!Curtis; dark!Curtis; heavy dub-con; captivity; thigh riding; rope bondage/shibari; suspension; oral (f receiving); fingering; unprotected sex; heavy breeding kink; size kink; hints of degradation;

word count: 5k

Author's Note: I'm a bit late with this installment in the Scaretale universe, but life happens and you gotta deal with it 😜 Some parts of this story I'm happy about, some not so much. You judge for yourself.

Shards of light bounced off the golden coin, sending flickering butterflies of yellow around. The club was a glowing, warm space, but you always appreciated the additional reflection or spark, especially those tossed your way. 

You grinned, catching the coin mid air. You slipped it into the little pouch hung by the belt around your waist, where it softly clinked as it met a few other shiny tips you’ve been given that evening. 

Scaretale had the reputation of a place of mystery and horror, which you never understood. Granted, being filled with a variety of creatures (some of which were barely contained beasts) made it somewhat scary, but you never felt that shiver of wariness that so many of your friends, or people in general, experienced. 

As you moved around the club’s floor you felt warmth and a particular, restrained camaraderie. Not safety, exactly, but something akin to familiarity. 

The interior was elegant, fancy even, combining human modern design with the lush mystery of dark magic born in the heart of ancient woods and meadows. It was not only aesthetically pleasing to the eye, but called to your heart with a reflection of something hearty from the old times before you were born. 

It was that obsession with medieval stuff, as your friend called it, rolling her eyes. And she claimed that you applying for a job at Scaretale was taking that obsession way too far. Especially since, in her eyes, the creepy haunted-mansion-like club had nothing in common with medieval, or even renfaire vibe. You wondered if her eyesight was skewed. 

You felt drawn to the Scaretale, as you were to the monsters’ realms themselves. Not fascinated, but simply drawn, as if you knew you belonged there. 

Which is why you were stubborn and pushy when you approached Ransom with your brilliant offer to work there as a waitress. 

Something he was clearly disinterested with. 

At first, at least. Because as you listed your experience from human establishments you worked when in college, Ransom’s eyes twinkled with sudden recognition. That shifted into a dark sort of excitement, which for a split of a second made you wary. 

You may have found Scaretale as a place where you felt comfortable, but its owner wasn’t someone you’d ever let your guard down around. 

All that mattered was that he agreed and you found yourself hired as the only human in a monster club. With monsters’ silver and gold coins, it turned out to be a quite well paid job, too. 

Though you felt in your element when moving between booths and nooks, your instincts still reacted to some of the creatures with more fear and caution. You learned who was more approachable and open to conversation, or teasing (like the satyrs who always flirted and regularly tried to talk you into joining an orgy), and who was better served quickly and subserviently (a growly werewolf, for example). 

Some monsters came only once, snatching their match and leaving. Some were regulars, seeking fun and new bodies to debauch. 

There were also regulars whose agenda you never figured out. And you tried not to be too curious about it.

A group of enormous, beefy orcs visited every two weeks, or so. Though they were restrained in the way they talked, when they walked through the club everyone seemed to tense in fear. 

Orcs were the most known warriors. Bloodied, ruthless, ripping worlds to shreds. As a human your knowledge was limited, but from snippets heard here and there you learned that their race raided many kingdoms and realms in the past millennia. Nowadays they were more like mercenaries.

With the occasional brutal raid for their own benefit. 

They came to the Scaretale cleaned up, but you still could easily imagine their bodies splattered with the enemy's blood. Not to mention the glint of weapons always present at their side, which made your skin crawl with trepidation. 

Your instincts often whispered caution when you waited for some of the creatures visiting, but when it came to these orcs the alarms were ringing loud. 

It wasn’t just prey sensing a predator prone to snap its teeth, but a sense ingrained into your blood like voices of the generations passed. 

It always skyrocketed when you felt the burning gaze of the biggest orc following your every move. 

He appeared to be the leader; it was clear in the way their group lined when cutting through the club, as well in the way they sat around the table. Not to mention that one time when you picked their orders from the bar and the bartender pointed at one of the beer mugs saying that one was for the war chieftain.

His mug was bigger than the rest and the foam floating on top sprinkled with crushed juniper berries. An unusual combination of flavor, you thought, but didn’t pay it much attention. 

Or rather, you tried your best to not pay it attention.

Which was hard to do when you felt his eyes following your every move and when you had a full body shiver reaction upon seeing that monstrous figure whenever you served the orcs’ table. His biceps alone were the size of your whole head. You were sure that he could crush your skull with just one of his big hands. 

The other orcs were large and intimidating, but their war chieftain surpassed the scary level. 

Still, you schooled your features and played a polite waitress role. You even encouraged yourself with a little inward game of pretending to be a medieval inn beer-maid. After all, the setting was perfect with the Scaretale’s vibe and a group of sword-and-ax wielding warriors as your customers. 

That night, however, as you were about to bounce from one served table to theirs to take their never changing order of limitless beer, you found that four of the orcs had already left. Or disappeared for the moment. But there was still one left at the table.

Their leader. 

The one scaring you the most. Always intently observing you with those piercing blue eyes. 

His pale, green-tinted skin made those inhuman irises stand out even more. There were some faint, green markings along his cheeks, but you didn’t know if it was a part of his natural pigmentation, or some sort of a deeply ingrained tattoo. 

Orcs were said to be unkempt beasts, but his beard was groomed. Thick and dark, bearing flecks of gray. His lips were a shade of pale pink, wide and plump, and spreading where two white lower canines grew out into sharp, tusk-like features. Unlike his companions, who had their hair braided, or cut into mohawks, he had his hair buzzed close to the scalp. 

He had one of his elbows resting on the table, thick fingers rapping slowly against the wood. His other arm was thrown across the backrest of the seat. Though in rest, his muscles were bulging; evoking a flicker of terror at the thought of him actually flexing and using those massive arms as he fought. 

Compared to him, you were small and fragile. 

Despite certain aspects of the size difference turning you on, you’d rather not test those urges with someone as dangerous and brutal as the orc. 

Hair on the back of your neck raised in alert as you neared the table. His gaze was on you for a while now, but it felt scorching hot the closer you came. Mustering an easy smile, you asked him if he wanted the usual (always that damn beer with juniper berries). 

“No.” His gruff voice rolled over you like a lick of thunder. “I’m done with poor substitutes.”

A frown marred your face. You didn’t understand what he was referring to. The Scaretale’s beer came from the best breweries and was spiced with some extra fae herbs. No customer has ever complained. 

Also, you didn’t think this orc would quietly stand for something he didn’t like the slightest bit, and he was regularly drinking that beer. 

Suddenly, a large hand wrapped around your wrist and you were yanked forward. 

With a gasp, you landed on his thigh. Your legs parted as your center settled atop a thick, leather-covered thigh. He held your wrist in one hand, while settling the other on your waist. You weren’t a tiny creature by any means, but his huge palm seemed to span your entire side. 

“Do you know that orcs are most known for raiding elven kingdoms?” He asked in a hushed tone, as if he was sharing a secret with you. You shook your head in response. 

As you learned of different monsters, when it came to the orcs you often stumbled upon art depicting huge beastly warriors doing explicit things to elven maidens, but you thought it only to be a kink many humans liked to think of, disregarding actual history and nuance. Especially, since you never met or heard of an actual elf existing.

Honestly, you suspected it was also humans’ fault - twisting the information on fae folk and coming up with new names for the subspecies.

“For riches and land, like with any other realm, but-” his fingers dug a little deeper into your skin and he pulled you along his thigh, making you gasp. “The main reason was to capture elven maidens.”

“There was something about the elven women that was irresistible to us. How fragile they were compared to orcs in size. How sweet and wild they smelled. How tight their holes were around orcs’ massive cocks.” 

He grunted out the last part, once again drawing your body forth on his thigh. With your legs spread and layers of your skirt too thin to provide cover, hard muscle of his thigh and the rough edge of leather pants he was wearing grazed your sensitive clit. 

“It’s still believed that elven cunts are the ripest for orc seed. Taking it so well and bearing many healthy babes.”

There have been some encounters with a few openly lustful visitors in the Scaretale, but none breached the boundary with you. No one grabbed you and put you into his lap, and made you grind against their thigh while they revealed obscene details behind their species’ primal behavior. 

This orc acted as if he had the right to move your much weaker body anyway he pleased. If he merely toyed with you, perhaps you could twirl away with the excuse of your duties awaiting. However, there was something about the way he treated you that rang a different kind of alarm. 

“Chieftain-” you placed your hands against his wide chest, trying to squirm away.

“Curtis.” He gripped you tighter and bounced his leg, making you moan as the meat of his thigh crushed your clit. “My name’s Curtis.” 

While you would welcome any customer telling you their name with a cheeky smile, this orc wanting you to know it and use it when you addressed him was like sealing your fate. 

You froze as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, taking a whiff of your scent and sweat. He groaned in delight and the sound of it vibrated down your chest, puckering your nipples into stiff points. 

“And you hold the unmistakable fragrance of juniper berries bathed in dew, my little elfling.” 

His words rolled over your body, trailing fear in their wake. It was no random sentence to make about you. Not after the brief recap of filthy history he treated you to minutes ago. 

His intense obsession made sense now. A terrifying sense. Impossible, too.

“I’m human!” You protested, fighting with all your might against the fate he laid out for you, before you even knew it would concern you directly. 

“You are,” Curtis didn’t deny it, “but somewhere in your lineage an elf mixed their blood with your human ancestors. That gene sparks intensely in your body.”

There was never any tale, not even a secret family anecdote that regarded a relationship with a magical creature. If it was a scandalous romance, it was hidden well, too. You could call bullshit. Claim it was a lie that Curtis used to grope you and have his way. But with how intensely he was always observing you, how he acted now, despite previously shown restraint, you had a feeling he wasn’t tricking you. 

Then the memory of Ransom near cackling with glee after studying you for a longer moment resurfaced. He didn’t want to hire a human, he had no interest in it. But if he sensed you were part elf and he knew orcs were his regular customers…

Yeah, Ransom wouldn’t pass that opportunity for mayhem and his own gain. 

“Please?” You looked up at Curtis. “Let me go? I- I have work to do. And-” 

Your words turned into a muffled moan when plush lips suddenly crushed into yours. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. The way Curtis’ mouth took yours was barbarous; a shard of that savage pillaging he boasted about. 

You felt the pressure of his tusks against your face, but surprisingly neither even nicked your skin. His tongue plunged between your lips in a savage thrust - as disgusting as it was, something about it made your body shake to its core. 

Was it your weakness for primal wildness that responded so eagerly?

When Curtis pulled away, your mouth was tingling and wet. Your panties felt sticky, too. 

“You’re an addictive sweet little berry, Juniper.” He hummed, rubbing his big thumb along the seam of your inner thigh. “And I’m going to grind you hard, until I bathe whole in your fragrant juices.”

Heat flooded you as an image of brutality with which he’d take your body flashed in your mind. 

There wouldn’t be anything smooth, or delicate about the way the orc treated you. Not because you thought him to be incapable of finesse, but you sensed he was excited about ruining you. 

A squeak ripped out of your throat when Curtis suddenly got up. He hoisted you over his broad shoulder, gripping your struggling body with ease. None of your screams to be let go were respected. And none of your yells for help were answered by anyone from the club. 

Lights of Scaretale, welcoming and homey until now, blurred as you were being carried away. Until darkness of one of the mysterious corridors swallowed you. You had no idea where the orc was taking you. Your knowledge of the corridors was very limited, knowing only that some of the monsters took their partners that way. 

He didn’t slap you when you wiggled, but his large hand spread over your ass and gave a hard squeeze. Probably to remind you of the size and strength of him that surpassed yours a thousand times. 

It didn’t stop you from trying to bolt when he eased you down on your feet. Your surroundings were completely different from the familiar layout of the Scaretale, yet so innocently domestic it gave you a whiplash. 

It appeared you were in some cottage, not very modern judging by the interior. Wooden furniture and wrought-iron details. The bed standing in the middle was an enormous feature, as was a round wooden bathtub in the corner. A type where you had to boil your own water to fill it with. 

If you were looking for a medieval experience, that was the fucking peak of it. 

Curtis’ big hand snatched the back of your shirt as you tried to run away, yanking you back to him with ease. The fabric tore as he gripped it and the orc simply ripped it fully off of you. Then your skirts.

“No!” You struggled between the urge to cover your naked body and scratching the monster towering over you.

“You’re spirited and strong, that’s good.” He praised, easily capturing your wrists in one of his hands. “You’ll fit the war chieftain’s wife role. Bear healthy babies, too.” 

“No worries-” he interrupted your next splutter of protests with a calm, almost mocking tone. “Orcs have mastered the ways of breaking an elven maiden into an obedient, dripping wife.” 

In a swift move he had you plastered to his chest, one arm securing both of your hands at your sides as he reached for something with his free hand. Then something abrasive brushed your skin.

The first loop of the rope around your middle and arms surprised you so much you only gasped. But then Curtis weaved it up and around, creating intricate patterns on your torso as he tied knots and interlooped thick strings of rope. He crossed it around and between your breasts, squeezing them as he tightened it. 

He forced two strings of rope between your lips, creating a makeshift gag. 

With your upper body completely bound, Curtis gripped your hips and tossed you onto the bed. Before you managed to kick at him, he had your ankles tied. He circled the rope around your legs a few more times, pleating pretty knots, until you were completely immobile. 

“Soon,” he propped your bound ankles on his shoulder as he looked down at your helpless form, “you’ll grow to love my ropes on you.” 

You glared at him, but your objection was muffled by the strings across your mouth. 

The sound of your moan was stifled, as well, but resounded much louder when Curtis bent you in half, bringing your legs closer to your chest as he buried his face in your exposed pussy. 

Your folds were slightly puffed and tingling already, roused from the way he had you riding his thigh in the Scaretale and responding to the graze of harsh rope against your sensitive skin. They were begging for a tantalizing tease to continue, to draw your pleasure to a maddening sharp edge. 

But the onslaught of a hungry mouth conquering your wet softness short circuited your brain. 

It was so savage, yet something about it being unapologetically brutal and ruthless scorched your body in a blaze. 

Moan turned into a choked cry as Curtis’ fat tongue licked between your folds and entered your dripping hole. Your breast swelled, the bite of rope heightening as your chest arched within the bonds. Your fingers curled helplessly at your sides, unable to grip anything. 

The sounds Curtis made as he feasted on you were obscene - uncultured, beastly growls and slurps. When he sucked on your clit, your own voice gurgled against the makeshift gag. 

“That’s it, Juniper,” he grunted against your pussy, drinking up your juices. “You’re gonna cum on the orc's tongue. Gonna be my good slut. My own breeding stock.” 

You writhed against the bonds. Against the growing pleasure that was rapidly nearing the precipice. But it was inevitable. His wide, plump lips devoured you, munching on your folds like on the juiciest fruit, before ripping the seam with a tongue brutal like an axe and squishing your clit with rough licks. 

You came with a scream. Within your bonds, the orgasm seemed to be relentless, rattling in each limb like a caged animal. 

When Curtis lifted his face to stare down at you, a dark triumph of conquest glinted in his eyes. He counted your body giving in as a battle victory. And you knew he wasn’t done raiding that field. 

Your slick shone on his face and beard, his tusks were sticky with it. He made no move to clean it off, bearing that wetness like a proud mark of his triumph. 

He kept looking at you, bracing one of his heavy arms across your legs to pin them to your chest, as his hand moved up the curve of your ass. A single digit swiped between your swollen folds, stealing your breath anew. An orc’s one finger was like two of yours, maybe even thicker. 

Curtis didn’t coo at you when you mewled at the intrusion as he pushed that finger into your still fluttering pussy. He snarled in hunger, pushing it against the resistance of your tightness. 

“Breathe through it,” he instructed harshly. “Save your cries for when I split you on my cock.”

You preferred not to think of that part, but it was hard to block it when Curtis started thrusting his digit in and out of you, mimicking what he was going to do using his cock. His inhuman, monstrous, orc dick. 

A shiver rocked your whole body, clenching your walls around his finger. 

“Oh yes, my sweet little berry,” Curtis grinned, lewdly flicking his tongue to lick his bottom lip and the side of his tusk. “I’m going to force my cock into your snug pussy. Stretch it so good and deep.” 

“Hear how wet you are for me already?” He teased, thrusting his finger rougher and raising the embarrassing sound of squelching. “Your cunt’s weeping for my cock and my seed.”

You shook your head, but all movement ceased and your eyes rolled to the back of your head when Curtis pushed a second finger along with his index one. His groan of pleasure was louder than the echo of sloshing wetness trickling around his digits. 

“What a good, hot, wet hole.” He moaned, slowly dipping in and out of your channel; delighting in the feel of your velvet walls gripping his fingers. 

“Bet the other one is just as good.”

You didn’t have time to process his words when he eased one of his fingers out of your pussy and firmly pressed it against your rim. 

Despite your gurgled, weak protests, his finger was slick enough with your wetness that he breached your hole with ease. Well, to him it may have felt easy, but to you it was a struggle depriving you of air. 

“Never had your tight ass penetrated, my wild Juniper?” He looked at you, gloating. “I swear, conquering your body tastes better than any bloodbath and battle victory.”

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, a lewd moan leaving his lips as your walls cinched around his fingers. Then his eyes snapped open again and he was staring down at you, greedily catching every grimace and flicker of pleasure on your face as he fucked both of your holes with his fingers. Faster and faster. 

His grin was near terrifying when your body tensed and you cried out an intense release. 

Curtis pushed his fingers as deep as he could, wiggling them slightly as your walls pulsed around them. When your high subsided in slow waves, he withdrew his fingers and smeared your own cream all over your ass and thighs. 

When he let your legs drop onto the mattress and untied the rope around them with a single tug on one of the knots, you prayed reprieve was coming your way. But then he was flipping you onto your belly and yanking you down across the mattress.

Your legs hung over the edge of the bed, toes barely reaching the floor. Only for a moment. 

Because Curtis bound them into a new position, spreading your legs wide apart. Another rope was weaved and knotted between some of the existing loops. Then he tugged. Harshly.

And your body lifted off the bed. 

You squeaked, confused. Your body swayed in air, yanked higher as Curtis tugged on the rope again. Focused on the sensations he ripped from your body and his presence cutting off anything else, you didn’t notice the iron hooks drilled into the ceiling. Through which Curtis weaved some of the ropes, lifting your helpless body to a preferred height. 

“You’ll rely only on me, Juniper.” Curtis growled, rubbing your parted thighs. “On the bonds keeping my elven slut in place. And on my cock ripping your tight pussy.” 

Your tongue moved against the rope between your lips, failing to sound the pleads for mercy. A tremor rocked your body as you felt the orc’s large body pressing itself between your spread thighs. 

The leaking head of his cock brushed against your abdomen and when you felt Curtis’ hips settle against your butcheeks the whole length of him pressed against your belly. When he held it like that the tip of his dick reached your belly button. 

There was no further preparation graciously given as he gripped his cock and guided it up between your parted folds. Then again, perhaps you should consider him thoughtful, given the two earlier orgasms he wrung out of you to have you creamy and loose. 

Still, when the bulbous head of his dick pressed against your cunt, your entire body tensed. 

It was too big. His entire body was too big. And you had no choice, but to take-

Not a scream, but a moan so high pitched and strangled ripped out of your throat that you were sure it could be heard loud and clear to anyone outside the cottage. 

Curtis speared into you in one, firm stroke, not bothering with the slow and gentle. His cock stretched you wider than two of his fingers had. It sunk deeper, too. To the point of near discomfort as the tip nudged your cervix. 

“Fuuuuck!” Curtis moaned shamelessly, digging his meaty fingers into your hips and holding your swaying body in place. 

“What a snug, delectable cunt.” He rolled his hips in a circle, eliciting new sensations that had you mewling. He chuckled in response. 

“I’m gonna be riding and filling that pussy so often, Juniper. Until you swell with my seed. Then I’ll sate its pathetic need as your belly rounds and your breasts leak milk. Then plow it again to plant another babe. And another.”

Your walls fluttered around him. Heat filled every inch of your body, even as fear and shame mixed at the prospect of enduring all that he promised. 

A gasp soaked into the rope gagging your mouth as Curtis used your bonds to move your body. He wasn’t fucking you, he was swinging your suspended body back and forth, using you. 

Quite slowly at first, relishing in the way your tight channel was clinging to him as his cock eased out. Then the way you stretched around the veiny girth as he plunged back in. It was after one of the easy strokes, when your cream gushed out as his hips met your asscheeks, that Curtis snarled impatiently.

And started really fucking you. 

Not only swaying your body, but meeting it with rough thrusts of his own. Battling any remaining resistance and conquering your body. 

Your breasts bounced with each move, your nipples tightened painfully. Saliva was pooling around the rope gag in your mouth, wetting the hemp and dribbling down your chin. The slight bite of the rope against your skin evoked a tiny prickle of pain that shifted into a burning kind of caress. Monstrous cock filling your pussy provided unparalleled friction and pressure that your clit pulsed without being directly stimulated.

It messed with your mind and overloaded it with how many sensations could be experienced by your body, even though it was fully immobilised. 

You came in a rush, crying out and clenching your eyes shut as white, hot pleasure bursted through you. Curtis welcomed it with a grunt, snapping his hips faster and harder. 

“Your body’s eager to receive my seed, my spicy berry.” He growled in pleasure. “Creaming and opening up to serve its purpose. I’d be a bad husband, if I didn’t spoil you with what you crave.” 

One of his hands moved across your back to grab a fistful of your hair and yank your head up.

“I’d be a poor slut owner, if I didn’t breed you full.” 

His increasing moans combined with the sound of slapping skin and squelching wetness; your tiny whimpers getting lost in the wilderness of it all. 

There was a splutter of low, angry barks of That’s it and Take it all as Curtis fucked you brutally. When he bellowed his release it carried outside like a battle cry. 

Your body seized in an unexpected, small orgasm as you felt his thick cock throbbing inside of you and hot spurts of cum filled you. There was so much of it you felt a pressure grow low in your abdomen. 

Curtis held you in place, breathing heavily and kneading your muscles as he filled your body with the last drop of his cum. When he withdrew, you felt a heavy dollop dripping out and splashing somewhere below. 

A tug on the rope had your body plummeting down, but only your upper half lowered. Your cheek rested against the sheets, while your ass still hung higher in the air. 

“Better to hold all my seed in.” Curtis hummed, patting your wet pussy. “Until I’m ready to fill you again.”

You groaned, seeing his hand palming his softened cock and beginning to stroke it back to attention. 

Curtis fucked you four more times that night. Three times having you suspended in the air, though in different positions and angles. For the last, he had you fully on the bed, too exhausted and spent to really fight him, so no ropes were needed. He plowed into you from behind, crushing your body with his weight. 

Though it provided a warm kind of comfort later when he held your curled, sleepy form to his massive body. 

When you woke up late the next morning, the bright near-noon sun was filtering through the wide open windows. Through one of them you saw Curtis. Wearing only his warrior leathers and chopping wood. As you stretched, you felt ache awakening in places you never considered could feel sore. 

You still felt the imprint of his cock inside you. 

And the sticky remainder of his cum, that had to drip out of you during the night.

There was so much of it when he filled you over and over again, you wouldn’t be surprised if the orc managed to obtain his obsessive goal to breed you. 

Your fingers traced across your belly, but before you spiralled into thoughts and images of swelling with the monster’s baby another sensation drew your attention. On your ankle, you felt a soft, insistent caress.  

When you glanced at it, you saw a wide leather cuff. A small padlock was clasped on the buckle, making it impossible to take off the cuff without a key. A thin, but sturdy chain was attached to the cuff, the length of it laid in shiny coils on the floor. 

“You’re not yet broken enough to keep you unrestrained,” came Curtis’ calm, deep voice. 

He stepped inside, the axe in his hand catching the light and glinting dangerously. He put it aside, then splashed his hands with water from a tin bowl placed by the entrance. Thick fingers started undoing his breeches as he slowly approached the bed.

“Spread your legs, Juniper.” He coaxed. “I want to fill your ripe pussy before we make a meal.”