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justmeinadaze · 2 months ago

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Nothing's Gonna Change My World (Steddie X You) (Documentarians/ Addict Universe)

A/N: Nothing new for me when it comes to writing about addiction but for some it may be heavy. Know that you are loved and you matter <3.

Warnings: Experimentees Steddie/ Fem Experimentees Y/N, In the alternative universe Documentarians Steddie and Alcohol addict Y/N, SMUT, dirty talk, voyeurism (if you squint I guess lol), etc. FLUFF, they care about her and she truly does care about them, she just struggles.

ANGST! *Twirls in angst with a banner that reads ANGST*

We find out what happened to the readers sister, drunk driving mentioned in this universe and the alternative, aftermath of that experience briefly mentioned in alternative universe, reader struggle with addiction in the alternate universe with mentions of withdrawals and how that affects her. In the alternative universe, Eddie mentions his father being an addict while Steve's mom is mentioned as being an alcoholic and the reason for his doc. Guys get into a fight.

Current Universe and alternative universe push back. All three hate the way they are in the alternative universe and it affects them in the current one.

This chapter is a bit heavy and I've had it on my mind for awhile. With the next few I want to explore more of the guys background and I think now the reader will be more open to that.

Word count: 4304

Series here/Donate

“I really don’t want to talk about this.”

“Then why did you bring it up?”, the doctor countered as he smirked your way.

“I thought you wanted us to be honest or some shit?”

“I do but that doesn’t mean you all are.”, he chuckles. “But I can understand why you would be apprehensive. Intimacy like that is a very private thing.”

Your eyebrows raise sarcastically at his assessment as you readjust your body in the chair across from his desk.

“Not quite for me. I’ve gotten in trouble a few times for having sex out in the open. This was just… I don’t know how to explain it… When I woke up I could still feel the desire but it was so intense.”

“The person you were being intimate with, could you tell it was someone you loved?”

“I love you both so much. I should have something before but I was so scared.”

“Yeah it was.”, you try and answer flatly as your words from the universe echo in your brain.

“Have you ever felt that way about someone here?”

Your head snaps in his direction.

“What do you mean by here? Like in the experiment?!”

“No… no, no. I mean in this universe you’re currently in. Have you ever loved someone like the you in the other one?” Blinking you run through all your failed relationship and drunken hookups over the last few years before shaking your head. “I can’t say anything with confidence but it seems like possibly the current you and the alternate yous are experiencing some conflicting emotions.”

“Yeah especially since none of them are like me.”

“How so?”

“They just seem stronger, hopeful…safe.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“We don’t think little of you at all.”

“You mean the world to us, honey.

“You’re safe with us, sweetheart.”

Shrugging, you fold your arms over your chest as you shake their words from your head.

***

That night you toss and turn with no relief as you think about your past. Memories of your sister replay especially those last moments.

“Y/N, I love you so much. Please, can you at least get sober for me? All I want is for you to be happy.”

“I am happy, Kallie! Jesus, get off my fucking back—”

Tears fill your eyes as the sound of screeching tires fill your ears and you hastily pull back the blankets as you step out into the hallway allowing your feet to lead you.

Quietly, you open Eddie’s bedroom door, shocked to find that he’s not alone.

While the long-haired boy was on his side with his back facing the wall, Steve was on his own back snoring softly with his arm behind his head.

Carefully climbing in between, them, you pull the covers over you three before grabbing Eddie’s arm and tugging it over your hip. Stirring slightly, he tugged you closer to his chest as his palm moved to rest between your cheek and the pillow.

“Everything alright?”, he whispers seamlessly as if he had known you for years.

“Yeah…I was just…thinking about my sister…and…”

As your voice trembled and cracked at your last word, Eddie tenderly shushed you as he placed a gentle kiss on your shoulder.

“It’s ok, sweetheart. The nightmare is over and you’re safe.”

Turning your head slightly, you gently pressed your lips to his, reveling in the taste. Eddie’s eyes open as he becomes more alert and his thumb softly caresses your cheek. Your hips slowly grinded back into his as his palm slides down your chest to your tummy, gently rubbing the skin under your shirt.

After nodding your head signaling your approval, his long hair slapped his face as he turned his own to watch his hand disappear under the covers and the waistband of your pants.

“Oh my God, you’re so wet.”, Eddie groaned as his fingers glided effortlessly between your folds.

Circling your arm behind you around his neck, you brought his mouth back to yours as he slowly massaged circles against your clit, mewling against your tongue as your ass pressed against him.

“Fuck me, Eddie.”

In a sloppy haste, he yanked at your sweats and panties before reaching to pull down his causing the man beside him to stir. Steve’s beautiful eyes groggily opened as he took in the sight beside him and locked eyes with you as his friend ran the tip of his cock between your dripping pussy lips.

His gaze shifted toward Eddie who nodded and a little whimper escaped you as you watched the other man lower his pants slightly to allow his steadily hardening length to break free. The long-haired boy breached your entrance and the pleasant stretch had you both moaning as he began gradually thrusting his hips.

Licking his palm, Steve matched his pace, stroking his cock and biting his bottom lip to stifle the moan that wanted to be heard.

“Shit, baby.”, Eddie whispered, placing his hand behind your head and turning you so he could kiss you again.

The schlick sound of the boy beside you had your pussy clenching around the man inside you and the metalhead couldn’t help but close his eyes as he pressed his forehead against yours while he pumped his hips harder into yours.

“J-Just like that, please. I’m gonna cum.”

Your eyes rolled back as one of your hands covered the one Eddie had by your cheek while the other reached for the free palm Steve had beside him. Both men threaded their fingers through yours as your head fell back against the pillows and you came.

Eddie smothered his grunts in your neck as he quickly pulled out and rapidly stroked himself as his release hit the meat of your ass. Steve’s hips rutted up into his hand as he whimpered and his spend sputtered out onto thigh.

After a few minutes of heavy breathing, you listened to the pretty boy roll off the bed before returning and handing his friend a washcloth to clean yourselves with.

“Hey.”, Steve murmured as he reached out to touch your face. “Are you ok?”

When you nod, he blinks praying that everything really was alright but as he began to roll over you grabbed his hand and cuddled it to your chest.

Both men watched as your eyes gradually closed and you snuggled closer to them.

“I love you.”, you whispered causing small smiles to flicker across their faces.

***

Neither man said a word as they ate their breakfast with you picking at your bowl occasionally staring outside window as the sun began to rise.

“Why were you in his room last night?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”, Steve answered casually as he took a bite of his food. “I, um, I’ve been doing it these past couple of nights. I sleep better I’ve noticed.”

“Probably because of the universes.”

Both boys exchange a look before Eddie agrees.

“Probably. Is that why you crawled into my bed?”

“I needed to feel safe and for some reason I only feel that with you two. I guess they are imprinting on us, you know? We need to shake it before we leave here.”

The pretty boy’s head tilts at your statement.

“Why?”

“No, why?”, Eddie asks again when you shrug.

“Trust me. You don’t want to be friends with me.”

“Yeah, we don’t. We want to be more.” Your head snaps in their direction as the metalhead continues. “We like you a lot, Y/N.”

“You don’t know me, Eddie, and I thought you two fucking hated each other.”

“We talked it out and moved on. That’s what being an adult is.”

“Jesus, you sound like my father.”

“What happened with Kallie?”, Steve abruptly asks causing you to glare his way. “Because whatever happened is the reason you push us away and why you have such a low opinion of yourself. I want to know.”

“Fuck you, Steven!”, you growl as you throw your bowl in his face giving everyone in the room pause.

“Is everything alright?”, the doctor asks as he comes to your table taking everything in.

“Yeah, everything’s fucking peachy.”, Steve grumbles as he wipes his face with a towel while Eddie sits beside him clenching his fists.

“Ok…well…it’s time to go to vessels. Clean up and head that way.”

Shifting your gaze towards them, your sour demeanor falters as you watch them angerly gather their empty dishes including yours.

“I’m…I’m sorry. I just—”

“You think you’re the only one who’s been through bullshit? Fuck you, honey. Maybe you’re right. We need to fucking shake this feeling off because I will not have another person in my life who’s push and pull. You either love us or you fucking don’t.”

Tears sting your eyes as you lag behind and place yourself in the pod that you were now beginning to hate.

“Everything ok, sweetie?”, the nurse asks, pursing her lips when you don’t answer. “Alright, here’s your calming agent. There we go. Just lay back and relax. Dropping in, in 3…2…1…”

################

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”, you grumble as you dig through your cabinets manically, throwing things behind you that clang loudly on impact.

“What’s going on, Y/N?”, Steve asks softly from behind the kitchen counter.

When you agreed to be a part of his documentary, you didn’t think you would be as open with them as you had been these last five months but after finding a flyer on a pole down the street with an offer to pay for your time, you thought what the hell.

You were strapped for cash and desperate for any funds you could get since your family had completely cut you off. Steve Harrington and his cameraman Eddie Munson were incredibly kind and not what you were expecting at all.

At the beginning of this project, you struggled with trying to hide your disease but the more they lent an open ear the more you spilled willingly.

“I, um, I can’t find any more bottles of…well…anything and I’m, um, I’m crashing a-a bit.”, you stutter with a slight giggle hoping to make the situation not as intense as you felt it was.

“What happens if you don’t get any alcohol?”

“I-I-I could get really sick and m-my hands will… My anxiety just—WHOOSH—through the fucking roof!”, you beam. “Hey, let’s, um, let’s walk to the corner store and get a bottle of something good. Maybe get some snacks, yeah?”

The man smiles at you as you grin, placing his hand over the camera as you disappear into your bedroom.

“I feel kind of bad filming this, Ed.”

“I mean…it’s her life… This is what she struggles with every day and you said you wanted to capture that.”, Eddie sighs as he puts his equipment down to grab his jacket. “My dad was the same way with his narcotics. She should honestly be thankful she’s not in prison like him after what happened.”

Steve sighs as you bounce back into the room with tennis shoes and your heavy hoodie.

“Is it ok if we walk? Obviously, I don’t have a car but I know it’s cold and—”

“We don’t mind walking, honey, unless you’re feeling sick or something.”

Again, you giggle as you lean forward to wrap your arms around him. It had been so long since someone had been so sweet to you. After the accident, your parents refused to return any of your calls and ignored you at every turn. Your extended family disowned you and due to the alcoholism you lost so many friends leaving you alone most of the time. Kallie said she would always be there for you but…

“You boys are too good to me. N-No, I think a walk will be good. Yeah…it will be very good.”

They follow behind as you babble about your town and ask them a few questions hoping to distract yourself as you try to focus on their answers.

“S-S-So when this film is released, you’re going to be a big Hollywood director, huh, Steve?”

“Oh, uh, most likely not but…”, he chuckles before his friend pushes his arm.

“With my camera skill and editing wizardry, we definitely will.”, Eddie grins. “I think it’d be cool to make more documentaries. My mom always enjoyed them.”

“She would have been so proud of you, Ed-did-ee.”

Both men exchange a nervous glance as your dialogue begins to truly falter. Last time they saw you like this, you were crashing so bad they called EMS who brought you to the ER.

You sighed happily when the gas station came into view as you practically ran forward and bounced to the back to grab a couple of cans of beer before waiting in line to pay.

“Hey, Y/N. How are we doin’ today?”

“G-G-Good. Just thirsty.”, you giggle as your shaky hands drop change on the counter. Everyone shares a knowing glance as you count it out before Eddie quietly pulls his handheld camera out of his pocket and starts to film the exchange. “Is…is this…I think this is enough.”

“Uh, no, baby, it’s not. Maybe…maybe you should get a bottle of water instead—”

“I DON’T need water! I need a drink! Now how much more is it, Kevin?!”

“$10.”

You blink as you search your jeans for more change causing Steve to step forward before the other boy stops him.

“Shit…uh…come on, Kev. How about I take these now and pay you back next time. I’m getting some cash from—”

“I can’t do that, Y/N, you know that.”

“FUCK! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Ok, ok, um—”

“Here, uh, for her and a pack of cigarettes for my friend.”, the boy offers before you suddenly grab his wrist.

“St-St-Steve, I can’t…I can’t let you—”

“It’s ok, honey. I need a cigarette to.”, he softly grins as he pays.

As you three walk back out, you pop open the top and chug back half the can before sighing in relief. Both men know this is just a band-aid. You’ll drink these two cans and buy the time the sun goes down you’ll need more.

“I swear I’ll pay you back, Steve!”

“Oh, no. You don’t need to—”

“No, no. I insist. You two are the only family I have now so…”

***

“Harrington, you can’t do that. You can’t enable her.”, Eddie whispers as you sleep soundly on the couch.

“What was I supposed to do? Watch her spiral down till she ended up in the hospital?”

“Yes. We’re observers in this, man. We’re observing and displaying.”

“I can’t, man. She reminds me of my mom…”

“Yeah…isn’t that why you wanted to do this? To show people the pitfalls of alcoholism because of what you went through with your mom?” When the man didn’t answer, the long-haired boy opened his camera causing his friend to groan. “No, you want to be involved you’re involved. You said you wanted to show people what it was like because of your mom, yeah?”

“Fuck you.”, Steve growled.

“That’s why I signed up for this. My dad was addicted to painkillers and ruined my fucking life. My moms to since he stole her medication constantly! He was a selfish fucking asshole JUST like your mother.”

Steve charged at his friend, stirring you as you quickly assessed the situation before rising to your feet to pry them apart.

“Wha? What’s going on? Stop it!”

“Fuck you, Munson! My mom wasn’t selfish! She loved me!”

“Then why didn’t she put the fucking bottle down?!”

“It…it’s hard…”, you answer for him making him grumble as Eddie reaches for his camera that had been knocked over and points it towards you.

“It’s hard?! Is it really that fucking hard especially after flipping a car?!”

Loud knocking on your door keeps you from answering as you angerly stalk that way.

“WHAT?!”

“Open the fucking door, Y/N!”

Your jaw drops at the sound of the voice on the other end as you glance towards the boys who seem equally surprised. After slowly reaching for the knob, you open the door gradually revealing Kallie on the other side.

################

“What’s going on, Sash?”, the doctor asked as he powerwalked into the room after the alarm in his office began to screech.

“I don’t know. This examinee seems to be…fighting? It’s like her current brain is trying to force herself to wake up.”, the nurse answered as she utilizes a washcloth to wipe the sweat from your face.

“We’re seeing little spikes to from two other examinees but not as bad.”

“From who?”

“Um…Steven Harrington and Edward Munson.”, the other nurse relays as she looks over her monitors.

“Is it serious? Should we pull them out?”, your nurse asks as she grips your arm.

“No. They should be fine. Just give all three of them another shot of the calming formula and keep an eye on them especially Y/N.”

“Yes, sir.”

###################

“I have been calling you for two days straight! Why don’t you answer your fucking phone?!”

“I…I, Kallie, what are you doing here? I don’t have…a phone anymore.”

Her angry eyes soften for a moment as she scans you over before using the cane in her hand to hobble towards your couch.

“Who are these guys? Friends?”

“Um, yeah, kinda. They are making a documentary and have lived with me for the past few months. This is Eddie who’s the technical guy with the camera. He-he’s really amazing Kallie. You should see the other stuff he’s filmed a-a-and this is Steve the, uh, director slash talent.”, you chuckle nervously as you point to each boy. “This is my sister Kallie.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah. What’s your documentary about?”

“People who deal with alcoholism.”, Steve answered cautiously as he takes a seat on the side between you both.

“Huh. Why don’t you film this little interaction? I don’t mind.”

“A-Are you sure?”

“What’s the matter, Y/N? Don’t want people to see who you really are with family?” You glance their way and Eddie flashes you a soft smile as he sets up the camera to capture you both. “Do you need to ask me a question or something?”

“Why are you here, Kallie? I haven’t seen you in over a year. I-I missed you.”, you started before he could say anything.

Her beautiful, dark colored eyes shifted your way as she leaned back in her chair.

“Yeah. I missed my sister to… the one I had before you started drinking.” She paused as she swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. “I came here today because I’m, um, I’m getting married in a few months—”

“Kallie, oh my god! That’s amazing, baby!”, you exclaim a bit too loudly as you try to control the urge to run and hug her. “What are they like? Are they good to you?”

“Yeah…yeah, he’s good to me. He makes me laugh and he’s actually very sweet. I actually met him at Dad’s firm.”, she giggles before glancing your way to see your smile falter.

“H-He’s in law?”

“He’s a cop. He was there at the… Dad wanted to thank him for saving my life.”

Your bottom lip trembles as your eyes begin to flick around the room. Both men have seen this before when a rough topic comes up. You’re looking for something to drink but you’re trying to control the urge.

“Are you alright, Y/N?”, Steve whispers.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m fine. That’s wonderful, Kal. I’m…I’m so happy for you.”

“I came today because…I want you to be there…at my wedding.”

Your eyes widen as a knot pierces your heart.

“You want me there?”

“Of course, Y/N. Y/N, I love you so much even after everything. I don’t know if you realize that or not. I just…if you come you have to sober…”

Eddie’s eyes close as his head hangs and you hear him sigh.

###############

“Is it Y/N again?”, the doctor asks.

“No, it’s Mr. Munson and his heartrate increasing at a rapid rate.”, the nurse shouts as his monitor’s beep.

“Fuck. Something’s not right.”

##############

“Kallie…thank you but you know dad won’t let you invite me. Plus, everyone will be staring and it should be your day—”

“Fuck them, Y/N! You are my sister! I don’t care what people fucking think!”

“OH YEAH!? Then where have you been?! I haven’t seen you in a fucking year, Kal!”

“Because I’ve been fucking recovering from a drunk driving accident!”, she shouts. “Or do you not fucking remember?”

“I-I-I…”

“Wasn’t enough to get you to stop fucking drinking though was it?! The fact that you almost killed me! Now I can barely fucking walk!”, she shouts as she bangs her cane against the floor.

Steve’s fists clench into his knees as you glance towards him and see his eye lids flutter.

##############

“Mr. Harrington just spiked!”

“What the fuck are they seeing there that it’s affecting them but no one else?”, the doctor muses.

“What do we do?!”

#################

“Please… just go to rehab. I’ll be there with you every step of the way, Y/N.”

“Kallie, I…I can’t, ok. I really am happy for you though a-a-and I’m so proud of you.”, you force a smile as you rise to your feet and push past everyone to scurry towards your kitchen to grab the second beer you left in the fridge.

“I put up with all your bullshit. I fought the family every time they said you were a fuck up. We went through everything together and what do I get in return? I deserved better! This is the most important day of my life, Y/N, and you can’t do this one thing for me? You can’t heal for me?”

Popping open the can, you sip some of the contents before shaking your head.

“It was good seeing you, honey. I love you to…so much…”

################

“Y/N, NO!”, Eddie screams as he sits upright and fumbles with the googles on his eyes.

“Mr. Munson! We need you to breathe! There we go.”

“Mr. Harrington, STOP!”, the nurse scolds as she grabs the boy’s bicep as he slumps out of his pod and slowly slides to the floor where nurses and security were trying to hold you down as you tried to fight them.

“Let me go! Kallie! I need to see her wedding! I need to tell her I’m sorry! STOP!”, you screamed before all three of you were sedated and the world went black.

***

When you woke up a few hours later you weren’t in your room but a different area of the building that felt more like a hospital than anything. Machines attached to you were steadily beeping as you glanced down at all the little sticky electrodes attached to your body.

“Y/N.”

“Mr. Munson!”, a nurse hisses before he raises his palms in surrender as he dodges her fast hands that try to grab him.

“I just want to check on my friend. I’m not going anywhere.” He waits for her to nod and hastily scurries to your bed as he sits on the end facing you. “I am so sorry. I never would judge you or talk to you…either of you the way I did in that universe. I’m not ashamed of you or anything, sweetheart, I swear.”

“Me either, honey.”, Steve whispers as he comes up to your sides. “Fuck, I hate that the other men didn’t stop her from screaming at you. I just wanted to jump in front of you and protect you.”

Blinking, a sense of numbness overcame you until you finally looked their way again.

“My parents are assholes like yours, Steve. They are so fucking self-righteous when it comes to their place in society. Kind of like your dad, Eddie, ours would scream at us and tell us how much better we needed to be. My sister and I ignored him though. We used to sneak out and do crazy shit all the time.”, you laugh at the memory. “I genuinely didn’t notice the drinking became a problem until I lost my first job. I had been out the night before with some guy and passed out…”

“As I steadily got worse, Kallie seemed to excel. She graduated college, started working at the law firm that was the complete opposite of what my parents did. I got arrested a couple of times and thrown out of my apartment for being a nuisance. I just wanted to have fun.”

As your voice begins to shake, Eddie reaches out to grab your hand and you allow it.

“One night, I picked her up from her house so we could have dinner with my family. I had already pre-gamed, preparing to deal with their bullshit but I swore I was still sober enough. She brought up me getting sober and I didn’t want to hear it; couldn’t hear it. Kallie said she loved me and she just wanted me to be happy. I turned to yell at her, missing the red light and…”

“Baby…I am so sorry.”, Steve cooed as he pushed some of your hair behind your ear.

“You don’t know me and trust me you don’t want to know me. Even after what I did, I didn’t stop. I’ve tried, Lord knows I have and thankfully I’m not as bad as the other universe but…I have no one and I learned that’s better for everyone anyway if they just stay away from me.”

“Sweetheart, that’s not true. You…you can’t do this by yourself. We can help you. Trust me, beautiful girl, Kallie would not have wanted you to be alone.”

At Eddie’s words, you collapse forward into his chest and begin to sob. Holding you tightly, he pets your head as Steve tilts towards you to hug you both.

##################

@baileebear @jasminelafleur @twirls827 @dashingdeb16 @myherometalhead @starboygf @alba8688 @crybabyddl @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @utterlyinsanity @hardladyheart @yesimabratandwhataboutot @chelebelletx @season4steve @fic-lover-29 @micheledawn1975 @dreamerjj

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sordidmusings · 1 year ago

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Thirsty Thursday with Pissed Off Buggy

A/N: Since I've felt like the Buggy I've been writing has been leaning more consistently towards sub, I wanted to spend some time with dom Buggy. Gotta get the best of both worlds! I'll eventually spend time writing him as a softer dom but my brain said "no make him fuckin ruthless" so this happened lol should work for either anime or live action

Word Count: ~1.3k

Warnings: afab!reader, NSFW like a lot, has like lightly angsty peripheral plot (a misunderstanding has Buggy in a jealous rage), pretty strong degradation, overstimulation, p in v, rough treatment, he technically steps on you, creampie, dub-con if you squint? (boundaries neared but none crossed), slight dumbification, holy shit that sounds like a lot written out like that 🧍🏻‍♀️

Well, soups on! Enjoy the meal lol

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

“Can’t!” you gasped out, “Too -aaah- much, ‘s too much.”

“Too damn bad. Now shut the fuck up,” Buggy snarled from behind you, where he kept his fast and forceful thrusts going. Each impact seemed to rattle through your whole body, and there was no reprieve from his thick dick splitting you open, even though he pulled far enough back for only his head to stay in you each time. He’s been at this for awhile now, the friction long since turned from sparks on kindling to rabid flames burning through all of your senses. The heart of the blaze was still strongly centered in your endlessly clenching cunt and swollen clit, kept alive by the rub of his cock and the slap of his balls on every thrust in.

“B-but Buggyyyy,” you whined, long and pathetic, struggling to get the words out after yet another orgasm wrung out your body. You couldn’t focus enough to keep from drooling on the desk below you, let alone find the words to placate him.

“I said,” he hissed, gloved fingers of a detached hand digging into your cheeks and jaw, “shut. UP.”

Those fingers dragged painfully across your skin before shoving their way into your mouth. You gagged hard when they pressed on the back of your tongue, but it only rewarded Buggy with your body bucking frantically against him. Your movements couldn’t get you very far, not with the way one of his detached, booted feet stepped down between your shoulder blades, pinning your chest so hard that you couldn’t fully inhale.

“Muuuuch better,” he taunted snidely. “That mouth is better full don’t you think? Keeps your dumb whore lips from seducing other men.”

You cried around his fingers at the accusation, needing him to know it wasn’t true. In his bid to grasp and control every part of you he could, he’s taken from you any way that you could reassure him.

Everything was so fuzzy and blended together. The onslaught of pleasure from his pounding hips and crushing hold, the lack of oxygen making your body tingle and mind fray, and the raging emotions of hurt and want storming together through you. You clung desperately to the fabric of your mind to endure it while the gales gripped you and tugged in every direction.

Buggy’s mind was already lost. He had let it go the moment he'd seen you trail a hand up that man’s chest and lead it behind his head to play with his baby hairs. Buggy knew what every detail of that felt like, how good it felt, and he was ready to start ripping everything around him apart because only he was allowed to feel that. Only him.

Now he is only instinct and impulse and all of it is bent on owning every piece of you. He’s split apart, pushing, shoving, grasping, and pinning every inch of you to keep you to himself. His whole being was insistent against you but nothing more so than his thick cock, which had bullied you into overstimulation for what felt like hours. Untethered from both feet, Buggy was free to use any angle or force that he wanted. Your body tried its best to take and process what he was doing to you, but it had quickly given up, leaving you limp and drooling under him. Seeing your full submission to him had a bolt of lightning shred through him. This is what he needs. He needs you to fold to the fact that you’re his - his to know and touch and fuck and own. Buggy needed to possess you and he needed to hoard your affection the most. You gave it to him and the thought that you might take it back had him violent in the need to defend his position with you.

After holding out through your endless milking of his cock, Buggy was starting to lose the battle to keep fucking you for eternity. He tried to hide it but he was trembling under the pressure of his oncoming orgasm. His thighs shook through every slam into you, his fingers in your hair and on your tongue were jerking in their grip, and his cock and balls throbbed so hard that he was sure you’d be able to feel it on your skin if you weren’t fucked so dumb.

“If I fuck you full will that keep you happy, little slut?” He sneered. You moaned loud around his fingers, sucking and swallowing for him. “That was it huh? My cocksleeve wasn’t getting enough use, so it was stupid enough to think SOMEONE ELSE could fuck it.” The way he broke into a yell was slightly terrifying but you couldn't deny that it had you gripping him like a vice. The delicious feeling had him fall onto his elbows above you.

“Fuck -hah- you’re so fucking stupid,” Buggy barked. His rage was palpable but you knew him well enough to hear the traces of hurt underneath.

His foot had moved from your back to press the side of your head down so that he could take its place. He kept switching between mean bites and sucking marks and pressing his forehead hard into your spine, smearing the remnants of his makeup on you. Despite the rough behavior, there was some comfort in having more of his touch blazing over you.

His hips finally began to falter.

“Gonna fuck you full of me and never leave you empty -shit- you’re gonna have to walk everywhere with my cock plugged in you now.” With each phrase, Buggy was panting more, lost in the idea of never leaving your pussy. “Any time you so much as look at anyone else I’ll press so deep in you it hurts,” he promised darkly. “I don’t care who the fuck is around, I’ll fuck you ‘til you’re screaming and crying for me, understand?”

He pulls his fingers from your mouth for you to sob out a “yes” before shoving them right back in.

“Good whore, good -hunnngh- good fucking whore,” Buggy groaned, punching each word into you with a strong clap of his hips on your ass. His arms slid to wrap around you without him telling them to and he knew he was done for. He growls out, “You better cum as a thank you, slut” before he bit into the meat of your shoulder hard.

You had absolutely no power or will to disobey him. Even with how swollen and sore you were, the orgasm was blissful and warm and everything you wanted. It peaked over all the others he’d forced from you tonight due to the strong grinds of his flicking cock into you. They turned the near painful abuse of your cervix into a delicious rub that kept your clit throbbing and your hips twitching and jerking. Your eyes had long since rolled back and you were screaming loud enough for it to escape the room, even with your stuffed mouth. You were so lost in your own bliss that you hardly registered the death grip Buggy had on you or the way he kept groaning deeply into your shoulder.

Buggy’s teeth let you go and his hand finally left your mouth for good, letting you gasp in air that had your overworked body prickling with static. Though enough time passed for him to finish wiping all the tears off your face, Buggy stayed hidden in the nape of your neck.

The moment you had enough oxygen in you, you pant out, “Don't want him. Was just info- getting info. Only want you.” He held you a touch tighter. “Promise, promise.”

Still too raw and unsure to say anything, Buggy responded by placing a kiss to the angry impression his teeth had left on you. It was a start.

#sorry not sorry #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown #opla buggy #one piece #thirsty thursday #thirst hours #my writing #afab reader #x reader

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biconickyoshi · 1 year ago

Text

Zuko ran up to where the figure had fallen, for some reason forgetting who this person could be and the danger he could be in, and pulled them onto their back. He was surprised when he realized that the person he was holding appeared to be a boy, seemingly around the same age as himself. The boy wore robes of yellow and orange and had a completely clean-shaven head, as well as unmistakable blue arrow tattoos all over his body, with the most prominent one making a point on his forehead.

Still astonished, Zuko watched as the boy’s gray eyes fluttered open. Forgetting who this person was and what he was supposed to be doing in this situation, he found himself mesmerized, unable to pull his gaze away.

“I need to ask you something,” the boy said in a weak voice that had not even deepened yet.

“What?” Zuko responded, his mouth acting before his brain could tell him to stop.

“Please… come closer,” the boy said again.

— excerpt from The Avatar and the Fire Prince, Book 1: Air, Chapter 1: The Boy in the Iceberg

I’m back again with fan art of my own AU 😅 I’m really proud of how the first piece turned out, especially considering I have literally no knowledge of how to draw backgrounds lol (I admittedly got pretty lazy there).

I also decided to combine the full-body pose drawings of the boys that I posted individually a few weeks ago onto one canvas (if you saw that those, you may have noticed Aang has been flipped here; I thought it looked better with them side by side). This is how Zuko and Aang appear at the beginning of the AU, ages 13 and 12 respectively.

As of the time of making this post, my fic now has nearly 1.3k kudos!!! 🎉🎉🎉 To anyone who has commented, left kudos, or read even a little bit of it: thank you so so much for the support ❤️

I’m almost done with B2CH12 (chapter 24 overall), so hopefully that will be posted sometime this weekend :) It's The Deserter, an episode that I've been curious of how to adapt for awhile now considering Aang already has two firebenders traveling with him and thus does not need Jeong Jeong as a teacher. I'm not going to spoil anything, but I hope y'all will like where I decided to go with this chapter and what I changed from canon.

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shadowkoo · 7 days ago

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raven's tumblr wrapped 2024

As the year draws to a close, I want to take a moment to thank every single one of my followers, readers, and friends. Your kindness and support have meant the world to me and without you, I likely would have stayed on hiatus throughout the entire year. But when I returned in September, you welcomed me back with open arms and reminded me why I love writing and sharing my work.

You’ve all helped to reignite the writing spark in me, and for that, I’m endlessly grateful. I’m so excited to see what 2025 has in store for all of us. Thank you for being a part of my journey—you’ve made it so much brighter 💚

⋆˙⟡ 2024 fic stats ⟡˙⋆

number of fics posted: 6

number of fics in progress: 53 (i have a serious problem...i knowwww)

⋆˙⟡ most popular fics of 2024 ⟡˙⋆

almost home - first place, 1091 notes

posted: sept. 22

pairing: wooyoung x f.reader (ateez)

readers screaming

↳ #I SWEAR THIS GOT ME RUBBING MY THIGHS IN DESPERATION #FFFFUUUUCKINGGG HELK THIS IS GOOD - @jwymybelovedhusband-reblogs ↳ #PLS #I WAS HOPING SOMEONE WOULD WRITE THIS #i was looking at those jeep pics like sirrrrrr #thank u for putting those pics together also bc i’m going feral - @starhwas-bunny ↳ #stop bc i love thinking abt being passenger princess for anyone in ateez - @cromerhearts

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

oh brother - second place, 978 notes

posted: sept. 9

pairing: jungkook x f.reader (bts)

readers screaming

↳ "HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME RAVEN!!!?? i was minding my own business and this pops up on my dash. this was hot, intense, thrilling!!! the bathroom scene... MY HEART DROPPED!!! i cannot wait for pt2! this was sooo good!!" - @aaagustd ↳ "i'm not saying raven has written the best thing in the world, but she did. SHE DID SO WELL!!!" - @ficskhoeloves ↳ #gaaaaaaah #i love this #dfkjsgh #this scratches the itch in my brain #i have been on a brain rot for this man #it's unbearable #this was so cool - @hannieween

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kingdom cum - third place, 657 notes

posted: sept. 18

pairing: mingi x f.reader x hongjoong (ateez)

readers screaming

↳ "RAVEN!!!!!!!! WTF???!!! WHAT WEDDING??? IT'S FUCKING CANCELED! I NEED THESE TWO, IN THIS WAY, EVERY NIGHT!!!! THIIIISSSSS WASSSSSS GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODDD!!!! I HAD TO READ IT TWICE! IDK WHAT TO EVEN DO WITH MYSELF RN!!! THEY WERE TOO FUCKING COCKY BUT SOOO SEXY!!!! YOU FED US WITH THIS I SWEAR!! I AM FILLED TO CAPACITY!! (no pun intended... or maybe it was) AHHHHHH!!! I CANNOT STOP SCREAMING OVER THESE TWO!!!!" & #i'm drooling rn #raven strikes again!! #don't know how i'm supposed to move on - @aaagustd ↳ "RAVEN YOU ARE INSANE THIS IS SOSOSOSOSSO JLEJHVLQEFJDJKDFEHG LIKE HELLO ITS FILTHY I LOVE IT!!!!!!!!!" & #the image of the two of them sitting on the couch and calling reader over to sit between them?????? #🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴 #LIKE YES ME TOO GLADLY ILL BE STAYING #MINGI WITG EH FCKING PIERCING?!??!!?!?!? ARE YOU SERIOUS!!?!???!!?!?!!?!!!?!? #WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF #BOOKING A TABLE AT KINGDOM CUM RN!!!! - @shuadotcomrecs ↳ "okay I might be bias cause I did beta it BUT cmon stripper hongjoong and mingi?!! the demon line!!! chile i about passed out reading this. it was too much... in a good way lol. raven this was one of the best filth fics I've read in awhile. kudos sis 💜💜" - @beeznthetrap

⋆˙⟡ longest & most recent fic of 2024 ⟡˙⋆

disgraceful dreams - first place in both categories, 16.4k works

posted: oct. 31

pairing: wooyoung x f.reader feat. yeosang (ateez)

readers screaming

↳ "this quite literally is everything to me ESP for halloween woooooo weee" - @rockstarsanie ↳ "Holy fucking shit... bruh. I'm literally at a loss for words on this! From the dark fantasy academia setting to each witch/warlock detail in all the characters, this is like a Harry Potter fic, but Death Eaters version. What an excellent way to kick off Hongjoong + Wooyoung month. Keep it up, Raven!" - @othersideoutlawsnetwork ↳ "I know this is suppossed to be smut but jeSUS did i fall in love with the worldbuilding! "I don't share!" DJDLDHHS Poor Yeosang, has his best friend competing against him for yns attention but WHERE IS THE HOLY WATER WHEN YOU FREAKING NEED IT? Wooyoung is such a charmer in every way and it didn't change in the slightest in this piece of art" - @cromernet ↳ "“I don’t break the rules, I just bend them” sir how about you just bend me over. then what?" - @recverie ↳ #talented brilliant incredible amazing show stopping spectacular never the same totally unique - @heyoandbye

⋆˙⟡ personal favorite fic of 2024 ⟡˙⋆

just dance it off - first place, rated 5 stars by myself lol

(re)posted: sept. 4th

pairing: jimin x f.reader

my acceptance speech (lol)

↳ This fic first made its debut a few years ago, but honestly? I was never quite happy with how rushed it felt. So this past August, I decided on a whim to open up this doc to do a complete overhaul. I hadn't wrote anything in nearly a year and starting fresh was too daunting so I dove into the comfort of this work. And let me just say, this baby really had her 2024 glow up with 2k additional words! I really think it all flows together so much better now. Also, dance AU's have a special place in my heart. I’ve always dreamed of being a ballet dancer (tragically, I lack the coordination for anything beyond an aggressive ass shake, but hey, a girl can dream lol). If you read the original version, I highly recommend giving this one another shot. It’s sharper, smoother, and has all the juicy bits that make enemies-to-lovers so good: the mutual hatred, the witty banter, the agonizingly denial of feelings, etc.

⋆˙⟡ favorites reads of 2024 ⟡˙⋆

I didn't read nearly the amount of fics that I should have this year, but those that I did knock off my tbr were everything I wanted and moreeeeee. Here's a recap of some I've shared, check out my #raven reads (read fics) and #raven reacts (fic reviews) tags for more!

freaky friday by @aaagustd

still your biggest fan by @byuntrash101

sleepover by @kitten4sannie

one & only by @changbunnies

save a horse, ride your best friend by @seonghwaddict

more than you know by @beomcoups

simply meant to be by @caelesjjk

make me water by @bangtanintotheroom

⋆˙⟡ my top tracks of 2024 ⟡˙⋆

past life persona - erra

reason - kai

left me like summer - daily j

what do you want from me - bad omens

let down - palisades

bouncy (k-hot chilly peppers) - ateez

self-sabotage - waterparks

work - ateez

i think i like you - the band camino

feels bad man - dance gavin dance

⋆˙⟡ my goals for 2025 ⟡˙⋆

promoting & posting my 2 collabs that are in progress (stay tuned for details!!!)

read 50 books (this year's goal was 25)

knock 10-15 fics off my wip list by posting at least once a month without going on hiatus or just dipping without saying anything LOL (can she do it???)

review more fics on tumblr & ao3

A special thanks to Aeris @beomcoups for inspiring this 'wrapped' post, check out hers here. Mine is a little different, but the sentiment is the same!

Tagging: those who've I've mentioned above already plus

@heechwe @kwanisms @wonustars @yoonia @captain-joongz

@xomakara @pars-ley @wongyuseokie @junkissed @jenoslutie

@svtiddiess @yoonguurt @hisunshiine @taegularities @iridescentxstars (if you want to)

& anyone else that feels inspired to do so <3

See you in 2025 🥂✨🌙

#tumblr wrapped 2024 #2024 recap #tag game

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reorientation · 5 months ago

Note

I'm very late to this kink but I think I've been in it for years? Not even on purpose.

I live with my roommates, me and my three guy friends 💗 which is funny because it just worked out that way. Anyway, years ago I went through this awful break up and we'll just leave at that. I was crazy about this girl and it like actually messed me up when she broke up with me. So in a really weird mental space but just trying to move on from it, I keep getting crazy drunk with my friends, partying through the pain lol

One in particular, we're pretty tight, I'll call him Zach here. So Zach and I were really close at that time, like really really close, and one night we start doing kind of sexual stuff while really drunk. This wasn't a thing between us at all before that night and I can't remember exactly what lead to it, but yeah we're doing some fool around stuff and then more and then more. I'd never done stuff with guys really, not beyond little party game things, like spin the bottle. He knew that and at one point that night he put it inside me and to be honest I wasn't sure what to think.

I remember at the time wondering if I should stop him or something? I don't know it's kind of funny to think about now, but I was thinking maybe he shouldn't do this, maybe I need to tell him this is too much? It felt really weird and I guess I didn't know if it was in a good way or a bad way yet. But he was saying things like "I can't believe you're letting me do this" and "you're letting me ruin you" and it was so hot that I let him fuck me. Those things he was saying were making me so wet and I guess that's this kink.

He never says that stuff anymore I just remember that being the point where my mind just silenced all the "should I tell him not to?" thoughts and it just went blank while he fucked me. It wasn't crazy good sex, we were really drunk, but it was hot and it was very different from what I was used to.

So all and all this made my other friends jealous because both of us told them. At the time it was really odd! No one saw it coming! So they all wanted a turn lol and I had told them that I found it weirdly hot so of course they both wanted to prove something. Okay one of them, we'll call Tom, wouldn't say that but it's kind of true.

Anyway all three of them got their chance and it just became a thing that would happen pretty frequently. Maybe a few times a week? I'm a very horny person so being single has always been hard on me and on top of that I'm an attention whore. I wouldn't say I'm not a lesbian because I'm still not attracted to men but I am definitely a big enough attention whore that it doesn't matter lol I just like that they all need to get with me.

So over the years this arrangement has been a thing I guess, when I'm single they can just fuck me whenever because my libido is really high. They don't talk about me being a lesbian while we fuck but I notice every once in awhile I find it kind of hot that they might think about getting to fuck a lesbian yknow like they think it might change something? I think about how Zach said that stuff and it still makes me wet, I think I should bring it up to him maybe? But that might be weird.

One of the really juicy things that happened recently was that Tom fucked me really hard. Tom has always been a very sweet kind of guy and he definitely is that guy in bed, but he also hasn't been fucking me at all for the past... five months maybe because he has a serious girlfriend. But a few weeks ago he came home and we were chilling and he got very intense and held me down and fucked me really hard from behind. Like toe curling hard. It was so hot and I had already found this kink so I kept thinking about it as like him trying to "break" me.

He hasn't done anything with me since but I wish they would get in on this kink without me saying anything. I feel like I can't say it because it'd be embarrassing and weird, but it'd also kind of ruin it to ask for it? Or maybe it'd just turn my brain off again when they actually said something and it wouldn't matter?

What a pure, sweet example of lesbian sexuality: a girl who's been maximum-convenience, any-time-you-want pussy for three different men for years, but "wouldn't say that I'm not a lesbian because I'm still not attracted to men".

As if it matters! As if your little categorization criterion means anything when you spend your life taking cock whenever men decide you will!

The very first time a man fucked you, he said the right words to get your mind blank and your pussy wet - and now it's years later, and you've been fucked hundreds of times.

And the funny thing is, they don't even have to earn it by playing with the dykebreaking kink. That's your idea, that you use to get off, and you're hoping that they'll indulge you in it. Countless guys get off to the idea, but I don't know if it even really occurs to the men fucking you anymore: how do you see a girl as a lesbian when you and your buddies have been emptying your balls in her for years?

But if you're too shy to ask them to think of you that way, the solution is easy enough. Have you ever spread your legs for them on top of a lesbian flag? Worn a "This is what a lesbian looks like" shirt until they took it off?

Just remind them what you claim to be, as you keep being a good fucktoy for them. With any luck, they'll laugh at you for it, as they fuck your little "lesbian" brains out.

#kink interactions #reorientation writing #reor: anon ask #lgetsd #reor: anon life story #dykebreaking #had to edit this one to add some line breaks but it's otherwise unchanged /

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coeluvr · 4 months ago

Note

I've been holding in the question for awhile. But I noticed on several playthroughs that there are a few occasions where someone seems to be following you.

After ikram encounter someone stepped on a twig and ran off before you could spot them.

Then again with namia when she tells you they ran off.

Can you tell me if ita the same person or different people during these times??

Because my brain logically tells me the first time can't be hunter and how would helos even know since he wasn't present. But I'm doubtful it was vincent. And then whoever ran off that namia saw could have been hunter cause stain vincent doesn't seem like he really cares all that much at this point in time if he's cruel.

Also the person who left the flowers and happy bday card had to of been hellos or vincent. Hellos seems like it would be him. But vincent likes art so maybe he has pretty handwriting?

I was curious to know what you could share on this topic?

Hey! Those are all different people actually lol. I feel like it's not that hard to guess if you look at the scenes but I tend to think everything is super obvious so ignore me.

I don't want to say too much but they will all come up at some point!🙏

#coe answers #chaosthecontentcoon

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artficlly · 6 months ago

Text

smog & spirits: pony club (mini-series)

Marvel 1920s Gangster/Peaky Blinders Inspired Fantasy AU

gangsterboss!bucky x witch!reader

Bucky Barnes, the leader of Sootstone's Smog Boys, needs a favour. A nasty curse has been cast on him, and he needs a witch to help him break it.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, fem reader, angst no comfort, previous abuse, domestic violence, curses and hexes, criminals & crime, 1920s street gangs, witchcraft, possession, mediums, ghosts, hauntings, horror, smoking, brothels, pubs, gambling, alcohol, cults, death/violence/torture, bucky barnes has issues, bucky barnes is a dick, police brutality, vaguely british setting??, sexism, classism, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 10.1k!!! oh my god someone help

A/N: god this has been on the go for awhile. it got so long but i have a worm in my brain that told me this had to happen before i can get onto the juicy stuff. next part will be a lot more bucky heavy im so sorry this didn't have much of him, needed to build up that loreeee. anyway i actually hate my writing in this, if i have to reread this one more time im gonna go crazy so i'm just gonna post it and go to bed lol!! sorry for any typos - not proof read and edited while half asleep lol.

taglist: @nash-dara

main masterlist | series masterlist

To be lulled into the false security that you would never see Bucky Barnes again was a foolish thought.

Two months passed rather uneventfully. The handsome payment Bucky left you after your favour to him was far beyond your normal rates. A mixture of the gangster having deep pockets and, you suspected, an indication that all that had unfolded was to be kept quiet.

So you had done just that. Your mouth had been sown shut, an invisible thread keeping your lips bound. There were so few people left in your life anyway that you didn’t feel like spilling details of a sex-based ritual with the limited relatives you had left. You weren’t particularly fond of them regardless; most you had not seen in years.

You embraced the winter months as they settled across the city of Blackstone. The fog would roll in thick and dense, the clouds lingering over the port as Sootstone was cast into days of hoarfrosts. Icicles as long as your forearm hung from buildings and lamp-posts and was salt scattered across the wooden docks, where slippage was the worst. The homeless gathered in crowds around the Smokestack district, leeching off the warmth the factories produced. The ice and frosts were never white, unlike the country estates or wealthy garden districts. Smoke and ash continued to pour into the skies, tainting everything with a layer of black grit.

You would see the Smog Boys in the streets often. Teams of the lower-ranking, younger lads would roam in packs, dipping in and out of the alleys. Even dressed in black, you could not make them out through the fog when they intended to disappear. Maybe it had been your brush with Bucky, but you began to notice them everywhere. Lurking in the markets, smoking by the docks, or sauntering by the smokestack factories. A small, stiff, knowing nod would be bestowed upon you if your gaze locked with theirs or if you lingered too long. As if they knew who you were. As if they had been instructed to keep an eye out for you.

You could never leave the Smog Boys once you were inside. Whether you liked it or not, your fates were inextricably linked. You never knew when you might be needed. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to find one in your home. It is what you ought to have expected by now. It was only a matter of time before they came calling.

You could only find one word to describe the woman in your kitchen. Beautiful. Beautiful in a hauntingly, terrifying way. She was stylish, with a blouse tucked into tailored, high-waisted suit pants. A lavish fur coat was draped over her shoulders, and her red hair was in a fashionable, blunt bob. Her lips, painted a deep red, were curved into a disgusted sneer as she assessed your residence.

She had to be with Bucky because only a Smog Boy could illicit such an aura.

“You should invest in better locks.” The redhead comments with a sniff. You haven’t even had a chance to process her presence; instead, you are standing with your lips parted in shock. “It wouldn’t be hard to rob you… or worse.”

You’re unsure if that was a thinly veiled threat or genuine advice.

“Most don’t make habit of breakin’ into witches' homes.” You mutter, regaining your composure. You whip your headscarf off, abandoning it on your dining table. “They’re scared of being cursed.”

Your fingers unknot the woollen scarf around your neck now, tugging it free with a flutter of ash. The woman arches a well-manicured brow at you, looking you up and down. She doesn’t try to hide her judgement. She didn’t seem the type of woman to shy away from stating her opinion. Your clothing was noticeably different from hers, which was made of luxurious fabrics. The Smog Boys were well known for their finer suits—just because they lived and worked in the slums didn’t mean they dressed for it. Bucky seemed to like to keep certain appearances and had the funds to do so. You, however, were dressed for practicality. Heavy, cheap textiles that kept in the warmth.

“Cursed.” The woman states, tone sharp. “You don’t seem the type to throw curses. You’re too… sweet.”

You don’t miss the condescending nature of how her sharp lips curve into a smile. You shoulder the insult. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Natasha. Romanoff.” The name was vaguely familiar to you. She was definitely one of Bucky’s inner circle. Possibly she worked closer to the shadows—a brain rather than brawn like Steve and Sam. “Barne is in need of your particular set of skills again.”

You pause, your fingers frozen over the pin in your mantle. Again? You knew to expect this, but still, you felt your heart uptick a beat. So soon? The question of which skills hung heavy in the air. Your abnormal skill to summon and banish spirits? To break curses and sense the otherworldly? Or to get your brains fucked out by Sootstone’s most notorious gangster?

From the way Natasha was eyeing you, it seemed she knew all about your little sex ritual.

“What if I’m unavailable?” You test hesitantly.

The redhead isn’t amused. “It wasn’t a request.”

You nod slowly, hands falling to your sides. One should know when not to test Bucky Barnes or his men; it always ended rather unfavourably. Plus, you didn’t want to wake up tomorrow to find your kitchen filled with any more gangsters.

Maybe Natasha was right about the locks.

—

Bucky and a pack of his dogs congregated in the streets outside the pub known as The Anchor. The establishment sat across from the docks, with tinted, lattice windows facing the port. On a clear day, one who sat in the window booths might be able to see the ocean. Though, throughout your life, you could recall about as many clear days as the fingers on your right hand. The Anchor had been in the Barnes family for years, originally bought by Bucky’s father when the Smog Boys first rose to infamy.

The building was well cared for, a luxury not many of the surrounding establishments were familiar with. The building was decorated in a nautical style, with netting and flags adorning the walls and rafters. Fish and ships were painted onto the siding, with gold and blue accenting the furniture inside. Even the sign out front was a small, steel anchor engraved with the pub's name.

The Anchor was mainly stocked with whiskey, which the Smog Boys ran an underground distillery for. They offered other spirits, wines, and ales, but the main vice of The Warrens was whiskey. Bucky had several underground or even legal businesses dotted throughout Sootstone, including gambling dens and brothels. You knew he made his office in a gambling den not too far from The Anchor—the dock-side streets were prime spots for high traffic from the sailors and dockworkers coming and going like the tide.

As you and Natasha approached, the pack of adolescent gangsters surrounding Bucky scattered, disappearing into the thick fog and alleyways like wraiths.

“Your witch, as requested,” Natasha announces with a sigh, her brows arched. Bucky glances at you, acknowledging you with little more than a grunt. He takes the last drag from his cigarette before crunching it beneath his shoe.

“Thank you, Nat.” Bucky replies, smoke escaping his lips as he speaks. “Sam’s lookin’ for you inside.”

Natasha doesn’t offer you a farewell as she pulls her coat tighter around her lean body and ducks inside the pub with a tsk. You and Bucky are left in an odd silence, with only the faint call of seagulls and the lapping of waves joining you. You had never seen the dockside street so quiet, but you could confidently assume his presence was responsible.

“I trust Nat didn’t scare you too bad.” The gangster breaks the silence. His dark eyes wander across your frame, seemingly disappointed that you were thoroughly covered to prevent the cold from seeping in. “Would’ve come to get you myself, but I had some business to attend to.”

In retrospect, the thought of encountering Natasha in your kitchen again seemed more daunting than Bucky. You weren’t too sure how to interpret her malice and cool charm. She did give off the impression that she would kill you if you even breathed in her direction. As for Bucky, maybe he would kill you, but given his reputation, he was far more likely to fuck you up against the nearest available surface.

“She said you've a job for me?” You ask, watching as the gangster tucks his large, bruised hands into his pockets.

He cocks his head to the side. “Walk with me.”

You obey wordlessly.

Bucky navigates the streets with ease, ducking through alleys and blindly striding into the fog with unquestionable confidence. The few people you encounter in the winding streets dart out of the way, mumbling apologies and casting their gazes down as they stumble over their own feet. Your breath comes in clouds as you exhale, salt and ice crunching beneath your feet as you keep pace with him.

“There’s an establishment I own, it’s been losin’ business these past months. The girls reckon it’s cursed. Or haunted.” He elaborates, and you frown.

“You think a spirit’s attached?” You ask, and the gangster huffs out a short, bitter laugh.

“I don’t fuckin’ know. I don’t have a sense for that stuff.” His lips are set in a line as he casts his sight down at you. “That’s your job, spirit-raiser.”

You can’t help but gulp and hope that his issue was indeed a spirit. One did not want to disappoint the gangster out of fear of the consequences. Your mind drifted back to months ago, to when he sat in your kitchen with that cursed necklace. He hadn’t noticed that curse—not until his sister apparently spelt it out for him. You couldn’t imagine carrying that thing around when it had reeked so badly that you tasted rot.

“What about your sister?” You suddenly interrupt.

Bucky gives you an incredulous look. “Becca? What about her?”

“You said she has a sense—”

“You think I’m lettin’ my sister near a brothel?” He snaps over you. His body turns to face you as you are both left motionless in the empty, ashy street.

“Oh— I didn’t realise it was… You just said— I just assumed—” Your cheeks grow pink—this time not from the cold—as you stumble over your words. Flakes of ash slowly amble down from the sky, twirling in your mingled breath as the gangster looms over you. Several emotions flicker over his face—insult, disbelief—before finally settling on an eerie amusement.

“Shy ‘bout a brothel? You’re not far off bein’ a whore yourself, doll. You certainly let me fuck you like one.” He leans closer to you, the scent of tobacco fanning across your skin. You clamp your jaw shut, your cheeks growing hotter by the second. The gangster smirks at you with a wickedness that rivals the devil.

—

The Pony Club was not creatively named, like most things in Sootstone. You were sure there was an innuendo about riding or mounting buried in its origin. The brothel was buried deep in the busy streets of the Smokestack District. The crowd of workers parted with hushed whispers as you, Bucky, and Steve approached the establishment. You had bumped into the other gangster during your walk, and he had thankfully filled the tense silence hanging between you and Bucky.

The Pony Club was neatly tucked between two stores. Ice covered the tiled roof, and grey-stained icicles dripped melted water from the front balcony. The ash falling from the sky was thick in these parts. Street sweepers patrolled the roads like small armies, brooms in tow, ensuring the roads were clear for carriages, waggons, and those on foot.

The three of you paused before the building. Your eyes swept over the painted sign, an illustration of a pony alongside the cursive lettering. The building looks well up-kept like many of the Smog Boy establishments; it put its neighbours to shame. You couldn’t help but notice how, despite its busy location, the building was eerily empty. It was as if its walls stood outside of time, cursed to live an existence outside of perceivable reality.

There was a twinge in your gut, a knowing.

Steve grimaces beside you, the gangster scowling as he tucks his hands deep into his pockets. At first, you think he is simply cold from the frigid fog sitting over the city, but only as he speaks do you realise he senses something more. “I hate this place.” He utters.

Bucky hasn’t reacted. He truly didn’t seem to have a sense for anything otherworldly.

“How does it make you feel?” You pry. Steve blinks at you in surprise, as if he hadn’t realised he spoke aloud. It would be useful for you to know how a non-magical person might feel; it could also give you insight as to what haunted the halls of the brothel.

“Doesn’t encourage me to put my cock in some bird, that’s for sure. Bad for business, ‘cause that’s the whole point.” Steve grumbles, and you swear Bucky rolls his eyes. “How does it make you feel?”

The two men look at you with curiosity as you consider your words. Terrible? Awful? Yes, you felt unnerved, but you were accustomed to spirits and hauntings. Most places in this city had ghosts, whether they were malevolent or just lost. You had become unnervingly comfortable with the creeping sensation that you were not alone. It was an entirely different feeling to curses—no, curses, they twisted your gut in wicked ways—hauntings you were at ease with. There was an odd familiarity to them, it sparked a warmth in your soul.

“Best I not say.” You land on. It would be better not to mess with the egos of gangsters, especially if they were afraid of a little ghost.

The two men follow you as you step into the building. The inside is lavish, with a large, grand set of stairs that lead up to the mezzanine. Draperies hung from the balcony railings, and plush furniture, and decorations were artfully placed around the foyer. Despite its luxuriant appearance, there was an isolation that clung to the bones of the building. It was as if dust hung in the air, floating undisturbed. Not a breeze could get through the thick walls, nor could a breath of life. A place that was supposed to be rowdy, a den of sin and pleasure… silenced. As if it were a mausoleum.

The building and those inside were lost in time, caught between a past that did not exist and a future that had not yet come.

The peace is interrupted by a thundering noise, then shrieking. “Mr. Barnes! Oh, Mr. Barnes! So nice of you to come visit us!”

A few curious observers watch from over the bannisters. Beautiful women with tired eyes, hair swept up and curled into coiffures, and revealing dresses that clung to their curves. You suddenly felt rather overdressed in your winter clothes.

An older woman descended the stairs in a frenzy, grinning from ear to ear. Her eyes were lined heavily with kohl, a bright pink blush across her cheeks, and lipstick to match. Her blonde curls bounced around her smooth face, a few longer strands following the dip of her dress. The madame of the brothel.

Your lips purse together, and Bucky lets out a quiet sigh. “Madame Voss.”

“I trust you are here about the ghost?” The madame asks. She is rather excitable, like a puppy or a young child. Even Steve has grown uncharacteristically quiet, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and dread. “I told my girls you would be back to help! I said you were a busy man, but not to worry. We’ve lost a few since you were last here, Rose, Amorie, and Vivinne… but that is nothin’ to worry about. They were traitorous at heart—”

“Yes, I quite understand.” Bucky snaps over Madame Voss. Steve tries to hide a snort, and the madame is left momentarily speechless. “I’ve brought a witch.”

You feel the madame’s gaze rip from Bucky to you. She looks you up and down in one exaggerated sweep, then offers you a somewhat forced smile. She looks as if she is gritting her teeth as she drinks you in. You were left wondering if the madame had some type of unrequited infatuation with Bucky. Many of the women of Sootstone seemed to share such an attitude, especially if they did not have the wit to sense the danger attached to the handsome gangster.

“She’s a bit too pretty for this business, don’t you think? I suppose all those witch women are a bit pretty. It’s usually glamours though, isn’t it?” There is an underlying spite to her tone as she assesses you, arms coming to fold over her chest. Her bosom is exaggerated, and her waistline is pulled pencil-thin by her corset. You are surprised the woman can breathe. “Well, are you wearin’ a glamour, girl?”

You hadn’t realised the madame was questioning you; actually, you found yourself rather overwhelmed by the whole display. Your lips part as you struggle to find your tongue and eventually stagger out a confused reply. “What?”

Madame Voss murmurs in annoyance, her arms uncrossed and hands coming to move in spirited gestures as she speaks. Bucky is staring at the ceiling as if bored out of his mind. “A glamour? You can’t tell me you normally look like that, all wide-fuckme-eyed?”

Steve makes a choking noise somewhere beside you while you gape at the madame. “No?”

“Huh.”

“I work with spirits, not—” You cut yourself off, clearing your throat, and decide it was not worth the argument. “I’ll need some time to walk around ‘n get a feel for things. Maybe talk to some of the girls, if that is alright?”

“Fine by me.” Madame Voss waves you off, attention hastily pulled away as she turns to Bucky. “In the meantime, Mr Barnes, can I get you anythin’? Tea, biscuits… something else? You know my girls will always give you a discount—”

“Somethin’ to drink, perhaps. Somethin’ strong.” Bucky cuts off the Madame and claps Steve on the back. “What do you say, Steve?”

You got the impression that neither Bucky nor Steve liked this Voss woman.

—

It did not take you long to explore the brothel in its entirety.

The establishment was compact and efficient. Downstairs was made up of the main foyer room, which was extended into a room similar to a drawing room. Tables made up the majority of the space, with playing cards and strong Smog Boys branded liquor decorated around the room. Comfortable furniture and suggestive art lined the walls. Out of view was a kitchen, a washroom, and madame’s office space, which Bucky would occasionally take residence in if dealing with business for the Pony Club.

Upstairs was dedicated to private spaces, where the girls lived and worked. They were hesitant to speak with you, guarded and quiet. You did not get the sense that they were being abused or held against their will, but rather haunted by whatever spirit clung to the brothel.

As the Pony Club slowly spiralled due to the haunting, many girls left. Business had grown to a standstill. The girls were plagued with nightmares and anxieties. The few that spoke to you recalled dreams of a dark figure who prowled through the halls, standing at the edges of their vision. At night, they would see the figure in the corners of their room, sitting on the edge of their bed. One girl even claimed the spirit sat upon her chest, that the mass had no face but two sets of shining white teeth that grinned down at her as she struggled to breathe.

When the girls were not targeted by this mysterious figure, they were afflicted with memories of their past. Dark images would replay before them every time they closed their eyes until they awoke sweating and screaming.

You bid farewell to an exhausted working girl by the name of Hanna. She sat on the bed, a woven blanket pulled over her shoulders. There was a distant look in her eyes as you quietly pulled the door shut, forcing yourself to inhale a deep breath as you stood on the empty mezzanine. There was an oppressive energy to the building, one that weighed down your chest as if someone were purposely crushing your ribcage. You knew your feelings were exaggerated due to your knowing, but there was certainly something potent enough here that even those with little to no sense could feel it.

You slowly rotated around the mezzanine in thought, unsure where to begin. Most spirits had an anchor—an item, person, or space—that they bound themselves to. They used it to draw energy, recuperate, and recharge. In rare cases, a spirit might bind to an entire house, causing lesions and pus to drip from the walls. But in your experience, those houses had sat abandoned for years, decades, or even more. The house itself would become sentient, dripping with malice and blinded by rage for those who created it, only to leave it abandoned. That was a festering type of haunting, one of anguish and loneliness, but this… this brothel was active. There had once been clients, and multiple women still lived within its walls. So, where was the anchor? Nothing had screamed out to you; nothing had made bile churn in your stomach or your hair stand up on end—

You froze.

You were a few paces away from the staircase, your mind swimming in thought, and—

A dark mass stood on the top step.

It watched you.

You couldn't make out the eyes or the shape of any humanoid body part. It just stood there, a black cloud over the staircase. But still, you could feel it watching.

And then it smiled.

It smiled wide, yet it did not seem to have a jaw. There was no skull, nothing solid within its mass. Several pearly white teeth smiled at you, spiralling into a gaping hole. The pungent smell of decaying meat filled the air as the mist contorted and pulsated in a sickening rhythm while observing you.

Before you could even consider speaking or moving, the mass had swept down the staircase, disappearing from your view. You raced to the bannisters, leaning over as far as you could without launching yourself over the edge. Loose strands of hair danced around your face as you darted your head. You could still not make out the spirit.

By the time you gathered your skirts and descended the staircase, you found the foyer empty. You could hear the distant trill of Madame Voss's voice deeper within the building, near the kitchen.

There was still that lingering oppression, an uneasiness that squeezed your chest. Regardless of how many times you whirled around, blindly scanning the foyer, you were unable to find a trail where the sensation intensified.

Clenching your teeth together, you let out a sharp sigh and balled your hands into fists. You paused in one of the corners of the foyer, allowing the blood pumping in your ears to calm and your muscles to relax. You blocked out the distant voices, instead focusing on the hum of the environment. You were frustrated, yes, and maybe a little scared. Not of the spirit, but rather how Bucky might react if you told him that you couldn’t banish this ghost. Not because you were too weak or unaware of how to handle it—you were very much prepared in both areas—but because you couldn’t find it?

You were skilled at finding hidden anchors, but it was difficult to focus when you felt immense pressure on your shoulders alone. You closed your eyes and listened intently. You could feel each speck of dust swirling through the air and hear every small sound the walls and floors made as the wood settled. You could hear each fibre of the rug rustle as you gently tip-toed across the room, following an invisible line.

The string was knotted in a complex pattern, similar to a spiderweb. You could feel it brushing over your skin as you moved, growing taut as it tangled around your body. You pushed through the sensation as if wading into a pool of water, stepping deeper and deeper into its strands as they layered over your skin and clothes.

Then, a tug.

A slight tremor, a warbling as a single line was set alight in your mind. The spider—your ghost—was circling you like prey.

You grasped the string, following its current blindly through the foyer. You stumbled around furniture, tripping over the edge of a rug and—

The floorboard creaked beneath you.

It wasn’t a typical creak—not one of an old building or a settling house. No. The creak resonated through your mind, deafening you. Your hands rose to your ears, the shrieking growing louder and louder as you fell to your knees, wincing. The fibres of the rug bit into your skin, sending a rush of electricity coursing through your veins. Under the rug, the floorboard made a hollow thud, loud enough that your ears were ringing from the volume.

You gasped in a breath, violently ripping yourself from your secondary state until you crashed back to reality. Panting, you found yourself crouched over the rug, fingernails dug into the fabric as you wheezed and panted. A cold sweat covered your body, your head aching as you tried to roll the discomfort from your shoulders.

“I think there’s somethin’ wrong with your witch, Mr Barnes.” Madame Voss spoke in a sing-song fashion as she entered the foyer, a condescending look in her eyes as she stared down at you. You wiped the sweat from your brow, forcing your wobbling legs to rise.

“It’s underneath,” was all you were able to reply, your voice raspy as you stalked to the corner of the rug.

"Ominous," the madame retorted, her brows arched. Her gaze cast back to the two gangsters who watched from the entrance to the room. There was a curiosity in their stare, hands tucked in their pockets as you worked. You gripped the corner of the rug, peeling it away from the floor. Underneath, everything looked perfectly in order, with well-polished hardwood panels lined up in unison. Carefully, you walked the length, tapping your shoe on each floorboard.

“Well, you do know what they say… with magic comes madness!” Voss announced with a sly grin, her hands moving to flourish her words. Bucky cocked his head to the side, emitting a sharp exhale through his flared nostrils.

"Let her work," he spoke up, and the tension in the room mounted. The madame's disapproving scowl only added to the oppressive atmosphere. The room fell into an almost palpable silence, broken only by the sound of your tapping as you methodically sought out the hollow board once more. You could sense the growing impatience of the group as you painstakingly worked, with each floorboard sounding as solid as the next.

Just as Bucky appeared poised to call off your efforts, the floorboard beneath you emitted a hollow thud that reverberated through the space below. You tapped again, feeling the same hollow thudding from the adjacent boards. Looking up at Bucky, you gestured toward the floor, affirming, “It’s underneath.”

Madame Voss gaped in astonishment at you and then turned her incredulous gaze towards the two gangsters. “Underneath? Underneath! This must be some kind of magical trick—in all my years working in this establishment, I have never heard of a basement or cellar!”

As Bucky waved at the woman, he made a disdainful noise in dismissal. The madame fluffed up, muttering under her breath in flustered embarrassment, and then stalked away a few paces. Bucky and Steve soon joined you, watching intently as you blindly felt around the edges of the wooden panels. As you investigated, your fingertips discovered finely carved grooves hidden within the wood—imperceptible to the casual observer but discernible to those who sought them out. The edges of the indents provided a perfect grip for you to dig your nails into the wood, allowing you to pry the board from the floor with little effort.

The three of you peered into the space below through the thin gap. It was pitch black, but you could make out some rickety stairs descending into the inky dark. A thick layer of dust sat upon the steps, a musty smell hitting your nose.

You sat back on your haunches, peering closely at the board you had just managed to pry up. The wood was marred with deep gouges as if some kind of wild animal had relentlessly scratched and clawed at the panel. As you tentatively ran your finger across the rough and battered surface, a sense of unease settled in the pit of your stomach, sending a sickly shudder up your spine.

“Did you know this was here?” Steve mutters to Bucky from somewhere above you.

You continued peeling up each of the loose boards, using the indents to grip the wood with your nails. The disgusting, nauseating feeling intensified as it became apparent that every panel had identical deep gouges carved into the wood.

“No,” Bucky replies, his voice hushed.

When the hole is completely visible, you sink onto your knees. Now that light was flowing in, you could see more clearly. The dusty, ancient stairs descend to a stone floor. The stone appeared dry but extremely dusty. What appeared to be large, old wooden barrels and the beginnings of shelving against the walls were visible in the beam of light. You peer up at Bucky and Steve, who tower over you, and resist the urge to squirm as Bucky meets your gaze.

“This is the anchor.” You explain, and Steve’s face twists, perplexed.

“The pub—?”

“No. Spirits they… they bind themselves to something. An object, a person, a room. This is where the haunting originates.” You clarify and gradually rise to your feet, taking care not to collide with either of the men.

You take a hesitant step down, the stair beneath groaning under your weight. You swallow hard, then spin in place to look back up at the gangsters who watch you expectantly. “I might need a candle.”

Without glancing back, Bucky clicks his finger at Madame Voss, who is attempting to peer into the mysterious room from her perch. “Voss. Candle.”

The madam, clearly exasperated, lets out a loud huff before turning on her heel and disappearing into one of the adjacent rooms. There is still a distinct taste of tension in the air.

“Looks like your old man's been a naughty boy.” Steve teases, a boyish smile emerging. Bucky remains silent, choosing not to dignify the gangster's comment with a reply. Their dynamic left you contemplating the depth of their relationship, especially since you had heard that Barnes was not particularly kind to those who mentioned his father. While Bucky's gaze remained blank and unmoving, you couldn't help but notice a subtle twitch in his jaw, betraying a suppressed reaction.

The Smog Boys were infamous for their cruelty towards their enemies, anyone who crossed them, and those who betrayed their trust. Bucky, in particular, was known for his ruthless approach to dealing with anyone who stood in his way. He carried out his actions silently and brutally, and by the next morning, everyone in The Warrens knew that Barnes had spilt blood. Despite the fear he instilled in others, Bucky remained calm and collected. He was a strategic thinker and planner, and he took pleasure in the sadistic ways his plans unfolded. Despite his fearsome reputation, he was still not as notorious as his father.

His father exhibited a striking lack of cunning, care, or thoughtfulness in his approach. The Warrens endured a dreadful existence as George Barnes succumbed to alcohol-induced rampages. He embodied sheer strength, a fierce warrior whose white-hot rage could melt the most hardened of hoarfrosts. He instilled fear without cause, displaying psychopathic tendencies and craving notoriety through any means necessary. He bolstered the Smog Boys fostering terror through street attacks, gang wars, or burning entire buildings down as a message. Upon Bucky's ascension, the business adopted a quieter and more devious approach. Bucky was all about making money in a quick, quiet, and dirty way. His enemies didn't fear him because they knew what he was capable of, but rather because they never knew, and Bucky knew how to up the ante each time.

Around seven years ago, George had been arrested. He had been too loud and confident in his approach, and the coppers had snagged him. Bucky ran the business for his father, and the Smog Boys boomed with success. His father was set to go on trial, and it wasn’t an unknown fact that the judge had paid off. George Barnes was set to walk free and take over the business again.

Two days before the trial, he was discovered dead in his cell, his body bearing the marks of a brutal, mysterious beating. There was no trace of evidence to scrutinise, and the guards remained silent, neither admitting guilt nor pointing fingers. The law turned a blind eye to the demise of a notorious criminal under their watch, and the incident was quickly swept under the rug, forgotten within hours. Bucky vehemently denied any involvement. He put on a public display of mourning, cursing the authorities and vowing vengeance, though his threats never materialized. It's also worth noting that Bucky shared a particularly close bond with his mother, Winnifred, who herself was not spared from the brutality of her husband. It was common knowledge that, behind closed doors, Winnifred, Bucky, and his younger sister Becca endured all manner of cruelty at the fists of George Barnes.

Years had passed since those fateful events, and Bucky's ascension to power remained unquestioned. No one dared challenge his authority, fearing both the brutal consequences and because The Warrens had silently celebrated in the wake of Senior Barnes' untimely demise.

The sound of Madame Voss' heels clicking against the hardwood floor signalled her return. You took the candle gratefully, eager to escape the awkward tension, and descended into the gloom.

The old wood stairs protest with every step, emitting squeaks and groans under your weight. Your sweeping skirts brush a fine layer of dust into the air, shimmering in the weak candlelight that struggles to pierce the shadows of the small, dimly lit room. You could only describe the space as a cellar, with its stone walls and floors exuding an eerie, uncomfortable atmosphere. Thick metal bolts secure wooden shelves laden with countless large glass bottles, while large barrels, shrouded in heavy blankets of dust, crowd the square room. In the dim corners, dense cobwebs collect. A place long forgotten.

Bucky and Steve carefully made their way down the creaky stairs as you delicately balanced the flickering candle on the edge of one of the dusty barrels. As you wipe away the accumulated grime, you uncover a label imprinted on the lid: Property of SMOG BOYS—George Barnes. You squinted at the words in the low light, moving to the next as you tried to understand what was in these barrels.

Behind you, Steve had grabbed hold of one of the large glass bottles and uncorked it with a sharp pop! He raised it to his nose, took a sniff, and then emitted a loud holler. "Shit, Buck. This is moonshine."

Bucky let out a grumbling noise of recognition, inspecting one of the barrels. “It must’ve been a storage space from the distillery. These barrels look like whiskey.”

The two gangsters gathered near the barrels, muttering between themselves.

“You sure he never mentioned this to you?”

“I’m sure. Don’t know why he was so determined to hide a bit of liquor. We have plenty of warehouses for this—”

You rounded the barrels, venturing deeper into the room. A row of shelves faced the centre of the room, with a narrow space between them that you could slip through. The candlelight barely reached the other side, obscured by the layers of barrels and bottles. You blindly stumbled into the empty space, feeling a familiar, thrumming sensation.

Invisible strings tangled at your ankles as you pushed deeper into the darkness, the warm flicker of candlelight barely illuminating what lay within. There, in the centre of the room, stood a solitary chair—a simple wooden chair. The thrumming grew louder, your heart pulsating as you gaped down at it. Thick sailor ropes coiled tightly around each arm and leg, faded remnants of blood splattered across the cold stone floor beneath. The oppressive atmosphere seemed to close in around you, the air heavy with a sense of foreboding—

You jumped out of your skin as a hand rested on your shoulder. Bucky had followed you through the shelves. His eyes mirrored the unease that churned in your stomach, his face etched with a deep, troubled frown. You felt urged to speak up and console the man but you knew better than to fall into that trap. His presence was disturbingly comforting as if the dangerous gangster were not the apex predator in the room. All you could do was gape, tearing your vision away from the chair as you stumbled back a few paces.

As quickly as you had found solace in the man, it was torn away. He stalked toward you, finger pointed as he jabbed it into your sternum. His eyes had glazed over, a thunderous rage taking shape. You sensed it was a defence mechanism, a way to intimidate you because you had seen something you weren’t supposed to—something that shocked even him.

“Not a word. You understand?” he hissed, his large, sculpted frame towering over you. You shrank back, your spine meeting the shelving, causing the moonshine bottles to clink together.

You knew what this place was. A hidden place. A forgotten place. A place where torture and death had been carried out. An echo from the past. A whisper on the wind that spoke the name George Barnes.

This was the kind of business Bucky kept meticulously hidden—a necessary evil shrouded in secrecy. Bodies were found only if he wanted to send a message. You were certain there were countless other hidden, unmarked graves. Bucky was too clever to be undone by a rogue body or misplaced trust. Every action he took was calculated to ensure it could never be traced back to the Smog Boys. Of course, everyone knew it was them, but legally proving their involvement was another matter. Despite the gang's reputation for being untouchable, the coppers constantly searched for any loophole to bring them down. Bucky's entire operation could unravel if the wrong person discovered incriminating evidence.

For all your understanding, The Pony Club was one of the few legitimate businesses under the Barnes name. If an enemy of the Smog Boys discovered a way to link this grim scene to the underground crime network Bucky managed? It could spell disaster.

“Do you understand?” Bucky repeated, his voice dripping with venom. This was a side of him you had heard rumours of but had never witnessed yourself. This was the leader of the Smog Boys. This was the Bucky that made Sootstone cower.

You swallowed hard, nodding as you huddled against the shelves.

The gangster ran a hand through his hair in frustration. You could sense the conflict in his eyes as they darted between you and the chair. After rubbing his chin and jaw, he finally settled on resting a hand on your shoulder again, an oddly tender touch. His head dipped, and he muttered in your ear, “I need this ghost gone. Now, doll. I think it's best no one else sees my father’s handiwork.”

“I can—I can do that,” you stammered. The gangster gave you a slow nod, exhaled sharply, and then turned on his heels.

In the sudden emptiness, the thrumming in your ears became deafening, a relentless pulse that drowned out all other sounds. Your ears rang with a piercing intensity, and your breath quickened, coming in short, ragged gasps. The room seemed to close in around you, now suffocatingly tight. The walls pressed inward, and the air grew thick and heavy as if it were pushing against your chest. You felt an overwhelming sense of dread creeping into your bones, a cold, insidious fear that wrapped itself around your heart. Somewhere in the background of it all, Steve yelped.

At first, you could not hear his distress, not over the noise in your head. It was only as Bucky paused by the narrow opening between the shelves, his eyes snapping to yours, that you heard Steve again—frantic shouts piercing through the deafening roar of a fire, overwhelming even the clamour in your head.

You move quicker than Bucky, darting through the shelves back into the candlelight.

Except it wasn’t the candlelight that lit the room in a blinding glow, but instead a figure engulfed in flame. You could make out bludged eyes and an agape mouth through the tendrils, which licked up the figure in a violent blaze. Steve was pinned with his back against one of the barrels as the figure, screaming and writhing, hurtled towards him.

You hurry forward, positioning yourself between Steve and the burning figure. Steve grabbed your arm, pulling you closer as he shouted, "What the fuck?!"

The fiery figure hesitates, its swollen, bloodshot eyes flitting between Steve and you in confusion. Bucky had pulled what appeared to be a knife from his pocket and was circling the scene. Your brows furrow as you give him a puzzled look and free yourself from Steve's grip.

“Put it away!” You bark over the roar. Bucky cocks his head to one side, both of you mutually surprised that you had found your voice. As you approach the figure, it retreats, the flames quickly extinguishing. Your ears ring as silence falls. The spirit has transformed into a black mass again, its shape twisting and jittering as it swings its gaze between the three of you.

“It can read your memories. It feeds off fear and pain.” You explain to the two gangsters, hesitantly stepping forward once more. The spirit centres its eyes solely on you. “It shows you your darkest memories, the ones you've buried. It’s tryna scare you.”

You do not dwell on whatever memory Steve was plagued by.

The spirit shifted once more, the dark mass disappearing into the shadows. You shallow your breath, quickly scanning the room before turning to Barnes. “The chair is the anchor. The spirit needs to be unbound.”

“And how do you do that?” He asks in reply, nostrils flaring. You step into the centre of the room, peering through the shelves into the dark space. Dread curled in your stomach as your eyes roamed the chair.

“I could destroy it or cleanse it—”

“Where's your mother, girl?” A familiar, slurred voice reverberated through the dimly lit room, sending shivers down your spine. Your entire body tensed, and your heart seemed to clench in your chest as a surge of fear momentarily halted you in your tracks. The acrid scent of alcohol mixed with the pungent odour of sweat hung heavy in the air. The heavy, unsteady footsteps of a large man reverberated over the stone floors.

“She’s sick.” A child's voice replied. Your voice.

In front of you appeared a vivid scene. Your father, in a state of intoxication, stood before you. His body was angled in such a way that only the profile of his face was visible. His clothing was tattered, and the floors bore marks of mud and filth from his worn boots. His hair was dishevelled and sprinkled with ash, and his flushed face glistened with sweat. Facing him was a much younger version of yourself. You estimated her to be around eight years old, judging by the length of her hair and the ragged dress clinging to her emaciated frame. The child cowered against a door, her limbs trembling in fear.

“Sick? That damn woman is always sick. Get out of the way, girl, I need to speak with my wife.” Your father slurs, lurching forward. The child held steady, her back pressed defiantly against the door.

“You can’t, she’s sleeping—”

A resounding crack echoed through the room as your father’s palm connected forcefully with her cheek. The impact sent her sprawling to the floor, a soft whimper escaping her lips as she fell. Tears shimmered in her wide, frightened eyes, reflecting the harsh light as they welled up and spilt over her cheeks. The room seems to hold its breath in the aftermath, the sharp sound of the slap lingering.

“What’s this? Who’s that?” Steve spoke up from beside you. You had almost entirely forgotten that the two men were still in the cellar with you. Bucky watches on with morbid curiosity, but you do notice how the muscles in his jaw tighten.

“A memory.” You mutter back. You urge your feet to move, but you feel as though you are wading through waist-deep water.

“Some gall you have to be telling me what I can and can’t do in my own home, girl!” Your father charges through the door, his eyes wild and unseeing as he drunkenly stumbles over your younger self's frail body. Ignoring your cries, he leaves her sprawled on the floor, the door slamming shut with a jarring finality before she can react. Muffled shouting and screaming rise from beyond, chaos that drowns out her sobs. The child curls into a ball on the cold floor, trembling and sobbing as the shrieking grows louder. The walls thud and shake with the force of his rage, each violent sound echoing through the small room, amplifying the terror that grips her small frame.

“You’re not welcome here, spirit,” your voice cuts through the unfolding nightmare with unwavering authority. You can feel Bucky’s gaze burning into you, but you tilt your head defiantly. Momentarily sucked into the horror of it all, but now you stand unshaken. The scene pauses, and the child freezes in place as the shouting and banging abruptly stop. The spirit seems to contemplate your words, its image flickering before dissolving into a dark fog that settles in a dense layer across the stone floors.

“I think destroying it would be easiest.” You mumble to the gangsters. Bucky’s lips were set in a fine line, his jaw still clenched, while Steve eyed you warily. “Burning it would be the best way.”

As if in response to your comment, the room burst to life once more. The two men stand on either side of you as if their curiosity is too much to dismiss as they realise it is another of your memories.

This time, the version of you was older. A teenager. She perched on the edge of the docks, her legs dangling into the waters below. Next to her sits a boy roughly the same age. The two of them laugh and indulge in a shared bag of colourful, sugary treats.

“My dad keeps askin’ after you.” The boy says. Michael. Your gut twists. You knew what was to come.

“I’m not joinin’ your dad’s weird cult.” She giggles, popping a boiled sweet into her mouth with a lopsided grin. Her hair was loose, uncaring as the breeze tangled it and ash fell from the skies.

“He keeps goin’ on about how you’re some saviour—”

“Ew.” She replies, nose scrunching. The teen leans back on her palms with a sigh, looking across the docks. “You know me and my mum aren’t interested in that stuff. I’m not desperate like those other witches he tricks into joining. Frankly, I’m surprised you’ve held on this long, you’re what? Seventeen? Why don’t you just get a job in one of the factories and get the hell out of there?”

Michael appears displeased by her response. You had never previously noticed, despite replaying the memory in your mind numerous times. In the past, you believed you were being helpful, perhaps even clever. You could see the wrinkle of discomfort in the boy’s face now. You knew all too well that breaking free from his father's control was never as easy as moving out. You had been naive to believe that. Michael had not called you a fool, which was probably a small act of kindness on his part.

“How’s your mum?” He asks, gaze cast to the side to look at the teen’s profile. She shrugs, sucking on the sweet in thought.

“Still sick. We saw that healer in the Smokestacks, said he might be able to do somethin’ about it.”

“You know my family could help—”

The teen gives him an irritated look. “You know my mum doesn’t want your help. She doesn’t even want me hangin’ out with you.”

The tranquillity of the scene had captivated you to the point where you lost awareness of your surroundings. It was only the looming sense of dread for what was about to unfold, the feeling of Bucky's sleeve brushing against your arm, and the audible, sharp intake of breath from Steve that jolted you back to reality.

“Oi! Lookie here! It’s—” The shout of a copper was warbled as you strode forward, the memory rippling like a pool of water.

You had to prevent what was about to happen. You couldn't let Bucky see how everything truly unfolded. You knew you should have stopped it before it went this far. You shouldn't have allowed yourself to get pulled into this memory. Yet, there was a bittersweet comfort in seeing him again, remembering him as he was before everything went so wrong.

“Probably shouldn’t burn it down here. Those barrels catch and this place will explode.” You mutter under your breath, trying to ignore the sickness churning in your stomach as you approach the chair. As you draw closer, your eyes catch the gruesome details etched into the wood. Dark, crusted blood is splattered across the seat, each fleck and smear a silent testament. Streaks of crimson have seeped into the grain, staining the wood in a macabre pattern. The iron tang of old blood hangs in the air, mixing with the musty dampness of the room. Your hair stands on end and your nerves tingle as a shiver runs down your spine. The closer you stand, the more uneasy energy pulses through you. Summoning your courage, you grip one of the chair's arms and yank with all your strength—only to find it bolted firmly to the floor.

Your stomach drops.

You needed to get the two men out of this cellar and defeat this spirit yourself. You couldn’t stand their gazes upon you, waiting expectantly. You roll your shoulders, twisting your neck as a tight, itching sensation settles over your skin. You weren’t afraid of the memories, but rather the reaction to them. You didn’t want sympathy. Most of all, you didn’t want to be feared—to be viewed as a weapon.

You knew that was what the Smog Boys truly desired—a tool to complete their dirty work.

The memory came to life around you once more, stronger and more vivid. Michael was sprawled on the floor, beaten and bloodied, his face a mess of bruises and cuts. The coppers, young and full of arrogance, stood above him, their laughter echoing in the confined space. They were eager to prove themselves, and they relished every moment of his suffering, laying blow after blow into his broken body. Their cackles filled the room, mingling with the sickening thuds of their fists and boots against his flesh.

“Let me go!” Your head swivels as you look to the other side of the room. There, the teenage version of you is held back by two men with bruising grips, their hands digging painfully into her arms. Tears streamed down her face, carving glistening tracks through the grime and dust. Her eyes are wide with terror and helpless rage as she struggles and screams, her voice raw and desperate. The men restraining her exchange smirks, their expressions cold and indifferent to her anguish. The room seems to close in around you now, the walls reverberating with the echoes of her cries and the relentless thudding of blows landing on Michael. You were powerless, trapped in a living nightmare.

You needed to stop this—

There was a loud crunch, the agonising sound of bone snapping and shattering under a steel-toe boot. Michael has grown still, his body is no longer convulsing with pain. His face was unrecognisable—a grotesque mask of bruises and blood, the features obliterated by the relentless assault. His skull is misshapen, cracked open against the stone curb, a dark pool of blood is spreading beneath him.

Somewhere in the distance, the past version of you wails, a heart-wrenching sound that seems to come from the depths of her soul.

She was scrambling on her knees over the filthy streets, her body shaking with sobs as she gripped Michael’s lifeless form. Her fingers, trembling and desperate, searched for any sign of life, but you knew now that it was pointless. Michael was dead. He had died the moment they cracked his skull open. Blood smears her hands and clothes as she clings to him, her tears mixing with the grime on the ground.

She shakes his body, begging him to wake up. The coppers continue to snicker amongst themselves. They are unphased by the blood and flesh painted across their boots, their faces twisted in smug satisfaction.

“That’s enough now.” You spoke up in the present, tone low and warning. The spirit hesitates, and the teen pauses, her body relaxing as the sobbing stops. Her head twists around, her eyes a milky white as she looks directly through you.

“I know what you are.” The spirit spoke through the memory of you. Her gaze shifted to look at the coppers. Their figures are silent, but their shoulders shake with laughter, an amused indifference as they watch the suffering before them. “Spirit-raiser…diviner…light-bringer.”

Her eyes start to glow, a bright white that blinds the room. You know what is to come. You know what happens next. The shelves and barrels begin to rattle around you, and dust is stirred up into clouds. You could hear Steve swearing somewhere behind. Her sights move to the coppers, a knowing smirk fading into a cruel frown. Her hand raises into the air, fingers moving to snap—

Your hand has subconsciously raised. The ground trembles beneath you. It isn’t from the past; it is present. It was you at this exact moment, touching your fingers together. The ceiling above you groans, bottles of moonshine shattering across the floors as they fall. Behind you, Bucky and Steve yell over the commotion, calling to you. You can feel the crackle of electricity in the air and map every particle that flutters in the air. The chaos rises in your chest as you summon it forward. The crackle of energy grows higher and higher until the tingling sensation meets your fingertips.

You snap your fingers, and a deafening crack echoes through the cellar. For a moment, everything grows still. Your body begins to glow, emitting a bright white light that fills the room, even stronger than the spirit's light. The intensity of it is blinding, obliterating every detail with a searing brilliance.

The room explodes around you.

Bits of wood splinter, torn from their fixtures and launched through the air. Barrels explode with a thunderous roar, whiskey gushing out in torrents that splash and pool around your ankles, the potent scent of alcohol overwhelming your senses. The entire room shudders and rocks from the impact, the walls groaning under the strain. You were momentarily assaulted by the barrage of debris—sharp shards of shelving and glass raining down around you. Until Bucky grips you. Amid the chaos, he seizes your waist, pulling you into the shelter of his chest to shield you from the storm.

Steve has vanished up the stairs, the floorboards above rattling with each of his hurried steps as the earth finally settles. The room falls into an eerie silence, the only sound being the gentle sloshing of liquor around your feet.

There is a large crack in the stone floor where the chair used to be.

You pull yourself from Bucky’s grip rather unceremoniously, frowning as you pull shredded wood from your hair. The gangster eyes you cautiously, clearing his throat as he retreats backwards. “Are you gonna explain what that was?”

You were unsure what he was specifically referring to—whether it was the haunting memories or the raw power you had just unleashed. Regardless, you didn’t feel up to explaining either. A deep weariness had settled into your bones, your muscles aching from the exertion of channelling such immense energy. A thin trail of blood had begun to leak from your nose, the metallic taste of copper lingering as you absentmindedly licked your bottom lip in thought.

You should not have done that. But they would have found out either way.

Your fingers instinctively came up to rub your temple as you let out a sharp sigh of annoyance. With magic weariness came a tinge of irritation and snarkiness—it was a familiar companion after such displays of power. At that moment, you couldn't summon the will to care about how dangerous Bucky was or how he could ruin your life. All you craved was the simple comfort of lying down and perhaps indulging in a strong drink or two to ease the embarrassment of the situation.

Above, Madame Voss's shrill shrieks pierce through the ceiling, amplifying the headache pounding behind your skull. You knew the entire row of buildings would have felt the surge of energy you had just unleashed. One could only hope that the coppers wouldn’t investigate too closely into the disturbance.

Ignoring his previous question, you speak up. “You should invest in gettin’ your buildings properly cleansed.”

Maybe that would make him and his men shut up about your faulty locks.

You go to walk away, but Bucky's firm grip on your forearm halts your movement, holding you back. His head cocks as he looks you up and down, his eyes sharp and calculating. “I don’t know much about magic, but I know witches don’t just summon shit like that out of thin air.”

If you were one of his dogs, your hackles would have raised, teeth bared. You look him down defiantly with a scowl. “Respectfully, Barnes, you don’t know shit about magic. I keep your secrets; you keep mine. That’s the deal, isn’t it?”

His lips curl into an astonished smirk, pleased as equally as he was stunned by your tone. His head dips down, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, his voice a low murmur. “You know, doll, if you weren’t growing on me, I would have you killed for speaking to me like that.”

You could feel the warmth of his breath tickling against your skin, his proximity stirring a mix of emotions within you—wariness, curiosity, and a hint of something deeper that you couldn't quite define. You knew better than to let the boundaries between you blur. You give him a mocking pout, wrenching your arm from his grip. “I know you won’t kill me, if you wanted to kill me, I would be dead already. You’ve decided I’m valuable, haven’t you? Who would break your curses and scare away the skeletons in your closet? You must know that I’m not doing this out of the goodness of my heart. I don’t want to help you, we’re not friends.”

His jaw tenses slightly as he processes your words, and his voice is flat as he speaks. “The most valuable thing a woman like you can offer is what’s between your legs. And you gave that up pretty easily.”

His lips curl into a sneer. “I suppose the magic is a bonus. But I know you’re little more than a whore beneath it all.”

Several emotions flicker through your chest. Pain, frustration, disillusionment. You should have known better. You knew better. You don’t dignify the gangster with a response, instead turning on your heel to march out of the cellar.

“I’ll have someone come fetch you when you’re next needed, spirit-raiser,” he calls after you, his tone mocking.

You ascend the stairs without looking back.

PART THREE

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pray4saint · 1 year ago

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SAPNAP PLS nsfw headcannons.... him taking the bdsm tests, what's his sex drive? I just know he presses himself against you every time he passes you, but does he follow through ;)))

FOUND UR ACCC YESTERDAY and I'm acc in love like we both love dteam and marauders it's such a rare combination and I've never seen anyone love both before! ( like me LOL) do you take anons? 🥺

sapnap nsfw headcanons

masterlist & descrip. rated r. 16+. dirty talk. sapnap taking the bdsm test.

a/n. i would be happy to write more horndog texan for you / the only other person i know who writes mcyt & marauders is my younger cousin but they're fifteen so we don't interact online but lmk if you'd like their @ (& yes, i do take anons, the current anons i have are 💚 & 🦥)

as you said anon, sap absolutely presses against you when he passes by you, even when there's plenty of space to just go around, he does it to rile you up

does he follow through?? sometimes he does it for buildup for later that night, to make you all whiny and needy for him

but other times when you call him out for it, it's a 25/75 of if he won't follow through or he will (just to clarify, 25% of the time he won't, 75% he does)

when you call him out and he follows through though.. it's rough, it's kinky, it's dirty and it is hot and heavy

i mean more degradation when you call him out, more slapping if you're into that, hair pulling, messy, sloppy kisses

”god, such a slut for me aren't ya?” he pulls his lips from yours, a string of saliva thinning the farther he gets from your mouth, and it finally breaks when he licks his bottom lip. ”sap, please-” ”isn't this what you wanted babe?” he tangles a hand in your hair, ”to be fucked senseless under me like a whore?” he tugs at your hair, making you whine and beg him to just fuck you already.

sapnap's sex drive i'd say is above average, but not by a whole lot

i think if he can, he'll find a way to fuck you every day or every other day, but if you're not feeling it or you have your period or you just don't want to, it's not the end of the world for him

his sex drive is based solely on his attraction to you; when he was single he had a low sex drive but when you two started dating it jumped wayy up

OH OH OH my brain goes brrrrr for this shit: when you've been going at it for awhile, his southern accent becomes more pronounced with every word he says

”fuck- darl' you're doing so- s'good f'me.” his breath fans hot against your ear and down your neck and he fucks into you, drawing moan after moan out of you.

lots of praise this way, about how well you take him, how perfect you look under him or on top of him, about how much he loves you and how good you treat him

i think despite his above average sex drive, he still likes taking his time, teasing you, building up foreplay, because it all adds to the experience for you and that's all he really wants, for you to be happy

sapnap believes in being begged, for anything really, to be touched, to be fucked a certain way, to cum, yk he just gets it

also some sub!sapnap for you // sub!sap who begs to be touched when he's horny and if you say no he just can't help it, he'll touch himself even if he isn't allowed to

sub!sapnap, rutting into you while he begs to be praised >>>>

”m'i doing good? please tell me i'm doing good..” while his pelvis presses against yours over and over again. ”yes- sap fuck, you're doing so good, such a good boy for me.” his hips begin to stutter at your words.

thank you for coming to my ted talk

#pray4saint #dteam #dream team #dsmp #mcyt #sapnap #sapnap smut #sapnap x reader smut #dteam smut #dream team smut #mcyt smut #gn!reader #mcyt x reader smut #sapnap headcanons #saint's inbox !!#saint's nsf !!#ns.sap #dsmp smut #dsmp x reader smut

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according2thelore · 3 months ago

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I've had this little idea in my head for awhile but that last ask about Ls!Sam and Es! Dean really made me want to revisit it and share.

So i had this dumb little thought awhile ago.

It starts with es!Dean trying to kiss ls!Sam for whatever reason, and Sam pushes him away because he and ls!Dean promised, no stealing any firsts away from their younger selves.

And so younger Dean is pushed away, and he looks devastated, but more then that he looks scared. Panicked. Like he thinks he just made the biggest mistake of his life, letting Sam(any version of sam) know his fucked up feelings.

And Sam, already knowing what's going through deans head, is quick to be like "I want to kiss you! I do!" And younger Dean just eyes him, like he thinks he's lying. So Sam keeps explaining. "I want to, but you can't. If I- er, if younger me found out that I stole our first kiss, something I've been pining for since I was a kid? It would destroy, uh..." Sam winces, trying to work around how to word it, "...Me." He shakes his head. "What I'm saying is that your Sam needs that kiss first.

Dean doesn't look entirely convinced, but he's calmer now, not so panicked anymore. Though he still looks like he's ready to bolt if he needs to.

Sam sighs and keeps going, "Look. I feel the same way ok? I've felt this way about you for ages. But your firsts should be with him, not me. Not yet." He shakes his head, "I know it seems easier with me because I'm more developed-" He doesn't miss the obvious way Dean's eyes flick to Sam's chest. He bites down a scoff, typical Dean, "But I promise, he'll be thrilled to hear you tell him you love him. He wants to kiss you, needs it really. So-" another sigh, then a laugh. "Kiss him first. Then come talk to me when you've got it all figured out."

ANYWAY this isn't really anything. I don't remember exactly what inspired this but I know that this whole thing came from seeing people talk about Sam's tits, and I started think that the term "developed" tends to reference women's bodies as they get older. And I just thought that Dean automatically looking at Sam's chest when he says "developed" would be hilarious. That's really the only reason I wrote this whole thing LMAO

Idk if this would even fit anywhere in your es/ls verse, and I dont expect you to do anything with it lol, but I just thought the idea was funny and you might appreciate it. I assume we're all Sam titty enjoyers in this house, including and especially Dean Winchester LMAO

(Excuse any errors, I wrote this up in like 5 minutes without double checking much lol)

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA

omg i LOVE this--consider it canon!!!!!! :) or "canon," ig, since we're all just kinda messing around!

this has EVERYTHING i love!!!! AHHH!

tiny (steamy) addition, bc the "not yet" and "come to me when you've got it all figured out" got me thinking!

hope you enjoy and THANK YOU for sending it in!!!!!!! your brain, your genius...and for five minutes?? DAMN!!! thanks again! :) <3

-lizzy

"hey. sammy." sam looks up, and sees younger dean striding towards him. sam puts a paper in the book he's reading to hold his place, alarmed.

before sam can ask what's wrong, dean has rounded the library table, and stands in front of his chair. sam tilts his chair out, hands coming up to check for injuries, but--

hands in his hair. sam is tugged forward, up, and--

dean's lips are on his. dean...devours him. dean kisses him like a starving man, tongue on his bottom lip begging entry. sam opens--dazed, unable to deny dean in anything, any version of dean, so used to opening for his own dean when he's half fucked and delirious that he doesn't even think about it.

dean whimpers, tilting forward, sliding between sam's open thighs. dean's tongue is wet, hot, and slides against sam's own with heady determination. sparks skitter across sam's scalp as dean pulls sam further up, closer.

he makes a wounded noise when sam's hands come up to his hips, one of his hands wrapping around dean's waist like it's nothing, covering his entire flank. sam starts to kiss back--barely, tongue at dean's bottom lip--when he comes back to himself.

he uses his grip on dean's hips to haul him away, dean fighting him every step of the way and leaving wet, sucking kisses on sam's mouth as he pulls away.

"what--" he starts, dazed. dean's heaving for breath, mouth pink and bright and eyes glazed over like sam's been sucking his cock, not light kissing.

"we talked yesterday. worked it out. kissed him first." dean pants, and leans back in. the words register. he talked to sam. he kissed his younger self. hope and pride start to bloom in sam's chest, and he knows he's starting to smile from the way dean's eyes go soft and adoring. his thumb lands on sam's bottom lip, eyes going dark from how wet it is. "not stealing anything." he swears.

dean swoops back down, and sam has no time to stop him, dean kissing him with reckless, passionate abandon. he doesn't know what sam likes yet, he realizes, so he's throwing everything at the wall. it's endearing. and messy.

sam pulls back, trying to stay on track.

"i should--ah!" sam starts, but dean nips at his jaw, making sam jolt in his arms. "let me talk to dean, first, okay?"

he needs to talk to dean first. he's not stealing a first kiss, or a first makeout, or anything, but sam is not going to risk his relationship with his brother over this.

dean is not listening, and tries to come back to sam's mouth. sam starts to stand, taking control of the kiss, tongue licking into dean's mouth in a way that has dean legitimately humping forward into sam's thigh. by the time sam is standing, his head is bent low over dean, whom has stretched up and cradles sam's jaw between his hands.

sam lets his mouth go, and dean's lips are practically red, swollen a little with the force of sam's kiss.

"shit--sammy." dean pants, loosely rolling his neck to the side and pressing his chest up into sam like he's a swooning maiden on the cover of a bodice ripper.

sam acquiesces, pressing his lips to the thick tendon in dean's neck, gently. no teeth. not yet. even when sam's body screams for it, the tender, delicate, unmarked skin above his jugular.

dean whimpers like a wounded animal, hands tightening on sam's arms.

"okay?" sam repeats, stronger this time.

"shit. sammy. fine. yes!" dean pants, and sam smiles, rewarding him with a kiss that dean sinks into like a warm bath. dean's fingers tilt so he can scratch at sam's stubble, and sam smiles into his mouth.

fuck. he's going to rip this kid apart.

#bangs gavel #ES/LS approved!#ES/LS verse #ask box #animangalover15 #lizzy answers

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urdepressedslut · 1 year ago

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May I request a shapeshifter!reader x platonic!avengers/Bucky where the reader was experimented on by Hydra and received her powers there? The Avengers try to recruit and help reader but she’s freaked out from all that’s happened and Bucky helps her overcome the fear and stress and learn to use her powers? Lots of angst but also lots of fluff if possible? (I also want to add your username is amazing lol /gen /lh )

oooooh I've never written a shapeshifter!reader, but I'm very interested with the whole idea. hope you like what I've come up with🥰

Tragedy

♡ Pairing: Platonic!Avengers!Bucky Barnes x Shapeshifter!Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: A new shapeshifter recruit has a hard time adjusting to the team, she feels out of place. Bucky knows what it's like to be the outsider and fight to have control, so he comforts her.

♡ Warnings: angst, fluff, talk of hydra experimentation, mentions of past torture, mentions of Bucky's trauma, anxiety, depression, tony being tony

main masterlist ✧ inbox open

The Avengers compound had been chaotic for the past week, tons of missions, plenty of people getting burnt out— overall it was busy. The compound had gathered some new recruits, adding some much needed people to their team. It would take awhile before they were respected like all of the original Avengers— but they’d get there in time.

A pair of invisible twins had joined the team, taking time with Wanda to master their ability, practice being stealthy. They also had the ability to read minds, which is why Wanda wanted to work with them.

A boy at the age of 19 had just been recruited, his ability being super strength. He was strong, fast and overall almost as in shape as some certain super soldiers. Steve had taken a liking to the boy immediately, noticing he wasn’t just enhanced— but he had a good heart as well, sweet as pie. Steve didn’t hesitate to take him under his wing.

Lastly, there was you. You were the most recent recruit— having just been released from the asylum. Yeah… asylum. Unlike the other new recruits, you had a battered past and a scarred brain. You didn’t have an easy journey to become apart of the team. Truthfully, you didn’t want to be an avenger— you were just trying to survive.

You had been rescued almost a year ago from a hidden HYDRA facility. Almost thousands of bodies littered the building, the scattered evidence that HYDRA had been secretly experimenting on innocent people. The team had scopes out the entire building with heavy hearts, not finding any sign of life— until they had found you. He had found you.

James Buchanan Barnes.

Hidden underneath the facility through a tiny window, you were being held, chains keeping you locked int the confined space. The team remembered that image perfectly, the way they shuttered in horror that you had had to live like this for god knows how long. It was an unsettling day, but a victorious one at least. They had saved you and brought you to medical center immediately. After tests had been done, scans had been run— you were moved to an asylum.

To say you were difficult would be an understatement. But it was just that, you weren’t difficult— you were traumatized. You didn’t feel in control of your body, your mind— your abilities. You were spiraling, the newfound freedom unfamiliar— uncomfortable. You were kept in a white room for a couple months, until you showed signs of progress. You’d speak when you had to. You’d eat if you were told to. You functioned more normally as the days passed, as the therapy sessions came and went.

Truthfully, it was all bullshit. No one recovers from that kind of life. The life of imprisonment and torture.

How could you?

You recovered enough to be allowed out of the white room, walking the halls of the asylum. You knew you didn’t belong here, you weren’t what they labeled you as… crazy. You were struggling to adapt to your new life— that’s all.

Soon enough, your therapist thought you were stable enough to move on to bigger things— like joining the Avengers. She had briefly told you that she talked with a Mr. Fury, and that you had been invited to be an avenger. You wanted to laugh at the offer, how does one even get an offer like that? Although your declines were ignored and you found out quickly that if you didn’t obey and join the avengers, you’d be locked up again at the asylum.

It was either you adapt and do good— be good. Or you were back to staring at the white walls. You chose to not put up much of a fight and let them guide you to the compound. In the back of your mind you wondered if you would always be kept somewhere against your will. The Avengers were good compared to HYDRA, but ultimately— they were holding you hostage just as HYDRA was.

Guess you should be used to it by now.

The introduction was embarrassing, everyone staring at you like you were fresh meat— yeah you were, but the stares had you feeling incredibly self conscious. Everyone seemed nice, offering to help in any way that they could to help you adjust easier. You thanked them quietly and kept to yourself, the team didn’t hear much from you ever.

Unlike the other new recruits, no Avenger spoke out to take you under their wing. Nobody wanted you around.

It was a particular rough training day that had things falling apart.

You had wandered into the training room on your own, sitting crisscrossed by the large mirror. You were trying to meditate, since your little scare this morning. You were a shapeshifter, and could transform into any being, take on their appearance— but not without difficulty. You could only transform if you had touched something. It was unlike any stories that were ever told about your kind— shifting was painful. Back at HYDRA, you were chained down to a table while guards would bring in different kinds of creatures, different suffering innocent people. They beat you into shifting, torture you until you took a different form.

When you woke this morning, your heart was beating scarily quick. Your limbs were cold, your fingertips and toes numb— you had identified it quickly as a panic attack. You dreamt of your days back in HYDRA— the days you were tortured for hours on end, days on end. You found yourself wanting to shift into a muscular guard you had seen in your dream— appear stronger and bigger. You felt you needed to be on alert, protect yourself from the dangers of your dream. The feeling quickly flowed throughout your body, the familiar pain of shifting coming on fast— so you tried everything you could to calm down. That’s where you found yourself sitting in front of the mirror, attempting to meditate.

Bucky wandered into the room, getting ready for his own workout when he noticed your small form on the floor. He watched through the reflection as you had your eyes shut, your chest rising and falling with deep breaths. He was no expert, but he had an idea of what you were trying to do— possibly what had happened. His heart clenched at the sight, feeling terrible that someone else had to go through such things.

Sure, he had read your file— but that was no way to get to know someone. He was waiting for a good chance to introduce himself, maybe show you around. He found that rather difficult, you were very good at staying hidden— sneaking out of a room without notice. He admired your stealthiness, but he didn’t want you to feel like you had to be around the compound.

“Hey.” He started, feeling bad when he saw you jump slightly at his greeting.

You met his blues through the mirror and turned quickly to face him, standing up along the way.

“Hi.” You greeted quietly.

He smiled at your gentle voice, deciding to stop at a good length away— not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

“Haven’t really gotten a chance to introduce myself since you got here. I’m Bucky.” He held his flesh hand out.

You eyeballed his hand, knowing that you would gain the ability to take his form if you touched him. You took a deep breath, enjoying the cool air traveling down your throat to your lungs— before you raised your hand.

“Nice to meet you Bucky, I’m (Y/n).” You said quickly, pulling your hand back to your side— ignoring the tingling sensation that his touch had left.

It wasn’t the unpleasant feeling of shifting either— it was just a pleasant buzz.

“(Y/n), what do you say after I’m done in here— I’ll show you around the compound. Introduce you to everybody.” He offered and immediately regretted his words at the expression of horror on your face.

You gulped, the thought of meeting so many faces all in one day— it was extremely overwhelming and anxiety inducing. You didn’t want to mess up your first impression, you wanted to have gotten a good nights rest before you met everyone. You probably looked a mess, your hair— your clothes—

“(Y/n)?”

Bucky’s voice snapped you back to the moment and you shook your head, scratching the back of your neck in embarrassment. Being caught in a little moment there.

“Uh… I’d rather meet everyone another time… if that’s okay.” You whispered out, nervous that he’d get mad at your refusal.

He noticed how nervous you were to tell him no, on one hand he was proud that you had spoke up— knowing you came from HYDRA. Another part of him was saddened at your hesitation— no doubt you were waiting for a beating or some kind of torture.

“Of course, we can go at your pace.” He told you in a soft voice, hoping to keep the conversation smooth and calm.

You weren’t prepared for the kindness and you felt thrown off at his response. It took you a second to gather your thoughts before you could talk again.

“Thank you.” You whispered so quietly that you were sure he didn’t hear you.

Bucky had though, and even if he didn’t respond— he felt his heart hurt at your scared quiet voice. He hated HYDRA— so fucking much.

The conversation ended soon after, giving you time to excuse yourself to your room while Bucky started his workout— all his thoughts of you of course.

You hadn’t given him a full answer in his offer. He knew you didn’t want to meet everyone yet— which was fine. But he still wanted to show you around— if you wanted to.

After he showered and cleaned himself up, it was the late afternoon. He headed up to your room to retrieve you.

He knocked three times before waiting patiently. He could hear the faint thuds of you inside, and by the sounds of it— you hadn’t been expecting a visitor.

The door swung open and your eyes widened at Bucky standing there. For a second you wondered if someone was setting him up to do this… talk to you.

“Hey. Was wondering if you were still up for the tour?” He asked hesitantly, waiting for you to decline.

You thought for a moment, taking in the way he looked clean, his hair seemed freshly washed and shiny. Your eyes wandered to his outfit, jeans and a navy blue henley that complimented his eyes. You smiled little at how put together he looked.

“Just you and I?” You wondered, swaying on your feet.

He nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Just us. Whatta ya say?”

You wondered how much it would hurt to find out he was indeed being forced to hang with you. It would sting— but would it really be anything new? You repeled people and that’s the way you liked it. No one had the chance of hurting you if you didn’t let anyone in.

You gave in regardless, taking a chance. Knowing that this was going to hurt.

“Okay. Lemme get a sweater.” You told him, sneaking back inside you room— grabbing a gray knitted sweater.

Pulling it over your tank, you exited your room and closed your door with a click. Turning towards him, you were met with happy crinkly eyes, his warm smile beaming into you. It was hard not to smile back, but you managed somehow.

“Where to?” You asked.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. First stop— the kitchen.” He announced dramatically.

You could tell he was trying a little too hard to make you comfortable. But it was an appreciated gesture— you just couldn’t stop thinking about how much this was going to hurt.

Every sweet gesture was just another rock being placed over your chest. Eventually your bones wouldn’t be able to hold the rocks— they’d crack them and crush your heart.

You said nothing as you followed behind him, wandering through the hallways until you both entered the kitchen— which was full of avengers. Your anxiety spiked immediately and you wanted to disappear from all the staring.

“Heyyyy! Look who it is! It’s the rookie— are you done hiding from us now?” Tony asked dramatically, fake being hurt.

His question was fair, but you couldn’t find yourself able to answer with all eyes on you. You could feel yourself start to sweat, your hands cold and becoming numb. Some may think you’re being dramatic, but you just weren’t mentally prepared to meet everyone.

“Tony don’t…” Bucky warned lowly, trying to keep his voice down as to not bring any more attention on you.

“Oh c’mon Barnes— you have to be a little curious as to where she’s been hiding this whole time. Let’s remember this is my property— I deserve to know who’s living in it.” He said as a matter of factly.

You swallowed and tried thinking of a response. Maybe you should apologize. You wondered.

“She still deserves privacy Stark.” Natasha voiced from the corner of the room.

Tony rolled his eyes, turning back towards you with a smirk.

“Sooo what’s up rookie? Where ya been?” He asked.

Despite many trying to defend you— they were also curious as to where you have been. They knew of your arrival and hadn’t seen you much since then, besides Bucky. But he was only just starting to talk with you today.

“I’ve been in my room mostly, trying to adjust.” You managed to make out, your throat was still tight with nerves.

Bucky looked to you with a pitied gaze. He felt bad that he had put you in this position.

“You should totally come to a famous Avengers movie night sometime kid.” Tony suggested, and a bunch of the surrounding Avengers nodded.

You relaxed just slightly, although Tony was pushy and loud— you could tell he had good intentions. You nodded your head and attempted a small smile.

“Yeah, that sounds great. I’ll definitely make it one night.” You told him, and he smiled in triumph.

“I’m not too hungry anymore— wanna get outta here?” Bucky spoke from beside you, and you felt relief at his words.

“Yes please.” You whispered to him, earning a smile from the soldier.

You two waved your goodbyes and headed out of the room, heading towards the living area. Bucky immediately spoke up once you two were away from the rest.

“(Y/n), I’m so sorry— I didn’t think they’d all be in there. Please know that I didn’t do that to you on purpose.” He apologized and you took him by surprise by grabbing his metal hand.

“It’s fine, I believe you.” You reassured him, “Besides, Tony is right. I need to stop hiding.”

Bucky softened his gaze and held your hand properly with his metal one, getting your attention on his blues.

“Hey, you don’t have to rush into anything. You go at your pace, okay?” He told you, his voice smooth and gentle. “I know what it’s like to switch to this lifestyle after living with…”

He trailed off, knowing your story from the file but he didn’t know if you knew that. Of course, you had assumed everyone knew your story— kind of sucked, but you didn’t have a choice in the matter.

“I know. Its much different here than Hydra.” You finished for him. “It will take time but I’ll get there. I already feel better now that I can talk to you.”

“I’m here if you ever need to talk— about anything. I’m not so sure how great I am with advice but… I’m a good listener.” He told you.

You smiled and gave his metal hand a tiny playful tug.

“Thank you Bucky.”

He nodded and gave your hand a playful tug back.

“Don’t need to thank me, just know I’m here for you.”

A/N: haven’t proofread this— ignore spelling mistakes🥰

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