๐๐ฌ๐ฏ๐ข๐ณ๐ข๐ฏ ๐ฑ๐ฌ๐ค๐ข๐ฑ๐ฅ๐ข๐ฏ (Remmick x male reader series) Vampire smut, angst and fluff.
โญ๐๐ซ'๐ฑ ๐ฉ๐ข๐ฑ ๐ถ๐ข ๐ค๐ฌ (Remmick x male reader). Vampire smut, dark fic.
๐๐ฑ๐๐ฏ๐ณ๐ข๐ก ๐ฃ๐ฌ๐ฏ ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ช (Remmick x male reader). Vampire smut
๐๐ฅ๐ข ๐ก๐ข๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฉ'๐ฐ ๐ค๐ฏ๐ฌ๐ฌ๐ช (Remmick x male reader). Vampire smut. Dark fic
๐๐๐ซ๐ฑ๐ข๐ก ๐๐ถ ๐ ๐ช๐ฌ๐ซ๐ฐ๐ฑ๐ข๐ฏ (Remmick x male reader). Vampire smut. Angst. Dark fic
โ๐ฆ๐ฐ ๐ฃ๐๐ณ๐ฌ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ฑ๐ข ๐ฅ๐ฒ๐ช๐๐ซ (Remmick x male reader). Vampire smut. Dark fic
๐๐ฅ๐ข ๐ด๐ฌ๐ฉ๐ฃ ๐๐ซ๐ก ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ฐ ๐ฃ๐ฌ๐ต (Remmick x male reader). Smutโ ๐๐ฌ๐ต ๐ ๐ฌ๐ฏ๐ซ๐ข๐ฏ๐ข๐ก (Remmick x male reader). Smut. Angst. Dark fic
๐ ๐ก๐ข๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฉ'๐ฐ ๐๐ฃ๐ฃ๐ข๐ ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ฌ๐ซ (Remmick x male reader). Smut. Angst. Dark fic
๐๐ฌ๐ฒ๐ฏ ๐ฑ๐ฏ๐ฒ๐ข ๐๐ฌ๐ก (Remmick x male reader). Smut. Angst
โ๐ข๐ก ๐ด๐ฆ๐ซ๐ฑ๐ข๐ฏ (Remmick x male reader). Smut
๐๐๐ข๐ก๐ฆ๐ข๐ซ๐ฑ ๐๐ซ๐ก ๐ด๐ฏ๐ข๐ ๐จ๐ข๐ก (Remmick x male reader). Smut
๐๐๐ฏ๐จ๐ข๐ก ๐ฆ๐ซ ๐๐ฉ๐ฌ๐ฌ๐ก๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ค๐ฅ๐ฑ (Remmick x male reader). Smut
๐๐๐ฒ๐ค๐ฅ๐ฑ ๐ฑ๐ฅ๐ข ๐ฅ๐๐ฏ๐ก ๐ด๐๐ถ (Remmick x male reader). Smut
๐ฎ๐๐ถ๐๐ ๐ฝ๐๐๐ถ๐ โโฏ๐๐๐พ๐ธ๐ ๐โฏ๐๐พโฏ๐ (Remmick x male reader). Fluff and angst
๐๐ฅ๐๐ถ ๐ฅ๐ข ๐ต๐๐ฉ๐ฉ๐ฐ ๐ฉ๐ฌ๐ณ๐ข (Sir Jimmy Crystal x male reader) Smut. Angst. Dark fic
โ๐ฆ๐ฐ ๐ค๐๐ด๐ฐ๐ฆ๐ข (Sir Jimmy Crystal x male reader) Smut. Dark fic
Devotion / Obsession (Sir Jimmy Crystal x male reader) Smut
๐๐๐ฑ๐๐ซ'๐ฐ ๐ค๐ฌ๐ฌ๐ก ๐๐ฌ๐ถ (Sir Jimmy Crystal x male reader) Smut
๐๐ฅ๐ข ๐๐ญ๐ฌ๐ ๐๐ฉ๐ถ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ข ๐ด๐๐ฐ๐ซ'๐ฑ ๐ฑ๐ฅ๐ข ๐ด๐ฌ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ฑ ๐ญ๐๐ฏ๐ฑ (Sir Jimmy Crystal x male reader). Smut
๐๐ฆ๐ค๐ฅ๐ฑ๐ฅ ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ซ๐ค๐ข๐ฏ (Sir Jimmy Crystal x male reader). Dark Smut
๐๐ข๐ณ๐ฌ๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐ฑ๐ฌ ๐ฑ๐ฅ๐ข๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ญ๐ฉ๐ข๐๐ฐ๐ฒ๐ฏ๐ข (Remmick x Oliver Mellors x Lion Kaminski x Paddy Mayne x male reader) Pure smut
โโฏ๐๐พ๐นโฏ๐๐ โฏ๐๐พ๐
-โฐ๐๐ฝ๐ถ๐ ๐ฒ๐พ๐๐โฏ๐๐
๐๐๐ฏ๐ช ๐๐๐ซ-๐ฑ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ซ๐ค (Ethan Winters x male reader). Fluff. Angst. Dark Fic. Smut. Multi-chapters and completed.
๐๐ฅ๐๐ฑ ๐ฑ๐ฅ๐ข ๐ช๐ฌ๐ฉ๐ก ๐ก๐ฆ๐ก๐ซ'๐ฑ ๐จ๐ฆ๐ฉ๐ฉ (Ethan Winters x male reader). Fluff and smut
Best Friendโs Dad (Ethan Winters x male reader) Fluff and smut
Gun play (Ethan Winters x male reader) Smut
๐๐ฉ๐ฉ ๐ฑ๐ฅ๐ข ๐ด๐ฏ๐ฌ๐ซ๐ค ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ช๐ฆ๐ซ๐ค (Ethan Winters x male reader) Smut and fluff
๐๐ข๐ฒ๐ฏ๐ฌ๐ฑ๐ฌ๐ต๐ฆ๐ซ ๐ฅ๐ข๐๐ฑ (Ethan Winters x male reader). Smut
๐๐ข๐๐ฑ๐ฅ ๐ญ๐ฒ๐ฉ๐ฉ๐ข๐ก ๐ฒ๐ฐ ๐ฑ๐ฌ๐ค๐ข๐ฑ๐ฅ๐ข๐ฏ (Ethan Winters x male reader). Dark fic. Angst. Smut
๐ด๐ฌ๐ฒ๐ฏ ๐ก๐๐ก'๐ฐ ๐๐ข๐ฐ๐ฑ ๐ฃ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ข๐ซ๐ก (Ethan Winters x male reader). Fluff and smut
-โโฏโด๐ ๐ฆโฏ๐๐โฏ๐น๐
๐๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ ๐ข ๐๐ซ๐ก ๐ฃ๐ถ๐ ๐จ ( Leon Kennedy x male reader). Smut
Praise kink (Leon Kennedy x male reader) Smut
Infected / Intoxicated (Leon Kennedy x male reader) Smut
๐๐ฉ๐ข๐ณ๐๐ฑ๐ข๐ก ๐ฌ๐ฒ๐ฑ๐ญ๐ฒ๐ฑ (Leon Kennedy x male reader) Smut
๐ซ๐ฏ๐ฌ๐ญ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฑ๐ถ ๐ฌ๐ฃ ๐ซ๐ฌ ๐ฌ๐ซ๐ข ๐ข๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ข (Leon Kennedy x male reader). Dark series
๐๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ข๐ก ๐ฌ๐ฃ ๐ถ๐ฌ๐ฒ๐ฏ ๐ฐ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ฑ (Leon Kennedy x male reader). Angst. Smut
๐๐ข๐ฏ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ฑ๐ฌ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐๐ฉ ๐ฆ๐ซ๐ฐ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ซ๐ ๐ฑ (multiple Leon Kennedy x male reader). Smut and fluff
๐๐ฌ๐ ๐จ๐ข๐ก ๐ฆ๐ซ (Leon Kennedy x male reader. Smut
๐๐๐ฑ๐ฅ๐ข๐ฏ, โ ๐ฅ๐๐ณ๐ข ๐๐ฆ๐ซ๐ซ๐ข๐ก (Jud Duplenticy x male reader). Fluff and smut - ๐๐๐ฑ๐ฅ๐ข๐ฏ, ๐ถ๐ฌ๐ฒ'๐ฏ๐ข ๐ฑ๐ฌ๐ฌ ๐ฑ๐ข๐ช๐ญ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ซ๐ค (Jud Duplenticy x male reader). Fluff, Smut, Angst
๐ ๐ฑ๐ฌ๐ฒ๐ ๐ฅ ๐ด๐๐ฏ๐ช๐ข๐ฏ ๐ฑ๐ฅ๐๐ซ ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ข (Mike munroe x male reader). Fluff and smut.
โ๐ฌ๐ฉ๐ก๐ฆ๐ซ๐ค ๐ฌ๐ซ ๐ฑ๐ฌ ๐ถ๐ฌ๐ฒ (Mike Munroe x male reader). Angst and happy ending.
๐๐ข๐๐ฉ๐ฌ๐ฒ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐๐ฑ ๐ ๐ฉ๐๐ ๐จ๐ด๐ฌ๐ฌ๐ก ๐๐ฌ๐ฒ๐ซ๐ฑ๐๐ฆ๐ซ (Mike Munroe x male reader). Angst and smut
๐๐ฅ๐ข ๐ฐ๐ข๐ฉ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ฐ๐ฅ ๐ญ๐๐ฑ๐ฅ (Mike munroe x male reader). Angst and smut
๐ ๐ฏ๐ฌ๐ฑ๐ฅ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฉ๐ถ ๐ฐ๐ฒ๐ญ๐ญ๐ฌ๐ฏ๐ฑ (Mike Munroe x male reader). Fluff
โ๐ฑ ๐ด๐๐ฐ ๐ง๐ฒ๐ฐ๐ฑ ๐ ๐ญ๐ฏ๐๐ซ๐จ (Mike Munroe x male reader). Angst and smut
๐๐ฏ๐ฒ๐ฐ๐ฑ๐ฏ๐๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ฌ๐ซ ๐๐ซ๐ฉ๐ข๐๐ก๐ฅ๐ข๐ก (Mike Munroe x male reader). Smut and angst
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Resident evil men x male reader
Summary: multiple scenarios with the trope โstuck in a holeโ with various RE men.
Tags: No use of Y/N. Male reader. Dubious consent. Dark Leon Kennedy. Dark Chris Redfield. Dark Ethan Winters. Dark Carlos Oliveira. Dark Piers Nivans. Top Leon Kennedy. Threesome and double penetration (Chris and Piers scenario). Top Chris Redfield. Top Piers Nivans. Gentle dom Ethan Winters. Dom Carlos Oliveira. smut. Anal sex. Size kink. Breeding.
A very old request that I got
Words count: 10000 (2500 per character)
โณ๐ถ๐๐โฏ๐๐๐พ๐๐
โโฏโด๐ ๐ฆโฏ๐๐โฏ๐น๐
Those tunnels under what used to be Raccoon City smelled green with a sharp acrid undertone you'd come to associate with the things growing down here.
Condensation rolled down the curved concrete ceiling and dripped into dark puddles.
Leon walked point, muzzle of his gun sweeping low.
Every couple of steps your boot would scuff a chunk of broken concrete, or your sling would tap your hip. Leon never said anything, just turned his head a fraction every time it happened with the corner of one blue eye catching you in his periphery, checking.
"Behind me," he murmured for maybe the fourth time in twenty minutes.
"Already am."
"Closer."
You closed the gap and the back of his tac vest was sweat-dark between the shoulder blades.
Vines were on the walls.
You'd been seeing them since the stairwell, thin at first and no thicker than a finger, threaded through the cracks in the concrete.
They got bigger as the tunnel got deeper, now as fat as your wrist and woven thick across the right-hand passage.
Worse, they were moving and had a mouth, pink puckers ringed with rows of needle teeth, exhaling a thin acrid mist.
One of them spat as Leon stepped past and it hit the wall behind you with a hiss.
"Don't shoot 'em," Leon said quietly. "Conserve ammunition, knife if you have to."
"I know, Leon."
He didn't look back and held up his free hand to make an easy gesture, palm down.
You'd been told a hundred times in the last forty-eight hours to conserve every shell in his shotgun and round in your pistol for the bigger threats.
The vines that blocked the path went in clusters of one or two and Leon would step up and pin one with his gloved hand at the neck just below the head, vine trashing and bleeding thick green sap from the wounds caused by his hatchet before going limp.
By the fourth tangle you had the rhythm of it and Leon let you take the lead on the cutting once you'd proven you could do it without flinching, the closest thing to praise he was going to give you today.
It was after the eighth or ninth tangle that you saw the light at the far end of a long, straight stretch of tunnel.
Then you stepped over what looked like a crack in the concrete but was a root instead half-buried in the floor with only the top arc of it exposed.
You'd been told to watch the floor as well as the walls and your boot came down on the top of it with all your weight, causing it to spam.
Everything happened in one motion.
The root whipped up out of the floor with a crack of concrete dust and something erupted out of a seam in the wall to your left.
A vine as thick as your thigh, knotted with mouths and took you around the ribs.
It hit you so hard the breath came out of you in a single huff.
One coil, two, three, wrapping with sickening speed and pinning your arms, knife still in your hand but pinned against your own thigh, your feet leaving the floor as it lifted your body 10 feet up, pressure starting instantly and your ribs creaked, vision starting to fog at the edges.
You couldn't get a breath in past the coil at your diaphragm as a big mouth on the vine opened wide right in front of your face, dripping green acid and uncurling toward your throat.
A clack of Leon pumping a fresh shell into the chamber striking the thing about two inches from the soft pink palate inside that gaping mouth, making the mouth explode into a wet green spray that splattered the ceiling and your jacket, rest of the vine convulsing, coils tightening on you in a brutal spasm and then the whole thing went over sideways, slamming you down with it.
Concrete met your shoulder, wind knocked out of you again as the dead vine kept its grip.
You'd half-expected it to relax with the way dead things relax but this was a plant, not a person, stored in charge of turgor pressure and contraction proteins that had nowhere to discharge to.
Every cellulose fiber in it had locked.
Rigor mortis with a body wrapped in a corpse.
You lay on your stomach on the wet concrete, one cheek pressed to the floor, dead coils crushing you flat from shoulder blades to ankles.
You could still move your fingers and wrist but not your arm, resulting in the knife you were clutching tightly being completely useless.
"โฆFuck," you tried to wiggle, arching your back as much as the vine would let which was maybe two degrees and you tried to corkscrew your shoulders.
It was thicker around than your torso.
You held out for another thirty seconds of useless squirming, sweat starting to bead at your hairline, pride doing a lot of the heavy lifting.
"Leon."
Silence.
"Leon. Leon. Get over here."
You heard his footsteps, reloading his shotgun and watching you struggle.
"Yeah?" His voice sounded almost bored. "What do you need?"
You glared up at him as best you could from your position and he was backlit by the bright light at the end of the tunnel, hair hanging in his eyes slightly.
"Use that hatchet." You bit it out, ribs hurting. "Cut me out."
He didn't move.
"โฆLeon. The thing on your belt. Cut me out."
You waited for him to help you, say another one of his one liners or do anything.
A crunch of gravel came as he lowered himself to one knee beside you.
You couldn't see what he was doing with him behind your line of sight, somewhere down by your hip.
The vine had you pinned face-down, cheek to the floor and one arm folded under you with the other that splayed out with the knife still loose in your fingers.
His hand settled on the back of your thigh, sliding them slowly up the inside of your thigh, a wave of goosebumps crested at the back of your neck and made every hair on your scalp stand up.
"Y'know," he said in a low voice, "I can't actually remember the last time I saw you like this."
His hand kept moving, pad of his thumb tracing a line up the seam of your inseam and your hips tried to jerk but couldn't.
"Helpless, after another one of your stunts.โ He clarified.
"Leonโ"
"And I told you to stop doing this. You can't keep getting in front of me. I'm the one with the gun who's been doing this since forever. You stay behind me. And what do you do?"
His hand reached the top of your thigh, back of his knuckles brushing the curve of your ass through your pants.
"You get trapped by a plant right after another distraction.l
"Leon, it was concealed, I couldn'tโ"
"Mm."
His hand settled, flat, on the curve of your ass, palm big with the span of it covering more than half of one cheek. He squeezed to make his point and your whole body lit up.
"I think," he said, "I'm gonna take this opportunity to teach you a lesson about who's in command and who you listen to."
A spike of pure shocked heat went through you, followed by a delayed, panicked surge of โno, absolutely not, this is not happening.โ You jerked against the vine again and nothing moved, face burning where it pressed against the wet concrete.
"Youโ" Your voice came out higher than you wanted. "You are not serious, Leon. Get that damn hatchet. We're in the middle of a mission!โ"
"Mm-hm."
"Even if there was a world where I'd be up for it, I am literally pinned, Leon, I cannot move, you absolute arrogant, smug, condescendingโ"
You were working yourself up to a real head of steam and say things you couldn't take back.
He shifted and moved his weight smoothly and straddled the dead vine, kneeling between your spread-pinned legs, hips lowering down toward yours to press forward until the heavy bulge in the front of his tac pants pressed flush against the cleft of your ass through your own.
You stopped talking at the feeling of him hard and big, full weight of him settling against your hole through two layers of fabric, length of him dragging along the seam of your pants as he ground down once, a single unhurried roll of his hips that pressed the ridge of his head right against the spot where, even through cotton and webbing, your body knew exactly what it was being offered.
Every word in your head evaporated, mouth open as he let you feel him there, vine creaking faintly around your ribs as your body tried to push back into the pressure.
His hand was still on your ass and he squeezed a little harder this time.
"Are you done?" he asked, quietly.
You couldnโt answer, light at the end of the tunnel went on flickering its bright end, indifferent.
"โฆI'll take that as a yes."
You stayed quiet, lying there with your cheek pressed to the wet concrete and the corpse of a vine welding you to the floor, heavy ridge of his cock stopping in the grinding at the seam of your pants into your hole.
"Thatโs a good listening."
His hand left your ass and you heard the soft rasp of leather as he unbuckled something at his hip, followed by a heavy thunk of the hatchet head sinking into the dead vine somewhere up by your shoulder blades.
Three hard strikes and the coil around your upper back loosened, soon after the one around your ribs and that one across your ass.
He left a thick stub of vine pinning your shoulders and one arm pinned to the floor.
You understood the geometry of what he'd just done before your brain put it into words as he left you face-down, arms pinned and hips free.
"Leonโ"
"Shh." He didn't even look up, setting the hatchet down beside your head.
A reminder, maybe.
"I told you. Mโ teaching you a lesson."
His hands came back to you, settling on your hips and sliding up under the hem of your jacket, palms hot through the thin moisture-wicking shirt underneath as he ran them up the length of your back inside the vest.
He found the dip of your spine just above your ass and pressed his thumb into it, hard, your hips arched into his hand involuntarily.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "That's what I thought."
"I haven't said yes to anything," you hissed into the concrete.
"You haven't said no, either." His voice was so calm and flat.
โTell me to stop and I stop. Just tell me to stop."
You opened your mouth and closed it just as fast.
He gave you ten full seconds before the small breath of a laugh breezed over the back of your neck and his hands went to the waistband of your tac pants.
Flipping the button with his thumb and dragging the zipper down, hooking his fingers into the waistband and boxers at the same time to peel both of them down to mid-thigh area, cold air of the tunnel hitting your bare ass and the back of your thighs.
"Mm." Leon's voice, from above and behind, was appraising. "Look at you."
His hand settled, palm-flat, on your bare ass and squeezed almost painfully as his fingers spread, kneaded once and then his thumb dragged down the cleft of your ass and slid down between your legs.
"Oh, sweetheart."
"Don'tโ" his hand wrapped around your erected dick.
"Christ. How long have you been like this?" He sounded almost amused.
"Shut up."
His thumb dragged forward all through the veins and circled on the leaking tip.
Your hips jerked, dead vine creaking.
"Leon.โ
"I'm just askin'." Another slow drag.
He was barely touching your cock and you were already biting the inside of your cheek to keep from making sounds. "You don't have to answer. Your dickโs already telling me everything I need to know."
You made a noise supposed to be a curse that came out as something else entirely.
Hearing fabric between the clink of his own belt and rasp of his fly yet you couldn't see, cheek pressed to the concrete and your view was a wall.
Those noises your hindbrain put together from the audio were doing things to you.
His bare cock dragged, hot and heavy, across the curve of your ass.
You felt the weight from sheer mass of it as he laid it down along your crack and let it rest there.
You'd suspected he had always been this big, having caught glimpses of the outline of him through his pants on a hundred occasions when you weren't supposed to be looking, but suspecting and feeling were two different things.
The head of him was up at the small of your back, base of him was nudging your taint thick enough that when he gave a slow experimental roll of his hips and dragged himself along, you felt your cheeks part around the girth of him.
"Oh my god," your words got muffled by the floor.
Leon made a low, pleased sound. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, you feel that?"
Trying to wiggle your body to get more friction but nothing occurred.
"That's what you've been mouthing off to for two years." Another slow drag and the wet head of him left a sticky line on your skin. "You feel how much of me there is, sweetheart? You think your smart fuckin' mouth is gonna keep being smart with this inside you?"
"You're so full of shit," you ground out and it would have been more cutting if your voice hadn't broken in the middle of it.
"We'll see." He laughed quietly before shifting and taking himself in hand, knuckles brushing the inside of your thigh as he dragged the fat head of his cock down through the cleft of your ass, over your hole and coating himself in you.
Every time it bumped your hole you twitched and the vine creaked, bulky man above humming a satisfied little hum.
He notched himself at your entrance under heavy pressure resting there.
"Last chance," he said quietly. "Say stop."
You didn't, mouth open against the concrete and letting you taste tunnel grit along your own breath together with the faint chemical sweetness of vine sap, feeling that obscene blunt pressure, body already trying to open for him on its own without your permission and the word stop was nowhere in your head.
Leon waited a beat longer, then he pushed, slow and steady.
The head of him stretched you, rim burning around the flare of him and your whole pelvis was lighting up with the strain before it popped past, the widest part of him breaching and you choked on a sound that wasn't a word.
He kept going, sinking deep and letting you feel every ridge and vein on the underside of him dragging along your front wall. He was so thick you could feel the walls of your hole straining around him in a stretch that was right at the edge of too much and he just kept coming, giving one last firm press of his hips, pelvis meeting your ass and you realized he'd bottomed out.
You were so full your eyes were watering, dick throbbing on the ground below as he twitched in a heavy pulse that matched your heartbeat.
Leon was very still on top of you.
He'd lowered down, chest against your back through the layers of your clothes and his mouth was somewhere near your ear.
The bastard wasn't even winded.
"There," he murmured. "There we go, breathe.โ
You sucked in a shaking breath.
"Good." His hand slid up your side and along the underside of your arm, fingers lacing loosely with the hand that was still holding the knife. He squeezed. "Took the whole fuckin' thing."
"You're an assholeโ"
"Mm." Almost fond. "I know."
He pulled out but not all the way, just the head was inside you now before he began fucking you.
The first stroke knocked the air out of you with how deep he went again with the full length of him sliding back into the root with one long unbroken push and your whole body shuddered around the intrusion.
He set a pace that was torturous to say the least, every thrust a full-length drag in and out of you, pressing his pelvis tight to your ass and making the dead vine creak under your shoulders.
"This," he said, low, his mouth at your ear, "is what you should've been getting two years ago."
You made a noise supposed to be a word.
"This is what happens," another deep stroke, "when you can't keep your fuckin' mouth shut," another, "and you can't follow simple instructions," another, "and you keep stepping in front of me like you're the one with seniority here."
"AhโLeon!"
"Quiet." Firm, same voice he used in the field. "I'm talking."
He kept fucking you with consistency, every withdrawal pulled a slick squelch out of you.
Thighs and hands shaking, the one still tangled in his was squeezing his fingers white.
"You feel that?" he murmured. "Feel how deep I'm getting?"
"Y-yesโ"
"Yes what."
"Yesโ yes Leonโ" You made a strangled sound into the concrete and he laughed quietly above.
"Good boy." Another deep stroke and his hand left yours to cup the back of your skull, holding your cheek firm against the concrete. "Good. Now. Tell me who's in command."
"You areโ"
"Mm-hm."
"You areโ"
"And who do you listen to."
"You.โ
"And what are you gonna do," another stroke, harder this time, hips snapping forward and his pelvis cracking against your ass with a slap, "the next time I tell you to stay behind me."
"I'llโ" Another slap. You couldn't get the words out, he was fucking the breath out of you.
โFuck, Leon, I want you," another brutal thrust, his hand fisting suddenly in your hair.
He pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in to the hilt, over and over, pelvis cracking into your ass with a hard wet slap every time, sound of it ringing off the concrete walls of the tunnel.
Your cheek dragged against the floor with every thrust, pecs aching where they were crushed under your weight.
"I'mโ I'm gonnaโ"
"Yeah?" His hand left your hip and slid under between you and the floor and his fingers found your dick, pressing down on it, hard and ground the pad of his middle finger into it in tight circles at the top of the head in time with his thrusts. "You gonna come?โ
"Yesโfuck!" Out of nowhere your whole body locked up in one long convulsion that started in your hole and rolled outward through every muscle you had.
You clamped down on him so hard he grunted, hips jerking back into him on their own, riding the thrust, milking him, hole fluttering and squeezing in waves that didn't seem to want to stop.
He fucked you straight through it as he kept that brutal pace going, his fingers still grinding your pulsing cock.
He went tight all over, hips slamming flush against your ass one last time and staying there, pressed hard as he came inside you in long hot pulses that you could feel, heat of him filling you up in spreading flooding pumps that just kept coming.
A low broken groan against the side of your neck, forehead dropping to your shoulder and his whole big warm weight settling down onto your back as he emptied himself into you.
His big body draped over your smaller one, weight pinning you almost completely.
"โฆOkay?" he murmured, after a while.
The question was so quiet and sudden that you almost laughed.
"โฆYeah."
"Mm."
"โฆMy ribs hurt."
"Yeah." He kissed the side of your neck. "Yeah, I bet they do."
He pulled out then and you whined at the empty drag of him, cum sliding out of you in a thick hot rush, down between your thighs.
Rasp of fabric as he tucked himself away and his hatchet was in his hand, working you free.
When you were loose he turned you over gently and gathered you up against his chest.
You were a mess and he didn't seem to care about any of it.
"You did good," he said quietly, into your hair.
"โฆDon't you start."
"Mm." A breath of a laugh. "Fair."
"You good to move?"
"โฆYeah."
"Behind me," he said.
You swallowed.
"Yes sir."
The corner of his mouth moved.
"Good boy."
โฐ๐๐ฝ๐ถ๐ ๐ฒ๐พ๐๐โฏ๐๐
The bayou stank of rot before you even reached the Baker estate.
You remembered telling Ethan as much, slouched in the passenger seat of his Dodge Challenger 1970, swamp pressing in yellowish on both sides of the dirt road.
He'd laughed at you in a tired way considering all the hours you had been inside his car to get to Louisiana, soft laugh that always made your chest do something stupid and reminded you that you didn't have to come but you'd insisted anyway because Mia was his wife and you'd liked her well enough back when she was around, but the truth you kept locked behind your teeth was simpler and uglier: you didn't trust Ethan to come back alone.
Having been in love with him since college.
Mia was in the basement of this place.
The first wrong thing.
Second one was that she remembered you, recognized Ethan, right away told you that someone she mentioned โdaddyโ was coming.
Ten minutes later her veins went black, voice dropping two octaves and she threw you into the wall first, skull bouncing off old wood.
By the time you scrambled up, she had Ethan pinned by the wall and the noise of a chainsaw starting was the worst thing you had ever heard.
His hand came off and there was so much blood as you helped him up on his feet and pressed the wound to reduce blood loss.
Up in the attic there was a gun that Ethan used and emptied the magazine into his wife's forehead, making her drop on the ground while yelling how she loved him, before seeming presumably dead.
She had taken an axe to the neck and came back in no problem so you had a feeling this wonโt be the last time youโd see her.
You remember Ethan staring at his own wrist where his hand used to be and remembered a big shape filling the frame.
โWelcome to the family, son.โ
Jack Baker hit Ethan first, then he hit you and youโve reached floor level.
When Ethan came to, he was tied to a dining room chair, severed hand stapled back to his wrist with industrial staples. The pain was distant with shock taking almost all the glory, body smarter than his head for once.
"Who are you?" he croaked at the disturbing family consuming humanโ remains.
The chair next to him was empty.
"Hey. Heyโ where is he? Where the fuck is he?"
Ethan process the next two hours quite rapidly between freeing himself, a cop dying right in front of him, a lot of shooting and phone calls with a woman trying to help him and herself escape this nightmare.
Under all of it was the same five words drumming in his skull.
โWhere the fuck is he.โ
He searched and kicked open every door in the main house, mostly looking for you, calling your name in a hoarse whisper because something in him still thought the Bakers might not have noticed there was a second guest.
You weren't anywhere.
The phone in the trailer rang and he'd been told to come here by Zoe who had the missing head to make the cure.
"Heyyyy buddy." Lucas Baker's voice was a smear of grease and giggle. "I thought you should know, I decided Zoe needed a little time out. She and Mia are here with me. Theyโre keeping each other company.โ
Ethanโs grip tightened around the receiver until plastic creaked. โJust let them both go. What do you need them for?โ
โNah-nah-ahhhh.โ Lucasโ voice curled through the line like smoke. โThis is family business, Ethan, and not your concern, understand?โ
"Where is he, Lucas."
"Whoa whoa whoa, no how's it hangin'? Rude."
"Where. Is. He."
A long, theatrical sigh on the line followed by a giggle that crawled down Ethan's spine.
"Aw, you mean your little tagalong? Hooo boy. He's fine, Ethan. He's so fineโฆ right here with me, actually." A pause, wet sound of Lucas licking his lips into the receiver. "Real pretty thing, ain't he? Didn't know you swung that way, big man. I mean, I don't blame you."
Ethan's grip on the receiver creaked.
"He's mine, by the way. I'm callin' dibs. Y'know, finders keepers."
"Lucasโ"
"Nah nah nah, lemme finish. Bet your best friend's been pinin' for that big dumb dick of yours for years and you ain't never even looked. That's sad, dude."
"I am going to kill you."
"Awww really? Come on I made a gift for you! I got him all set up nice in the barn. You wanna see him again? Better hustle, hero. He's been askin' for you."
The line went dead and Ethan stood there in the trailer with the phone still pressed to his ear.
His staple-stitched hand was twitching, knuckles of his good hand white.
He left the trailer at a dead run.
The barn squatted on the edge of the property, a sagging structure of black timber and rusted hinges.
Sickly-sweet fungal stink hit his senses.
"โฆEthan?"
Your voice cracked, muffled by something and coming from the back of the barn.
"I'm here," he said, and his throat closed up around it. "I'm here, just hold on!"
He rounded the stack of moldering hay bales and stopped.
There was a wall of plywood and two-by-fours hammered together, reinforced with steel banding and bolted into the barn's original beams.
It bisected the back of the barn floor-to-ceiling and in the middle of it, set at exactly the height of a man's hips, was a hole where he found you on the other side of the wall.
He could see your bare lower back, dip of your spine and curve of your ass where your jeans had been yanked down to mid-thigh along with your boxers shoved down.
Your hips were flush against the wood and there were leather straps bolted to either side of the hole that fastened around your thighs and waist, holding you locked in place at exactly the right depth, legs splayed back on the far side, bare feet braced uselessly against the dirt floor he couldn't see.
Your bare cheeks, cleft of your ass and pucker twitching glistening with either oil or lube and Ethan made a sound in the back of his throat.
"Ethan?" Your voice again, from the other side of the wall, thin and panicked. "Ethan is that you, please tell me that's you, I can't see anything."
"It's me. I'm here."
A speaker crackled to life from somewhere in the rafters.
"Awwww." Lucas. "Look at that. My heart, Ethan. Y'all are killin' me."
Ethan jerked his pistol up at the ceiling.
"Put the peashooter down for now and listen to your old buddy Lucas. I got a game for ya."
"Let him go."
"Mm. Nope." The giggle dropped out of his voice for a half-second and underneath was something colder. "I built that little contraption myself. Real proud of it. You see them tubes on the walls?"
Ethan looked and around the perimeter of the barn, snaked up the support beams, were translucent plastic tubes the diameter of a man's wrist. Inside them, sluggish and black and pulsing, was that same black mold.
"Those," Lucas chirped, "are on a timer. Ten minutes from when I stop talkin', they pop. Whole barn fills up with those monsters and they'll eat him from the feet up, eat you from anywhere they can reach."
"You're insane."
"And you're wastin' time! Tickety tock! There is, of course, a way to turn it off." A pause for effect. "Sensor in the hole, Ethan. Heat sensor set up so it deactivates the timer if there's a real specific kinda activity happenin' in there. Y'know. Activity."
Silence.
"โฆI am not," Ethan said slowly, "going toโ"
"You are absolutely gonna. 'Cause if you don't, he dies and honestly, Ethan, I'd kinda prefer that, so part of me hopes you say no. But the other part of me wanna see his face when his big strong best friend finally gives him what he's been wantin'. Pick a lane, hero. Clock's tickin'."
The speaker got destroyed the second Ethan fired his gun repeatedly at it and the psychoโs presence was gone from this place.
"Ethan, don't listen to him, just find another way.โ
He stood there, pistol hanging at his side and staring at the bare curve of your ass through the hole in the wall along the slick of lube smeared on you.
You had wanted him this whole goddamn time?
He stepped forward, barn floorboards creaking under his boots and set the pistol down on top of a hay bale within easy reach.
Behind the wall, you made a sound he'd never heard you make before.
A small, wanting sound when someone wants something the most in the world, is finally happening and it's completely wrong.
He stepped up to the hole and could feel the heat of you through the wood, that cologne you wore still strong and within his senses to pick up.
His staple-stitched hand came up and settled, careful and warm, on the small of your back.
You flinched. Then you pushed back into his touch.
"I'm here," he said, very softly, to the wall between you.
The timer in the tubes overhead began, faintly, to tick.
Ticking from the tubes overhead was soft at first, irregular pulse that Ethan counted under his breath without meaning to.
Roughly one tick a second, he'd done worse math under worse pressure in the last twenty-four hours.
His staple-stitched hand was still resting on your back, your skin was hot.
"Listenโฆ" he kept his voice low. "I need you to listen to me real careful, okay? Can you do that?"
"โฆYeah." Muffled through whatever was over your head, possibly a heavy fabric hood. "Yeah, I can hear you."
"Thereโs stuff in tubes all around the walls. He says they pop in ten minutes if I don'tโ if I don't do what he wants."
โOh.โ
"I'm gonna look for another way." His good hand was already moving, sweeping the wall on his side, fingers tracing the seams of the plywood. "There's gotta be a kill switch, or a wireโฆ i donโt know just keep talking. What did he do to you? Did he hurt you?"
A long, shaky inhale on your end. "He knocked me out in the kitchen and I woke up here and he was talking the whole time, Ethan, he wouldn't shut up about you and me. About how I could help him in a sick game of his."
Ethan's fingertips found a bolt of steel he couldn't pry it out with his nails.
"Can't you find maybe a crowbar, or you have your gun, you couldโ"
"I'm looking. Keep talking."
His hand traced higher, the wall went all the way to the rafters and the studs were bolted into the original posts of the barn.
He could maybe shoulder it down, given an hour.
He stepped back and looked at the six tubes again, each one fed into a central junction box mounted high on the back wall, behind the partition that was holding you.
There was a power cord snaking out of the junction box and running along the rafter, coming down a support post and disappearing into a wall outlet near the barn door.
A wall outlet, two-prong wall outlet.
"Ethan?"
"I'm here. I'm thinking. Keep talking."
"What are you thinking?"
He looked at the outlet and at the tubes.
He had a magazine and a half left, the outlet was maybe twenty feet away. If he unplugged it, would that kill the timer, or trigger it early?
So. Don't cut power but the cord downstream of the timer, jump the contacts, bypass it.
He could use the pocket knife he had and currently less than nine minutes left.
But he could get there, climb up and the timer would die without Lucas knowing. Even if he had a remote control far away he wouldnโt be able to do shit.
As long as the heat sensor in the hole stayed warm and busy nothing suspicious should happen.
There was the problem of the psycho who could have placed something hidden for audio quality.
The risk of Lucas hypothetically figuring out Ethanโs plan and activating an hypothetical existing shortcut to your demise was bot something he was going to risk.
Ethan's mouth went dry.
He could save you without fucking you.
He could also fuck you.
He could do both in the right order if the sensor only needed a body.
Looking at you through the hole and the slick clutch of your hole, twitching with each breath, heat and pressure sensor presents.
If he could keep something warm and snug pressed inside you, the sensor would keep reading positive while he was working on the rafters.
His own cock stuffed in you to the root would do that beautifully.
Okay. New plan.
Fuck you, get Ethan's free hand to the pistol and one very well-placed shot through the junction box at exactly the right angle to short the timer without sparking the mold.
Ethan exhaled.
"Okay," he said to you, low. "I think I see a way, but I need you to trust me. Can you trust me?"
"โฆAlways."
It was such a small word that hit him deeply.
"Then I need you to know two things." He stepped close to the hole again, until his hips were almost touching the wood. "I'm gonna do what he saysโฆ I'm so sorry. I don't see another move yet and the clock's runningโฆ but you don't have to do anything. Okay?"
A long silence on the other side of the wall.
"โฆIs there really nothing else? Like โ couldn't you just put your fingers in me? Would that count? The sensor maybe just needs heat, maybeโ"
"Maybe."
"โorโ or what if Iโ I don't know, what if I, like, faked it, what if we made the right sounds andโ"
"Hey."
You went quiet and he waited, letting the silence sit, interrupted only by the ticking of the tubes.
"You don't have to pretend you don't want it." He said finally, very gently.
Your breath caught in a sharp inhale.
"I'm notโ"
"Lucas told me." He didn't say it cruelly. He said it like a confession. "On the phone. He told me how you wanted me."
Silence.
"โฆOh."
"Yeah."
"โฆI'm sorry."
"Don't." His voice cracked, just a little.
In his pants his cock, which had been at half-mast since he'd first seen you through the hole, gave a hot, demanding throb.
A strange feeling of years of denial folding up and being put away.
The feeling of a man learning, in the worst possible circumstances, that he had been loved for a very long time.
"I'll take care of you, I promise. You donโt have to pretend.โ
A long, shaky exhale on your end, fight going out of you in one slow breath.
"โฆOkay. Ethan, please."
His cock kicked again in his pants and he undid his fly, button popping and zipper sliding down and his half-hard length flopped out into the air of the barn thick and already flushed dark, weeping a fat bead of pre at the slit.
He was big and you were about to feel it.
Spitting into his good hand and wrapping it around himself, working slow strokes from root to tip as be watched himself fatten up the rest of the way in his own fist, veins more visible along the shaft, foreskin pulling back tight and thick enough around that he had to spread his thumb and middle finger to span it.
โYou tell me if it's too much and I'll stop, promise to find another way."
"โฆYou won't have to."
"What?"
"โฆI want it." Your voice was barely a whisper. "I've wanted it for so long, please just give it to me, I'll take whatever you give me, pleaseโ"
Something hot and dark unspooled in Ethan's chest and he stepped up flush against the wall.
He gripped the base of his cock in his good hand and lined the fat, drooling head up against your slick, twitching hole. The heat of you radiated against his glans before he even made contact until he pressed and his cockhead nudged against the pucker.
"Hnnhโฆ god, Ethan," a sound of pure want from your mouth.
Huge like that just from the tip and he pushed, staple-stitched hand had come up to grip your hip through the hole, fingers splaying across the soft flesh of your flank to hold you steady as he worked.
Whatever oily slick had you opening for him slowly, ring of your hole stretching wider and wider around his cockhead, fat flare of his glans popping past your rim and you screamed (not from agony).
"EthanโEthan, ohโ oh fuck!"
His hand on your hip squeezed, he could feel you pulsing and fluttering in trying to figure out what to do with the intrusion all while giving you a full minute to adjust to pushing again.
He fed himself into you in patient slides and never withdrew, just more and deeper, your hands somewhere on the other side of the wall scrabbling at the wood.
"Halfway." His voice was wrecked.
"Halfway?" It came out as a sob. "Halfwayโ Ethan, I can't, I can feel you in myโ oh god, oh godโ"
"You can, you said you'd take whatever I gave you."
"โฆI did."
"C'mon. Take it for me."
Another long, slow push and your inner muscles clutching at every ridge and vein along his shaft.
His staple-stitched hand left your hip and traveled up, slid around to the curve of your ass cheek and his fingers spread wide as he palmed your whole right cheek perfectly in his big hand.
"Mine," he heard himself say very quietly, almost to himself.
He could feel the heat of your bare ass through the hole, wet seal of you sucking the rest of him in as he gave a final grinding push and his pelvis bumped up against the plywood, the entire thing of him lodged inside you, head of his cock pressed up against your prostate.
You were sobbing on the other side of the wall from overflow.
"Ethanโ I'm gonnaโ"
"Don't come yet, baby. We've got a long time to go. He needs the sensor reading for a while.โ He whispered the last part to you. โWe're gonna take our time and make it nice, okay?"
"โฆOkay." A high, helpless whine.
He held there buried in you for a full minute of not moving and letting his own body remember how to think.
Up on the rafters, the tube nearest the apex of the roof had the mold inside shifting and settling lower, the timer's mechanism doing whatever it was doing.
He glanced up, the junction box was twelve feet up. He'd need a clear shot or a clear knife angle.
The sensor was hot and Ethan just had to put up his best performance while he slowly, patiently, set up his real move.
He drew his hips back, drag of his cock leaving indescribable between the way your inner walls clung to him and the cool air of the barn hit his shaft as it emerged.
Pulling out until just the flared head was caught inside your rim and then he pushed back in all the way as he started fucking you.
Long and deep strokes, pulling almost all the way out and than pushing all the way back in, slap of his thighs against the plywood becoming a slow rhythm as he kept his big palm planted on your ass cheek, kneading, squeezing and occasionally giving you a sharp slap that made you yelp and clench around him.
He shifted his angle and tilted his hips down as the next stroke ground the head of his cock right into your prostate again and you came apart in sounds.
Every stroke hit it now consistently and you were just noise on the other side of the wall, a mouth and a hole with a body offering itself up to him. He could feel his own balls drawing tighter.
He very carefully reached his good hand back to the hay bale and closed his fingers around the grip of the pistol, staple-stitched hand staying on your ass to hold the rhythm.
Ethan brought the pistol up, eyes tracing the line of the cord up the post and along the rafter to get on the junction box.
He took aim with one hand and squeezed, shot cracking through the barn as the junction box exploded in a shower of sparks, tubes overhead making a long, wheezing sigh as their internal pressure released harmlessly into the rafters.
The mold inside them sagged, now dead and inert.
Now the only sounds in the barn were the slap of Ethan's hips against the wood and your high, dazed moans.
You hadn't even noticed with how far gone and cock-drunk you were that the gunshots had just blurred into the background of the noise in your own head while taking it, mouth open against the wall as every nerve in your body was screaming.
Ethan dropped the pistol back onto the hay bale and put both hands back to fully fuck you, slow patient strokes that had turned into something harder.
"You're safe." He grunted it into the wood. "We're safe. It'sโ it's done, I just need to finish, I'm so close."
"Yesโyes, yes, yes, please, please!"
He gave you a dozen more long, deep, brutal strokes and his shaft was throbbing, every vein on him was pulsing in time with his heart as he buried himself to the absolute hilt one last time and he came in long flooding pulses, balls emptying everything they had into you as he felt you clench around him.
Then he felt you come as your whole body locked up, hole spasming around his cock and your own untouched length presumably spilled untouched onto the dirt floor on your side of the wall, all from his cock alone.
He kept pumping, slow, milking the last of it into you, hot trickles down the insides of your thighs.
You whimpered, already half-unconscious by the sound of it while coming down hard.
Very slowly, he eased his softening cock out of you and a white runnel followed down the cleft of your ass.
He tucked himself away and buttoned his fly, picking up the pistol and walking around the partition
You were strapped into a wooden frame, hands bound to a crossbeam above your head and hood pulled low over your face, bare from the waist down and trembling.
He undid the straps, pulling the hood off gently and your eyes blinked open, wide and dilated.
"Hi," he said.
"โฆHi."
"It's done, the timer's off. We're okay."
A long pause while you tried to make the words make sense in your fucked-stupid head.
"You shot the timer during?" Your voice was hoarse.
"Couldn't risk him possibly noticing.โ He couldn't help the small, lopsided and exhausted smile. "Multitasked."
You stared at him before starting to laugh and he gathered you up against his chest, kissing the top of your sweat-damp head as he held you tighter.
You couldn't see your own body, that was the first thing your brain kept tripping over between the heavy pounding at your other end and the wet rasp of your own breath in your ear.
From the chin up you were free and had a view of half a collapsed corridor and the long shadowed mouth of the tunnel the woman in blue had vanished down hours ago.
From the chin down you were buried, slab had come down at an angle and that was the only reason you were still breathing with the way it had pinned you front-down with your face turned out and your chin caught right at the edge so your mouth and nose hung free in open air.
Your hips angled up against the back side of the rubble in a way that put your ass at exactly the height of a man on his knees.
Carla had known what she was doing when she pulled the trigger on that grappling line.
You'd been following her for three hours.
Following was a generous term.
Chasing her.
She'd dropped half a ceiling on you and walked off.
Chris had found you later.
How long ago you didn't know.
Time had stopped meaning anything a while ago. You knew it had been long enough for him to comm for the rest of his men and long enough for him to figure out he could not, on his own, lift the slab off you.
It had been long enough for him to come around behind you, take stock of the angle of your hips and the way your tac pants had been half-stripped down off your ass by the friction of the fall and make a decision.
An hour? More?
You'd lost count of how many times you'd come.
The first one had been an accident, he'd been getting you ready, two big rough fingers working slow and patient inside you while his other hand spread you open and somewhere in the second slow drag of his knuckles against your inner wall you'd come on his hand without warning, drool sliding out of the corner of your mouth onto the concrete in front of your face.
He'd huffed a low laugh.
"Yeah," he'd said. "Yeah, that's what I thought."
Then he'd pushed in.
He was big, the man was a fucking mountain you'd known for six years of field decon tents enough times that the size of him was not, in theory, a surprise, but theory and the thing itself were two different categories of knowledge.
So thick the stretch of it made you sob into the concrete the first time he bottomed out and assaulted your prostate, causing your vision to white out.
The thing itself, four orgasms ago, had not slowed down and set a deep merciless pace that kept rocking your trapped body forward against the slab with every thrust.
There was a puddle of drool and tears under your face now.
Behind and inside you, Chris was fucking you steadily and didn't stop.
"That's six," he said, somewhere behind the slab and he sounded barely winded.
"Mm." Another slow heavy thrust, full length of him dragging out and sinking back in, your hips jolting forward against the slab and your forehead bumping the concrete. "You wanted my attention, you got it."
His big palm came down across your bare ass and you flinched, whole pinned length of you twitching, every time your ass clenched too tight around him in a way he read as โtrying to rush himโ, he'd slap you and growl โpatienceโ and slow back down to that same merciless grind.
"You wanna tell me," another stroke, "what the hell," another, "you thought you were doing," another, "going off comms?"
"Captainโ"
"Donโt captain me from down there."
Another deeper stroke.
"Three hours, soldier. No check-ins or location pings. I had Piers running circles in the east wing looking for your body parts."
"IโI was trackingโฆfuck! I was tracking theโ"
"I know what you were tracking." His voice didn't rise. It just got harder, the way concrete gets harder when it sets. "You were tracking Ada Wong. โPossible sighting, pursuing.โ You know what pursuing doesn't mean? Going dark for three hours and letting yourself get buried under a building."
Now a harsher slap came.
"I am not losing you because you got cute and went off-script chasing a coat."
"I'mโ sir, I'm sorry, I'mโ"
"Sorry's after." Another stroke, grind of his pelvis against your ass had become its own slow drumbeat, slap of skin behind you rhythmic. "Right now I need you to learn something. You hearing me?"
"Y-yesโ"
"Good." His hand came down on the small of your back where it stuck out from under the slab and he pressed, anchoring you.
He picked up his pace, grinding his hips tighter, finding the angle that put the thick head of him directly across the swollen knot of your prostate and started rocking into you in shorter, harder strokes.
You sobbed into the puddle of your own drool, hips trying to jerk forward and couldn't as your whole body was being wrung out from the inside by a man who outweighed you by ninety pounds at minimum and you couldn't even arch your back.
Coming from his cock for the seventh time with a long high broken whine, your own dick spurting helplessly into the small white lake you'd been adding to for the better part of an hour, ass clamping so tight around Chris that he grunted above you and held still for a beat to ride it out.
You were trying to breath with Chris balls-deep in your ass that footsteps came running up the corridor from the east, cadence of a man who had been sprinting for a long time and was running on fumes and adrenaline.
"Captain?!"
"In here," Chris called back, easy as anything, without pulling out of you and there was a deep wish to die that bloomed in your conscience. "Slow down Piers, heโs stable."
The footsteps slowed and stopped about ten feet from your head, you knew the exact moment Piers got the picture because he made a small sharp sound in the back of his throat.
"โฆCaptain."
"Nivans."
"Captain, what the fuโ"
"He's pinned." Chris's voice was perfectly level, another slow grinding thrust into your ass and your forehead almost bumped concrete. "Slab came down on the column and I can't lift it on my own. You got eyes on the rest of the team?"
"Th-they'reโ they're fifteen out, sir, they had to reroute around theโ"
"Fifteen minutes." A grunt another stroke. "Yeah, that tracks."
"Sir."
"Piers."
A long beat of silence as your glassy eyes slowly fixed on Piersโ face, fatigues in his face with his rifle slung.
Most loyal man ever to Chris Redfield, standing in a half-collapsed corridor watching his captain railing you into a slab.
"โฆIs he okay?"
"Yeah," Chris said. "Aren't you, soldier?"
"Yes sir," you got out into the puddle, gaze lowering again on the ground below in shame and aroused.
"Heโs been a little distracted lately." Another slow thrust. "Going off comms and chasing leads without backup. Thought I'd take the opportunity to remind him about chain of command."
Another long silence from Piers before you'd hear footsteps again and stopped in front of you.
You saw his boots now, standard combat boots, scuffed, laced tight and planted shoulder-width apart on the concrete about two feet from your face and he crouched, handsome and sharp face now into your field of view.
Intense hazel eyes from someone who knew you had been quietly infatuated with Chris for about three years and now here you were with your ass being slowly destroyed by the captain.
He smoothed your hair back while behind the slab, Chris started moving slower this time.
"He's right, you know," Piers said quietly. "You canโt disobey orders from the captain."
"I know. We'll talk about it later. Right now I want you to focus." He brushed his thumb across your cheekbone.
Chris had picked up the pace again behind you and Piers watched the way pleasure rolled through your face and broke up all attempts of translating thoughts into coherent words and his jaw tightened.
His other hand came up to start unbuckling his belt.
"Captain," Piers said without taking his eyes off your face, "permission to give the soldier something to focus on, sir."
A grunt from behind the slab. "Granted, Nivans."
Piers's belt came open with a small click, followed by the rasp of his fly. He kept his eyes on you the whole time and you opened your mouth, making Piers's breath hitched.
He took himself out of his fatigues with his free hand and guided himself forward, laying the head of his cock against your bottom lip, so hot and hard, wet at the tip from witnessing his captain obliterate your ass.
Salt-bitter taste of it spreading on your tongue the second he made contact and let you have it, holding the base of himself steady and waiting for you to lean forward into him.
When you tilted your chin out and took the head of him into your mouth, closing your lips around the flare of him, Piers's whole body shuddered above you, hand fisting suddenly in your hair.
"Fuck!" He breathed.
"That's it," Chris said from behind the slab, timing his next thrust to push you forward onto Piers's cock and you sank down another inch on Piers with the force from it and said soldier groaned through his teeth.
Between Chris's slow heavy grinding strokes in your ass and the way each one pushed your face forward onto Piers's cock, along the way Piers had begun to rock his hips in shallow counter-strokes that fed himself a little deeper into your mouth every time you came forward, you found a rhythm.
It didn't require thinking, your body was being used at both ends by two men who knew how to work in coordinated formations like you were another tactical operation.
Chris thrust, you moved forward and Piers slid deeper into your mouth.
"Look at him," Piers breathed.
"I been looking at him for an hour, soldier."
"Captain!"
Piers's hand cradled the back of your skull when hearing your words and he let Chris's rhythm do the work, holding you there with his cock sliding in and out of your mouth.
"Easy on his throat, Piers. Heโs been working hard."
You came again without warning, the way they all had been now and your body had given up on having control of its own orgasms about three back, ass clamping down hard around Chris, mouth slack and open around Piers while your own dick was spurting another helpless little contribution to the lake under.
Chris grunted while Piers swore softly and pulled back just enough that he didn't choke you while you spasmed, easing back in once your jaw remembered how to work.
You made a noise around Piers's cock that was meant to be โyes pleaseโ and it came out as a wet hum. It vibrated up the length of him and Piers's whole body jerked.
"Fuck!" Piers came with a long shuddering groan through his teeth, hand tight in your hair, cock pulsing hot down your throat in spurt after spurt and the sheer volume of it told you exactly how long he'd been wanting this and how much of it had been bottled up.
Swallowing because there was nowhere else for it to go and your throat worked around him.
When he was empty he pulled back slowly, head of him slipping out of your mouth with a long string of spit that connected you to him until it broke and fell.
Hair stuck to his forehead, flushed face looking at your forehead while you stayed slack-mouthed, still being rocked forward and back by Chris's steady rhythm.
Piers held your face in his hands and looked back.
"Tell him," Chris said, "what you're gonna do better from now on."
You looked at Piersโs steady eyes on yours and the shame of it should have killed you.
โI'm gonna check in on commsโ"
"Every," Chris said.
"Every single timeโ"
"Good, what else."
"I'm notโahโ I'm not gonna pursue without backup."
"And?"
"I'm gonna listen!"
โGood.โ His voice was strained now, deep slow grind of his hips starting to come apart into shorter harder jabs. "Good. You hear that, Piers?"
"I heard him, sir." Piers's thumbs stroked your cheekbones as he looked into your face.
"Then we're done teaching."
Chris came, hips driving flush against your ass and stayed there, grinding deep as you felt him pulse inside you in long heavy throbs that just kept going, letting out one low controlled breath through his teeth, big hand on the slab above your body as his weight settled forward against it.
"Five out," came a crackle from Chris's comm.
"Copy," Chris said, voice already back to normal as you felt his pants zipping behind the slab, rasp of fabric and click of a belt buckle. "Take the long way around. We're gonna need to brace the slab before we lift."
"Copy, captain."
Chris came around the slab, big shoulders with fatigues neatly back in order, face perfectly composed except for the slight flush high on his cheekbones and dampness at his hairline.
Currently stuck under half a ceiling in the bowels of Raccoon General Hospital with your rifle out of reach and radio crackling somewhere above your head.
Let's back up.
The hospital had gone bad really bad like everything in this city, bow overflowed with zombies from every corner.
You and Carlos had been trying to clear a path back to the staff stairwell, his rifle chewing through magazines and muzzle flash lighting up the hallway in stuttering orange pulses while you'd been on his six with your sidearm doing cleanup on anything that got past him.
You'd burned through a magazine and a half doing that and come out of the hallway into the records room with maybe seven rounds left between your sidearm and your spare, splitting off to look for anything to help against the army of undead while he held the door.
The records room had a maintenance access panel that opened on a low crawl tunnel running under the floor and about fifteen feet down the tunnel inside a case sat a hard-shell weapons open, on its side, contents spilled out across the concrete.
A Lightning Hawk, long barrel that could delete head and shoulders of anything.
The tunnel was tight, maybe two and a half feet high, three feet wide and you'd hooked your rifle sling over your shoulder so the weapon trailed behind instead of catching on the lip while starting to crawl.
You'd made it about ten feet when the ceiling had decided it was done, face now pressed against cool concrete and your ass in the air along your dignity in some other zip code.
Your shoulder had bumped a support beam on the way past and the whole section of ceiling about six feet in front of where you'd been had given up its career as a ceiling and become, effectively, a slab of fallen concrete sitting on top of your back.
It had landed on your tac vest, that was the saving grace with your gear taking the weight instead of crushing your spine.
You also could not, however, move.
Tried to push up for about ten minutes or crawl forward and simply couldn't, hips caught at an angle where the slab pinned the back of your vest to the floor and your ass was wedged up against the underside of the rubble at exactly the wrong angle.
Tried to wriggle backward and it worked the worst of all, because your tac belt had snagged on something on the way down and now any backward motion just yanked your pants further down your hips.
Your ass was bare to the open air of the tunnel and you could not, for any amount of leverage your arms were giving you, get your pants back up.
You'd been working on a plan of using your sidearm to shoot the support strut to your left, which you thought might, possibly, redistribute the weight of the slab off your hips enough to let you wriggle forward.
"Tell me my eyes are lyin' to me right now."
You closed your eyes.
"Carlos."
"'Cause from where I'm standing, my eyes are tellin' me that my partner got his ass stuck in a hole and I gotta be honest with you, parceiro, I was hopin' for a better answer than that."
His voice was getting closer while he crouched now, moving up the tunnel toward you and you could hear his gear shifting. "Iโm been poppinโ zombiesโ head with my rifle and you decide to play ostrich?"
"I'm not playing ostrich! Iโm fucking stuck. Look, six feet in front of me, on the ground."
A pause as Carlos's boots stopped scuffing forward and you heard him shift his weight, going quiet, looking down the tunnel past you to spot the weapon.
"โฆCaralho."
"Yeah." A long low whistle.
"Okay. Okay, fine. I take back the ostrich thing. Mostly, like sixty percent of the ostrich thing."
"Thank you."
"That's still a lot of ostrich, just so we're clear."
You heard him drop, shift of his gear along a small grunt as one knee went down behind you. He was kneeling now right behind you.
He didn't say anything for a beat.
Then his voice came, lower:
"Now, you wanna explain to me why your bunda is hangin' out the back of your pants, parceiro? Not complaining."
"Belt got snagged when the ceiling came down. I can'tโ" you tried again, just to demonstrate, small hopeless wiggle of your hips that did absolutely nothing except waggle your bare ass at him in a way that made you immediately regret it, "โI can't get 'em back up, my arms can't reachโ"
"Mm. Yeah I see that."
A pause.
"Y'know," he said, "you got yourself in a real interessante position here and I'm thinkin' to myself, Carlos, meu amigo, you been workin' real hard upstairs. Your shoulder hurts from the recoil and here is your partner presentin' to you like aโ"
"Carlos."
"โcomo uma oferenda, okay?"
"I am not a thank-you note."
"You sure look like one."
His hand landed on your ass, heavy and warm, calluses across the knuckles from a decade of rifles and ropes, spread of that hand across one of your bare cheeks covered nearly all of it and squeezed.
"Mm. Look at this ass stuck down here in the dark with no one to appreciate it but me."
"Carlos, are youโ now? Like this?"
"Why not?"
"There are zombies upstairs."
"Door's locked on my way down, heard you yelpin' on the radio so I came lookin'."
"I wasn't yelpingโ"
His hand kept moving almost possessively down the curve of your ass, across the meat of your thigh where it disappeared under the slab, back up.
"So," he said simply. "You up for this or what? 'Cause I gotta tell you. I'm lookin' at what's in front of me right now and I'm motivated."
"Carlos..:"
"Just say the word. Yes or no. I ain't gonna be weird about it, tรก?"
You were quiet for about three seconds.
"โฆthat magnum's still down there."
Carlos laughed and his hand slapped your ass, almost playful.
"That a yes, parceiro?"
"โฆThat's a yes."
You heard him work his belt, the fly went and the rasp of his fatigue pants down his hips. You couldn't see it but your imagination filled in the gaps with details not helping your blood pressure.
"Lemme see what we're workin' with," he muttered to himself, both hands spreading you, big thumbs dragging across the seam and you felt the breeze of the basement on parts of you that had not, in your professional life, ever been exposed to the breeze of a basement.
"Hm. Okay. You ain't been broken in for a while, nรฉ?"
"Jesus, Carlos!"
"What. I'm bein' polite."
You heard him spit and felt it land on you, thumb rubbing it down into you in slow circles.
"There's lube in my belt pouch," you got out.
"Oh? Olha sรณ. My man came prepared."
"It's for gear maintenance Carlos."
"Yeah, sure, where's the pouch."
"Left side, belt. Second pouch back."
He found it as you heard the click of the pouch unsnapping, rummage and small grunt of triumph when he came up with the little foil packet. You heard him tear it open with his teeth, squeezing it onto his fingers and rubbing them together to warm it.
One slick fingertip circling your rim in slow easy passes and only when he felt you breathe out and ease did he press in.
"There you go, Calminho."
"Carlos, you don't have to. I'm not made of glass.โ
"Yeah, but I am big and I ain't tryin' to wreck you on the floor of a hospital, tรก? So we go slow."
"How big."
A small dry laugh.
"I'm not gonna stand here in a duct measurin' my dick for you. Just open up."
His finger sank deeper to the second knuckle and held it there, letting you breathe around it before starting easing it in and out in careful drags, hand still on your ass, big palm splayed out across one cheek holding you steady.
"Y'know," he said conversationally, as if his finger weren't currently buried inside you, "I been thinkin' about this for a while."
"Yeah?"
"Mm-hm. Truck rides, you fall asleep in the passenger seat sometimes with your head against the window. I look over and I think to myself โthat right there is a problem.โ"
"A problem."
"Yeah 'cause I'm tryin' to drive and keep my eyes on the road."
He'd added a second finger while he was talking and you felt the stretch open up around him.
You sucked in a breath against the concrete.
โRelaxa pra mim."
"I think we'reโฆ Yeah. I gotta tell you. Sittin' here lookin' at you all spread out makes me feel like a lucky man tonight."
"Carlos pleaseโฆ"
"Please what."
"Please get on with it!"
You heard him slick himself, low grunt he made when he gripped his own length and you heard the change in his breathing, slow exhale as he worked himself slick.
Then the head of him pressed against you and you realized Carlos had not been fucking around about the size thing.
Blunt head of him at your entrance thick, sheer girth of him stretching you out at the rim before you'd taken so much as the tip.
"โฆAhโCarlos!"
"I do not joke about things like this."
He pressed in with one hand on your hip and one hand on the small of your back where it stuck out from under the slab and he eased inch by careful inch.
God, he kept going. You'd thought you had the measure of him from the first stretch at the rim but he was still pushing in, opening up around him and the burn-stretch of him kept getting deeper.
He bottomed out and you felt his hips meet your ass, rough fabric of his unbuttoned fatigue pants brushing the backs of your thighs, pelvis flush against you as he held there a good long minute, letting you breathe and get used to it, heavy length of him sinking deep and the slow grind of his pulse against your inner walls.
"Olha pra vocรช." His voice was rougher now, easygoing teasing edge stripped down a notch.
His big palm slid up your back where it stuck out from the slab and back down to your ass as he squeezed.
Then he started moving, full length of him dragging in long unhurried strokes.
He angled his hips and the thick head of him dragged directly across your prostate on the next slow stroke, making you see white behind your eyes.
"There it is. Found it." Pleased. โKeep makin' that noise for me.โ
He fucked you on that angle without stopping, heavy stroke nailing the spot inside you that turned your bones to water and you were drooling onto the concrete, cock hanging hard and untouched between your legs leaking down to the floor,.
"You gonna come for me? Without me touchin' your pau?"
"Yes!" You came harder than the situation seemed to warrant, your whole pinned body going taut and your ass clamping down around Carlos's cock and your dick spurting helplessly onto the concrete underneath you in long pulses you couldn't control.
Carlos groaned above you and held his hips flush against your ass, grinding in deep through it, riding you out, pulse of you milking him in a way that almost broke his rhythm.
"Inside?"
"Carlos, I swear to godโฆ"
"Just askin'! I am being polite!"
"Inside. Yes. Inside, please!"
"Tรก bom, parceiro. Tรก bom."
He picked up the pace, slow patient grind breaking into something harder and faster, slap of his hips against your ass echoing off the concrete walls of the tunnel in wet rhythmic cracks, small grunt he made on every thrust getting tighter and shorter as he climbed.
With a long ragged groan through his teeth he came, hips jamming flush against your ass and grinding deep, thick pulse of him spilling inside you in spurt after spurt while grip on your hip tightened to the point of bruising.
"That wasโฆ give me a minute. I'm seein' colors."
"Take your minute."
He did while staying buried in you for it, big palm rubbing slow soothing circles on the small of your back, breath gradually evening out behind you.
Softening slowly inside you while nestled inside the slick mess of him already starting to leak down the inside of your thigh.
Eventually he eased out.
"Hold on." He fished around in his own pouches, came up with a field cloth and you felt him cleaning you up, down your thighs and the small โtskโ he made when he saw how much of him was leaking out.
"Made a mess of you, parceiro."
"โฆYeah."
"You gonna be able to walk?"
"โฆGive me a second."
"Take two."
He lay there next to you in the tunnel while humming two notes and his hand found yours in the dark, squeezing.
You'd be okay for the next stretch.
Note: Curious to know which one was your favorite <3
โกโก Just sending some love and positivity into your inbox. Love reading your works. And especially coming back to them again and again. Have a great day โกโก
Thank you! You have no idea how much I appreciate your words man <3 hoping all the best things to you as well
Hallooo, Dearest Blizzard! ๐๐
I hope you're having a fine dayy!
That's absolute fine! Take all the time you need, I'll send the request shortly after this, so you have easy access to it! Don't forget to take breaks whenever you can!
Omygod, Jack as Paddy was... ๐คค. I'm just thirsty for him at this point lol
AND YAY TIME TO ANSWER YER QUESTIONS! Absolutely enjoying these! ๐
1 what is YOURS favorite Jack OโConnell character? (Can add more if you like just like how I did)
I have a top three!
Number one is Brett! I've mentioned that he's the character that introduced me to Jack O'Connell!
I remember watching Eden Lake for the first time and his acting was just so good that I had to actively remind myself that Brett's not a real person lol.
Two is Cook!
Oh, Cookie! Absolutely despised him back then, but grown to love him after. Just a beautifully crafted character from start to finish.
I vaguely remember having a crush on him back when I was a teen. I've rewatched the show just so I can understand why and I concluded younger me prolly had a bit of a savior complex, maybe even till now, who knows? ๐ซฃ
Three is Remmick!
Remmick reintroduced me to Jack O'Connell cuz for a time, I sort of forgotten about him (A SIN, A TRAGEDY, I KNOWW ๐)
Watching Sinners for the first time, I remember pointing at the screen and kept saying 'Oh, he looks familiar' and 'I swear I've seen him before'. So I did a quick Google search of his filmography and memories of watching Eden Lake and Skins came flashing back!
2 you got any fic of mine in particular that you like the most? (Anyone can join if they wish <3)
THE JAMES COOK TRILOGY! WORDS CANNOT EXPRESS HOW IN LOVE I AM WITH THEM AND HOW AMAZING THEY ARE TO MEEE!
It's just so fuckin' good! ๐ญ๐
Especially reading them from start to finish! I've lost count of how many times I've read them! (I'm rereading them as we speak lol)
3 any fic in general that is your favorite?
Honestly, same answer as the question above! Once again, love love LOVE the James Cook fics you wrote!
Oh additionally, the Forever Together series you wrote holds a special place in my heart!
And mygod, scrprints' Jimmy Crystal fics! Specifically, Where You Belong and Naughty Lad are just delightful!
4 favorite game at the moment?
At the moment, Baldur's Gate 3! Currently in my... probably tenth playthrough? I mostly play it to dress up my character and my companions ๐คญ I like using mods in my games a lot!
But of ALL TIMEE, Dragon Age Origins - the game that introduced me to the genre!
5 whatโs a thing that gives you the ick in a fic?
In the fic itself? So far, I have none.
I've only recently reconsuming fics this year and before that, the fics I've read are maybe a decade old now. So I don't really have a clear recollection of my icks.
But what bothers me is when people don't properly tag their fics, whether it's for Female readers or Male readers.
What about yours? What gives you the ick in a fic?
And if you don't mind me asking, what other hobbies do you have aside from video games and writing?
Hellooo ๐ anon!!
Thanks for reaching out again and thank you SO MUCH for all the kind words! Iโm beyond grateful to know that you really like the James Cook fic I wrote ๐ฅน
Iโve just now realized that I also wrote that โForever Togetherโ series with Remmick! ๐ญ (My brain is like melting right now) That is definitely one of my favorite fics that I re-read constantly as well
SAME! I love @scrprints fics and constantly re-read them!
A bit tough to say what I find the ick in a fic, those things you said about the wrong tagging things are definitely one of them. Iโd say that Iโm not the biggest fan of those fics that tend to be pure smut with the male character acting very generic, like when itโs written by someone who just found said character hot and wanted some smut with not even a try in adding said characterโs unique traits, lore around him and personality/accent (i hope this made sense)
Beside writing and playing video games, I do am quite busy with university and stuff but I guess I can say that I do like being active. Going three times a week to the gym and trying to stay healthy and all of that ๐๐ป๐ช๐ป
I just finished reading your Paddy request anon! My god you got a beautiful mind! Keeping it in mind inbox for easy access <3
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Hello, been a while. But I suggested a while ago the Patrick and Jimmy fics. Well I have come back with another request. Only if you have the time. I have an idea for Roy. And I don't know how inclined you are at writing multiple men in one story going down on him. In a heavy non-con way.
So, Roy is on the run from a posรฉ of Marshalls hunting him. He's riding on horseback trying to out run them. They firing their guns chasing after him. He gets away, barely, and dips into a mini forested area. His horse is worn out and not doing to well so he makes a note that he'll need another.
At night when he thinks he's in the clear. At least for now. He chances taking a small rest after being on edge and the lookout for hours. The marshalls eventually catch up with him. And because he's been on the run for days the light sleep he thought he was getting turned deeper and he doesn't hear them surround him.
The waste little time and and work together capturing him. Rope gets tied around him, at least his upper half to keep him from reaching for his gun. They disarm him and strip him down. Part of this is humiliation. And the other part is they wanted to abuse him once they got a good look at him days ago.
Roy of course struggles but they out number him. He's forced to give one of them a bj, while another gropes him, and then another uses him from behind. They all take turns until hes a used mess. They mock him and add how easy he is, how this is the infamous Roy Goode reduced to their plaything.
I'm sure you can make it more interesting and creative. If you do decide to write it.
- ๐ค๐ค
Hello anon, appreciate you sharing your ideas <3
I just wanna say that Iโm all up to write dark stuff but I donโt really write male oc content. This is more a simple male reader blog with the latter being the bottom in the relationship (as of right now at least). Thanks for understanding
Hallooo, Dearest Blizzard! ๐๐
How are youu? I hope your day has been good!
I've finished watching SAS Rogue Heroes and all I can say is that I'm in love... and inspired!
I've cooked up a Paddy Mayne request for thee! However, I do want to know if I want me to hold on to it for now cuz I noticed you have a lot of requests right now and I don't want to overwhelm youu
- ๐๐
Hello ๐ anon! You can send it if you want, just know that it might take me a bit of time to get to it due to the situation Iโm in and me wanting to do one or two requests that had been rotting for a while, using the little free time I currently have.
Thanks for understanding and for the patience, really ๐ฅน it wonโt be long before this nightmare end and Iโll be able to enjoy summer as well and write more stuff for fun.
Hope you liked the series btw! Jack is so hot when playing Paddy~
Also btw yesterday I was completely busy with repeating that I forgot to pay back for that message you sent when I was bored (still am) so I hope is okay if I may ask a few things as well!
(Send in the request separately donโt worry)
1 what is YOURS favorite Jack OโConnell character? (Can add more if you like just like how I did)
2 you got any fic of mine in particular that you like the most? (Anyone can join if they wish <3)
3 any fic in general that is your favorite?
4 favorite game at the moment?
5 whatโs a thing that gives you the ick in a fic?
2. If you could have any superpower, what would it be? AND I MEAN ANYY, GO CRAZY WITH IT!
3. Who's your favorite Jack O'Connell character? And why did they become your favorite?
4. What's the favorite fic that you wrote?
5. What's your favorite fic overall? It can be yours or others, and if you can, please share! ๐ฅบ
That's all! ENJOYY!
- ๐๐
Hello ๐ anon!!! Time to have fun
1-favorite game at the moment is Resident Evil biohazard. I have replayed it so many times and platinum it two times from my two different accounts as well ๐ญ
2-itโs a bit basic but I would just love to fly quite frankly. If we wanna go on a more crazy approach through I would love to be able of creating many monsters all at my comand
3-I will always say Remmick since he was the one that introduced me to the amazing fandom of Jack OโConnell + he looks too good with those fangs, red eyes and drenched in blood.
My second favorite though is definitely Oliver! Mostly because I read the book and I just loved the way Jack portrayed the character
4- ๐๐ฅ๐ข ๐ก๐ข๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฉ'๐ฐ ๐ค๐ฏ๐ฌ๐ฌ๐ช or ๐๐๐ฏ๐ช ๐ช๐๐ซ-๐ฑ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ซ๐ค (I canโt decide ๐ญ)
5- This is hard considering how many Iโve read in all of those years but there is one that I had always come back to constantly and itโs this one:
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I love listening to a lot of italian rappers like Sfera e Basta, Lazza, Kid Yugi, Shiva to name a few. Got a concert coming up in like 20 days as well :)
The latest one I have been into
I do also love listening to pop music, be it in English or in italian
peak sexy fanfic idea: remmick is in the mood for killing and wants to eat. he manages to enter a lonely, quiet house. his purpose was to kill and drink blood from the owner but then he saw the owner's boyfriend. he liked that sight in front of him so he decided to be more sadistic than usual. before he kills the reader's boyfriend, he wants to torture him a bit (a lot). he hits him and fucks the reader in front of him, as the boyfriend watches every detail. it is non-con kinda, but in the middle of it the reader realises that remmick fucks him better than his boyfriend.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Sooo the goat sacrifice worked! They've just announced the Code Veronica remake! AAAAAAA OMGOMGOMG
And I'm sorry to hear that exams are fuggin up your mental health! Please take breaks whenever you can!
Sending lots of lovee!
- ๐๐
Omg anon I woke up and saw it as well!!!!!! Finally weโre gonna have Claire and Chris together!!! Seeing the trailer I think theyโre gonna do maybe like requiem where Claire parts are gonna be horror and better in first person and Chris will take the action part and work better in third person.
Now Iโm also curious to see young Chris with the RE engine
Omg I canโt wait for next year already and play this with my little brother!
๐๐ฌ๐ณ๐ข๐ฏ ๐ฌ๐ฃ ๐ฑ๐ฅ๐ข ๐ช๐ฌ๐ฉ๐ก๐ถ ๐ช๐๐ซ
Ethan Winters x male reader
Summary: Sent away by your own people as a disposable sacrifice, you should have died forgotten upon a mold-covered altar hidden within the Romanian mountains to show the devotion for the new Lord that came, but he saved your life. Now thereโs a towering pale woman who sees nothing but a sack of blood to feed on; a man with a giant hammer that sees nothing but a subject to experiment on for his army; the figure of the village that sees a vessel for her deceased daughterโฆ but he had found a companion to fill the silence of a long and lonely immortality.
He would tear apart an entire village before allowing anyone to take you away from him.
Tags: Male Reader. No Use of Y/N. Lord Ethan Winters AU. Canon Divergence. Dark Ethan Winters. Gothic Horror. Possessive Ethan Winters. Obsessive behavior. Protective Ethan Winters. Corruption. Infected Reader. Mold Infection. Body Horror. Touch-Starved Characters. Emotional Dependency. Unhealthy Attachment. Eventual smut.
โณ๐ถ๐๐โฏ๐๐๐พ๐๐
Words count: 6200
Village sat cradled in a shallow basin of the Romanian mountains, hemmed in by black firs. Snow lay packed in the seams between the cobblestones of the central square, gone grey from soot and boot-treads.
Houses leaned into each other on either side of crooked lanes, thatched roofs sagging beneath the weight of late winter, walls of timber and crumbling whitewash patched with whatever boards the men could spare.
Smoke curled from squat chimneys and was instantly snatched sideways by the cold.
To the west loomed the silhouette of Castle Dimitrescu stabbing the dog heavy sky.
At south the reservoir laid flat and oily, long straggling shacks of the fishing village clinging to the banks where Moreau's stink mucuses kept the water at bay.
Eastward, past the graveyard with its leaning crosses, that rusted bulk of Heisenberg's factory belched smoke that never quite cleared.
North, where the cliffs were highest and the trees densest, was the ceremony site itself.
A fifth Lord had come down beneath her wing and no one in the village knew his face or what he was.
Despite that, offerings had to go up the mountain path the same as always, into the dark where the new altar had been carved out of the old.
Everyone in the village understood the arithmetic of devotion by now.
Lady Dimitrescu would always hire girls that would serve at the castle, all reduced to slabs of meat hanging on a hook in the cellar by the next week.
Moreau took whoever he wanted for his experiments and half the lycans tearing through the woods at sundown still wore the rags of clothes their mothers had stitched.
Heisenberg's tithe came monthly, requesting always a small group of strong young men marched up to the factory gate with their hands roped together and all never came back.
You'd grown up with people who'd been swallowed by all of this, seen the faces of childhood friends frozen mid-stretch in the howling skull of a half-formed lycan, jaw still partway human, eyes still partway blue.
Tonight the lottery had come around again.
Luisa's house had been chosen because it was the largest with a fire still working. They cleared the table out, rolled the rug back and scattered ash across the floorboards in a wide ring.
Anyone in the village of a young age had been ordered to come; the freshest blood, ones whose offering meant most.
There were eleven as you knelt in the circle as well on the cold ash-dusted boards with your knees pressed together and your hands loose at the front. The girl on your right was crying without sound, just shudders running down her thin shoulders.
To your left a woman maybe a year older than you had bitten her bottom lip clean through, blood running down her chin in a single black thread.
In the center of the circle they placed a newborn, just barely old enough to crawl. tiny knit cap askew on his soft round head, fat little legs wrapped in wool, tiny fists.
He was Luisa's nephew, brought down from the high pasture for exactly this. They'd done it with a baby because this new sacrifice said only an innocent could feel the threads of fate pulling and a baby was the most innocent thing the village had left.
Small thing sat plopped on his bottom in the middle of the ring of ash and looked around with great big curious dark eyes.
He stuck his whole fist in his mouth and gummed it, drool shining on his knuckles before he gurgled something and laughed in a room full of people on the verge of crying.
On hands and knees, he started to crawl toward the girl next to you. M
She made a sound like a dying bird, a thin keening through her clenched teeth as her whole body shook violently as the baby crawled closer and you could see her chest hitching with the breath she could not get out.
He stopped a handspan from her knees and sat back on his haunches, drool pooling on his lower lip as he looked, head cocked slightly at her before his great dark eyes swung over and fixed on you.
There was no thought in those eyes, whatever moved through that small developing skull was not a thing anyone living could read.
He just looked at you before starting to crawl again, fat little legs scuffling through the ash until his tiny hands landed on your knees, warm and sticky as they pulled himself up your thigh, all soft baby weight and milk smell plopping right into your lap.
Looking up at you and letting out a loud delighted laugh, patting your chest with a wet palm.
Cold flooded down your spine all the way to your feet.
Someone behind you started weeping in relief, others made a quiet sick sound.
Luisa stepped forward and lifted the baby who reached after you with both arms and made a disappointed noise as he was carried out and the men were pulling you up off the floor by your elbows.
You don't remember why you didn't cry.
Maybe because the baby's laugh was still ringing in your skull and it had been such a clean small thing that crying felt obscene next to it.
They gave you a single hour to get ready, putting on the warmer of your two coats and lacing your boots twice.
The priest from the church mumbled words at you that slid off your ears before two men came to take you up the path.
Both of them were older by ten years. Stoica had a black beard going grey and a Mosin-Nagant slung over his shoulder, wood polished black with hand-oil, bolt sticky with the cold.
Andrei had a hunting rifle held across his chest and a long knife on his belt with a cracked bone handle.
They did not look at you when they tied a length of cord between your wrists and the back of Stoica's belt.
Both guns made small noises as they pushed you out the door into the dusk without even speaking.
The path north climbed out of the village and into the firs, snow much deeper, knee-high in places, branches crunching beneath human weight.
Your breath came white in front of your mouth as Stoica walked first, pulling you. Andrei stayed behind, rifle up, eyes flicking constantly into the dark between the trees.
The forest was full of teeth considering it was their resting place.
Your legs were numb halfway up, cord chafing your wrists raw and the cold made your fingertips throb, throat hurting from swallowing the same lump over and over.
A branch snapped extremely close, growls rolling out of the dark to the left of the path, an unmistakable corrugated rasp of a lycan throat.
"Stรขnga!" Andrei shouted and the rifle came up, muzzle flashing orange in the dusk and the report hit you in the ears.
Stoica was wheeling around firing too, working that bolt fast as his stiff fingers would let him and another shape was bursting out of the trees on the other side.
This was the opportunity you took to run.
Cord at your wrists going taut and then snapping, or Stoica's belt-loop tore, you didn't know which and didn't care as you were bolting sideways off the path into the snow and trees, Stoica was bellowing behind you, "Fucking idiot, I'll kill you!" and Andrei was screaming a different obscenity as the rifles kept cracking at the lycans approaching.
The snow was knee-deep where it had drifted, ankle-deep on the bare ground beneath the firs, treacherous everywhere with hidden roots.
You went down once on your left knee, hard, white pain forking up your thigh and you scrambled up and kept going. Your breath sawed in your throat, heart so loud in your ears you could not hear the pursuit but only the hammering of your own blood.
Ducking behind a thick fir trunk and pressing your back to it as you made yourself stop moving.
Behind, on the path, gunfire and a long ragged howl followed by wet meaty thuds of bodies hitting snow.
Much closer to your location you heard a low huffing snuffle from a lycan moving along the tree line.
Heavy claws compacting snow and crushing a buried root, the rattling exhalation of its breath full of phlegm caused you to hold your own breath until your chest hurt.
It moved past your tree and the hairs stood up on the back of your neck, arms and legs as you waited until you couldn't hear it.
Then you slid sideways off your tree, low to the ground until you were running again your hands up to ward off branches, going in the direction you thought was downhill but it might have been any direction, the firs all looked the same and the dusk had gone full dark now, only the moon glaring down through gaps in the canopy similar to long blue knives.
The forest opened and footing changed in sucking.
You'd come out into the swamp, reek of stagnant water hitting your senses.
Black pools shone here and there between humps of dead grass and rotting logs.
In the mist there were shapes of lycans by the way they stood hunched, sniffing the ground.
You crawled, cold black water soaked into your trousers up to mid-thigh and the cold of it made your bones ache as you kept the bulk of a fallen tree between you and the closest shape.
A lycan thirty feet to your right lifted its snout and snuffed at the air and its head turned, yellow eyes flashing in the moonlight as you froze with one knee in the muck, heart absolutely silent in your chest because if you breathed you would die.
Loud sound of a rifle cracking behind you and the lycan's head whipped around, it bayed in a hollow bone-rattling cry that made every other shape in the swamp lift its head as it bounded and the others followed it.
For one impossible miracle of a second you were alone and you took the chance to run.
Better say stagger โcause mud sucked at your boots and you had to wrench each foot up out of it.
You found a bank of slightly drier ground and you went to hide behind a big mossy stone, clamping your hand over your own mouth to muffle the wretched sobbing from it.
Andreiโs hand closed on your upper arm hard and you had no time even to scream before he was hauling you upright off the rock.
Half his shoulder torn open through the coat, blood everywhere, a huge ragged bite ripping the flesh down past his collarbone, his wild and bloodshot eyes emanating rage. "Come here you stupid brat!" he snarled, and yanked you toward him.
You drove your elbow up into his throat and he choked, twisting in his grip to get one wrist free and you tried to shove past him into the trees but his other hand came up with the knife.
A cold hard punch low on your left side under the ribs, followed by a widening sensation when he stabbed you and dragged the blade.
The hilt ground up against your coat and he pulled the knife back out, warmth came with it, soaking down your trousers in a hot wet rush.
Your knees went soft, both hands flying to the wound and you felt the lips of it wet under your palms as you pressed harder to the point your own vision white out for a second.
"Fuckโ" Andrei spat. He was looking at the dark stain spreading down your side, face twisting.
He grabbed you by the back of the coat and hauled you up over his good shoulder, bent forward under the weight and started moving.
The world swung upside down for you, trees blurring past, hand staying clamped on your side and you could feel the blood coming through your fingers in slow steady pulses that matched your heart.
Stoica came lurching out of the trees a few minutes later, left forearm a ruin of teeth-marks, skin in red ribbons and cuff of his coat black with blood.
He saw you on Andrei's shoulder and his face went white.
"What have you done you idiot!" He hissed.
"Heโs still alive."
"We were supposed to do it on that damn rock!"
"He's still alive, Stoica! Just move the hell faster."
Their voices came in and out of your hearing, pulse becoming the loudest thing in the world inside your ears and behind your eyes.
Each beat was a wet liquid thump and each one pushed more warmth out through your fingers and into the cloth of your coat. You watched the snow go past in patches under Andrei's boots, streaked with red where his shoulder dripped you.
Cold came in as you started shivering and could not stop, teeth clattering together and you bit your tongue, tasting iron on top of the iron already in your mouth.
The path tilted up as they were running now, both of them, Stoica wheezing, Andrei grunting with each step.
There was a rock that rose up out of the forest floor in the middle of a small clearing and it was mossed, weather-cracked along black tendrils crawling all over it like roots and veins, thick fibrous strands of something not quite plant or flesh but pulsing very faintly in the moonlight.
The tendrils ran up the sides of the rock and wove a kind of latticework across its top, with iron rings hammered into the stone at four points where the lattice was thickest.
All air around the rock smelled like wet rot and something sweet like old fruit.
They threw you down on it, cold of the rock punching the breath out of you as they pried your hand away from your wound and Andrei grabbed your wrist, slamming it up against an iron ring at the upper left corner of the lattice and looped a length of chain around it three times, clipping it shut.
Stoica did the same to your right wrist and your arms were spread, legs laying loose on the stone, twitching weakly because you didn't have the strength to chain those too and they didn't bother.
The black tendrils touched the back of your neck.
They were warm.
Stoica drew the long knife from Andrei's belt because his hands were shaking too badly.
He raised it over his head with both hands and his eyes were wet, mouth a snarl as he was muttering prayers to Mother Miranda through clenched teeth.
He coughed, small at first.
Trying to keep the knife up he coughed again, harder this time as a thin black thread came out of his mouth and trailed down into his beard.
Stoica started coughing in earnest, doubled over, knife dropping out of his hand and skittering across the rock. He had one hand braced on the stone right next to your hip and you watched the veins in his hand turn black.
It happened in seconds, thin spidery dark lines ran up under the skin from his fingers to his wrist and up under sleeves as the hand swelled, fingernails going black and curling before he started screaming, gargling, choking on whatever was that black slurry mix gushing out of his mouth, nose and ears all at once.
He sank down onto his knees on the rock and his face was sloughing, bone underneath the skin going soft, eyes filming over and then sinking back into the skull itself collapsing inward where the eyes had been.
Andrei was screaming a few feet away, his back in the snow, kicking, clawing at his own throat. His chest was heaving and his ribcage was visibly rearranging under the coat, ribs pushing up against the cloth at wrong angles.
Bites all over his arm had gone black, racing up his shoulder and into his neck and his jaw now unhinged, dropping open and far past where any human jaw should hinge, tendons of it tearing audibly with little wet snaps.
Stoica's beard fell off in a wet clump, skin sloughed off his skull and slid down over his collar.
Underneath, a thick moss had grown, crawling with thin fibrous filaments of black fungus that moved on their own.
It covered his entire head where the face had been and there were no eyes or nose, the middle of the moss-covered skull was a vertical slit open, peeling apart and inside there were jagged and mismatched teeth, bone-yellow.
His arms had gone long, fingers fusing into three big talons, then four, talons dripping the same black slime that ran off all of him in slow ropes onto the rock.
Andrei in the snow was already past it, his body had crumpled in on itself and reformed, hunched and lopsided, one shoulder higher than the other, bitten arm now a great whip of sinew with curved black claws at its tip.
He rolled over onto all fours, mossy mouth where his face had been opened and let out a long wet retch.
You watched all of this from the rock with your wrists chained above you and the warmth still leaving you in slow pulses through your side.
It was bad the fact you could no longer feel the cold of the rock. Your fingers had gone numb, each breath was a small struggle that took longer than the last to start.
The two creatures had not noticed you yet.
Or they had and they were not interested as they moved with a strange shuffling purpose into the trees.
Footsteps were coming the other way.
You tried to lift your head and it was so heavy.
There was a shape at the edge of the clearing.
A tall man, lean and in a golden jacket. Underneath you could see a darker cloth and his blonde hair stood up even further in the moonlight, mouth pulled tight at the corners.
He stopped a few paces from the rock, eyeing the chains and the dark wide spreading shine of blood on the stone beneath you as you barely heard him curse under his breath and he was moving fast then, "โshit, shit, shit, no, c'mon, c'monโ"
His face came in close above yours.
Tired blue or grey, hard to tell for your drowsy vision.
There were dark circles under them.
"Hey," he said. "Hey, hey, stay with me. I'm sorry, I should'veโI tried to get here sooner, I'm sorry, stay with me please."
His voice was soft, American and painfully relaxing to hear.
You tried to say something as your mouth moved but sound came, rather your eyes began to close completely.
"Don't," he said. "Don't talk. Justโ" His hand was at the chain on your right wrist and there was a small metallic snap as it came apart rapidly.
He did the left one too and your arms fell heavy at your sides.
His warm and big left hand found your shoulder, right hand coming down on the wound, pressing flat over the slick wet hole and you felt something move under his palm.
A sort of crawling and slow searching for the torn edges of muscles and nicked vessels, beginning to weave them back together one fiber at a time.
It went deeper, reaching everywhere it could now between climbing up along the inside of your ribs and threading across the floor of your lung.
Instead of pain there was a strange dull peace where the wound had been and a smell rising off your own skin like wet moss and old earth.
Through the slits of your fading vision you saw all the veins on the back of your own hand turning black for a single heartbeat.
Blackness ran up your forearm fast and then it faded just as fast. wound under his hand sealing in a series of tiny tugging pulls.
He was murmuring above and you couldn't catch the words.
His thumb brushed across your cheekbone while he observed with an expression that your blurred vision considered grief.
The tendrils of the black moss on the stone reached after you as he lifted, brushing along your back, reluctant to let go.
He pulled you free of them without a word and held you against his chest.
You could hear his heartbeat through the jacket and blue hoodie below.
The last thing you registered before darkness came up to take you was his voice murmuring above your head, not to you, to himself maybe.
Consciousness comes back to pieces, first there was a single bar of dim yellow at the edge of everything before there were blurred shapes that smeared when you tried to make them still.
A low droning murmur of voices that bent and warped as if you were underwater listening to people speak on the surface. You tasted copper at the back of your throat along something earthy and sweet and a little rotten.
You blinked, eyelashes scraping against each other like they had been gummed together with old sleep.
Blinking again, a vaulted ceiling slowly stitched itself together above you, dark beams crisscrossing high overhead, candle smoke drifting in lazy spirals up toward them.
Voices began to resolve, one of them belonging to a woman, smoky and aristocratic.
"โdo not see what use a single man-thing could possibly serve. My daughters love to entertain themselves and a man's blood is so much richer than these scrawny village girls. Surely the new little Lord would not begrudge me one paltry creature."
A gurgling laugh answered her that went on too long and it ended in a phlegmy snort.
You tried to turn your head, muscles in your neck answering slowly as you forced your eyes to focus.
The room was huge, stone walls hanging with columns gone black with age. A long table somewhere off to your right, half-glimpsed at the edge of your sight. You were on the floor, on cold flagstones, kneeling-slumped with your hands held in front of you and a great heavy weight pressing them together.
Two figures stood close to one another.
For a second you thought one of the two was a child before the shape clarified and your stomach turned over.
It was a doll the size of a five-year-old girl, perfectly proportioned, dressed in a wedding gown of white lace that ran in tiers down to her tiny black shoes. The lace was old and the white of it stood out against everything else in the room because everything else was so black.
Face made of porcelain, tiny hands folded in front of her.
It turned its head with a faint clicking sound and her little mouth opened and a high giggling voice spilled out, the voice of an excited child.
"He's awake!"
Every muscle in you contracted at once as you jerked and scrambled backward on your knees and elbows, bound hands scraping the stone, getting maybe two short shoves of distance before something yanked you up short.
A massive block of dark iron had been clamped around your forearms, wrapping them together at the wrists in a single solid mass with chains running off it to either side.
The chain rattled when you pulled and it rang against the stone with the dull resonant sound of old metal that had been used for a very long time.
Every head in the room turned.
The doll squealed in a delighted shrieking sound and clapped her tiny porcelain hands in front of her chest while the abomination of a thing next to her made noises as well
"Both of you shut the fuck up!" A man's voice growled from somewhere off to the side with real menace. "Christ. Donna, can't you keep your little wedding cake from squawking?" The voice swung its weight in your direction. "And you. Hey. Kid. Don't try and fuckin' run. You won't make it three feet."
Your eyes tracked sideways, the thing standing beside the doll, who you'd missed at first because the doll had taken all of your attention, was something out of a nightmare you had not yet been allowed to wake from.
Short and hunched, body bulbous and slick with a thick layer of mucus that dripped off him in slow strings onto the stone.
His mouth hung half open and inside it you could see needle teeth set in receding gums, two thin wisps of grey hair clung to the dome of his skull.
"Hhh-hello," he managed.
You scrambled again, away from him this time and again the chain caught you.
The doll turned and walked, small joints moving with the click of a clockwork inside her and the hem of her wedding dress whispered on the stone as she went straight to a figure standing in the dimness, a woman with no skin visible anywhere on her, head wrapped entirely in a black veil that gave her no face at all.
The doll climbed up the woman's robes and the veiled woman lifted her without a sound, settling her against her hip. The doll watched you from there with her chin propped on the veiled woman's shoulder.
The slimy creature shuffled forward, stopping beside another figure you had not yet allowed yourself to look at properly and now you had to.
A man with a hammer, dressed in a battered long coat and small round dark glasses pinched the bridge of his nose. His hair was long and grey, falling around his face while a cigar smoldered between two fingers of his left hand, ash drooping.
In his right hand, balanced on his shoulder casually was a sledgehammer the size of a grown man..
He grinned at you and there was no humor in the grin.
"Sleeping beauty's up, kids."
The slimy one, Moreau, the village had whispered that lordโs name for years, scuttled sideways a half-step but stayed close.
โYou mean you wanna screw around with him in private?โ the man asked the towering woman and he jerked his thumb toward you.
โWhereโs the fun in that?โ
A grin spread across his face.
โGive him to me. Iโll give everybody a show that you all can enjoy.โ
The towering woman standing opposite him didnโt even react, she merely regarded him with visible disgust.
Heisenberg looked over your head, at someone behind you, and his grin widened. "Hey, Lord-of-the-Manor. He's awake. Why don't you come on over here, get a little closer to your present? You're being awfully quiet over there."
You twisted, block of iron on your wrists scraped against the stone, sending up a sharp clatter as you craned your neck around as far as the binding would allow, finding a man already looking at you.
He was standing maybe five paces behind against a pillar, his shoulder leaned against the stone in a way that read as exhausted more than casual.
Hair a pale dirty blond, a clean jaw with the suggestion of stubble, straight nose and a mouth that pulled tight at the corners. His eyes were a pale blue-grey.
His right hand, folded into the crook of his other elbow, was the strange one. Bare to the wrist where the jacket fell back and pale, almost waxy, fingers a little too stiff in the way they curled.
Both of your eyes met his and held, something in them softened before he looked away.
His gaze slid past you, up, to the figure in the center of the room that had been there the whole time.
You only saw her now because you had finally let yourself.
Wrapped in enormous wings that fell from her shoulders and pooled on the floor around her in pleats of glossy black feathers, layer over layer, dozens upon dozens of feathers, each one tipped with the faintest oily iridescence in the candlelight.
Where a head should have been there was instead a cage with thin slats hiding the face within.
A high collar of more feathers framed the cage at the throat and a single golden ornament hung at her breast.
You did not need to see her face, having heard her voice in your nightmares since childhood and you knew it now even before she spoke.
"Ethan."
The blond man behind you breathed out through his nose.
"Yes?"
"You brought this one in yourself. You have not yet said why." Her veiled head tilted slightly to one side. The cage glinted. "What is it that you would propose?"
You twisted further around, chains rattling as the block of iron weighted your forearms toward the floor and you had to brace your weight against it in order to see him properly.
He had not moved off the pillar, arms still folded and eyes back to you for a flicker of a second, eyes dropping down your face to your throat and back up on Miranda.
"I found him up at the rock. The two from the village were already gone. They'dโ" his jaw worked, "โthey'd cut him open and run. He was bleeding out and I patched him up before him here."
His voice was tired, voice very calm as he spoke though, unknown to anyone, there was an undertone of seeping wrath at memories of what those brute men had done to you .
"I want to ask," he continued, "if we could stop this ritual thing. I get that there's tradition here and uhโฆ people scared. But killing each other to get to me before I'm even in the picture, considering I never asked for any of that, is something I'd like to stop."
In your skull a series of small wires connected to each other.
He was the new Lord that you had been sent as a sacrifice for, he had saved your life and lied about how he brutally turned two men in terrifying monsters.
The fifth Lord beneath Mother Miranda's wing that one no one had ever seen.
A startled wet laugh exploded from Heisenberg's chest at the concept of Ethan finding dead corpses in his area worse than cats with mice.
Lady Dimitrescu's voice cut across the laughter. "If the little Lord finds the rituals so distasteful, then by all means, divert them. Send the lots to my castle instead. I will gladly accept what he cannot stomach. My girls would be thrilled."
"Oh, sure," Heisenberg snorted. "Of course Her Royal Big-and-Hungriness wants more food, you'd eat your way through the whole damn village if Miranda let you."
The temperature in the room dropped.
"So gauche," she said and her voice wasnโt shy in hiding contempt, "if you speak to me in that manner one more time, I will personally see to it that your insides are decorating the rafters of your own factory. Are we clear?"
"Shut your damn hole. Go look for your food somewhere else."
"You stay quiet and let civilized people talkโ"
"ENOUGH."
The single word rolled through the room as Miranda's wings flared, opening outward in a great rustling cascade of feathers, four enormous black sails unfurling from her back, two and two, layered over each other, blotting out the candlelight behind her.
A single moment she stood there, framed in her own wings.
The next, she was gone and a cloud of crows erupted where she had been, great boiling mass of black bodies and beating wings, all of them screaming at once as the cloud surged forward toward you and you flinched back hard, chains going taut as a feather brushed your cheek.
She appeared in front of you. The cage of her head loomed two feet from your face and you could feel cold coming off her.
Walking slowly around you, the hem of her feathered robe whispered on the flagstones as you followed her with your eyes as far as you could, twisting at the neck.
"Ethan," she said, conversational, almost gentle, "you mentioned that he was wounded."
"Yes."
"I see no blood on him." She circled past your left shoulder, head tilted as if she were studying you. "I see rent in his clothing but no pallor of a body that has lost a dangerous amount of itself. Curious."
"He's bandaged."
From the flagstones at your knees a long black ropy tendril burst up from between the stones with a wet thick sound and you jerked so hard that the iron block clamped on your wrists cracked against the stone.
The tendril rose up in front of you, sleek and pulsing, its surface glistening with the same slimy black moss you had last seen growing on the bodies of two men in a clearing.
Fibrous, made by millions of tiny filaments that pulsed faintly.
It bent toward you and touched the hem of your shirt with an almost shy little hook of its tip and it lifted.
The shirt rode up your abdomen.
Around your middle, wrapped in a clean spiral from just above your hip to just below your ribs, ran a band of pale linen bandage.
No blood had soaked through, cloth perfectly white without a single rust-colored seep.
Miranda was silent for a long moment.
"Mmm," she said at last, somewhere between a hum and a doubt.
She had seeded the village, she knew exactly what a knife wound from one of her own peasants did to one of her own peasants and she knew that a wound that put you on a man's shoulder bleeding through his coat was not a wound that closed up under a wrap of linen by the time you woke.
The tendril let your shirt fall back into place and slid back down into the stone, vanishing entirely between two flagstones.
Miranda stood there and tilted the cage one way before turning and addressing the room.
"Keep him, then. For all I care."
"Motherโ" Lady Dimitrescu began.
"My decision is final. There will be no argument." The voice rose again and the wings stirred. "Remember from whence you came."
Silence.
Heisenberg's jaw worked as he took the cigar out of his mouth and tapped a long curl of ash off it onto the flagstones.
He muttered something under his breath that was almost certainly obscene.
Miranda's veiled head turned toward him alone.
He sighed in a long theatrical sigh.
"All right. Take your toy, Ethan Winters."
He raised his right hand and it glowed, faintly, an inner blue light that ran in thin pulses from his palm out along his fingers.
The block of iron clamped around your wrists shuddered, chains shuddering with a scraping protest, peeling away and flying through the air toward him in a sudden rush of metal. He caught it on the head of his hammer without even glancing at it.
Your hands fell free and you drew them in close against your chest, rubbing at them slowly with the pads of your thumbs.
You felt very smaller than you had ever felt in your life while staying between all those lords.
A large hand settled gently upon your shoulder and the touch immediately drew your attention upward.
Lord Ethan Winters stood close enough now that you could make out details missed before like the worn stitching on his jacket, small scars along his hands.
His expression looked softer and less guarded, a small smile rested there.
Somehow the sight eased something inside you, strangely abruptly.
Whenever your gaze settled on Ethan, some instinct buried deep inside seemed to relax and it confused you considering how you barely knew him.
Trust him
The feeling settled somewhere beneath conscious thought.
Subtle but persistent.
A quiet pull that grew as Ethanโs thumb shifted slightly against your shoulder.
Those pale blue eyes glowed faintly in the dark place, like moonlight buried beneath ice.
The strange light flickered behind his eyes for only a second before fading again.
His expression softened further.
โCome on.โ His voice emerged gentle. โWe should get back.โ
Ethanโs hand never left your shoulder but instead it slid carefully toward the upper part of your back.
His eyes remained fixed on you for another long moment to the point that you found yourself forgetting about everything else.
None of it seemed quite as important beneath that unwavering gaze.
Concern and relief conquering his expression along something deeper that he was trying very hard not to show.
โCan you walk?โ He asked quietly.
The concern in his voice remained impossible to hide and for reasons you couldnโt explain, standing beside Ethan felt infinitely safer than remaining anywhere else beneath that mountain.
