Marvel & DC Oneshots

Hungry

Victor was a man who never had good experiences with his family. He had accidentally killed Luther over a slice of pie. He had killed his father for chaining him up in the basement and torturing him for his mutation. He had killed Clara, cannibalised her too, though his memory was blurry of that event, his memories were always blurry. He had tortured Saul but he didn't kill him, Logan, that damn runt, had done it. Mother... mother was alright, he let her be, she died of cancer eventually. His son, Graydon, was a can of worms he did not want to open. Having a family is something that Victor was never good at.

But when he found you, his little sabretooth cub, he couldn't help but feel... warm. So he had killed that so-called mother of yours, and took you. Victor could give you more than that woman could, he he would raise you better than he was, and no one would ever hurt you.

In the stillness of the Canadian night, Victor Creed trudged through the snow, his arms wrapped tightly around the small, warm bundle that he cradled to his chest. His every step is fueled by the primal instinct to protect his young. Victor clutched that tiny bundle close, holding you, his sabretooth cub, wrapped in a bloodied white gown that once belonged to -your mother- that woman. You, his baby, are the only thing that seemed to connect him to his humanity in this frozen hell.

"Mmh!" You squirm and huff, smacking him with your tiny hands.

A deep, rolling chuckle vibrated through Victor's broad chest, his arms tightening around you as your small hands found purchase. The tiny smacks barely even registered against his muscular form.

"Easy there, feisty thing. I got ya." He said, his voice thick with affection, and gruff around the edges. His sharp gaze flicked down, catching your miniature hands mid-slap.

You stare at him with an odd look before opening your mouth and letting out a piercing wail.

'Oh... hell.' Victor's expression immediately shifted as the wail escaped your small voice, his face crumpling into a mixture of surprise and mild horror. The piercing cry echoed through the night, seeming to intensify by tenfold in the quiet.

"Shh, shh," Victor shushed you softly, trying to soothe you with a gentle bouncing motion. His fingers lightly tapped your back, large hand practically covering your entire back.

"Mh, mh." You whine, your deafening cries dying out, your face now a slight pink colour.

'Well, that's a bit better.' Victor continued to bounce you against his chest, the movement slow and steady. His sharp amber eyes scanned the area, wary of potential dangers.

"You ain't cold, are ya?" He asked, his voice gruff. His body tensed, trying to keep you as warm as possible; he was a walking furnace, after all, constantly radiating heat like a space heater.

"Mmmmm!" You pat and tug at the shirt covering his chest.

Victor arched an eyebrow, a sly smirk spreading across his lips as you pat and tug at his shirt. His head tilted slightly to the side with curiosity, eyeing your small hands.

"What're you doing, eh?" He asked. In spite of the cool, snowy night, his chest beneath his shirt was warm, like trying to touch an open flame.

"Eh!" You smack his chest quite roughly for a baby of barely a year.

Victor's breath hitches and a sharp hiss escapes his gritted teeth. He was more caught by surprise than pained, still, damn, that stung.

The sharp smack was powerful for such a small child. He stared down at you in slight shock, his yellow gaze flicking from your hand, up to your face. "Now that's a good left hook you have there, little cub."

"Eh! Ehhhh!" You're clearly becoming frustrated with him not understanding what you want.

'What the... hell...' Victor's frown deepened as your frustration intensified. A hint of confusion appeared on his face while he tried to figure out what exactly you wanted from him.