#ADDRESSING HIM BY NAME WHEN THE OTHER CONS DON’T

[brushes-of-sage]

Also I suddenly need to read some TFP Megatron & Ratchet fics - the familiarity between them is too obvious not to be explored

[reyalvr]

SHE’S MINE | 02

-SO I HOPE AND PRAY YOU MAKE IT WORTH IT.

synopsis ┊ thrust into the spotlight, ken sato had easily become the next big thing tokyo had seen in decades. alongside his fame came the inevitable string of rumors, of which sprung forth scandals and discrediting information against his image. of course the obvious and most rational solution would be to address them like every other celebrity, but this was ken sato; nothing would ever be rational with him, which is how you wound up with a ring on your finger and the sato name in your papers. 

genre ┊ fake dating, fake marriage, idiots-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, slight angst, chaotic fluff, mild smut

pairing ┊ ken sato x fem-PA!reader, ken sato x fake-wife!reader

warnings ┊ mild cursing, eventual smut, mentions of alcohol, all events in ultraman: rising take place a year after kenji moves back to japan

word count ┊ 3.2k

author’s note ┊ YAPPEE! part two officially out- so sorry for the wait EUEUEU… hehe hope the things that happen in this chapter make up for it being a few days late :p also, i will not be accepting anymore tag list requests! this is due to the amount of users that i can tag per post T^T … nonetheless, i hope you guys enjoy the chap! happy reading :D 

p.s. i will be blocking the people who message me (rudely) to “hurry up” with the next chapters. i understand most, if not, all of you are excited to read the next chapters, but please do understand that i have my own schedule too :,)

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YOU HELD YOUR HEAD IN YOUR HANDS, GROANING INTO YOUR PALMS. In front of you sat the thorn at your side, Ken Sato. He had just finished reading- or rather, skimming through the files you had stayed up compiling. You peeked at him through your fingers before standing up to erase yet another column of pros and cons from the board. 

Taking a swig from the energy drink he had brought you, you shake your head as you try to figure out what to do next. Truth be told, you were just eager to leave. You had two weeks left until you could finally let these burdensome tasks go, all you wanted was for Ken to go along with your last few instructions so as to make your exit easier. 

“I don’t get what’s so hard about this, Ken.” You say, turning back around to face him. “You pick a girl, you ‘date’ her for a bit, and then you ‘split up’ amicably. Simple as that.” 

He tilted his head at you, a sarcastic smile on his lips. “Oh sure, yeah. Let me just go out with a random girl and act like I’m head over heels in love with her.”

“Yes, exactly that.” You reply with the same tone, going back to your seat. “Now you’re getting it!”

He rolls his eyes, placing the stapled papers back on your desk. “I get it, I fucked up. But I still don’t get why you’re so…” He pauses, pressing his lips into a thin line and gesturing with his hands. “Persistent in actually trying to get me to date someone for the sake of my screw up.”

“And I don’t get why I have to keep reminding you of why I need to do this.” You lean back into your chair while pinching the bridge of your nose. “You were the one who-”

“-’Told the entire world you were in love’, yes I know! You’ve only said that like, what, a hundred times over?” He cuts you off, crossing his arms. “I know what I did. But I also know that I have a choice in this matter, don’t I?”

You go to reply but stop when you register his words. You knew that, obviously, which is why you had multiple plans. You were giving him the chance to choose, were you not? The various notes and drafted project plans were proof of that. They were all laid out right in front of him, what more could he possibly want? You look at him briefly, your eyes scanning his expression before darting back to the things scattered atop your desk. 

“I’m giving you choices.” You say flatly, slowly looking back up at him. 

“No, you’re giving me options and expecting me to choose.” He counters, his hand gesturing towards the papers. “I’m talking about my choice. My plan, suggestion, whatever you want to call it.”

“So what is your plan? Because as far as I’m concerned, you don’t seem to actually have one.” You reply, brows slightly furrowing at his stubbornness. 

“And that’s the point. I don’t need a plan,” He pauses, pointing his finger directly onto one of the outlines and it towards you. “I just need to ride it out.”

You let out a scoff, stunned at how Ken was still treating this so lightly. The corners of your lips tug up a bit, and you end up letting out a soft laugh in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Am I, though?” He leans back, maintaining eye contact with you. “It’s the choice that takes the least effort. And besides, I thought you liked it when I kept things private.”

“Oh, don’t circle this back to me.” You say, pointing a finger at him. “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to address your little mishaps?” 

“Yes, I do. Which is why I’m trying to help you.” He says a-matter-of-factly, his eyebrows raising as if to emphasize how much he understands what your job entails. 

“No, you don’t.” You argue back, mimicking his crossed arms.

“Were you always this stubborn?” Ken says, catching you off guard. 

You feel your features scrunch up in confusion and annoyance, narrowed eyes slanting even more as this back-and-forth of yours keeps going. “You’re one to talk.” 

At that he smirks slightly, rolling his eyes as he pokes a tongue into his cheek. The audacity of this man to act annoyed. You think, all the while you continue to glare at him. You close your eyes for the umpteenth time that morning, taking in a deep breath as your nails dig into your palms. Despite wanting to calm yourself down, his words rang in your head like an unwanted mantra.

His choice.

Would it be so bad to give Ken free reign on this? Granted, he was the one who caused it. Why be the one to clean up his mess- again, for that matter? You pinch the bridge of your nose, shaking your head once more. You could never understand how his mind worked, and you figured you probably never would. You tapped against the desk with your pen, bouncing your leg as you pondered on what to do. 

Your plan? Everything sets sail smoothly, with only the liability being either party slips up. Which, in your defense, you could cover up in the blink of an eye. His plan? No plotline with room for spontaneous detail sharing whenever he pleased. More work for you, more freedom for him. You stopped tapping then, clicking your pen into place. In your moment of contemplation, you had realized then this entire thing was useless. His plan, your plan, all the plans. None of them mattered, not if the end result was going to be the same. 

Goddamnit, you hated Ken Sato. 

You flip one of the stapled pieces of paper over, drawing over the blank side. “The start of your first full season with the Giants is in less than fourteen days. By then we would need to have already released another press release- ideally before your conference.” 

Ken jumps slightly, caught off guard by your sudden return to work mode. He watches as you line up different keywords with boxy arrows, all of which lead up to the ‘end’ of his lie. “What exactly am I looking at?”

You flash him a smile, albeit a fake one, and slide the paper to him. “Your plan.” Leaning back in your chair, you make a show of stretching your arms. “You’re right, we should go with your plan.” 

He laughs then, noting the lingering hints of sarcasm in your tone. “[Y/N], what are you doing?”

“Giving you your choice.” You reply with a small shrug. 

“Yeah, I can see that.” He says, his smile slightly faltering. “But… why?”

“It’s your life, isn’t it?” You tilt your head to the side, your lips pressed into a thin line. 

Now it’s his turn to be confused and annoyed. The way he understood this, you were letting him win. You were waving a white flag, surrendering to his incessant pleading. He scrunched his brows, still trying to process your words. You continued to sit there, waiting eerily patiently for him to respond. 

“And you’re serious about this?” He questions once more, hesitant to believe that you of all people would back down so quickly. 

“Mhm,” You hum, fiddling with your thumbs. “I’m just your assistant. Well, for two more weeks, that is.” 

He felt like he was being played. He blinked at you, mouth slightly agape. The you that was sitting in front of him now was different from the you thirty-six hours ago. Yesterday, you were desperate for him to follow your plans. He recalled your words, ‘If you're actually as sorry as you say you are, you’ll do as I say.’ But now that you’re telling him to do exactly what he wants, he’s nervous. 

Nervous that he finally caused you to hate him for good. 

“If you’re done sitting there like I said something stupid, you can go. Coach wants to see the team, it’d be in your best favor not to be on his bad side two weeks before playoffs.” You say, not even looking at him directly. 

He clears his throat, licking his lips. “Right, well, okay.” He stands up, sliding himself into his jacket before walking towards the door. “See you, then.”

You only hum in response, still not looking at him as you continue fixing all of the papers on your desk. Just before he’s fully out of your office though, you call out to him. 

“Yeah?” He answers immediately, peeking his head through the door. 

“Have fun riding it out.” You say, flashing him a smile. A real one, this time.

A WEEK HAD GONE BY JUST LIKE THAT. Surprisingly, Ken had been able to keep things under control. Even his comments to street paparazzis were concise, almost as if you were the one who coached him his lines. While you had expected him to do nothing, just as he suggested, you hadn’t expected him to last this long without an intervention from you. 

You sat by your window as your body sunk into your armchair, your eyes threatening to close. The early blue hues of the morning had started to break through the night sky, the clouds slowly parting to clear the sky. You typed vigorously against the keys of your laptop, eyes following the blinking cursor to prevent yourself from falling asleep right then and there. 

You had been up for hours constructing your updated résumé, keeping all your needed information concise and in one page. Despite having a well-rounded history in regards to jobs, the lingering fear of keeping yourself afloat was an inevitable burden you were scared of accidentally fulfilling. You had family, yes, but relying on them did something to your pride. Most especially since you had been low-contact ever since you abruptly moved to the city. 

Seeking help from friends was another option that was off the table. In all your years of working in the entertainment industry, the amount of people you had let into your life dwindled as you realized people’s true intentions. You had merely three people left in your life, and that was by far more than enough to keep you sane throughout the rest of your life.

You sighed heavily, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand. Truth be told, despite the factor of having to deal with Ken, this job has been the best in terms of your benefits. He was much like you- little circle, low-contact. Even his own team was a limited number, leaving you to deal with other jobs and tasks that would otherwise be done by different people. Yes, the workload was tiring, but the pay was enough to keep you alive ten times over. You could only say a silent prayer to whoever was listening to bless you once more once you let go of this for good. 

You sat back, finally satisfied with the way your page was laid out. You faced towards your window, closing your eyes as your breathing steadied. The birds were starting to chirp, the sun casting a foggy glow through the clouds. In this moment of solitude, you allowed yourself to relax; it was more than deserved. Not like anything could happen in your sleep, right?

WRONG, SO VERY WRONG. You groaned as you were awakened by the continuous buzzing of your phone. At first you had thought it was an alarm you had accidentally forgotten to shut off, but when it continued on, you eventually had to force yourself to wake up.

The sun was high up now, bright rays peeking through your blinds. You squinted, uncurling yourself from your chair as you got up and stretched. You yawned, scratching your head as you finally unlocked your phone. You were greeted with an endless stream of notifications, your mail app and other social media platforms pinging by the second. There was also the factor of the loud noise outside, though you made it out to be some kind of commotion or parade. 

Your screen then flashed the caller ID of an unknown number, followed by another sea of notifications. You blink yourself awake, now slightly worried at just how much texts and emails you had been receiving. Did Ken do something? Did someone die? Did Ken die?

Before you could even open any of the messages, you hear the familiar ringtone of one of your closest friends. You slide to answer, pressing your phone up to your ear. “Ami? What’s up, what’s wrong?”

She laughed, and you could practically see her shaking her head at you. “I’m guessing you just woke up? Check literally any news outlet right now, you’re gonna wanna see this.”

What the hell was going on? You mumbled something in reply, putting her on speaker as you did what she asked. 

You wished you hadn’t. In bold, bright red letters, the article’s headline read:

Extra Innings in the Press Box: Ken Sato’s Hidden Romance with Assistant Revealed! 

What you saw next nearly had you chucking your phone into the nearest wall. Attached right under the headline was you and Ken. You and Ken. You let out a curse, and you could hear the sighs coming from Ami on the other line. The picture was clearly shot from a hidden vantage point, the branches from the trees blocking the camera proof of it. Despite the distance, though, yours and Ken’s faces were clearly visible. 

“What the fuck!” You yell, now fully awake eyes wide in confusion. “When was this released? H-How did-”

“Two hours ago. Apparently some passerby sold the picture to the press, and said passerby just happened to be paparazzi.” Ami cuts you off, her tone serious yet concerned. “Trust me, if I had known something like this was going to be released, I would’ve done something about it.”

You left your phone on the kitchen counter as you paced back and forth, your hand glued to your forehead as you tried to wrap your mind around what was happening. Obviously it wasn’t true, you of all people knew that. But nobody else did, and that was the problem. 

“Ami what the hell is happening?” You manage to breathe out, still pacing. “This is all so-”

“Much? Yeah, I know.” She cuts you off again, and you can hear the bustling sounds from her office. “My own publisher is on my neck for this, God only knows what you’re going through. Are you okay? If you need help this could technically be classified as invasion of-”

“I do need help because this whole thing isn’t-” You start, but are ultimately cut off again when you hear the sounds grow louder outside. 

“[Y/N]? ‘You there?” Ami’s muffled voice calls out as you walk towards your window, peeking down to where the commotion was coming from. 

“Oh shit.” You gasp out, eyes widening even more as you realize the noises were coming from the sea of reporters and photographers waiting outside your townhouse. 

You swallowed hard, stepping back from the window with a hand to your mouth. This cannot be happening, this had to be some sick nightmare. Stumbling towards your phone, you mumbled some reply about needing to go before abruptly hanging up the call. Rude, perhaps, but Ami would understand. 

In the span of two hours of that damn article being released, eager and greedy gossip outlets had found your address and swarmed your only safe space. You held your phone close to your chest, running up to your room as you tried to catch your breath. You closed your eyes once more, breathing in and out heavily. The more you tried to convince yourself that this wasn’t happening, the more you slowly realized that it actually was. 

You opened your phone once more, muting all your socials and other messaging apps. You needed to think, and you needed to act fast. By memory, your fingers automatically scroll for Ken’s legal team. Having gotten him out of falsified defamations multiple times, acting during these types of situations was almost a second habit. But this didn’t involve just him, it involved you. You were a part of this mess, you couldn’t be the one to solve it.

A mantra of curses conjured up in your head, and you delete the previous number you had dialed in. Think, damnit. Think, think, think. You thought to yourself, nervously chewing on your bottom lip as you prayed for a solution to be presented to you. An alternative popped up into your brain then. Albeit that alternative was stupid, but it was something. 

You dialed his number, anxiously waiting as it rang. 

KEN WAS ON HIS BREAK, SITTING ON THE BENCH AS HE WIPED THE SWEAT OFF HIS FOREHEAD. Playoffs were about to start, and Shimura was working them to the bone to make sure everyone had their head in the game. He let out a deep breath through his nose, arms resting on his knees as tried to calm down after a few laps around the stadium. The rest of his teammates seemed to be reacting obnoxiously over something, though he didn’t have the energy to feign enthusiasm. 

One of his teammates teasingly nudged him then, giving him a playful grin. “Your secret’s out, huh? All this time you were with her.”

Ken laughed it off, still oblivious to the fact that nearly all of Japan now knew the face of his supposed girlfriend. He noted the specification in his tone, as if he were referring to a mutual friend of theirs. Which, again, was impossible- nobody but you knew the secret he was hiding. He gave them a nod before returning back to his own space. 

He felt his watch buzz against his wrist, and he was all but surprised to see you calling him on your day off. He sat up straight then, grabbing his phone to answer the call. He had to admit, he answered a little too excitedly. Or nervously. He couldn’t differentiate the two, not when it involved you. Ever since the start of this stunt, something in him shifts whenever you or anything related to you gets mentioned. He brushed it off as some sort of familiarity attachment, the weight of your sudden resignation still heavy on his shoulders.

Was he sad to let you go? Maybe, he wasn’t entirely sure. Aside from the fact that he had Mina, you did your job well. You knew the ins and outs of everything he liked and disliked, you kept him organized and on track. Sure, losing you would be another hurdle he would have to get over, but that doesn’t mean he would be… impotent without you. He clears his throat before he finally brings the phone up to his ear.

“Hey-” He starts, but stops when he notices the frantic panic in your voice. “Woah, hey slow down. What happened?”

“You happened.” You reply then, albeit through a shaky breath. 

“What?” He questions, brows furrowing in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s exactly as I said. You happened,” You paused, taking in a deep breath. “And now I need your help. Please.”

reyalvr © 2024 … do not repost, alter, or steal my work.

tags��@mochminnie, @rreasonablydumbb, @sincerest-one, @fruticake, @lunaryasha, @lovingyeet, @sugacor3, @arrozyfrijoles23, @fennecspage, @mmeerraa, @azryaa, @akiradailylifes, @montybooks, @mmv-ymvm, @hore4ken, @greeniegreengreen, @meikoo, @random-3455, @todaywasafairytale07, @mythicalmoa, @imafangirlofeverything, @astylos, @vynwan-cbq, @rosegiyanabing, @icedberrytea, @ken-zah, @letharue, @chi222, @flooftoof, @c4ttheart, @ymrai, @stxrrielle, @alpha-mommy69, @ewitscat, @lightsinmycity, @furblrwurblr, @ayamago, @sugururawr, @secretlyapartofthisfandom @shellspider, @oh-kurva, @noraimp

[simpjaes]

desecration. (s.j)

the one where no gods exist when you’re alone with jake sim.

minors dni !! | if you read it, reblog it. 

WORDCOUNT ― 6.4k

PAIRING ― jake sim x afab reader

GENRE ― top/dom jake sim, characters are in their twenties, sub/bratty reader, religious kink/fetish

WARNINGS― mild dub con, desecration of holy a relic, inaccurate descriptions of whatever religion this is– im not doing research for a 5k fic that’s mostly smut, sorry. 

NOTE― if you’ve read this before, it’s because I wrote it for mark lee over on my other blog [ncteez]. we wanted to make it jake, and by we i mean me. i wanted to read this as jake. sorry to religious ppl, don’t read this if you don’t wanna be railed by a hot guy wielding a cross. 

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags― DUB CON.  use of the words: whore, slut, for the record, the cross is not raw wood and has a smooth finish,  reader is first attempting to seduce the priest through confession lmao, she’s also just a massive whore just like me :), jake is the priest’s son, jerking off, penetration using a wooden cross, unprotected sex, spitting, choking on and/or sucking off a cross, degradation, and name-calling, he’s a godfearing man but also he likes sexual perversions, humiliation, explicitly getting fucked in a church, kind of fingering? 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake wonders why you’re always making confessions, time and time again, once a week, every single week….eagerly. Like you’re excited for your sin or something. 

Huh.

Then again, once a week his father is expected to listen to confessions from the other churchgoers, even Jake himself is expected to confess. Often he will make up sins that he has committed just to seem as though he has been learning from some sort of mistake. Never would Jake actually tell his father through a confession booth what he has done or is willing to do. He’s an adult, he can confess whatever he wants. 

You, on the other hand, you’re working his father to the bone in terms of forgiveness. 

Jake’s interest piques at the very idea of a young woman, around his age, wanting to confess so much. Did you  hurt someone? Does you hurt yourself? Did you kill someone? Or maybe you’re just caught up in a situation that makes you commit atrocities? He can’t even imagine what one person could be doing to elicit such an eager need of forgiveness so consistently. 

Always the first in the box, always with those inappropriate outfits too. 

 Jake makes his way to the back of the church to complete his duties and, of course, he isn’t surprised to see you enter the confession booth. After all, it is the start of a new week. 

Hushed whispers were echoing through the large space and only now does he realize that you almost always confess when the church is nearly empty. You must not be unaware of his presence at all, unaware that he is the son of the priest that you spill your sins to, and unaware that he can absolutely hear you when he walks closer.

He isn’t entirely sure why he is listening. The walls of this church echo any and every sound, and to be fair, the only reason his interest is piqued is because his father was silent from the moment you had entered the booth. All he heard was you. You didn’t seem to start the confession off in a proper manner either, so yeah, maybe it caught him off guard too.

His ears make attempts to adjust to the words coming from the booth, but your voice is coming out in a tone that he has never used himself when seeking salvation. Minutes pass and he still hasn’t heard his father speak a word back to you, not to encourage you, not to stop you. It’s just you, addressing dreams, visions, wants, and needs. 

Certainly not confession. In fact, you’re actively sinning, attempting to seduce. 

“I woke up shaking, Father. What should I do?” 

Jake notes how quiet his father is still, despite you asking him what to do about the dream. His face sours when you continue to speak, this time in a slightly louder tone. 

“I just can’t help myself sometimes, I–”

It’s not that it’s intentional, really, it isn’t. If anything at all, Jake is incredibly disgusted by your attempts to dirty talk during a confession. Disgusted that you’d do such a thing, and…maybe intrigued by what you may have said that he wasn’t quite able to catch before. He quietly moves to the other side of the booth, the side where you seem to be spouting off all sorts of things, and he raises his head to listen a bit more. 

“You were big, you know? I can’t get thoughts of you out of my head. Have you ever touched a woman, Father?”

Jake leans in further, his body reacting more than his disgust. Unfortunately, his length growing in his pants ceases the moment his father cuts you off. 

“Enough.” His father finally stops you from abusing the booth, from abusing him.

Not another word is spoken and Jake does his best to back away quickly and quietly as you exit the booth. Of course, he’s acting as though he is sweeping a corner when he turns to look at you. Eye contact is made and he can feel an intense rush of heat spread across his cheeks.

Ah, so you’re a whore.

His father stays inside of the booth for a long, drawn out, three or so minutes before exiting and all Jake can think about is if you walked out of the church soaked and warm between your legs. It’s not even that Jake is into sinning. He isn’t. His entire life was built around this church, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a man. He has needs just like you do, apparently.

Never would he get what he needs from a woman as dirty as yourself, though, it doesn’t stop him from thinking about it and how your voice sounds when you were actively trying to fuck his dad.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“You’re disgusting.” Jake narrows his eyes at you when you pass by, spitting the words at you with a grimace. 

“Excuse me?” You ask, stopping in your tracks and looking back at him just as harshly. You didn’t provoke him to speak to you at all, let alone fucking insult you? 

“You think I can’t hear the way you speak to my dad during your little “confessions”?” He takes a step forward as he whispers at you, air quoting the word confession with a roll of his eyes.. “You really think he’s just going to take you up on the offer?” 

Narrowing your own eyes, you step closer to Jake to stop anyone else from hearing his little tantrum. 

“Wanna tell me why he always listens to my “confessions” then?” You question back, mimicking the air quotes and smirking as you walk away from him, not even letting him answer.

Jake watches as you leave, upset that he didn’t get a rise out of you at all and instead was offered a genuine question that sits in his mind. Why does his father allow you to make a confession after confession if all it is, is an attempt to seduce him? You’re even ashamed of it, it seems, and it pisses him off to no end. 

Rushing after you, he is quick to grab at your dress and pull you back.

“Might as well just show up naked with the way you act around here,” He starts with a bite in his tone, dragging you off, down the hall and into a side room that usually remains empty. 

He intends to put a stop to this because he’s heard several more of your confessions by his own will and learns that, apparently, your only sin is being a fucking slut. 

“You have no place here.” He adds as he closes the door behind the two of you. Unintentionally locking you into a space that he’s directly saying you don’t belong in.

“Acting like you don’t think about fucking. Hah. We both know I’m not the only one,” You laugh, walking across the room with a shrug. It’s not the first time you’ve been reprimanded in a church, and it probably won’t be the last. “Besides, your dad probably thinks about me late at night after tucking your grown ass into bed like a child.” 

Jake narrows his eyes even more at you.

“Bet that pisses you off.”

“You’re ridiculous to think he would even want someone like you.” Jake scoffs harshly at you, gut bubbling with annoyance. “To think about sex this often too? I can’t imagine anyone would want to touch such a slut.”

You watch him walk towards you, with his perfectly tucked shirt and his darkened and angry eyes. Being alone with him doesn’t help his argument though because, in all fairness, he’s just as hot, if not hotter than his father. 

“What about you then?” You ask, leaning against one of the shelves in the room, running your hand up your legs, and hiking your dress up a couple of inches. 

“Your dad with his lingering eyes won’t admit to having ever touched a woman. Yet here you are.” You call out the priest’s lie with a snide chuckle before continuing. Fingers massaging your own fleshy thighs, watching the way Jake struggles with his own lingering eyes. “What about you? You ever fuck anyone?”

Jake grimaces, wrinkling his nose as he watches you. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” He questions, stomping over to you and pushing your dress back down below your knees.

“Oh!” You laugh, ticking your tongue at him and tilting your head. “You said a bad word. Aren’t you going to ask for forgiveness?”

He stares at you for a few seconds, being face to face with a woman that seems so desperate for any touch has his heart racing. He’s trying to call you out, not turn you on.

“Can’t you act decent? I barely know you and you’re flaunting yourself at me.” Jake bellows, stumbling back from you and examining the way your body is relaxed.

 You really seem to be enjoying this. 

“You’re the one who pulled me in here. Was it really to argue with me, or were you trying to get to me before Father does?”

Thinking for a moment, Jake realizes he’s the reason this is happening. He could have just let you leave like everyone else, after all, you were attempting to go home. Here he is though, and there you are. 

“He would never.” Jake laughs, mocking your attempts to pretend his father would be interested in you. 

“And again, what about you?” You shoot back instantaneously, watching the way his words get caught in his throat. 

He’s a weak man, truly, because the very thought of what’s under your dress, the very idea that you’re so willing, fogs his brain to the point of almost malfunctioning. It would be so fucking easy if he wanted to. 

No one would even know. 

Before you even know it, you can feel the air in the room change as he storms closer to you and rips your dress upwards to your waist. Instantly, he’s shoving his hand straight between your legs. 

A small yelp leaves your throat followed by a laugh. Perfect. 

“I knew it.” You giggle,  bumping your head a bit against the shelf at the force of his movement. You can feel the way his palm cups your core and presses in harshly through his silent breaths. “I fucking knew you were dirty.”

“Stop,” Jake demands, bringing his other hand to cover your mouth. “Stop talking.” He continues, already pulling his hand from your core and second-guessing himself. 

“If you want it so bad, I’m going to need you to shut the fuck up.” 

You nod with a smile against his palm, breathing in when he pulls it back and trusts your ability to stay quiet. He’s staring directly into your eyes as if he’s threatening you. As if he will stop if you make a single peep. A promise that he will probably get you banned from the church if anyone were to find out what’s happening in this room right now.  At his darkened gaze, you poke your tongue out, licking his palm and watching him pull back in aroused shock at how unashamed you are regarding your arousal. But, you do stay true to your work and remain quiet once his eyes trail down. 

He looks at you as if you’re some sort of monstrous entity, and for him at this moment, you probably are. But even with that, you see what’s growing in his pants before he lowers himself onto the floor. Positioning his face right in front of your clothed pussy. 

What a dirty, dirty boy.

Jake can see the wet stain of your panties and all he can do is roll his eyes. 

“You’re insane.” He laughs, eyes darting up to your face, looking at you like he wants to shame you. “Getting so messy in such a place, all for men who don’t fucking want you?” 

You nod, wiggling your hips at him in an attempt to entice his lips to attach there. But he doesn’t. He just stands right back up to his feet and takes a step backwards. 

“I bet if I left you here, you’d chase after me.” He mocks. “I bet you think I’m gonna stick it in you, don’t you?”

Proudly, you smile with a nod. Of course he's going to stick it in. You can see how hard he’s gotten. Sin or not, you know when a man wants to fuck you. Jake won’t be able to resist sooner or later, son of the priest or not. 

“Wow,” He laughs quietly, shaking his head at you as he reaches behind a podium and pulls out a large, lacquered wooden cross. “You really are stupid.”

Great, you think as your face falls. He’s definitely about to start preaching to you with that stupid fucking cross. Maybe he will even attempt to perform an exorcism to expel the horny demons out of you.

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes, standing yourself up straight from against the shelf and patting your dress back down into position. “Don’t start this shit.” You’re already preparing to walk out without looking twice at him, but he laughs right back at you.

“You think you know everything.” He chuckles, walking towards the door and locking it. He stands in front of it now, crossing his arms and staring at you. 

“Don’t I?” You ask, eyeing the way he presents himself to you right now. 

“Did I not just imply that I wouldn’t use my cock on you?” He questions, twitching in his pants at the way you stand before him, much smaller in energy now. 

He can tell you’re still trying to act brave, and it delights him to see the realization spread across that pretty, silent mouth. 

Oh. Oh. 

“You’re going to–?” You swallow hard, realizing that of all the sins you could commit, the implication of being penetrated with a cross, solely so this man doesn’t have to fuck a whore isn’t one you ever thought of. 

This room doesn’t even feel like part of a church now as he holds the cross with more reason than praying. 

“Yeah,” He assures you. “I am.” Stepping forward toward you and looming down at your face. “Now get on the desk.” 

You don’t know why, but your body acts on instinct for him. Immediately walking to the desk and propping yourself onto it. 

“Take off your clothes.” He demands again, watching you intently as he stays in place, rubbing the long end of the cross much like he’d like to do for himself right now. 

God, watching such a stubborn woman do everything he says is…well, it’s new for him and it ignites a new type of arousal within him. 

And you watch him back as you begin to slip your dress from your shoulders, lifting your ass so that you can push it down and onto the floor. 

“Oh, now you wanna act shy?” He mocks, walking towards you as you attempt to tug at your panties. “And keep those on. No one wants to see that.”

Goddamn, you don’t even have the decency to wear a bra to service? Lucky for him though, your breasts are enough to drive him past the point of return. There’s no thought, fear, or prayer in his head right now as you reveal yourself to him. Going as far as trying to flash your pussy? Oh, he could laugh. 

You stay quiet, doing as you’re told and watching the way he examines you. He must feel so in control right now and you’re happy to let him, but you can see him falling apart behind his eyes. 

His cock is incredibly obvious beneath his nice dress pants, but you wouldn’t dare reach out to touch him, not yet at least. You’ll let him have his fun, despite the slight nervousness within you regarding that cross.

“Open your mouth.” He says, dragging the cross against your nipples and onto your chin. “Suck it.”

You almost shake your head at him. Such a hard wood sliding down your throat would surely hurt. It’ll bruise, it’ll fucking suffocate you.

Jake doesn’t seem to care about any of that though, because all he does in response to your widened and fear-stricken eyes is press the wood against your lips with a face of concentration. 

You purse your lips, muffling a displeased grunt at his acts.

“You scared?” He smiles first, pulling the cross away and now tracing his fingers along your lips before prying them inside and hooking your mouth open. “Come on, don’t act like you don’t know how to suck.”

You relent this time, feeling the cold and smooth tip of the cross enter past your lips when he resumes his previous assault. It’s not that you are against doing it, you just…haven’t done it before.

 You’re not exactly sure of how to respect a holy relic such as this one when you’re expected to choke on it. 

“That’s it.” Jake coos, pressing the cross further into your mouth. “Open up real wide.” 

You close your eyes at his voice, licking the smoothed object with an intensity you didn’t know you had. After all, it’s been so long since you’ve been intimate with a person, hence the constant wet dreams about your priest. This is somehow, incredibly hot to you. To have his son fucking your mouth, regardless of what object he’s using to do it. 

Still, it does hurt. The intricate edges of the cross bruises each time it hits the clenching walls of your throat and mouth, but Jake seems to like the sound of you choking and sobbing around it. After all, he just continues to press the cross further and further in. Probably relishing in the way you try to swallow around it and relax your throat. 

His eyes are so focused, seeing how much of it you can take and only imagining how good it would feel if it were his cock choking you right now. Despite your sputtering and crying eyes, you’re taking it so well. 

Yeah, you’ve definitely done this before. Probably swallowed up some guy’s cum and begged for more despite still having a cock wedged in your throat. How lucky for them to have someone so desperate to be gagged. 

“You’re filthy for doing this, you know that?” He laughs at your pain and how you don’t try to pull at his pushing hand, tipping the cross just a bit so that its hardened wood hits your throat in a way that hurts a bit too much.

You cough around it, only now pushing his hand back in protest. The tears are pouring from your eyes when the cross slides out of your mouth, and all you can do is blink up at him as you try to regain your breath. 

Half expecting him to immediately hold your head in place just to shove the cross back in, Jake pulls back instead, tilting his head down to look at your panties. 

Your legs instinctively cross to hide your arousal, but he prys your legs open regardless, forcing you to act as the whore you so wanted to be. For his father, for him, for anyone who would be willing, honestly. 

You’ve gotten wetter. 

“You’re so gross, I can’t believe you get off to this–” He laughs, feeling his cock begin to fucking ache. “You can take more, then.” 

No, no. You don’t want to keep sucking it, but your mouth opens anyway. Too turned on by the idea of seeing Jake’s reaction to watching you be so dirty, so blasphemous. 

The way he moans when you open your mouth willingly this time is…well, he looks fucking good. He sounds even better. 

You take it into your mouth without so much as a second thought this time, allowing him to slide the cross back and forth against your tongue and into your throat. You willingly swallow around the harsh edges, tears falling all the while, of course.  

You’re gagging so softly around it, he’s almost jealous over how you wanted his dad before you wanted him. Surely no one would do this for you, right? His father would never be with such a horny, needy, and dirty woman. 

Jake though….shamefully, is very into it. 

Into you, rather.

When he pulls it out this time, your saliva coats the cross in a way that nearly breaks his brain. Intensely, he stares at your lips, slack and waiting for him to continue his abuse. God, he’s so jealous. To think you would do this with someone else? With anyone? Anything? 

It turns him on beyond belief, but feeling jealous of the fucking cross isn’t exactly something Jake wants to admit. His father? Sure, whatever. But a relic he’s prayed to his whole life? Growing resentful of it just because you take it down your pretty and bruised throat? 

No. 

Jake shifts now, unable to satiate the arousal within him without grabbing your hand and forcing you to grope his hidden cock. So hard, so fucking hard, he nearly lets out his own sob at the euphoric touch when he actually does it. 

You’re a bit shocked that he’s letting you touch him, but you take the opportunity and run with it. You press your palm against him without any amount of shame, and all you can do is watch as he hangs his head, the saliva coated cross still gripped in his other hand. 

“Bet you wanted to fuck my mouth.” You croak out, your voice sounding just as raw at your throat. “Bet you wanted me to take all of it and beg for your cum.” 

His head shoots up in response to that as he grabs your face harshly, bucking against your hand at the same time. “Stop talking.” He seethes, releasing your face and inserting his fingers into your mouth instead. “Stick your tongue out.”

You do as he says, feeling his heavy cock twitching against your palm with each press. 

Jake seems like an expert at this, you aren’t sure, but when he presses your tongue down with his fingers to open your throat up, he spits into your mouth so easily that you have no choice but to swallow it.

Well, okay. He could probably get away with doing that a few more times if he wanted to.

You moan when you swallow, lending him a dopey smile that shocks him. You weren’t supposed to like that in his eyes, but when you grab his cock in response rather than just palm at it, he can’t help but moan back at you. 

His fingers continue to hold your tongue down as you jerk him off over his pants, and his hips stutter all the while until he loses all composure. Within a second, he stalks even closer, slamming both hands against the desk on either side of you and leaning forward to pin you there.

And then he grinds forward against your weak hand, pinned between him and the edge of the desk. 

Yet still, he’s gripping that fucking cross as he pins you here.

“You want me to fuck you so bad, I can see it.” He croaks, not even allowing you to offer him a nod before he’s got his lips attached to yours and he’s licking into your mouth. It feels impossibly better than that cross pressing against the back of your throat but you swallow his kiss just as easily. 

His hips continue to grind as he licks into your mouth like a man who doesn’t know how to kiss at all. So rough and messy with it, groaning more and more before he’s nearly a panting mess before you. He pulls back from the kiss only for a moment to stare at you, eye contact more fierce than it was before. 

“I think you’re the one who wants to fuck me.” You manage to slip out before he can silence you again, and his eyes narrow instantly. 

More than anything, that’s what he wants to do to you. He wants to shut you up in as many ways possible right now, and he definitely wants fucking you to be one of those ways. But he can’t, and he won't. 

“Hah–you’d love that.” He laughs, reaching his empty hand between the two of you to press his pants down enough to let his cock spring free. 

You can’t even get a good look at it, because he’s instantly grabbing himself and fucking his fist before looking back up at you. 

“Go on, look.” He says, leaning a bit so that you can watch him jerk off in full view now. “Bet you’d beg for it if I told you to.”

“Please?” You instantly let out, eyes staring at the angry head of his cock leaking and pulsing.

“I didn’t say to actually beg–” He groans, halting his hand and instead, thrusting his hips into the tightly formed hole he’s created. “I’m not going to fuck you.” He laughs again, now pulling the cross back and into your view with a wicked smirk. 

Of course. The cross. Well, at least you’re going to be fucked with something right?

 You eye the piece of wood and then go back to watching him. You’re not sure what it is about this situation but it feels like your body is on fire. Maybe it’s because hell is right beneath you, just a floorboard away from what the two of you have gotten yourselves into behind this locked door.

“Oh?” He halts his hips and licks his lips. “You actually want me to fuck you with this?”

You nod frantically, spreading your legs in front of him and showing off how large the spot on your panties has grown since he last inspected it. You watch as his eyes practically burn a hole through your pussy.

Only then does he release his own cock and look back into your eyes. More seriously this time when reality and guilt clicks in his head. 

“You are aware of what we are about to do, right?” His confidence falters blatantly as he glances at the cross. “Like, if you ever tell my dad about this, I will be disowned.” 

“You think I’d snitch on you?” You roll your eyes, body nearly shaking to get fucked. God, why does he have to stop now?

“Well, since you’re so inclined to confess every fucking day–”

“Jake, you literally just fucked my throat with it.” You deadpan, hooking your legs around him to pull him close enough to feel his cock hit your wet panties. “You’re the dirtiest one here, I’m not going to give that up just to see you get disowned.” 

He laughs at you for that. Because yeah, maybe he is. Maybe he’s the one who shouldn’t be in church, and maybe he’s the one who should have been confessing this whole time. Never in his life has he ever done this, or so much as imagined doing it, it’s so perverse. So, wrong. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what’s attractive about it. 

For some reason, his cock jumps when you say you’re not giving him up because he’s dirty. 

“And–” You soften your voice, trying to lure him. “You don’t have to use the cross, you know.” 

“No.” He barks out, pulling his hips back and pressing the cross against you instead. “Now, keep your legs open.” 

He gets right back into it without a second thought. He doesn’t care what he’s doing or what the repercussions of doing this will be. It’s not like he wasn’t going to hell before any of this, not based on the fantasies he’s had anyway.

Jake hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them down your legs harshly, to the point that they’re stretching so far that it feels like they could cut through your skin. He backs away for a moment upon seeing you grimace at that, allowing you to slip them down your legs before positioning himself back between them.

“I’m dirty?” He says, looking at your pussy and the way it clenches around absolutely nothing. He sees the slick seeping out of you already, and it’s not only pathetic but so fucking desperate of you. “Fucking look at that.”

You smile at it, knowing that he’s degrading you but absolutely loving the view if his focused eyes are anything to go by.

Before the cross, he experimentally traces his fingers along your folds until he gets to your hole, and without hesitation, he slips one of them in. The grip of your walls alone could probably send him over the edge if he were to make a last-minute change and shove his cock into you, but he holds back. Instead, he traces the cross against you in the same way he did with his fingers, slowly inserting it alongside his digit. 

Pulling back, Jake watches your face as the cross opens you up, probably dragging against your walls uncomfortably as a reminder of the ultimate sin you’re committing with him right now. 

When your face doesn’t contort into that of pain, he pulls his finger out of you and places his hand back on his cock. Still staring at your face, he fucks the cross in and out of you. Relishing in the sound of how wet you are for this, and for him to give it to you.

 He does this until, finally, you moan.

Upon that little whimper of a moan, Jake is sent into a different headspace. One that quickens his pace with the object inside of you, one that tightens the grip on himself. 

Now, oh now, he’s playing for fun. He presses it in and then pulls it all the way out just to see your pussy beg for more. Holding back a moan over how fucking hot it is to see, he opts to coo out at you.

“Bet it would feel so good.” He breathes, trying to ignore the shiver that shoots through his body at the way you yearn for it. “Could shove my cock right in, you’d just take it, wouldn’t you?” 

Before you can answer, he’s thrusting the relic right back into you. In, out, in, out. Deeper, harder, fucking faster. And he offers the same for himself, tightening his fist, nearly abusing his own cock at the sight of your swollen hole swallow up the wood. Really, he makes a point to fuck himself just to imagine it’s you that’s squeezing him.  

If he thinks hard enough, it really is almost like he’s the one fucking you. 

He keeps this up for a few minutes, up until your legs are shaking around him and you begin to reach out with your hands. If it weren’t for the fact that he’s incredibly fucking horny right now, he’d probably be rushing for the altar to save you from whatever demon is possessing you.

 But, he knows that this is no demon, this is all his own doing. He’s loving it. Every single bit of this situation is being burned into his memory, and when your legs shake, it only urges him to fuck the object into you harder.

You whimper out strings of nonsense, almost begging for a release from this grasp he is holding over you both physically and mentally, but he doesn’t relent. Your pathetic cunt is being pounded by an object that should have you crying in fear, but instead, you’re so close to release you can only beg for more, more, fucking more. 

And god, he keeps giving it to you.

In an attempt to open your eyes, you feel dizzy with lust. Your hips buck up against the object with intent, and you can’t stop watching him. 

“Goddamn.” Jake stutters a sin, watching you fuck yourself against the holy relic. Thankful to rest his arm and be able to just…watch.

And oh, he’s watching and intensely imagining that it’s you on him. He can’t stop thinking about how fucking warm you must be, how tight, how sinfully delicious your pussy must be for you to be acting like this. And that thought is what forces him to lose it.

You were so focused, on the verge of your orgasm when you feel him practically tear the cross out of you, dropping it to the floor before – oh fuck.

You feel him. Something bigger, something thicker ramming into you. He’s prying you open more than he did previously, already pumping in and out at a frantic speed. Instantly, you cling onto him with a bruising grip, listening to his shameless moans as he realizes the lack of control he has over his own body or thoughts. 

Jake practically falls over you in euphoria as you cling, forcing you to fall back against the desk as he relentlessly plunges his hips. His breath is heavy against your neck as he loses himself, and all you can do is thank the same god you just disrespected for this cock that’s abusing your hole in all of the right ways.

“I can’t–” He groans out against your ear, his hips not stopping their relentless assault. “You’re so fucking dirty.” He insults, pushing you up the desk with each thrust. “So good.”

You can barely make a sound from the force behind his hips, only small yelps leaving your throat each time he slams in. And fuck, you want nothing more than to rub your clit right now. You could cum all over him, you could really make him feel good. 

And as if your prayers are answered, Jake apparently knows exactly how to pleasure a woman. Hm, curious. He knows how to do it fucking well too, as you feel his fingers rub against the swollen nub in the exact same way you would right now. Painful, intense.

The fact that he wants you to cum is delicious.

Your orgasm hits you almost instantly, pussy sucking in him each time he goes to thrust, and the sounds coming from your throat could be considered demonic by some, but he swallows them up with ease when he notes that you’re cumming all over him. 

Jake licks into your mouth, soothing you with dirty words when he pulls back to breathe. 

“You should see yourself–” He pants out, sticking his tongue out to lick against your lip. “Getting me all messy too?” He says again through a moan. “You’re beautiful.” He adds like a period at the end of a sentence. 

That alone makes you feel…different. In fact, it prolongs your orgasm far past sensitivity when he continues to thrust into you. You can’t tell if he said that because he’s close, or if it’s because he meant it. 

Quite frankly, you could give less of a fuck if he meant it. 

Jake stutters his hips when you lift your head just slightly, gripping his hair and skewing his head to the side so that you can whisper into his ear. 

“Want me to beg for your cum?” You whisper with a shaking voice. “You’d love that too, wouldn’t you? I know I would.”

His eyes squeeze shut as he aggressively turns his head and, once again, pries your mouth open with his tongue. A bruising kiss follows as he fucks his last few thrusts into you, doing just as you implied he should.

He pumps his cum into you relentlessly, thankful that it’s not all over his pants and entirely milked into that sinful cunt of yours. Thankful that you also got off around him instead of that forgotten cross on the floor. 

He wants nothing more than to remind you time and time again who got to you first. It was him, not his father. 

You smile at him when he pulls back out of breath, examining his pants before stuffing his sensitive cock back into them and reaching down for the cross.

“If you ever fucking tell my dad about this–” He seethes out of breath, trying to pretend that he can regain composure so soon after fucking you the way he just did. Still, he narrows his eyes at you much as he had done before. 

“Go on.” You say, voice shaking as you try to grasp back onto reality from whatever world his cock had sent you into. 

Jake is at a loss for words, because, what could he possibly do about it if you were to tell? He looks at you, still spread out against the desk, dress crumpled, his cum seeping out of you in a messy show of how much of an absolute whore he forced you to be.

“Just, don’t tell him.” He finally says, averting his eyes from you and looking at the cross in his hand. 

“Do you feel bad already?” You ask out, finally lifting to get off of the desk.

“Don’t you?” 

You shake your head, struggling to stand as the seething pain of having a wooden cross stuck into you shoots through your body. “Not really.” You try to laugh, but you wince instead.

“Yeah, I figured you’d probably be hurting after all of that.” He finally says in a somewhat apologetic tone, walking up to you with a soothing hand.

You’re a little shocked by his kindness. 

“Yeah, a little.” You laugh it off though because, at the moment, it felt good. You wouldn’t have wanted it any other way despite how blasphemous the act was.  

“Oh.” Jake seems sorrowful in his tone, but his gaze doesn't leave you. “I- um, I don’t know how to make it like, not hurt?” He scratches the back of his head.

In your attempt to put your dress back on, you do note that the pain inside of you isn’t unfamiliar. You’d been fucked hard before, but that was a long time ago. You missed this feeling, realizing that it was exactly what you think you needed. 

“It’ll pass.” You assure him, taking a deep breath and trying to stumble your way to the door. “I guess I’ll see you later, then?” 

Jake dips his head with a small nod, feeling guilty for what he’s done. Not because of the cross, not because of the sin, but because he’s unsure of how to pretend like he wouldn’t want to do it again.

[beautifulsenpai]

I have a request if you don’t mind doing it!

Lovestruck Endeavor x Recovery Girl’s Grandson

Endeavor is deeply in love with Recovery Girl’s grandson that works with her in U.A, a quirk that is related to her, and has…some man tits. Endeavor would give the male reader presents like red roses with heart balloons attached to them, expensive jewelry and would bring male reader their favorite food every time he visits male reader in the nurse’s office to show his love for him. Male reader doesn’t feel the same way for some reasons, the age gap is a reason, Endeavor is 45 and male reader is 20 but male reader doesn’t want to hurt his feelings, so he has to go along with it.

You could add some parts as well, maybe non-con?

✧˚ ༘ ⋆HIS NURSE | LOVESTRUCK ENJI TODOROKI

endeavor has a pretty big crush on recovery girl’s cute young grandson.

tw/cw. male reader, age gap, dubious consent kissing and groping, reader is 20 in this fic, enji being a creep

senpai’s note. wanna request a fic, or headcanon? look at my requesting rules before requesting darling. sorry for taking a long break. rules/requesting, masterlists

(name) sighed as he plopped down onto the recovery girl’s office chair that he had taken over for the time being. recovery girl was taking a long-needed break, and (name) took the position to fill for her, since both of them have the same quirk. the job was going fine, even sometimes fun.

taking care of injured or sick students was a highlight of his day, it felt nice to see the kids get better, and it’s funny how flustered they can get when (name) has to give them a kiss to treat their wounds. it was truly nice until he met endeavor, the current number-one pro hero.

(name) had bumped into endeavor in a hallway in U.A. endeavor was truly memorized from his presence, from how (name’s) pouty lips were pink and plumped that looked so kissable to his nurse uniform that hugged his waist nicely, showing off his curves. neither of them didn’t say anything, (name) felt too awkward while endeavor was busy admiring his beauty.

after that encounter, endeavor couldn’t keep his eyes off (name) and wouldn’t leave him alone. every opportunity that endeavor had, he would visit (name) in the nurse’s office. he would bring him lunch, yummy desserts, or even luxury gifts. this surprised (name), especially when did endeavor to find out that he had a sweet tooth. endeavor even allowed him to address him by his first name.

later on, (name) figured out that the scary man had a crush on him, endeavor never told him that so he put the pieces together and the result is endeavor having a crush on him. (name) felt flattered, but he didn’t feel like it wouldn’t work. first of all, he thought that endeavor was a married man. second of all, (name) was still a young adult while endeavor was in his late middle age. lastly, he just felt uneasy around the man.

but, the kind-hearted man he was, he continued to let endeavor to do as he pleased, even if he had to suffer. back to the present, (name) rocked the chair side to side with a frown plastered on his face. the other pro heroes/teachers invited the nurse to have lunch with them since they’ve gotten along great for the past week.

that was a nice gesture, but he sadly declined. he didn’t want to see or interact with endeavor. endeavor would’ve most likely joined his comrades since he thought (name) would be there. he kept coming up with excuses for why he couldn’t join his new friends, and it was getting tiring. some were true, and some were lies.

(name) sighed once again as he looked towards his desk, eyeing the bouquet of roses lying there that endeavor purchased for him when (name) arrived in the morning. he recalled how endeavor told him that “the roses are as gorgeous as him”. the flattery and the gift did make his cheeks go red. (name) hummed, he should remind himself later to get a flower pot with water for the roses.

unexpectedly, there was a sudden knock on the door. (name) attention turned from the flowers to the door. was it a student? he continued to observe the door until he (name) finally responded, “come in”. he wouldn’t have spoken if he had known who was behind that door. the wooden door slid open slowly to reveal endeavor with a slight blush on his cheeks, while one of his hands was occupied with something.

he was wearing his hero attire, but the beard and mustache that were made of fire were missing, showing off his massive scar on his face. (name’s) eyes slightly widen as well as his mouth. he quickly stood up, accidentally knocking pens and pencils off the desk from the chair colliding with the desk.

“e-endeavor! hello! g-good to see you again! i thought you joined with the others for lunch!-”, (name) nervous stammering was interrupted. “i’ve told you to call me enji”, enji stated in his low voice that sent shivers down (name’s) spine. “r-right..”, (name) muttered while a bead of sweat rolled down his cheek.

“i had heard that you weren’t joining with the heroes.”, enji spoke as stepped inside the nursery. he stood in front of (name), his tall figure hovering over his petite frame. (name) nodded, “yes, i have too much..p-paperwork to get done!”, he answered as he pointed back to the stack of papers that were sat on top of his desk.

he glanced at the stack of paper, and (name) was indeed telling the truth. enji nodded, he understood. enji stared back at the nurse as he lifted a pink cloth that wrapped around a bento box to (name). (name) eyed the bento box with a brow raised. he was hesitant to grab it, but he took it regardless. “fuyumi made it just for you”, enji added as he looked away his cheeks flushed red.

(name) knew fuyumi, well not exactly. enji had talked about his kids to him and they sounded lovely. the only child (name) who had interacted with him was shoto. shoto only came to him when he was wounded, and he hardly got to know him. shoto was highly serious and clear-headed, but there was some sweetness about him, and that is what made (name) take a liking to him.

(name) smiled warmly at the bento box, he wondered if enji had talked about him to his kids. “could you please tell her that i highly appreciate it, i’m sure it tastes delicious!”, (name) giggled as he smiled brightly at enji. enji eyes slightly widened and his cheeks burned brighter as he felt his heart beating loudly. “hm..”, enji hummed.

after that, enji left the infirmary to let (name) continue his work, and eat the food in the bento in peace. he was grateful, as soon he took a bite of the food, he thought he would die of joy. the food tasted delightful. if he ever met fuyumi, he would ask for some recipes from her.

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🎀 ⋅ ˚✮ 🧸

the sun has started to set, all the students went to their dorms while the heroes had their hero duties to attend to. (name) had already finished with his lunch, and it was delicious. (name) was busy typing away on the computer that was on the desk. papers, folders, pencils, and pens were scattered around the desk.

he was too invested in staring at the computer screen to realize the infirmary door slid open and someone walking in. footsteps were coming closer to him, but (name) didn’t notice, until two large hands grasped onto his shoulders. (name’s) typing had come to a halt, his eyes widened as he shuddered in his chair, and he felt his heart stop beating from the scare.

“relax (name), it’s me”, enji reassured him as he gently rubbed (name’s) shoulders to comfort him. (name) sighed in relief but he continued to be on edge. how enji was massaging his shoulders made him feel uneasy. he couldn’t just tell enji to stop his actions, that would just be impolite, after all, enji was just being affectionate.

“s-sorry, you startled me..”, (name) trembled as he tried not to focus on what enji was doing. his eyes looked somewhere else besides enji as sweat beads started to form. the awkward silence was finally broken. “i’ve bought you a gift”, enji stated with a hint of delight in his voice. (name) wasn’t surprised.

now and then, when they both bumped into each other or if endeavor visited the infirmary, he would have a gift in his grasp for (name). whether it be something thoughtful or something luxurious. (name) had told him many times that he didn’t want him to spend his hard-earned money on him, but enji was stubborn as ever and wouldn’t listen.

“you did wha-”, (name) didn’t even finish what he was going to say. the chair was turned around quickly by enji, making him release a shriek. (name) was faced with enji revealing a black medium-sized jewelry box that was topped off with a white ribbon. endeavor slowly opened the box, revealing a sparkling continuous oval diamond necklace.

(name’s) eyes widened, his mouth agape slightly as he stared at the gorgeous and expensive necklace. he couldn’t accept the lavish gift, but endeavor wouldn’t let that happen, (name) couldn’t refuse if he wanted to. enji saw how (name) was memorized by the luxuriant gift he happily bought for him, and he smirked with pride.

“here, let me assist you with placing it around your neck”, endeavor requested with a small smile present on his face. (name) hesitated, but agreed. “o-okay..”, (name) muttered as he slowly rose from the chair, and turned around for endeavor to have easier access to his neck. endeavor didn’t waste this opportunity to look at (name’s) backside.

he looked at his neck he desperately wanted to mark to his waist that he could easily snatch, and then to his plump ass that he extremely wanted to place his hands onto, he bet that it felt soft and squishy. endeavor pushed those thoughts away to focus on his task, putting on this gorgeous necklace around the most beautiful man he ever laid his eyes on.

endeavor carefully removed the necklace from the box, as he safely grasped it. he gently placed the necklace around (name’s) neck as he made sure not to accidentally harm (name) and then fastened the clasp securely. as the necklace was finally around the male’s necklace, endeavor smirked in pride.

knowing that his wealth would “impress” (name), and his money would take care of him for the rest of his life swelled him up with honor. the thought of (name) being his adorable househusband, taking care of the house while enji would shower with him luxury would make his face flush, and even sometimes a boner.

(name) reached for the necklace, his hands roamed the necklace carefully, fingers intertwined with the diamonds attached to the necklace. maybe..he was wrong about enji. (name) didn’t mention this earlier but he thought that enji was a weird old man that had an obsession with him.

it’s just a silly crush that enji would forget about. (name) smiled fondly, “thank you enji, it’s lovely-”. oh, how (name) wished he took those words back. endeavor craned (name’s) neck upwards to try to meet his face level as his lips met (name’s). (name’s) eyes widen in horror, his body flinches as his felt endeavor’s big hand gripped onto his hip.

endeavor’s eyes were shut as he focused on the kiss, he felt like he was on cloud nine. this was like a fairy tale, this was finally happening. how badly (name) wanted to push the man away, and slap him..but the outcome of it. call him selfish, but he doesn’t want to see the large man heartbroken, he wouldn’t live with himself if he was the cause of the endeavor’s depressive behavior.

the fear of the one interfering with the endeavor’s hero work. (name) shook those upset thoughts away as he hesitantly kissed back, closing his eyes. endeavor noticed it made his cheeks turn pink. (name) had finally fallen in love with him as much as he does with (name), that’s what endeavor has thought. (name’s) heart was pounding, and his knees started to feel like jelly.

endeavor realized (name’s) state. he quickly pressed (name) to the wall, trapping him. a grunt left (name’s) lips but that was swallowed up by the kiss. (name) tried to hold himself up. his hands grabbing onto the walls to prevent himself from falling. (name) felt disgusted with himself, he shouldn’t let this man take advantage of him, but he’s allowing him.

endeavor’s hands were placed on (name’s) hips, rubbing them up, and down as their kiss was getting heated. the intimate touches were making (name) hot and bothered, and he was whimpering from the sensation. endeavor’s hand continued to roam (name’s) body until his hands landed on (name’s) ass.

(name) gasped, and endeavor quickly invaded his mouth with his tongue. (name) was taken back by the sudden intrusion, but didn’t complain or even push the man off. tears threatened to spill from (name’s) eyes, endeavor’s tongue was a bit big for his mouth to fit in so he would gag at times.

their tongues tangled together fighting for dominance, but it was endeavor who was doing that crap, he wanted to take full control as drool leaked from (name’s) mouth. (name) was panting in the open-mouthed kiss, this will soon blow over, right? this silly “little” crush?

[luniarix]

FAVORITE FOLLOWER

ᥫ᭡synopsis : you have a mysterious follower who has been swiping up on your stories to flirt with you, and when you finally stop hesitating to reply back, he’s quick to make sure he sweeps you off your feet. if you let him, of course.

ᥫ᭡NOTE : the texts are a bit cut off, and i rlly don’t know how to fix it since it’s an app thing so :’))) (and don’t mind the dates on the texts(´；ω；`) it was too much of a hassle to change em LMAO) but just know that toji is complimenting you in each text you sexies <333

CW : fem!reader, chubby!reader, shy!reader, fluff, flirting, gentleman!toji, biker!toji, reader being an overthinker, slight angst (reader’s inner thoughts), talks of insecurity and reassurance, long distance!au, texting!au (with some cheesy texts), toji pining after u first o(｀ω´ )o, the bff is up to interpretation of your own gals :-)

a prequel to *⁀➷ 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜

“did he swipe up again?” your best friend asks, taking a bite out of the fruit bowl she was indulging in. you chew on your bottom lip, a way to try and suppress your lingering smile as you glance at her. “uh—yeah.” you breathlessly say, staring at the dms between you and another user.

toji was his name. you knew that much by his user and the way friends addressed him in the comments. he was a mysterious person, because although he posted himself, it was never much of his face. he was a biker, and he’d usually post the late night drives he went on. so that means, his helmet was all you could usually see.

but oh god, even if he didn’t show his face, everything else about him was so sexy. you just knew that he was so, so handsome. your best friend never fails to mention that huge possibility when the topic of toji himself is brought up—and intrigues you even more about who he really is.

“what’d he text you?” your friend asks, raising a brow as she sees the way you’re trying to hide the growing smile as you’re staring at your phone screen. you clear your throat, trying to act nonchalant. “nothing, he just said that i look pretty from my story.” she stares at you with a knowing look.

“let me see.” she gets up to walk over to you, curiosity and excitement written all over her face. you bashfully hesitate to show her your screen, but when you do—she’s practically geeking.

“girl why haven’t you replied to him yet?!”she scrolls up to see that he’s been consistently replying to your stories for a while, and you’re looking away from her piercing stare.

“2 and a half months of him flirting in your dms? and you’ve only been liking his texts?babes c’mon!! you should answer him!” your friend playfully hits her hips with yours and you groan. “well i would but—but i just haven’t had the courage to.” you place your head down, folding your arms under your head as support. your friend scoots closer towards you and places your phone right beside your elbow.

“just start by responding to his most recent flirty text to the picture you posted the other day.” you raise your head up again and grab your phone, glancing at your friend anxiously. she winks back at you in reassurance. you huff and slowly straighten your back, staring at your screen as you try to think of how to finally respond to him.

spring had just started rolling around, and the picture you posted on your story was of you in a long sleeve body con dress. you didn’t look anywhere near extravagant, as it was simply supposed to be an outfit out for a arcade night with your friends. but the way toji complimented you, you might as well have been wearing a dress to some gala.

he always had a formal way of complimenting— and if you were being honest, you liked it so much more than what other men were complimenting you with.

u fine asf. u send? and yo u sexy, let me hit pls aren’t exactly what a girl wants to hear as a conversation starter.

you suck in your bottom lip, chewing on the soft skin as you begin to type. you wanted to respond at one point, but with how highly he praised you, you shied away from flirting back as you felt a bit intimidated by him— more so because he was so mysterious and the way he carried himself was intriguing. you wanted to get to know him, truly.

but if you didn’t live up to what he was expecting? if you end up making him pull away somehow? if he wanted more than you could give? if you weren’t enough?

the overwhelming thoughts of overthinking chipped away at your eagerness to reply back, and so you’ve been putting it off. but with the push of your friend, you decide that it’s time to finally pull up those big girl panties and text the man that has been complimenting you in ways that has you swooning over and over again.

you decided that it’d be best to respond with a simple thank you, as you were still nervous as to how to start a conversation with him.

you stare at the screen as you groan, cringing at your own texts as you believed that maybe you should’ve said something different. you began to debate if you should just delete the text and say something else, but the more you thought about it the more you got into your own head. it wasn’t until you see the words “seen” under your texts that you begin freaking out.

“oh my god he’s texting—what the fuck!!” you panicked as you threw your phone across the table and began to fan yourself. your friend stares at you before cracking up, grabbing your phone as she hears a ding. “he texted you back already? girl he want you so bad. hurry up and reply!” she tosses your phone back to you, and you groan as you try to calm your nerves.

this was so stupid, it’s not like this was the first time someone was sliding up your dms—but it was different with him. toji was someone who you’d started crushing on the first time he swiped up. so like, freaking out was a normal reaction no?

“hurry up and check what he said!!” your friend ushers you while laughing to turn your phone back on as you playfully swat her away. you go back to instagram, and you can’t help but get flushed all over again.

you wince in shame. of course he would ask you as soon as you replied back—after all, you did keep him hanging for 2 and a half months while he was basically flirting with the wall in your dms. but he can’t blame you! you liked all of his texts, and you were just too shy (more like hesitant) to respond back until now! he’ll understand, right?

you sigh at the utter arrogance of that thought process. but you had to be honest with him, you knew that. but starting off a conversation in which you explained your insecurities and overthinking with him wasn’t a good first impression for yourself for a man that could blossom into someone more than a stranger—so you decided to give him a short yet truthful answer.

maybe, if (when) you two had the chance to grow into something more in the future, you would answer him in full.

if you were being honest, it’s quite endearing to know that toji’s clearly been waiting for your responses, and he’s now typing back. you tug at your oversized shirt as you let out a sigh of relief.

it was an exhale that you didn’t even know you were holding in.

you softly laugh at your silly overthinking, realizing how much you let the thoughts consume you that you hadn’t even given yourself the chance to get to know toji.

it seemed frightening the longer you pondered the interaction, and you probably should’ve done this a while ago.

after all, the things that frighten us within our minds tend to be less scarier when we’re actually faced with them.

“so how’s the convo with mysterious biker going?” your friend's soft-spoken voice brings you out of your inner monologue. you turn your body slightly towards her as you place your phone down to calm your nerves. they were good nerves, though. you were excited to finally get to talk to him.

a small but glowing smile forms on your lips as you prop your elbows on the table, resting your chin on your palms. "it's going good—and we're getting towards an actual conversation." your friend doesn’t miss how your eyes twinkle with giddiness, and she grins at you. “okay girl, see—i told you you should’ve texted him way sooner.” she gives you a pointed stare and you avert your gaze embarrassedly.

“i know,” you sheepishly shrug your shoulders, grabbing your phone again to look at what toji said. “i might have been holding myself back from letting him in—even if it was for just a moment.” you admit, words slowly dying out as you stare at your screen.

oh my. did he just call you mamas? and he’s been wanting to get to know you? he’s been wanting you? this whole time?

you almost let out a loud squeal, but you cover it up by keeping your fist near your mouth, muffling the giddy noise you made. was it even possible to fold this fast in a conversation? because surely, you knew by now that you didn’t want to stop here.

you almost didn’t even notice the change of texting toji had because of how exhilarated you felt, but you found it so cute as you believed it to be him getting more comfortable with you.

oh, you should’ve—really should’ve—talked to him much sooner. but you shouldn’t dwell on it anymore, as you still ended up talking to him. you begin to type, cheeks hurting from how hard you’re grinning, and your head in cloud 9.

“so,” your friend starts, having you turn your attention to her once again. "i see that you and toji are hitting it off pretty well, huh?" she raises her brows at you teasingly. you laugh, nodding your head in response.

“yeah… i—” you cut yourself off, trying to figure out how to put your thoughts into words. “i thought that it would be really intimidating if i ever talked to him, but i realized that i was just… afraid, i guess?” you timidly shrug your shoulders, because admitting how you felt out loud made you realize how trivial your hesitation actually was.

“now you know, hm?” your friend gives you a warm smile, knowing that the realization had hit you. she doesn’t tease you about it, nor does she make any more comments besides that.

no one should be forced to step out of their comfort zone if they aren't ready to do so anyway.

you give her a toothy-grin, nodding energetically. you were ecstatic—to say the least. “i’m not sure where this’ll go but i really want to take that leap—he’s super sweet and so cute.” your friend whistles in agreement. “look at what he’s said then!”

and so you do.

a sudden surge of warmth blooms and spreads throughout your chest, reaching up your neck and spreading across your face. you were warm, but it (mostly) wasn’t because you were swooning for toji once again—it was because you felt like this was the start of something new.

you had a gut feeling that this was going to be a long, and most definitely exciting new journey. and this time; you weren’t hesitant.

feel free to leave ideas in my inbox or a comment ♡ if i made any grammar mistakes that i missed, lmk! and thank u so much for reading (●´ω｀●)

[rimaiahwrites]

more looks into the life of connie and his princess puh-leeze !!! that fic was so cute i’m obsessed

YESS I LOVE THEM SO HERE YALL GOO

(This soo late lol imma edit it tomorrow sorry about any mistakes) kinda short too but anywho

—

Connie’s good girl

The school year has been so rough for y/n, you have been more stressed than ever and was nearly burnt out. Connie knew this and was helping as much as he could but a lot of the time he was also busy with making drops and making ‘business’ plans with ony so when he was very pleased to see you running in the living room with a piece of paper in your hand waving it around with a big grin. “Pa look, look!” You said extremely excited. He grabbed the paper and realized it was your report card and it had only As and A pluses on it, no B or C in sight. He grinned before picking you up and spinning you around in his arms, “Good job princess, all AS!” He kissed your cheeks than your neck making you squeal and giggles since you were so ticklish. “I knew you could do it mama.” You smiled shyly, it always felt good to get so much praise from Connie, other then yourself he was the only person you ever truly wanted to make proud.

“You proud of me papa?” You grinned standing up on your tippy toes to kiss him on the lips. “Mhm very proud I think my princesa need some rewards.” You beamed with glee because that means Connie was going to get you whatever you wanted. You were already spoiled as it is but now that he had a real reason to spoil you today you knew it was going to be something special.

You went to get ready right away. You sported a mini flare skirt with a cute colorfully cropped top with spaghetti straps and pink kitten heels. Your hair was in a half up half down style with two ponytails. You were very cute to say the least.

“You look cute today mama, hope you got sum’ under this short ass skirt tho.” Connie said walking up to you running his hands to you ass to check. You rolled your eyes playfully, of course you did because you knew he didn’t play about any of that with his. “Yes I do now let’s gooo” you say pulling him to the front door. You connected your phone to his Bluetooth in his all black hellcat because of course You being the princess passenger you always got to play your music in the car unless you wanted to hear his. Connie speed out of his driveway like a damn crazy man you were truly surprised he hasn’t gotten into any car accidents with the way he drives, him being a speed racer makes it no better either.

Once you were in the mall it was like a kid in a candy store, you were pulling him to every store your eyes landed on, you got sneakers, heels, couple of bags, cute clothes makeup really anything your little heart desired and Connie was right there supporting you pulling his card out as soon as you stepped up to the cashier. It made your heart swell every time he did too, not just because he was spending his money on you but because he truly treated you like a little princess.

“Con which one?” You asked holding up two bags one dark pink and the other light pink. “I don’t know baby which ever one you want.” Connie mumbled kissing you on the cheek. You huffed and pouted “that’s why I asked you I don’t know what I want papa.” You rolled your eyes still looking at both of them not paying any attention to your surroundings clearly because the older white lady standing closely behind gasped and eyed you shocked at the pet name that you normally addressed Connie as. Connie snorted a chuckle looking the lady in the eye and pointed to the dark pink one. “That one you got a lot of clothes it will match with plus papa loves you in that color.” He said pulling you close and sliding his hand down to you ass gripping it a bit inwardly laughing at the white haired women awkwardly trying to avoid eye contact. You grinned and placed the other one down planting a big kiss on his shape jawline. “I think this is all I want pa let’s go home my feet hurt.” You cried playfully limping a bit.

Connie walked out the mall with Seven bags filled in his arms and you clinging on to him like a koala bear because your feet were hurting to bad from the heel and Connie of course spoiled you to no end and one little whine from you and next thing you knew you were being carried to the car.

“Thank you for all this I really appreciate it” You shyly admit, he was so fine that sometimes it intimidated you a little like his side profile, the neck tattoos going all the way down his arm and hand. He smiled back and leaned over to place a kiss on your soft lips. “You’re welcome mama, my pretty girl so polite let’s get home so I can give you your other presents.” He smirked as he bit and tugged on your bottom lip softly making you whine and clench your legs tightly.

-

Connie pulled his gaming chair to the mirror in his bedroom and pulled his shirt off, his tattoos on his chest now visible, you had just gotten out of the shower and you had nothing on but one of his big black t shirt. No Panties or bra. “C’mer.” You walked over to him with shaking legs knowing he was about to fuck you dumb. He pulled you on his lap and got started on your neck, kissing gently and pushing his hands under you makeshift nightgown and squeezed your boobs making you moan out a little bit. You bite your lip and watched him through the mirror. He was being so gentle with you like you were made of glass, you rubbed your legs together making your slick spend from your entrance to your clit. Connie quickly caught on and grinned against your neck. “be patient mama imma get to it.” You tried your best to slow your breathing but he was in your ear whispering and touching you. You were getting turned on very quickly. Connie ignored your needy moan and continued on with the teasingly foreplay before he pulled you against his chest and pulled your legs apart opening you up.

Your breath got caught in your throat when you saw your pink insides and Connie staring holes into mirror. “Look at this pretty pink pussy…so wet is that all for me?” You were quick on nodding your head. “I know.” He took his hand and rubbed his fingers up and down your slit slowly, killing you on the inside. He rubbed your clit for a beat before sliding his thick fingers in. Your pussy was already clenching onto him. “Ah-mm please go faster” you moaned. He nodded before he stroked his fingers deeper hitting your spot. Your eyes rolled shut and leaned your head back on his shoulder. “That feel good? Tell papa let me hear you.” You tried your best but only a pathetic whine was heard. That was good enough for him..for now. He pulled his fingers from you and placed them in his mouth sucking your cum off. “Why’d you stopp?” Your spoiled ass whine kicking your foot up a little. He chuckled and flipped your around so you were facing him. “Cuz I want you to cum on my dick not my fingers now stop whining.” He pulled his sweatpants down and his dick strung out, it’s tip was pink and wet with prenut.

“Come get up on it mama.” He pulled you up higher so you were above him and rubbed his tip up and down your slit before dipping in your sweet warm pussy. Your eyes widened from the shock it had only been a few days since he had given you dick but it was so big to you that you didn’t think you’ll ever get over the shook of his tip sliding in. “P-pa- ehhh” he looked up at you seeing the look of discomfort on your face. “I know it’s all the way in.” He said before slamming you down on it. “Oh fuck! Oh fuuuuckkk!” You moaned placing your hand on his shoulders trying to balance yourself but that was all thrown off because he started thrusting from up underneath you.

You gasped loudly grabbing his shoulders. “Waitt papa wait!” He smirked and thrusted harder, his dick hitting your g spot perfectly everyday. Your finger nails gripped into his strong tattooed arm.

“Yeahhh I’m getting in that pussy huhh mama” he said his voice raspy and deep, his tongue folded on his bottom lip. Your pussy was so tight and gripping his dick so good. You nodded your head already feeling out of it.

“Tell me how it feel baby…tell daddy.”

“Good, feel good daddyy.” You whine trying to sit up to ride him, you got up on your toes and laid your hands on his torso, he grinned big watching you “you gon ride like a big girl? Oh you acting outta character today princess.” You giggled but as soon as you sunk down you quickly remembered why you didn’t ride him often. “Go ahead you can do it baby.” You slowly but surely begin going quickly hitting deeper than before. Your knees knocked together when it started getting a little to deep and good.

“Gimme it! Gimme that daddy dick papa please I been a good girl promise!” You went on and on.

“Get it than mama you in control right now.” Connie said through small groans, you shook your head you wanted to keep going but all your strength was getting zapped. You fall onto his chest shaking like a leaf, his dick popping out. “Aw princess I thought you was gonna be a big girl and take it?” Connie chuckled smacking your ass making you jump a little.

“Papa I tried it’s just so hard and my legs aren’t that strong.” You pouted.

“That’s ok, that’s why I go to the gym.” He chuckled and picked you up by your legs and put his dick back in.

He Bounced you up and down, your loud wails were surely heard by the neighbors but Connie couldn’t give a fuck he was making his pretty girl feel good and that all that mattered to him…and you. You felt like you were in a whole different dimension you were hearing color and seeing sounds, your eyes felt like they were permanently crossed.

Connie loved your fucked out face, the drool and tears making you even prettier.

“M’ gonna nut daddy please don’t wanna make a mess on the floor waitt!” You sobbed, Connie ignored you and pounded harder because that’s exactly what he wanted.

“I know baby I know gimme that juice it’s okay daddy will clean it up.” He smiled gripping your face with one hand and the other holding you up, he placed a sweet kiss on your lips.

You whined against his lips and let it all out on his dick and floors. “There we gooo, mhmm.” He groaned rubbing his pink tip up and down your slit making your cum fling all over the both of you. You placed your face in his neck embarrassed hearing the loud splashing sounds. He smiled and waited to until your breathing evened out before setting you down on his bed. “You gonna suck daddy up?”

“Mhmm” You hummed giving him the prettiest smile before bringing his dick up to your lips.

“Daddies need to get spoiled too sometimes.”

[whoppert]

Hands on the Ground! (König/Reader)

2,652 words

tagged: König protective stalker; non-con groping of MC by villain

AO3 Master Fic List

The new recruit has caught König’s eye. He's seen a lot, but this is new. He doesn't want to complicate her life, no, he will just watch her from the shadows.

It's just a crush. An obsessive crush. An addictive and feverish and all-consuming crush. Nothing more.

But when she has a problem, König takes it upon himself to find a solution.

König passes by the new recruits in the training area. It’s not often he particularly notices a recruit - sure, he’s incredibly observant. He’ll notice a change in breathing in an opponent in a fight, a slight change in the walking gait of a teammate when they’re hiding an injury, but rarely does someone actually make an impression on him.

He checks with the training leader and learns her surname. The leader says she has promise, and asks if König wants to meet her, but the king declines. No, he’ll just watch from afar.

That night he steals her personnel file. Just some light reading, a bedtime story. This is where he gets a full name, address and next-of-kin, her brother. A dishonorable discharge from a foreign militia is on her record, but there’s no explanation.

AO3

It wasn't a concern, KorTac had a high turnover in the lower ranks, so administration often ignored marks on people’s records when it came to new hires. From her records, König learns that she speaks four languages fluently, that she has pilot experience and the area she struggles in is sniper shooting.

König thought about her as he drifted off to sleep.

A few weeks pass.

He keeps to his internal promise to watch from afar, but that doesn’t stop him taking the long route to get around the base, just so he’ll have a chance to watch. She’s really something in combat and wins both of the hand-to-hand training sessions that König manages to watch casually as he strolls by. He can read the tension in the male recruits. She’s the only female who manages to win in a mixed-sex fight and it wounds their egos.

Good, König thinks to himself. He knows how men fight and the angrier they get, the easier they are to defeat if you can read the signs, which she seems to be able to, because she taunts them as she fights them, a verbal dressing down for their shitty behavior and arrogance, respectively.

Occasionally he’d see her in the mess hall when their schedules overlapped. She sits with two other female recruits, and smiles at them warmly, the group seemed to have an affinity to each other that usually signifies friendship. She isn’t shy about getting what she needs to fuel her body, she’s smart in that way.

The next training session König watched entirely from the shadows. She wrestles well, though she doesn’t have the strength or size of her opponent so she is quick to recover from his grapple. She’s very quick. This opponent, a man with a dark cropped haircut is much better than her previous sparring partners. The rest of the recruits don’t talk through this fight like they did during the turns of the other pairs. No, this fight seems to be significant for all of them as a group. Her legs are strong, and she kicks her opponent just over his center of balance, sending him stumbling backwards.

In the second she took to right herself, her gaze flicked over and settled where König was watching, leaning against the edge of a nearby building, arms crossed over his chest. Bright eyes bore into his, the only visible part of his face. Today was another day he was glad to have his mask, the surprised expression rendered invisible to the outside world. It is only one second at most, but her opponent spots it.

The battle is quickly concluded, and her streak is lost.

König is gone before she’s even hauled herself up from the dirt.

Some nights later, König checked the schedule and found that she had booked a time at the sniping range to practice and that only one other soldier had booked an overlapping session. König made sure he was called for guard duty.

This is how he would make up for costing her the match.

The sky is grey and dull. He watches as she fires several shots, observing her form and then steps up to the neighboring practice spot. They do not acknowledge each other. She is too busy practicing to notice. She is by no means bad at it, just struggles with moving targets, which is costing her attempts. König is proud of his marksmanship, and knows that if he had that rifle he would have put down each of the targets in half as many bullets.

After another round she looks up at König from her seat, pulling her ear muffs off. He is sitting too, but even so she has to look up at him - everyone has to look up at him.

“You jerk as the gun fires,” he says. “You need to square your shoulders in order to support the weight of the rifle.”

She blinks, and considers his critique. Pressing the start button for the next round of moving targets, she hits every single one, only missing one shot. She rubs her shoulder.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

There is a pause.

“You’re the Colonel. König.”

“Yes. And you are?”

She gives him her name, though he already knows it.

“Good luck with your training, Lieutenant.”

König is called for a mission that will send him away for two weeks. Normally he welcomes the change of pace, but he mourns watching her each day. She is always in the back of his mind, and often in the front of it. He just can't stop himself from thinking about her.

When he returns, everything is the same on the surface, but she's different. Tense. König wonders what changed.

When he catches her sparring, there is a brutal ferocity to her movements, until she faces the only recruit who has ever bested her. König watches as she seizes up. The dark haired recruit easily takes her down, and his friends jeer. Perhaps it is a mental block?

A few days later, König collides with her - literally. He's making his way to visit a colleague when she comes out of a door, looking behind her, and smashing squarely into his chest. Strong hands grip her upper arms, so she narrowly avoids toppling over backwards. She's flushed, flustered.

"Forgive me," she stutters, glancing over her shoulder.

His hands don't leave her sides. For a second he short circuits. She feels so small compared to his large form.

"Hey," an unfamiliar voice calls from a familiar face as the dark haired recruit flies through the door after her. He stops suddenly, saluting. "Sir."

She seems to notice the breach of conduct and steps back quickly. König lets his hands fall to his sides.

"Is something wrong?" König asks, looking only at her.

“No. Sir,” she adds his title as an afterthought.

“Then you are dismissed.”

He didn’t believe her.

König had seen the growing tension between herself and this recruit. Naturally, he takes a look at the recruit’s personnel file as well. Adrian Meyer. No complaints. No formal military training, it seemed he’d been accepted to some relatively unknown private militia on a fluke. 24 years of age. Had left his previous employment voluntarily, but seemed to have made it into KorTac on the assurance that he was a quick study. It seemed true enough, his training showed exemplary marks - except in hand-to-hand. Always second place until recently. So he dislikes that she’s bested him, it creates tension, nothing particularly unusual, soldiers had troubles like this all the time. Still something doesn’t sit right with König. She had fought him a handful of times, and he’d studied her enough. She was always calm, collected, put together. Even first thing in the morning she’d report without a hint of exhaustion on her face. She could put on a show, hide her feelings as expertly as if she wore a mask, so what could have shaken her so badly the other day? Perhaps Meyer had said something to her, but what could he have said that left her so afraid?

There are hundreds of security cameras on a military base, with his clearance it was no issue at all to pull the footage. He isolated the record to about the rough time he’d run into her, and rewound from there. The video filled him with rage.

A few days pass and he watches the new recruits. She is shaken, making stupid mistakes and isolating herself from her friends. She eats lunch alone, practices alone and is easily defeated by opponents she had never so much as blinked at before. Meyer’s confidence grows each day, just continuing on as if nothing had happened.

König visits the trainees. She notices his approach, everyone else too deep in conversation, but as soon as she sees him, she turns her face away, refusing eye contact. He wants to tell her that he is going to fix this, but he doesn’t. König has said exactly forty words to her before, and he is not ready to add to the total.

“Meyer,” the training lead called out, König at his side. “The colonel is impressed with your training, he’d like a word.”

Meyer’s face split into a wide grin. “Knew it couldn’t be long before I started to get noticed.”

The pair step off to the side.

“Come visit me tonight in my office. 2100 hours. I want to discuss your future with KorTac.”

The smile falters momentarily. “Sir, I would love to, but I have guard duty-”

König interrupts, “I have arranged it. If you play your cards right, you’ll never have to pull guard duty again.”

Meyer is on time. He knocks on König’s office door at exactly 2100 hours. König invites him in, and at the sight of him Meyer stiffens.

“Relax,” König passes Meyer a drink. “This will be informal. I just want to get to know you a little better.”

König’s cheerful voice and the alcohol lulls Meyer into a false sense of security. The king is adept at this kind of hunt, he laughs on cue and flatters his prey with compliments, plying him with liquor, though Meyer doesn’t seem to notice that König has been nursing the same drink all night.

It’s growing late and still they talk. König knows the right time to strike is approaching because Meyer has started to talk absolute bullshit, too comfortable with the colonel.

“It’s just funny that you’re Austrian,” Meyer hiccups, swallowing the last of his glass.

“Why is that?” König makes sure the smile reaches his voice, since Meyer won’t see it.

“It’s just- to have an Austrian in charge of this place. Like shouldn’t you be running a farm or something?�� Meyer laughs, and König pretends to laugh with him.

“You are a typical little Bavarian, aren’t you, Meyer?”

“I’m hardly little, I’m 190.5 centimeters!”

“You are little to me.” König replies.

The time is here.

König clears his voice. “Can I show you a video I found the other day? It’s hilarious.”

Meyer nods, pouring himself another glass.

König pulls up the security footage, pre-prepared and paused right before the crucial moment.

When Meyer notices, his eyebrows knit together. “Is this the security tape?”

König ignores him and hits ‘play’.

The shot is of one of the rooms used to take language lessons. It is completely empty until she enters. Moments later, Meyer follows her. He says something that causes her to freeze up, but unfortunately the feed is visual only. Meyer takes a step towards her and she takes a matching step back, her lips forming unheard words, her face pleading.

“What is this?” Meyer asks. He seems suddenly sober. “Why are you showing this to me?”

She faints right, breaks left, but it’s a move she frequents while sparring and he’s prepared for it, shoving her hard into the wall behind her. She struggles to regain her balance and throws a sloppy punch, which Meyer outmaneuvers, slapping her hard in the face and using the moment she is stunned to turn her around, pressing the front of her body against the wall as he presses himself against her back. One hand holds her by the back of her throat, her cheek against the plaster, the other runs down her body, groping the sides of her breasts and squeezing her ass before he kicks her legs apart and begins to touch between her legs. He is whispering something in her ear.

“It’s not what it looks-” Meyer stands abruptly.

“Sit down,” it is an order. All of the comradery König had exhibited early vanishes.

Meyer obeys.

Meyer is clumsy, too caught up in the moment. He releases her neck to step forward, sandwiching her body between his and the wall for maximum contact. He grinds his crotch against her, his lips close enough to kiss her neck, but she uses the second he is distracted and stamps down hard on the top of his foot. Immediately, Meyer staggers away, and she bolts. The camera shot switches into the hall as she bursts from the room, running straight into the Colonel.

The clip ends.

“Look,” Meyer pleads, “I know how that looks, but she came onto me, alright? You can’t hear her, but she wanted it. She’s been a tease for months, it’s not my fault is she panicked the second things got real, it-”

König does not care for excuses. “Left or right?”

The quest jars the recruit. “W-what?”

“I asked: ‘left or right?’”

“Right?” Meyer seems confused.

“Very well. Put your right hand on the ground.”

Meyer didn’t move. “Why?” There was panic in his voice now. He repeats the question when at first he doesn’t receive an answer.

“Because I am going to crush it beneath my boot.” There was a hint of sadistic pleasure apparent in the tone.

“Wh- no. No.” Meyer stuttered, cradling his hand to his chest. “You can’t do that.” Again he stands, but he does not back away, König stands between him and the exit.

“You touched her with both hands,” König said coldly. “It is by my mercy alone that your other hand has been spared. I have let you pick which hand you would like to keep, but you will be punished for touching her, Schwein. Do not disobey me. Put your right hand on the ground.”

“I didn’t know she was yours, I wouldn’t have ever-”

König steps towards him and this time it is Meyer shrinking back.

“Please,” he begs. “Please.”

But it is of no use. Meyer can see that. Face flushed and body shaking, he slowly kneels on the carpet, begging once more to no avail as he places his hand palm-first against the floor.

The next day, König walks past her like she was nothing to him. Like she didn’t consume every thought. He’d done what needed to be done and he had no regrets, but that didn’t mean he suddenly had a free pass to talk to her, she was his subordinate, that kind of fraternization would get him in trouble, and even if he got away with it, who’s to say she'd even want him? He could live in her shadow knowing that under his supervision she would befall no harm. He likes knowing that he took care of her little problem.

König watches her eating at the mess hall. Her friends rush to her, telling her something that he could not hear, though he could make out the excited tone they used.

“An accident?” She repeats.

“Yes, broke his hand. Doc showed me the x-ray, it was fucked. Crushed and twisted so badly he’ll be lucky if they can fit rods against the remaining bones. He’s resigned for long term medical care, but the doc said he’ll never shoot again.”

“What happened?”

“Apparently he fell in front of a Jeep and it ran his hand over.”

“That’s unlucky,” she says. For a brief moment she glances in König’s direction.

For an even briefer moment he holds her gaze, before excusing himself.

AO3

[miniwheat77]

Power Hungry. (Graves x Virgin!Reader.)

!nsfw, smut, unprotected sex, non con, virginity loss, Graves is pushy, military talk, blood, violence, no minors- you know the drill!

Soap is not dead on this blog, he’s alive and well. That was not canon here! XD NOT EDITED

It’s no secret that Commander Graves has a thing for you.

He has since the day he met you.

He didn’t care who was around when he flirted with you. He didn’t care who heard. You didn’t mind him or his flirting at first. You got along with him pretty well. You didn’t see him too much because you were apart of task force 141 and he was with his own group. But that didn’t mean you didn’t like him. You of course had no intentions of ever pursuing his advances. You were a scared virgin and that was that.

Things changed when he took over Alejandro’s base and attacked Soap.

He held you inside Alejandro’s base alongside him. Had you tied up. He killed many innocent people and threatened you. Held a gun to your head.

It was a weird day when Soap and Rudy said he died in the tank, and you heard nothing about him for months.

Until you were sitting in that office talking to Shepherd.

“Without an army you’ve got nothing.” Gaz spoke. You were standing next to him. “Wrong again boys.” When Graves appeared on screen your stomach fell. Knowing what he’s capable of. What he said he’d do to you if you didn’t cooperate. You tried to hide yourself behind Gaz. “Un-fucking-believable.” Soap groans. “Soap… you miss me?” You can hear the smile in his voice as he says it. You hear nothing but ringing in your ears for the next few minutes. Not until you hear your name and freeze up.

“Is that Y/N behind you, Gaz?” Graves smiles. He bites his lip and you freeze. “That’s none of your concern.”

“Oh come on. Let me see her. Show me that pretty face.” Gaz backs himself up into you. Giving you a chance to get out the door without being seen anymore by him. You’d have to thank him later. “It’s alright. She’s got some hard feelings.. I’ll make it up to her.” He smirks. “Fuck off.” Gaz growls. “You tied her up and threatened to kill her, I hope the next time she sees you she shoots you.” Soap rolls his eyes. Graves laughs on the other end.

———

You’re stood next to Gaz when Graves tries to shake his hand. Gaz doesn’t make a move and you have to stifle back a laugh. You can tell it eats Graves alive that none of you will be nice to him, but that’s not something that’s going to change. Not ever. His betrayal was unforgivable.

When Makarov got away, the task force stepped back. They had no intel, no leads. Nothing. Shadows were staying on the base with 141 and you had live alongside them until they went elsewhere. So you kept to yourselves mostly. You did your very best to avoid Graves. Until you couldn’t. You were on watch, but your partner had changed. You had no idea who was waiting up there for you. Who you’d be on watch with for the next couple of hours. You expected maybe Captain Price or another shadow. But you didn’t expect him to be waiting there for you.

His smirk was knowing, he’d purposely put himself as your partner on watch from here on out and you felt your blood boiling inside your veins. Why couldn’t he just leave you alone?

Why couldn’t he have been a good guy? Someone you could trust?

He stands up from his chair. His smile beaming as he made his way toward you. “Y/N.. how you been honey?” He smiles. By the time he comes to a halt there’s barely a foot of space between the both of you. Which gives you the perfect distance for a right hook. He doesn’t expect it, not from you. You’re sweet and kind.

He stumbled back, recovering from the hit. His eyes are wide when he looks up at you. Wiping his now bloodied lip.

He laughs. In complete disbelief.

“My name is Y/N. That’s how you’ll address me. If you don’t want to sit on watch alone for the next couple weeks, you’ll shut the fuck up and leave me alone.” Your demeanor is strong. Your chest is puffed up and you’re standing your ground. Something he didn’t expect from you. You pass by him, going to sit down. “Oh come on, you’re not still mad are you?” You freeze up. Swallowing hard. “You tied me up, held a gun to my head, and than went after my task force. I’m fucking furious that you’re still standing on two feet.” The venom in your voice stings him a bit. How you could hate him so bad.

He knows he deserves it.

“What’s it gonna take huh? To prove myself to you?” He breathes. “You’re a fucking dog, a filthy traitor. You’re never going to be anything more than the dirt on my shoes.” You make your way for the door. “You and I? Will never be friends. Not ever. As far as I’m concerned, you’d have been better off if you pulled the fucking trigger.” You seethe as you slam the door shut, going down the stairs of the watch tower and leaving him up there alone. You knew you’d have to come back tomorrow, but for now, you needed to get away from him.

You think about him a lot. You always have.

You think about how flirty he was when you first met him. How he’d make you blush. He’d wink at you in passing and your stomach would fill with butterflies. You always thought it was a stupid crush but your virginity is what kept you away. You were scared to lose it, and avoided the topic at all costs.

Seeing him now makes you realize it was more than just a crush. You had real feelings for him deep down and his betrayal cut deep and hurt worse than anything you’d ever been through. If he liked you like he said he did, why was hurting you so easy? If you like someone, how could you? You lost sleep over it, and the time you thought he was dead, you dreamt of him. You would dream about how it was all a mistake, that it wasn’t real. How he’d come running to your aid and hold you close to him. Reassuring you it was all fake.

And than you’d wake up. And he’d be dead again.

He was a lot easier to get over when he was dead. It was easier to cope with because of his betrayal. You shouldn’t care that he was dead because of what he’d done and that’s how you got through the grieving process. But now, you didn’t know how to feel. He was alive but it seemed harder to cope with.

The next day on watch, you were up there first. He came inside but didn’t say anything to you. Thank god.

He leaves you alone for the most part. Only asking certain questions about how the base worked. You were short with him.

It went that way for weeks. You kept to yourself and so did he.

It was him who finally broke the silence.

“I wasn’t going to hurt you, you know.”

You turn to look at him, eyes darkening. For a second he thinks he made a mistake. But he doesn’t stop. “I.. I was just trying to scare you. So that you wouldn’t run away.” He swallows down a lump forming in his throat. “I knew you’d be pissed. Of course I did. But.. I thought maybe if I kept you close to me for long enough, you’d understand.”

He sighs. “I was delusional. I was terrified.” He looks down at his hands. “I acted purely out of fear, Shepherd told me about the consequences of what could happen if those found out about what had happened despite me not knowing. I was desperate to cover it up. He told me to kill you but I couldn’t. That’s why I kept you tied up. I didn’t want to.”

“He used me and threatened me. He blackmailed me because he made me apart of it. And Y/N.” He breathes. Looking at you. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry for the hurt that I’ve caused you. It was never my intention, I tried to avoid it.”

You look down. It’s silent and he’s clearly waiting for you to say something. “What’s done is done.” You breathe. “Maybe you can spend the rest of your life making up for it. And maybe when you’re dead I’ll forgive you.”

And just like that, you’re gone again.

———

For the next week or so, he decides to get close to Gaz.

He offers to help him any chance he gets and Gaz always says no. But Graves jumps in to help anyways. It drives Gaz crazy at first, until he gets used to it.

Gaz is helping work on a Humvee and Graves is passing him tools, offering to be a runner if he needed anything. “This is about Y/N isn’t it?” Gaz asks out of the blue one day. “What?”

“You’re only being friendly to me because of her, right?”

Graves sighs. “Gaz. I’m trying to make it up to you guys. I know it’ll take forever, but I’m trying.” He mumbles. “What I did was fucked up and if the shoes were on the other feet I’d have put a bullet in my head already and I’m thankful you haven’t because I know you want to.”

“She liked you.”

Graves freezes up. “What?”

“She did. She had feelings for you. She buried them deep afterward but she did. Had nightmares about you for fucking months after you died.” Gaz mumbles. “I… didn’t know that.” He sighs. “Of course you didn’t, because you don’t care about anyone but yourself.” Gaz wants to ring graves neck for hurting you. You’re like his little sister and seeing you be in love with someone who’s so selfish eats him alive. “I’m trying here. Okay?”

“You scared her.” Gaz slides out from under the Humvee. It’s where he’d been working. He picks up a towel and wipes his hands off. “I’ll never forget the look on her face when you betrayed her. When you betrayed all of us. She kept a fake face on, made us all think she was okay when she cried herself to sleep for days afterward. She’d never been so scared, she didn’t know who to trust or what to do. Captain Price had to send her off on leave for a couple weeks so that she could recover. She tried so hard to hide how she felt. Seeing you probably eats her alive, and having to work alongside with you I’m sure has ruined any kind of healing she’s done.” Gaz shakes his head. “And what the fuck she ever saw in you…” he scoffs. Throwing the towel down. “She’d be better off if you had died in that tank.”

He walks away, leaving Graves standing there alone, again.

He hated how bad this task force hated him, but he understood.

Soap is who he approached next, trying to keep him company. But Soap barely showed him the time of day and when he did it was the bare minimum. Soap hated Graves. With a burning passion. But that didn’t mean he stopped. Soap did all kinds of chores all over base, so Graves started helping.

He worked alongside Gaz, doing grunt work in the shop where Gaz tried to learn everything he could about the Humvee’s. He helped Soap with chores around the base, every single day. When he wasn’t busy that’s what he was doing.

For two hours a day, he was sitting up on watch with you. He never said a word, only did what he was supposed to.

When it came to missions, he let Captain Price control everything. He told the Shadows to follow his orders and do what they’re told and Graves did too. He kept his mouth shut and did exactly what they wanted.

On these missions, Graves watches Ghost like a hawk. Making sure he was safe, taking down a couple men that sneak up behind Ghost along the way. Graves knows to keep his distance and try to make amends by staying away, Ghost is too dangerous.

At the end of the day, if Graves dies on a mission, not a single person is going to care. He did something unforgivable, something he can’t come back from. If one of them decides they’ve had enough of him one day and kills him, they’ll cover it up and said he died in action. And that will be the end of Phillip Graves. It eats him alive day and night, but nothing compares to the way he’s hurt you. He thinks about back then, the way you’d smile and blush in his presence, roll your eyes at his flirting. Now, you were cold. Falling in love with him, or catching feelings. He doesn’t know which.

Having feelings for him destroyed you. Turned you into a cold hearted person. Who killed and served like there was nothing to it. All of the life you’d once been full of was drained because of him. Because he was supposed to protect you, but he was the one on the other side of the gun to your head. He stabbed you in back and you trusted him so much.

“What do you want from me Graves?” Soap finally snaps one day. Graves is helping him clean up the mess hall. Soap is stacking the chairs up and graves is sweeping as he goes. “I don’t want anything from you.” He mumbles. “What? You’ve been following every single one of us around like a lost puppy doing anything and everything we say, if you think that’s how you’re going to win us over it’s not going to work.” He scoffs. Graves shakes his head. “That’s no my intentions, Soap.” He sighs. “Than what are you doing?”

“I just want to work alongside you guys without hating each other. I can’t take back what I did, but I can be better. That’s what I’m trying to do.”

Soap rolls his eyes. “You betrayed us. We’re never going to like you. Not ever.”

“And that’s okay. But I’m going to do better and I’m not trying to prove that to you, I’m proving it to me.” Graves continues sweeping the floor. Leaving Soap with nothing else to say.

It goes on like this for months.

The task force worries of course, they don’t want to get comfortable with him because the last time they did that, he tried to kill all of them.

But they get used to it. To his help.

———

Graves follows after you. Hiding in the shadows. It’s late at night.

He doesn’t know what he’s thinking. Maybe he just isn’t thinking at all.

He knocks at your door quietly and you’re confused as you open it. But your heart rate picks up when you see who it is. What on earth is he doing at your door so late?

“Hey.” He breathes. He steps toward you and you hurriedly step back. “What do you want?” You say quickly. He raises his hands in surrender. “I just wanted to talk to you.” He breathes.

He can see your pupils are blown wide, you’re on edge. Had he really scared you that bad. He can see you clutching your sidearm. He sighs. “I swear I’m not going to do anything. You don’t have to be scared.” He breathes. “I’m not scared. The only thing between me and you is a bullet.” You breathe. “Just.. please. Talk to me?” He bites his lower lip, looking down at the ground. You sigh. “What do you want?”

He steps into your room, closing the door behind himself. “I just wanted to ask you..” he breathes. “Is it true you have feelings for me?”

“Had.” You finish.

“Okay.. so it’s true. You did have feelings for me.” He sighs. “Yeah. Until you betrayed us and put a gun to my head.”

He winces as the words leave your mouth. “I.. I wasn’t going to hurt you. I was just trying to scare you.”

He sits down on the edge of your bed, you’re standing in front of him, just a few feet away. “It worked.” Your eyes darken. You draw your gun from its holster, pointing it right at him. “Maybe it’s your turn.”

He closes his eyes as you move closer, pressing the barrel of your gun right to his forehead. He winces when you cock it.

“I’m sorry Y/N.”

He reopens his eyes, seeing that your eyes have filled with tears. Your hands have begun to tremble. “You’re not sorry.”

“I am. I’ve never regretted anything more. I hurt you, and I’ll never forgive myself for that.” He breathes.

Just as a tear slides down your cheek, you spin around to hide it. Wiping your cheek and shoving your gun back into its holster. “You need to go.”

“No.”

“Leave.”

“I’m not going. Not until you know how sorry I am.”

“Just go!” You wipe your eyes. You don’t want him to see you cry. “No.. not this time.” He breathes. He stands up, pulling you into him. You fight him until you’re sobbing so hard that you can’t contain it anymore and finally you relax back into him. He holds you against him while you cry. He pulls you back into the bed, your back against his chest as he holds you tight against him. You’re sitting in his lap but he’s got his arms wrapped around you. You’re still trying to fight him through sobs but you’re weak. He swallows hard, a lump growing in his throat.

Eyes fill his own tears. “I hate you.” You cry. “I hate you for what you did- I hate you for hurting me so bad.” You hiccup. “I hate you because I still care-“

You hang your head, trying your hardest to stop this panic attack.

He holds your arms to your side and keeps you there until your sobs quiet. Until you’re doing nothing but hiccuping. Thats when he finally stands up and sets you down. Kneeling in front of you. He takes your hands in his and forces you to look him in the eyes.

“You’ll never know how much I hate myself for what I did.” He swallows hard. You can see he’s got tear stains on his face. “You’ll never see how much it hurts me. Seeing you like this. I’ll never forgive myself for hurting you so bad. And I swear to god on my life I’ll live the rest of it protecting you. You don’t have to believe me. But..” he grits his teeth. Trying to hold back his own emotions. “I care about you. And you don’t have to believe me. But I was never going to hurt you. I wanted you by my side. It’s why I kept you tied up. I want you, I’ve always wanted you to be with me. So.. forgive me, for what I’m about to do.”

You look confused, your heart has finally relaxed in your chest. “Wha-“

He stands up, pressing his lips to yours. You start to panic again, trying to push him away. But he forces himself on top of you. He forces you back onto the bed, using his weight to pin you underneath him.

He’d already taken his vest off. Leaving him in only a t-shirt and jeans. He reaches for his belt. Once you hear the rattle, your eyes widen and you try harder to push him away. “Wait- Graves wait!” You push him back. He only pins you down, pressing his lips to yours again.

He forces your pants down your legs, keeping his lips on yours.

You didn’t realize how strong he is. Because no matter what you do, you can’t get him off of you.

He grips the base of his cock, and just as he’s about to slide into you, you force your head to the side.

“Please! I’m a virgin!”

He freezes on top of you. You look up at him, and all he can see in your eyes is terror. He steps down onto the floor, quickly lifting his pants over himself. “W-what?”

You pull your legs up to yourself. Hugging them to your stomach. “I’m.. a virgin.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. He back away further.

“Fuck.. fuck. I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking- I-“ he reaches quickly to buckle his belt, going for the door.

“Wait!” You stand up.

He freezes up, his hand on the door handle. “Don’t…” you freeze up. Unsure of what you’re about to do. What you’re about to let happen.

“Don’t go.”

He turns back to you, swallowing hard.

“You said… you won’t hurt me.” You breathe. “Y/N..” he trails off. Looking down at the ground. “I want you to do it.” You look up at him. His heart thumps in his chest and he doesn’t hesitate to close the gap between you again. His lips are on yours before you have time to change your mind. He returns himself between your legs, exposing himself once more.

He presses the tip of his cock at your entrance. Looking down at you. He makes sure you’re wet enough, pressing himself inside of you. He tries to go slow but seeing you wince. He lowers himself into you. Covering your mouth and bracing himself before you have a chance to make any noise of protest. Thrusting himself inside of you. Your eyes widen and you cry into his hand but he shushes you, whispering into your ear to reassure you that it’ll only hurt for a minute.

And that fast, your virginity is gone. You’d given it to the person who hurt you the very most.

You look up at him. Eyes full of tears.

He finally moves his hand.

“Phillip.” You breathe. Hearing his full name come out of your mouth is foreign.

You wince as he slides out of you, thrusting back into you. “I trust you to take my virginity.” He clenches his eyes shut.

“But if you betray me again.” You whisper. “It will be me who kills you this time.” You look up at him.

He buries his face into the crook of your neck, picking up his pace and thrusting deeper into you. Angling just right to hit that spot inside of you that has you crumbling. “You’re not going to have to do that. I can fix this.” He breathes. “I can’t take it back but I can be better. I swear.” He mumbles. Hips rocking lazily into yours. “I’ll show you.” He grits his teeth. The weight of him above you overwhelms you. You have to remind yourself why he’s there. Not to hurt you. But to make you feel good. You hold back all of the racing thoughts by focusing on the way he feels sliding into you. You can feel him pulsing against you, throbbing against your gummy walls. You swallow him up, clamping tight around him. It’s the most intense pleasure Phillip has ever felt. Ever.

The pleasure is white hot and it settles into your lower stomach, his too. Like an oncoming tidal wave. About to wash away all of the pain and hurt.

Each thrust he takes into you, you forget a little more. How could he make you feel so good but have hurt you so bad? Your lips part as he glides into your spongy spot, a gasp leaving your lips as your thighs start to shake beneath him. He knows he’s got you cornered. He’s going in for the kill.

You shake and whine. Mewling out his name and pleas. You’re panting out how good he feels inside of you and he’s so close to falling apart, he feels like he’s going to implode. He raises himself up, taking deeper thrusts into that spot that you like. He looks down at you. Seeing your lips slightly parted. Sweat forming at your hairline. It throws him into a daze. How pretty you are and how you’re letting him fuck you, you let him take your virginity and as far as he knows, you hate him. You wanted him dead. You take in a jagged breath, eyes going from his eyes to where the both of you now connect. Watching his cock slide in and out of you. He’s big. He stretches you out. It hurt at first but you’ve gotten used to it. You’re amazed by how fast the pain had subsided.

You claw at his back through his shirt, holding onto the fabric for dear life as he tears you to shreds.

“I’m… I- oh my god.” You inhale sharply. He clamps his hand over your mouth once more. Resting his weight on you and thrusting into you lazily. “It’s alright. Give yourself to me.” He mumbles. “Go on baby. Give it to me.”

Your eyes roll back before clamping shut. His eyes widen as you clench down around him. A gasp leaving his lips as you throb. “Oh fuck- I’m gonna cum too.” He breathes. He wraps his arm around you, holding you still and tight to him. You shake from your orgasm tearing through you. Your eyes open, going wide when he lets out a moan. You say something into his hand but he’s still got it over your mouth. His thrusts come to halt as he reaches his high and you gasp as he cums inside of you. When he finally draws his hand away from your mouth, you’re too shocked to even know what to say. He presses his lips to yours and this time, you kiss him back.

He slides out of you, hearing you gasp as he does.

He moves himself to lay beside you, pulling you into him. “I’m sorry.” He mumbles. “I shouldn’t have pushed you like this.” He breathes.

You choose to say nothing. Not at first. You let what just happened sink in. Your chest feeling heavy once more.

You’re an idiot for trusting him with your virginity.

“Hey. Look at me.”

He cups your cheek, forcing you to look at him. “Stop overthinking. Just relax. No thoughts, it’s just you and me.” He forces you to look at him.

You nod your head.

———

A few months go by.

The task force hates to it admit it, but Graves is an important part to the team. He’s pretty much redeemed himself, but they try to keep their guard up anyways.

Soap and Graves are walking along the side of the building when they hear shoes scuffing across the floor.

“You know we all know about you and Y/N right?” Soap brings up out of the blue. Graves feels his blood going cold. “I didn’t know that.” He sighs. “Yeah. For a couple weeks now. Gaz wanted to ring your neck.” Soap laughs. “I’m the one who stopped him.” Soap sighs. “I hope you prove us all wrong. Because if you do anything to her..” he trails off. “You already know.”

“Yes I do.”

They hear the sound again but this time they decide to check it out. Surprised when they see a new recruit crowding you.

“Something going on here?” Soap mumbles.

“No. We’re fine.”

“No! I said to leave me alone!”

Graves is quick to intervene. “Woah- you heard the girl. Back off.” He gets between the both of you. “You touch her again and I’ll cut your hands off. Understand me?” He crosses his arms over his chest. Seeing the new recruit with fear in his eyes. “Come on. Taking you to Price’s office.” Soap scoffs. Grabbing a hold of his shirt and tugging him along. “You alright? He hurt you?”

You shake your head. “I’m fine.”

“Cmon, I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

[separatist-apologist]

The Sweetest Con

Summary: Nesta Archeron has been trapped in witness protection for the past five years, hiding a secret no one can ever learn. All she has to do is wait out the criminals back home determined to punish her and her sisters for a lie they told years before.

She can handle anything- even the new agent sent to keep her safe.

Read on AO3

Five years earlier:

She wasn’t used to Georgia’s humidity. 

Nesta never wanted to get used to it. Standing just outside the little white house that now belonged to her, Nesta wiped sweat from the back of her neck. The town was small—no more than a couple thousand people, if that. No big buildings, no major downtown, and worst of all, no Chinese food. Not unless she wanted to creep closer to Atlanta and given that Nesta’s car was a piece of rusting junk built a full decade before she was born, she doubted she’d make it.

So much for being a hot shot lawyer. 

Nesta dumped her bag just inside the white picket fence, ignoring the peeling paint and splintering wood. It was the kind of place Elain would have thrived in. With a sigh, Nesta turned her back entirely on the overgrown yard and began walking along the only road in the town to the center—aptly named Main Street. 

There was practically no one out. A few older woman walked with looped arms down the sidewalks while a harried mother pushing a stroller made her way toward the only grocery store. Nesta made her way toward the marble carved library, taking the steps one at a time despite the unrelenting sun overhead.

The air inside was ice cold and empty save of two women who were quietly talking to each other. One of them—the red head—clearly worked there given she was behind the desk. The other sat perched on the counter, a book in her lap. They had been clearly talking with some animation though now that Nesta had intruded, the pair stared with wary suspicion.

Nesta hadn’t come to make friends. Lifting her chin with all the haughtiness her mother had instilled in her, Nesta marched toward the shelves lined with fantasy and romance and began reading the jackets. 

She needed a distraction. All she could think about lately was what would happen if Rhysand ever found them. Surely he was irate…he’d be out for blood. They’d flat out lied, pointing the finger straight at the notorious mafioso and the feds, in their eagerness to put him away, had overlooked all the evidence suggesting otherwise.

But Rhysand would know.

And Nesta wanted to forget him. Mobsters lived short lives, besides—in a year, he might be dead and the whole thing over. She could keep herself busy for that long. So long as the library kept books on the shelves, Nesta could find something to do.

She brought them to the front desk where the red head and the dark haired woman waited. “Library card?” The woman’s name tag read Gwyn. 

“No,” Nesta said, fishing out her new drivers license. Agnes Smith. Sure. That sounded real. “Here.”

Gwyn eyed it for a moment. “You don’t look like an Agnes.”

“Tell that to my mom.”

Gwyn began typing on her computer, glancing at Nesta’s ID. “Emerie,” the dark skinned, dark haired woman said with a friendlier smile. “I think you look like an Agnes.” Gwyn rolled her eyes. 

“You should come by the general store,” Emerie added, glancing at the ID for Nesta’s address. “You moved into the old Brandon house.”

“Grizzly murder happened there,” Gwyn said seriously.

“Did not. He died of all old age,” Emerie said quickly. “It’s been run down for a while. I’d be happy to help you out.”

“Do you like women?” Gwyn asked suddenly and bluntly. 

Taken aback, Nesta said, “Um…not really—romantically, anyway.”

Emerie sighed. “It was worth a shot.”

Nesta almost blurted out that she’d still take friends before she thought better of it. No need to be defensive or obsessive. “Where is everyone today?”

“It’s ten am,” Gwyn said.

“They’re at church,” Emerie replied when it was clear Nesta didn’t understand. 

“But not you?” Nesta questioned.

Gwyn handed her ID back, along with a white library card bearing her pretend name. “We aren’t welcome.”

“Why?”

Emerie grimaced while Gwyn scanned Nesta’s book. “They think I’m a homewrecker…and Emerie likes women. Openly.” 

“Fuck them,” Nesta said without thinking. It was the first smile she’d seen from Gwyn—a small, half formed thing, but a smile all the same. “We should start our own religion.”

“That sounds like blasphemy,” Emerie teased.

“It sounds like witchcraft,” Gwyn added, pushing Nesta’s stack of books toward her. “I’m in.”

Which was how Nesta found herself hosting brunch that Sunday with two strangers in a house that didn’t belong to her.

PRESENT:

“Who is that?” Emerie asked, sitting on Nesta’s front porch holding a sweating glass of iced tea. 

“He’s not local at all,” Gwyn agreed, lowering her sunglasses to take a look at the tall, muscular man making his way toward Nesta’s gate. Wearing mirrored shades and a suit that was bursting at the seams, he looked like he was playing dress up as a cop.

His dark, wavy hair half pulled in a bun didn’t seem regulation, for one. But something about him seemed off somehow. 

“He one of yours?” Gwyn questioned. Nesta had long since betrayed the secrecy she’d been sworn to, telling her friends everything but the most critical piece of truth in order to protect Feyre. 

Nesta scratched her ear. No, this man was definitely not one of hers. 

“Want us to stay?” Gwyn asked, likely thinking about the shotgun mounted in the back of her pick-up truck.

“I can handle him,” Nesta assured them. Gwyn and Emerie stood, leaving behind their cups to slip from the yard. Gwyn nodded at the man once, lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval. That left Nesta standing at the top of her porch steps wearing a butter yellow sundress, arms crossed over her chest.

“Ma’am,” he the man began as he approached, his expression unreadable. She waited, watching as he took off his sunglasses only for recognition to slam into her. Oh. She knew this man from pictures.  “My name is Cassian.”

Rhysands right hand man. Nesta didn’t move, unwilling to betray she knew who he was. “What can I do for you, Cassian?”

Not even a fake name? Was he that confident she’d never done one google search? He had a mugshot, had appeared in the papers just enough times for Nesta to recognize him. They called him The Lord of Bloodshed thanks to his rumored job of handling the things Rhysand didn’t want staining his hands or his conscience. 

And that man was standing at the bottom of her steps, armed just beneath his suit jacket. 

“I’m here on behalf of your case,” he said like a pretty liar. 

“Oh? Has something happened?”

“An indictment is coming. I’m to escort you back home once Rhysand has been charged.”

Liar.

Still, there was no reason to call him out on it. If Rhysand had found her, he must be still looking for her sisters. She didn’t believe for a minute he’d found Feyre—his bruiser would have pointed his gun at her by way of greeting had he. No, they were monitoring her.

And Nesta could watch them right back. 

So she smiled, hoping she seemed innocent and sweet. “What a relief,” she lied, stepping to the side so he could come up. “I was starting to think I’d be trapped here forever.”

“Can I come inside?” Cassian asked, looking around her immaculate yard with interest. “It’s hot out here.”

“Better get used to that,” Nesta said, pulling open the screen door so Cassian could get the lay of the land. “Are you staying here?”

“If you don’t mind. The hotel is…”

Roach filled, she knew. People still went, content to carry out their clandestine affairs in filth so long as no one ever found out. 

“I have a spare room,” Nesta told him. Cassian turned back for his own car—a brand new jeep  that was laughably out of place in her little neighborhood. He returned with two bags slung over his broad shoulders, eyes hidden behind his glasses. The sun hit the golden brown of his skin, making it seem as if he glowed and tragically, Nesta thought he was a good looking man.

He’d kill her if she wasn’t careful…but attractive, all the same. 

Nesta showed him to the smaller room she kept made up just in case Gwyn or Emerie wanted to stay the night, thinking the full sized bed didn’t seem big enough for this man. He had to duck beneath the doorway, putting him well over six foot three—maybe six six? He made Nesta, who stood tall at five nine, feel dainty by comparison.

“Should I call you Cassian, or…?”

“Cassian is fine,” he replied, sunglasses resting atop his head. “This is perfect, by the way. I promise you’ll barely know I exist.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Nesta said in a flirty voice as she eyed him. “I think it would be hard not to notice you.” He grinned, unaware that a real agent would have shut her down in seconds. “Well, Miss Agnes, I’ll do my best to keep out of your hair.”

Nesta offered him another smile, mind racing. If she survived tonight she assumed she’d survive as long as he wanted her to—and as long as she didn’t admit she knew what he was. That meant keeping it from Gwyn and Emerie, who wouldn’t be able to stop themselves from treating him like a criminal.

He thought she was prey, but Nesta Archeron was a survivor. A predator, just like this man. And she had lived in Georgia for five years—she had guns hidden all over the house. He didn’t need to know any of that, though. Nesta waited while he unpacked some of his things and peeked around her little house, mostly quiet as he cased her. Sitting on her sofa beneath a ceiling fan moving at top speed, Nesta heard him push open the back door and walk through the yard where she assumed he was testing the gate.

He messed with windows when he returned, pushing back curtains to peer out into the street. “You’re wide open out here,” he finally said with a frown on his pretty face. And he was pretty—sculpted and rough in a way that was hard to ignore. Nesta found herself noticing the green in his hazel eyes and the way stubble clung to his strong jaw. A slit cut through his eyebrow while faint scars littered his jaw and hands, betraying a man who knew his way around a fight. 

He was fooling no one but himself. 

“This is where you put me,” she reminded him, wondering if he understood what she was really saying. 

“Maybe we’ll keep the curtains closed,” Cassian said, as if Nesta didn’t do that anyway. The sun was unforgiving and the only way to survive swampy summers was to try and keep things shady and cool. 

“Do you want to take off your jacket?”

“I want to take everything off,” he admitted, shrugging out of what she had to assume was stolen. “Even my own skin.”

“That’s how I felt when I first got here,” she told him. He’d look back on all this and remember—he’d realize she knew the moment he stepped onto her lawn. “You get used to it.”

She was going to kill him, she realized. The knowledge slammed into Nesta’s chest violently, paralyzing her for a moment. She’d never killed anyone…but at some point she’d have to kill this man before he killed her. Cassian, for his part, was unaware of the slant of her thoughts. He must have already known when he came down that he planned to kill her just as soon as he was given the order. She doubted he intended to take her home…and if he did, it would be under duress. 

That was future Nesta’s problem, though. For now, all she had to do was stay one step ahead of him. And that meant pretending like she believed every word coming out of his mouth and ignored all the obvious signs that he was a liar. 

“Hungry?” she asked. 

“Starving,” Cassian agreed. He vanished into the room she’d given him, leaving Nesta enough time to try and steady her nervous hands. By the time Cassian returned, Nesta was slicing up meat for the grill outside. There was absolutely no way she was turning on her oven.

“Can I help you with that?”

Instinct demanded she say no. She didn’t want Cassian anywhere near lighter fluid, for one. He looked so earnest and she was pretending, so Nesta nodded. “I haven’t seasoned it yet.”

“Leave it to me,” Cassian said with an easy smile. And she did, watching him from the corner of her eye while he seasoned her meat and vegetables. He vanished out the back door and when he returned, sweat glistened over his face. Nesta found herself standing there for a moment, staring as he pulled the rest of his hair off his face, biceps straining against the cuff of his t-shirts. 

Cassian was heavily tattooed with black ink that crawled over his arms and up his neck, broken only by the sweaty shirt he wore. 

“Why do people live like this?” Cassian asked, wiping his brow on his sleeve. “It’s horrible.”

“I keep saying it,” she replied honestly. “I would have preferred a colder climate.”

“Next time,” Cassian grumbled. “What are you doing now?”

“Cutting up fruit. Want some?”

Cassian picked a blueberry out of the bowl and popped it into his mouth. “How do you spend your time, anyway?”

“I’m the town lawyer,” Nesta informed him. “I work in a little office down on Main Street.”

“And when you’re not working?”

She shrugged. “I have friends…but I mostly read.”

He glanced toward her shelves of books in the living room, visible from the hall connecting the two. “Anything interesting?”

“Take a look,” was all Nesta could think to respond. Cassian didn’t take her up on her offer, turning instead to go check on the grilling meat. Had she not known who he was, Nesta might have thought the awkward environment was just because a stranger had invaded her space.

It felt almost normal. 

Almost.

Because Nesta couldn’t forget a killer was sitting across from her, his hands soaked in blood. She kept coming back to it as they ate in relative silence. Why had Rhysand sent him here? What did he want with her? Nesta needed to figure it out.

And figure it out fast.

CASSIAN:

Nesta Archeron was beautiful.

Cassian hadn’t expected it. He’d seen a picture of Feyre only once and had kind of imposed her face on all three Archerons. Walking up to her house had been a surreal experience. For one, all Cassian could see was her tits pressed against the neckline of that sundress she wore. Holy fucking Christ, but Nesta’s body was something out of his most depraved fantasies.

But her eyes were something else. Icy blue and calculated, it was no surprise Nesta had survived five years out mostly on her own. Did she even know her sisters were guarded by federal agents while she was left to fend for herself? 

It irked Cassian. Sure, he was grateful he’d been able to gain access to her life so easily, but surely someone was keeping their eyes on this woman? So the likes of him couldn’t just stroll into her home and do whatever he liked with her? 

But after two days living with Nesta, Cassian learned that no one seemed to care if she lived or died. Which was just as well—because he was starting to care. Just a little, he told himself that second night as he laid in bed staring up at the ceiling fan.

His only job was to get her back to Rhysand in one piece once he’d tracked down Feyre and married her. Nesta wouldn’t even know until it was all too late and the feds would lose their pathetic case.

And then Cassian could go back to his regular life in a place that wasn’t drenched in humidity. How did anyone sleep? Even with Nesta’s air conditioner going at full blast, Cassian found himself shucking off his shirt and kicking the sheets to the floor in a desperate attempt at sleep. 

Thinking the living room might be cooler, Cassian dragged his blanket with him to the couch where he found Nesta, half hidden in the dark with a piece of toast in her hand.

Her little night dress was enough to empty out his mind. Why was she so hot? Cassian could see every curve of her perfect body beneath the silken blue fabric and her hair was loose around her shoulders rather than braided in a crown atop her head.

He wanted to lick the salt off her skin.

He wanted to lick a lot of things, actually.

Cassian was fairly certain federal agents weren’t supposed to have sex with their charges—even if Rhysand was certain Vanserra had something going on with the middle Archeron. Cassian wasn’t anything close to a cop and fucking was his favorite thing to do. 

“I ah..” Cassian rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly hyper aware that all he wore was a pair of loose shorts. Nesta was looking only at his face with a grim determination—as if she found it very difficult to do so.

You can look at any part of me you like.

Having sex with her would certainly pass the time. 

“It’s hot,” Nesta said, flipping on a lamp on the side table. “I keep meaning to get someone out here to look at my AC, but…”

“I’ll look at it,” Cassian promised. “Before the sun comes up.”

“You’re handy?”

He was, actually. “I grew up with a single mom,” he said, flashing her a smile before making his way to the sofa. “We didn’t have a lot of money, so I learned how to do repairs.” Nesta tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. Unwilling to give her a reason to banish him, Cassian made a show of fluffing the couch cushions before stretching himself out. 

“My shower doesn’t have hot water,” she finally told him.

Cassian grinned in the dark. “I can take a look at that, too.”

“I would appreciate it,” Nesta replied. 

“Why don’t you make me a list? I’ve got nothing else to do all day and I feel like a freeloader sitting on your couch.”

That was true. Cassian was used to staying busy and suddenly he had nothing but downtime. It was tempting to go to the library and find his own books to read and treat the entire thing like a vacation. This would help build trust between them, he rationalized.

And Cassian liked having something to do. He liked being useful to people. 

“I could do that,” Nesta said, still standing in his line of sight. Even in the dark, Cassian could see her nipples pointed through the fabric. He wanted to touch them.

“I’m here to help,” Cassian reminded her.

“Of course,” she said, her tone unreadable to him. 

He nearly asked if she wanted to join him. It was on the tip of his tongue, but Nesta beat him to speaking, adding, “Well. Sleep well, Cassian.”

“You too,” he said, disappointment ribboning through him. It was absurd to think a woman like Nesta Archeron was going to crawl in his dirtbag lap.

Still, Cassian could dream. And he did, waking with a throbbing erection he had to discreetly handle in the freezing cold shower. Cassian hadn’t noticed it wasn’t hot given the air was miserable and he didn’t want to take a boiling shower for once. He could hear Nesta in her room listening to music, up with dawn just like he was. 

He found tools out in her garden shed, unused and rusty. They’d likely belonged to the previous tenant, whoever they’d been. Still, they worked well enough for Cassian’s purposes. What she needed was an entirely new unit. Cassian guessed the old one was over a decade long and judging from the rattling, it was on its final legs.

He had money. A lot of money. Would she believe him if he told her the agency had decided to replace it? Nesta didn’t strike him as particularly stupid—if they’d never helped her before, she might not believe they’d help her now. He couldn’t live the way they had been, though, which was how Cassian found himself on the phone with the local repairman giving out his credit card details over the phone.

Nesta was gone by the time Cassian came back into the house, drenched in sweat and slightly sunburned on the tops of his arms. It was a relief to get into the basement and work on the water heater, and by the time Cassian finished, the service guys were there to replace Nesta’s air conditioner. It required them to turn the air off which was actual hell, though once it was back up, Cassian felt instant relief. 

Nesta returned with a scowl on her face, dressed in a pencil skirt that made Cassian’s mouth dry out. How had Archeron managed to create her? Cassian had met him—he was nothing special. An unremarkable man in every way imaginable, including his appearance.

Nesta could have modeled. Could have had her face on billboards, her body in magazines. Had he met her back home, he knew he’d have dogged her steps hoping for just a look in his direction. 

“Any news?” Nesta asked, sliding her keys and purse onto a side table. Cassian watched her kick off her heels and turn her face upwards toward the vents blowing cold air.

“Nope,” he said. What would Rhys do if he kept her here for a year? Kick his ass, likely. “Rough day?”

Holding up a cloth shopping bag, Nesta nodded her head while Cassian rose to take it from her. Inside he found an assortment of peppers, onions, and a rather nice steak he assumed she wanted to grill. Cassian had never grilled before he met her and found that he rather liked it. In fact, he liked the whole little game he was playing. Pretending to be the sort of man who had a house and a wife and a barbeque suited him.

In another life, Cassian would have thrived.

“I’m working on another divorce and her soon to be ex stopped by to tell me what he thought about me.”

“I hope it was to tell you you’re beautiful,” Cassian replied without thinking as he peeled stickers from the vegetables.

“No it wasn’t,” Nesta replied, her tone uncertain. “It was to tell me what a bitch I am.”

Cassian arched a brow. “Did you tell him to get fucked?”

Nesta chuckled. “Not this time…but I wanted to. He thinks if he digs his heels in, he can avoid this divorce but it’s happening either way.”

“This is why I’m not married,” Cassian said, reaching for a knife.

“Oh?” Nesta asked, an amused smile on her perfect face. “Is that the only reason?”

Cassian couldn’t help his grin. “I’m off-putting to women, of course.”

“There it is,” she said with a pretty laugh. “Want any help?”

“Get out of my kitchen, Nes,” Cassian replied, swatting her away. “Water’s fixed, by the way.”

The whole thing was warm and domestic. Nesta thanked him before sauntering off, hips swaying with each step. The only thing to temper Cassian’s hot blood was the hotter grill outside and a reminder that Nesta was off limits to him.

He was merely a guard meant to get her back home before the feds scooped her and her sisters back up again. Collateral, he supposed, for the game Rhys was playing with Feyre. Cassian was grateful for that, at least—if Rhys called him and told him to kill her, he wasn’t certain he could do it. 

Cassian returned to find Nesta in a pair of tiny little shorts and a pink tank top. He wished she’d pull her hair down, still left in its braided crown, though in truth he could have stood at the backdoor and stared at her for an embarrassing length of time.

“What did I say about the kitchen?” he teased, setting his tray of meat and vegetables on the counter beside her.

“I wanted to make a little salad,” Nesta told him, showing him the bowl. “Do you even eat vegetables?”

“On occasion,” Cassian said with an easy grin. “I’ll eat whatever you put in front of me, though. I’m not picky.”

“Tell me about yourself, Cassian,” Nesta ordered once they were seated at her little wooden table. 

“There’s nothing interesting to tell,” he replied. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself? I’ll bet you’re a lot more interesting than I am.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” Nesta murmured.

“C’mon,” Cassian cajoled. Nesta sighed, eyes narrowed with that suspicious look he was growing so fond of. Was there such a thing as love at first sight, he wondered? Cassian was starting to suspect he was under its spell. Under hers, anyway. Nesta relented, telling him little stories he figured were probably half true. 

Cassian knew the right questions to ask, at any rate. Careful not to mention her family, Cassian asked her about everything else. Nesta spoke about going to law school and living in Georgia, mentioning two friends she’d made—Gwyn the librarian and Emerie the grocer. He’d seen them on his porch when he first arrived. 

He needed to do a little digging on them, but he figured they were likely fine. 

“What about you?” Nesta asked, their meal long concluded. Cassian began gathering up dishes.

“What about me?”

“Are you from Georgia?” she questioned.

Cassian chuckled. “No, I’m not from Georgia. Just got unlucky in my assignment, I guess.”

“Why did you want to do this work?”

Cassian considered that. “I’m good at it,” he replied, drumming his fingers along the edge of the sink. “I kind of fell into it, actually. I guess I succumb easily to peer pressure because when one of my friends suggested I apply, I did it without hesitation.”

That wasn’t entirely true. There had been no application process—he and Rhys had become friends as boys and Rhys’s mother had been like a second mother to Cassian. He’d always wanted to repay them for their kindness and when Rhys asked him to join him as his right hand man, the answer had been obvious.

He couldn’t tell Nesta that, though. She didn’t poke, either, seemingly satisfied with his answer. While Cassian cleaned up, Nesta made her way to the living room, picked up a book, and curled up on the couch. Cassian watched her pull a blanket from the back of the sofa and drape it over her tanned knees.

“Cold, huh?” he joked. 

“You fixed—”

A gunshot silenced both of them. Nesta jumped clean out of her skin, book falling from her trembling hands. Cassian frowned, his own heart racing with excitement. Finally, something interesting was happening.

His own gun was in his hand before Nesta ever stood. “Don’t move,” he whispered, motioning for her to get away from the window.

“Send the bitch outside!” a man’s voice yelled, filling Cassian with cold rage. He was at the door in a moment, flinging it open so it was his large body filling the space. On the lawn, a man stumbled forward, gun pointed at the sky. He pulled the trigger again, clearly trying to intimidate Cassian.

Cassian had been tied up before, a gun pressed against his lips while his cock was threatened with a knife. Some fucking rural drunk with a gun didn’t scare him. In truth, very little scared Cassian. He’d cheated death more times than he could count and he knew, as he stepped onto the lawn in the fading daylight, that he wasn’t going to die today.

This man, on the other hand…well. Cassian supposed it would depend on what he did next.

“Lower your weapon!” Cassian barked, his voice rough and menacing. The man jerked to look at him, eyes wide and watery. “Put your gun down or I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Send out your bitch—”

Cassian didn’t shoot him, but he did hit him in the face. Hard. Maybe too hard given the way the man crumpled at his feet as blood poured from his nose. Only the alcohol kept him from passing out which was lucky for Cassian.

Crouching in the grass, Cassian grabbed the man by his thinning hair and forced his head into an unnatural angle. “What did you say?”

“I called her a bitch,” the man spluttered through the blood. 

Cassian cocked his gun with his free hand and pressed it to the man's cheek. “Try again,” he whispered, fully intending on killing this man on the front lawn. Cassian’s finger pressed against the trigger just as Nesta barked, “Cassian!”

He twisted to look at her, arms crossed over her chest. She was fury incarnate right then, marching toward the pair of them without a care in the world. 

“Get out of her, Brent,” Nesta ordered, pointing her finger toward the gate. “This is embarrassing, even for you.”

“You ruined my life—”

“You ruined your own life by cheating on your wife!” Nesta spat without remorse. “And you’re ruining it by assaulting a federal officer.”

Cassian nearly choked. Did he look like a cop right then? 

“He assaulted me,” Brent protested, shoving out of Cassian’s grip.

“If I see you near her again, you’ll find yourself six feet under before you can utter one fucking word. Do we understand each other?” Cassian asked, rising to his full height. Brent glanced from the gun in Cassian’s hand to Cassian himself before offering a sullen nod. 

“Whatever,” he muttered, clearly trying to save face. Cassian watched him stumble off, forcing himself not to pull the trigger anyway at the man’s retreating back. Nesta came to stand beside Cassian, resting her soft, small hand on his forearm.

“That’s the guy getting the divorce,” she told him, as if Cassian cared who he was. Letting someone who threatened him walk away unscathed felt wrong and Cassian longed to rectify it. Where did he live, he wondered? 

“I can see why,” Cassian muttered, turning back for the house. “I’ll sleep on the couch tonight.”

“He’s not coming back—”

“He pointed a gun at you,” Cassian growled, the memory filling him with rage. 

Nesta only shrugged, proving that she was still part of the life whether she wanted to be or not. Did she know what a liar her younger sister was, he wondered? Did Nesta know it had been Feyre who killed her father? Looking at her in the warm light of the house, Cassian decided that a woman like Nesta wouldn’t allow herself to live this way if she hadn’t known. If she wasn’t protecting someone. 

Who was protecting her? 

“I’m fine,” Nesta reminded him. But Cassian knew all too well how differently things could have gone if he hadn’t been there. Cassian knew how quickly a bullet could end things. 

“I’ll feel better out here,” he said, setting his gun on the glass coffee table. “You won’t change my mind, Nes.”

She hesitated, eyes moving from him to the window. “Fine.”

Cassian had no intention of sleeping, though. He waited until he knew Nesta was asleep, slipping into her bedroom just to check. She was so lovely even in sleep and Cassian had to resist the urge to touch her face. Not tonight. Another night, perhaps—but not this night. 

The thing about small towns he found himself appreciating was how easy it was to find people. Slipping into a local bar, Cassian mentioned what had happened to the bartender, who helpfully told him where Brent lived. 

He didn’t bother to slip in quietly. If he wanted to be unnoticed, he would have called up Azriel. Cassian liked when his marks were scared, for whatever that said about him. Flexing his fingers, Cassian picked through the dirty, mostly empty house. He supposed Nesta was helping to clean him out.

Good for her.

Brent was waiting in a fraying brown chair, a bottle of Jack Daniels held loosely in one hand. “Knew you weren’t no cop,” he muttered. “You got the look of a felon.”

“Have you been talking to my third grade teacher?” Cassian asked, his tone light. “She used to say the same thing.”

“You ain’t foolin’ no one but that girl of yours,” Brent told him, eyeing the gun in Cassian’s hand. 

“She’s the only one I need to fool,” Cassain agreed, coming closer. “I swore an oath to protect her.”

“I didn’t hurt her.”

“But you scared her,” Cassian said in that same friendly tone. “You came to her house and threatened her and I can’t stand for that.”

“Well, I don’t really care if I scared her. Sometimes women ought to be a little afraid.”

Cassian clenched his fingers. “Is that so?”

“Make your threats and get the fuck out,” Brent ordered, taking another swig of whiskey. Cassian saw his gun on a chipped side table. 

“You don’t have much going for you, do you Brent? Wife left you, took all your money…is about to take your house. You’ve got no job, no friends…anyone would lose it.”

“Yeah,” Brent mumbled, eyes glassy. “You get it.”

“If I were you, I’d probably kill myself too,” Cassian added, holding Brent’s gun in his hand. Brent’s eyes found him, big and wide with shock. 

“What did you say?”

Cassian shrugged, making his way closer to the inebriated man. “I don’t think anyone will be surprised when they find you. I’ll bet it takes them days before someone comes checking.”

“Look, you don’t have to do this. I can…I can pay you—”

“No you can’t,” Cassian said with a chuckle. “And even if you could, I wouldn’t take your money. This is about honor, of which you have none because an honorable man wouldn’t try and threaten a woman for doing her job.”

“She fucked me over—”

“You fucked yourself,” Cassian interrupted, reaching for Brent’s hair a second time. “And you made a mistake coming after her.”

“I’m sorry—”

Cassian pressed the barrel of the gun beneath Brent’s jaw.

“I know you are,” he said, holding the man’s gaze. “It’s not enough.”

And then he pulled the trigger. The relief he felt was instantaneous, his blood lust slaked. It took another few seconds to arrange the gun in Brent’s hand, letting both his arm and the weapon fall lifelessly into his lap. The bottle of Jack hit the floor with a thud, spilling over stained wood floors.

The scene was practically a work of art. Textbook suicide—no one would look twice at him or Nesta. That didn’t stop him from wiping his prints on the way out, just in case. He found himself back on the couch, face washed of blood, before two am. 

Cassian had been right about one thing: it took them three days to find Brent.

“Suicide,” Nesta said crisply when she learned, eyes focused on Cassian’s face.

He only smiled. 

[jesssssssssica]

cowboy like me cl16

It was sometimes hard being a new person in every town you had visited, having to adapt to recognising when someone was speaking to you and your new identity and having to remember the names of the many you would eventually con.

But it was worth it and it was the only life you knew, having grown up conning the rich for all of their worth, charming them to a point of gaining their trust, to milk them dry all for the advantages of being rich.

You had met many in your journey but none of them stayed with you for long enough that you could trust them, too afraid that you too would be swindled.

It all happened in Monaco, a small country filled with the rich and greedy, making it a perfect place for you to coax the men into giving you parts of their earnings. Whilst there, you had slept with a man, many years older than yourself, but not the oldest you had ever been with. It was an easy target, with the man practically begging to bed you, and from there you had him hooked. Who knew that you could gain three antique cars in a single weekend, by just batting your eyelashes and perfecting a pout? Men could be so easy. 

But then you met him.

A fellow traveller that currently called himself 'Charles'.

To this day you still don’t know whether or not the name he addressed himself by was real or not, having no way to try and find out. 

He was handsome, sure, with his beautiful smile and his enticing accent, but his looks also equated to his ability to annoy and do your head in.

You didn't originally want to speak to the man who was somehow managing to outshine you and take away your earnings, finding him a nuisance who only got away with his crime due to his boyish charm and rugged looks , but you couldn't resist it.

It began on the rooftop of one of the country clubs, the one that overlooked the tarp covered tennis courts, the both of you drunk out of your minds, courtesy of the unlimited tab on the bar, watching the way the lights of the cityscape shone against the dark night.

You don’t quite understand how the pair of you both managed to be in the same place at once, blaming it on the alcohol levels in both of your systems, but for some reasons it was as if you two were just normal people that knew each other for years and years. 

The silence between the pair of you was comforting and you liked it, enjoyed it even, finally getting some peace in the hectic life that you lived.

"Do you want to dance?" Came the voice from beside you, the first words shared between you to be spoken in almost twenty minutes.

Silence.

You could only stare at the man in front of you in bewilderment and confusion, perplexed at the prospect of dancing with the stranger in front of you, the man with a thousand identities.

Who was to say that he had not gone through this routine with the ladies in the previous towns, the people before you, sweet-talking you into false beliefs only to leave you alone and upset whilst he's off in another city, restarting his routine.

"Y'know dancing is a dangerous game" Was the only response you could muster, too afraid to say more but too confused to say any less.

And yet the man in front of you could only smile at you, with an equal amount of coyness and understanding, but still he holds out his hand, emphasising his desire to dance with you. 

It was at that moment, as you continued to stare at his outstretched hand, that you realised that it was going to be one of those things that your mother had always warned you about, having had knowledge on what it was like falling in love whilst on the run, yourself being one of the few things that came out of the affair. 

Was it worth it to destroy yourself by allowing someone in? More specifically, was it worth it to destroy yourself by letting someone that lied and swindled for a living in?

But now, looking back on the life you previously led, thinking back to that week in Monaco, you realised that you should’ve listened to your intuition and not your heart, because now you had a heart that could never love again. 

You should’ve known better than to trust someone who swindles and lies for a living, who wants to take and take and take because of course why would someone love someone when they could swindle them out of their dignity and pride? 

Because here you are now, swirling a gin and tonic in your hand, sitting on your kitchen counter waiting desperately for the ring of the phone, praying that he calls and yet silence continues to overtake your apartment. It’s crazy that the want for some pricey cars led to this creation of a forlorn you. 

But he’s a bandit, going from town to town, hustling for the rich lifestyle and it’s understandable but you always seem to wonder whether or not you live this life together, like Bonnie and Clyde, charming everyone with our sweet tones and stories. 

You could finally understand the way the men felt whenever you manipulated them into thinking that a one night stand left you enamoured with them. You could almost indefinitely say that karma had come back to bite you in the bum after all the crimes you had committed. 

So now you speak of him as if he were a pharaoh from a distant land, an antique and precious figure, to the people you meet along the road, however never addressing that this tale is a raw and real one, one that left you traumatised and unable to love again. 

A ghost in the world.

[pastelpengwin]

I changed Big Sugar's name to Bright Bramley because I think it sounds better, lol. But here is my version of the Apple Family Tree.  Are you ready for the lore dump, cuz here it comes!

Granny Smith, Winesap and Ashmead are fraternal triplets, (on the note of Winesap, he does have his own family, but I didn’t want to get into that as this is mainly to show Flim and Flam’s relation to the Apples.)

Now to address that topic, Flim and Flam’s mother Pomona met their father Hocus Pocus while passing through Manehattan on a delivery, she became infatuated with him and after an argument with her parents about how Hocus is a con pony, she ran away to live with him on a small farm just outside Manehattan, where Flim and Flam were born and raised.

After she left, Ashmead just kinda stopped talking about her, cutting contact completely, the other Apple family members don’t know about Flim and Flam and no one talks about Pomona’s leaving.

After the incident Flim and Flam move to Sweet Apple Acres while they recover, they eventually start helping out around the farm, and slowly, they become friends with the Apples and they bury the hatchet. AJ, Big Mac and Apple Bloom decide to visit Goldie again and Apple Bloom invites Flim and Flam along because they miss travelling.

When they get there, Goldie takes one look at the brothers and says “you two are the splitting image of your mother”. Flim and Flam ask how she knows their mother and Goldie searches through her records and shows everypony an old photo of Granny Smith, Winesap, Ashmead, Bright Mac and Pomona. She points at Pomona and says “she is your mother, isn’t she? She’s an Apple” Suffice to say, everypony is shocked to hear the news, although Granny reveals she had a sneaking suspicion they were Apples. 

[lambtotheslaughterr]

I Burn: Part Five

A Rafe Cameron Mini Series

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 4.4k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

PART FOUR | MASTERLIST | PART SIX

            For the last week you have felt more eyes on you than you would like. And none of them were eyes you wanted. The most daunting ones though were Dr. Mooney’s. He was disappointed in you. He didn’t need to say it, you felt it every time he looked at you. You had let him down. And you hated yourself for it. Hated Rafe even more because of it. You wish Rafe had never come here. It was all his fault, taking advantage of you. But a shameless part of you still wanted him. You worried you wouldn’t be satisfied until you finally did.

            Dr. Mooney didn’t address the ‘incident’ until the following morning after catching you two in the quiet room. You & Rafe were removed from each other effectively & placed into your rooms. Doors locked. That rarely happened. But of course, it would happen to you.

            The next morning you were to see Dr. Mooney, your routine be damned. Walking to his office that morning was excruciating. The longest walk of shame you had ever done. And once inside his office, you felt suffocated by the tension.

            Unlike most times when you entered his office, Dr. Mooney did not greet you with a smile. He was already sitting in his chair across from the couch, one leg propped over the other & his notepad balanced on his knee. You stiffly moved towards the couch.

            You wetted your lips, chewing your lower lip as you awaited his scolding.

            “_____.” It was the first time he had said your name & it didn’t make you flutter. Instead, you wished you could sink into the couch & disappear from sight. You felt like a child about to get put into time out. That was essentially what happened.

            “I want to understand your thoughts about last night.” Dr. Mooney eyed you from above his glasses, his brows crinkled.

            There had been no thoughts. You had been influenced, manipulated, taken advantage of. And you said as such. But Dr. Mooney didn’t accept your answer.

            “You are a grown woman. Placing blame entirely on Rafe is childish, is it not?” His rebuttal hurt. He had always been on your side; now it felt like he was admonishing you like you were no better than the worst.

            “I went into that room alone, Dr. Mooney. I didn’t ask him to follow me.”

            “Yes, free-will is a great thing. Something we want to empower our patients here with. Yet, you gave in to your addiction. You did not practice restraint.” He pressed his lips together as he stared hard at you.

            You let out a shaky breath, “I tried…”

            He frowned then, nodding once. “Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough.”

            “We didn’t even have sex. You made sure of that.” You battled though your voice was small.

            “And I’m glad I did. You were doing so well, _____. It truly disappoints me that I must make a call to your parents about this.”

            “No!” You shot forward at the mention of your parents, “Please Dr. Mooney, don’t. You can’t!”

            “I can & I must. It’s our policy that when an incident happens with our patients regarding their recovery process that we inform the parents or guardians. No exceptions.” Dr. Mooney’s voice hardened, having grown quite unimpressed with you.

            “Please, please! If you tell them I’ll never get out of here! You heard my dad!” You begged, “He even thinks I’m sleeping with you! He thinks the absolute worst of me. Please, Dr. Mooney. It won’t ever happen again.”

            Dr. Mooney’s eyes softened momentarily as he listened to your pleas, but much to your dismay, he shook his head, “I’m sorry, _____, but it’s policy. And I can’t excuse what you got up to last night. Perhaps you should’ve thought about the consequences of your actions before you made the decision to follow through on them.”

            Tears slipped down your cheeks. You pulled your knees to your chest, hugging them tightly. You imagined your parents getting the call, learning the news. They left here hearing how well you were doing, an ‘excellent example’ Dr. Mooney had told them about your progress. Now, they would only be let down. Again.

            You sniffled, wiping the tears from your eyes harshly as a simmering rage settled within you.

            “You’re punishing me.” You whispered, not looking at him.

            Dr. Mooney clicked his tongue, “I wish you didn’t view it that way.”

            You raised your eyes to glare at him, “You never wanted to help me.”

            He stuffed his notepad between his thigh & the arm of the chair, leaning forward to stare at you, “You know that’s not true.”

            “Do I?” You questioned, “Because it sure doesn’t feel like it.”

            “And I understand that it doesn’t.” He responded, “But I also thought you understood responsibility. It appears we still have much to work on.”

            You shook your head in disagreement, glancing at the ground once more, unable to handle the look in his eyes as he looked at you.

            “I’m never getting out of here.” You spoke to no one.

            Dr. Mooney said nothing.

            And so for the next week your sessions with Dr. Mooney were longer, though your conversations were brief. You didn’t trust him. You couldn’t. He had informed you in your second session with him following the incident that he did indeed call your parents. But you had not heard from them. You surmised you likely wouldn’t. You pictured your father not allowing your mother to call, to punish you further.

            More so, group sessions were sporadic. Rafe & you had strict rules to not be allowed in the same room for at least a week, so you two took turns attending group therapy, & even got food during breakfast, lunch, & dinner at separate times. You hadn’t seen him all week, not even a peek. Dr. Mooney was taking your separation from each other seriously. So, you were watched like a hawk. Nurse Carney was with you most, if not all, the time. If the facility hadn’t felt like a prison before it sure did now.

            But it was Friday now. The weekend was starting. And as much as you still blamed Rafe for what happened, you still longed to see him. At night, you imagined his face, his touch, his voice. It made you feel less alone, & it brought you comfort knowing that he was likely feeling the same you were. You two were opposing forces who couldn’t help but be drawn to each other. Why were you two being punished for that?

            The only remotely ‘good’ thing to come out of this separation & prison treatment was that you hadn’t masturbated. You didn’t even have the urge. You were too angry to feel the burn. Dr. Mooney had said it was a good thing that you weren’t acting on your desires, but that it was unfortunate that it was due to negative feelings towards him & the recovery process. But restraint is restraint, he had said. It was the first time you imagined punching him. Desirable thoughts about Dr. Mooney had died quickly.

            At this moment, you were dressed comfortably in a pair of shorts & a tank top. It was all your wardrobe really consisted of during your stay here. Your out & about clothes were unfortunately saved for community service days. Which was tomorrow. You wondered if Dr. Mooney would allow you out with your fellow patients, if he would let Rafe go. After all, it had been a week since you saw him, & there was no attempt to try to see him. Seeing him again would be your reward.

            You reached Dr. Mooney’s office. The door was closed but you heard muffled voices inside. You couldn’t make out any words but there was a small laugh. It was a woman’s. You felt your skin burning hot, annoyed that whoever was inside was having a positive interaction with Dr. Mooney. That used to be you.

            Knocking on the door, you didn’t care if you interrupted. There was the sound of footfalls before the door swung open. Dr. Mooney was dressed casually like he usually did on Friday’s before the weekend. And just behind him you saw Nurse Carney standing by his desk.

            “_____ come in.” You kept your arms crossed in front of yourself as you stepped inside, not bothering to hide how you glanced between the two providers.

            “Kiera, we’ll finish this later.”

            She smiled politely at that, “Of course, Doctor.” She met your eyes in kind & nodded before leaving the two of you.

            Dr. Mooney gestured to the couch & you dropped a knee onto it as he got situated in his chair, “My apologies, _____. I lost track of time.”

            “What were you two talking about?” You knew you had no place to insert yourself in whatever private conversation they were having but you didn’t care.

            “Tomorrow’s community service. I’m going to join in on this one.” The information surprised you. Dr. Mooney never came out on community service days. You had an inkling it was because of you & Rafe. But that meant that you two would indeed be together tomorrow.

            “You are?”

            “Mhmm.” He gave a closed lip grin, “My wife is going out of town & I figured it’d be a good opportunity to see my patients out in the real world. Take notes about their progress.”

            You said nothing but shifted to get more comfortable.

            “Okay, so.” He raised his hands lightly before bringing them back down to rest on his thighs, “How are you feeling?”

            You shrugged, fingering the hem of your shorts, “Fine.”

            “_____.” Dr. Mooney said your name concerningly, “You need to talk to me. I understand that you feel like you were being punished for this last week, but I really implore you to understand it’s for your well-being. You want to get better, don’t you?”

            What a stupid fucking question. You nodded silently.

            “The separation ends tomorrow. How are you feeling about that?”

            Ecstatic. But you wouldn’t say so. You worried if you showed too much excitement towards it that he would extend the separation. “I’m just glad I won’t be treated like a prisoner anymore.”

            “You’re not a prisoner. But you are under my care here. And I only separated the two of you to protect you.” Dr. Mooney frowned, “One day you’ll see that.”

            “So, if Rafe & I even talk to each other tomorrow, we won’t get in trouble for that?” It wasn’t a silly question. You really needed to know how close you could be with him without getting in trouble for it.

            “Of course not, _____. I am not to speak with you about other patient’s progress, but the separation was for you as much as it was for Rafe. You two are in very fragile, vulnerable stages of the recovery process. It’s typical for patients to find comfort or connection in one another, but physical comfort, physical connection is prohibited. Should you two succeed in your stay here & leave the facility, what transpires between the two of you is between the two of you, but our goal here is to have a healthy relationship. And in your case, a healthy relationship with a man is essential.”

            “Is Rafe not healthy for me?” You questioned.

            “Right now, no.” Dr. Mooney admitted, “And neither are you for him. You two tempt each other. You bring out each other’s recklessness. Recklessness for addicts is, as expected, always troublesome. I care about you, & Rafe, leaving here with the self-empowerment to recognize your respective addictive behaviors & the skills to navigate them in a safe, healthy manner.”

            You bit your lip, frowning. You hated that he was making sense. But you were still angry.

            “I’m sorry for saying you were punishing me. That you didn’t want to help me.”

            Dr. Mooney smiled softly, “I accept your apology. But I am here for you, _____. I only want what is best for you.”

            You nodded, “I know. I guess I just have a hard time believing that after everything.”

            “Recovery is a tough, tough process. A lot of animosity, blame on others, resentment, anger, deep regret—all of those things make recovery difficult. But I still believe in you.”

            For the first time in a week Dr. Mooney made your heart flutter with his praising words.

            “Thank you for saying that.”

            It was also the first time in a week that you smiled. Even if it was a small one.

            Saturday saw you getting excitedly dressed for community service day. Nurse Carney had informed all the patients that today’s outing would be a two hour long drive to the coast for beach clean-up. You groaned at the thought of cleaning up other people’s garbage, but when she had told others to wear beach wear, your disgust quickly transitioned to anticipation. After beach clean-up, patients would be allowed to actually enjoy the beach. A reward for all your hard word & dedication to the recovery process.

            So you changed into a navy blue one-piece suit then slipped into a pair of jeans & tugged on a lime green cropped hoodie. Since you were going to the beach, you wore a pair of your favorite sandals, though you knew the second you touched sand you’d be kicking them off. You couldn’t wait to feel the beach under your feet.

            In the lobby, you joined the others as Nurse Carney & Dr. Mooney did a head count. You spotted Rafe along the furthest wall, his arms crossed as he stared out the window. He had yet to spot you. Glancing at Dr. Mooney briefly to see if he was curious as to what you were up to, you bravely began walking towards Rafe. But a figure stepped in front of you.

            “Sit with me?” It was Albert. His hair was tied into a bun, a few strands hanging loose to kiss his forehead. You stuttered at his sudden request. And before you could even respond, Albert tugged on your arm to lead you outside where the van waited. Guess your reunion with Rafe would have to wait until the beach.

            Inside the van, Albert gently pushed you back towards the furthest row before sitting beside you. Siena appeared behind him & sat on his other side. They traded looks that looked as if they were speaking to one another without words. You were about to ask them what the hell they were up to when Rafe appeared next. You let out a pleased exhale, but it was short-lived as he pointedly avoided looking in your direction.

            Rafe slid into the second row, sitting directly in front of you, & Renne sat beside him. Then Dr. Mooney got into the passenger seat while Nurse Carney took to the drivers seat. Most everyone was talking jovially about today’s outing, but your elation slowly rotted away as you stared at the back of Rafe’s head. There was palpable energy rolling off him. The whole of the van was filled with laughter, screeches of joy, but where he sat was a dark cloud, & that cloud was beginning to cast over you.

            You frowned to yourself. Something was wrong. Though you didn’t know Rafe well, he wasn’t the brooding type. Yet there he was slouched in his seat, staring straight ahead. You narrowed his eyes, willing him to feel the hole you were burning into the back of his head. But he never looked back. Not once.

            “You okay?” You inhaled sharply as Albert broke your focus.

            “Yeah, sure.” You forced a smile.

            But you weren’t. You couldn’t be. Not when Rafe wasn’t.

            The beach clean-up had been surprisingly a lot of fun. You contributed the fun of it to the sun & the feel of sand squished between your toes. Dr. Mooney & Nurse Carney kept a loose leash on all of you as you all traversed up & down the beach with stabbers & garbage bags. The clean-up itself lasted only a couple hours & then Nurse Carney called for everyone to join her & Dr. Mooney under a canopy they had set up for making lunch under.

            Lunch was styled like a sandwich buffet. Breads, cheeses, meats, veggies, condiments, the whole shebang. You made yourself a simple ham & cheese sandwich & accepted a salad bowl from Nurse Carney that she had made. Then the seven of you ate on towels nearby. You had planned on going to sit with Rafe, but Albert & Siena snatched you up yet again, dragging you over to sit with them.

            Though you were enjoying their sudden interest in you, you were mildly annoyed. You hadn’t been near Rafe in a week. All you wanted, more than anything, was just to at least eat with him. Dr. Mooney said it would be okay. And these two were preventing you from doing just that.

            But once you were done eating, you were determined to approach Rafe, to spend whatever time left you had on the beach to be near him. After finishing your food, you hurriedly carried your trash back to the canopy. Nurse Carney was gathering up the lunch items & placing them back into a small chest.

            “Thanks for lunch.” You told her.

            She grinned, her red hair glistening against the beach backdrop, “Of course, I hope it was decent enough.”

            You nodded then turned back around. Renee was down by the water in a pair of black shorts & a long sleeve. You rolled your eyes. Only she would be dressed in all black on a day out to the beach. Freak.

            To your left, you watched as Albert & Siena dressed down to their respective bathing suits. Albert wore multi-colored board shorts & Siena sported a coral pink tankini. Then you peered around for the object of your desire. A couple yards away, Rafe sat on a beached log. He wore a white tank top & navy blue board shorts. Even from your vantage point you could still sense the cloud hanging over him. And on a beautiful day like this, you were set on parting the cloud hanging over him.

            Removing your own hoodie, you placed on top of a nearby towel, followed by your jeans. Then you began walking towards him. It came naturally to you to walk with a little sass in your walk, it was how you often drew the male gaze to yourself, but as you grew closer to Rafe, he never once looked your eyes, even when you knew you were without a doubt in his peripheral. Once you were finally upon him, you gently kicked sand towards him.

            “Why the long face?” You teased, choosing to sit on your knees on the sand before him rather than joining him on the log.

            Rafe peered at you, his eyes squinting from the sun, “Did you need something?”

            His cold tone & choice of words shocked you. You frowned at him, “What’s wrong?”

            He chuckled darkly at your question but there was no amusement in it, “What do you want, _____?”

            Words evaded you. What was his fucking deal? You were so happy, so so happy to finally be able to talk to him. And this was how he spoke to you after a week of not seeing each other? You expected him to be happier. So, why wasn’t he?

            “I don’t know, I just…” His dark cloud was growing bigger. “Sorry. I’ll leave you alone.”

            You had just stood up & was about to walk away when a hand shot out & gripped your wrist, “Don’t leave.”

            This time he spoke softly. But you couldn’t deal with his bipolar attitude. It was ruining your beach day.

            You pulled your wrist from his grasp, not because you didn’t want him touching you—you did—but if Nurse Carney or, god forbid, Dr. Mooney saw, who knew what reparations may come your guys’ way.

            Rafe sighed heavily, “I’m sorry. Just a lot on my mind.”

            You returned to your knees, nodding in understanding, “Same here. What’s wrong though?”

            Rafe shook his head, his tongue poking his lower lip out, “It’s fucking Dr. Mooney.”

            At the mention of his name, you glanced over your shoulder back towards the canopy. Nurse Carney was talking animatedly by Dr. Mooney’s side, but his eyes were watching the two of you. You looked away.

            “What happened?”

            He narrowed his eyes at you, seemingly contemplating whether or not he would tell you, “He doesn’t want me near you.”

            You shrugged, “That’s not true, Rafe. He just wants us to get better.”

            Rafe scoffed at that, “Is that what he told you?”

            “Well, yeah.” You brushed your hair out of your eyes as a light breeze picked up, “Isn’t that what he told you?”

            Rafe glared over your shoulder, no doubt aiming it towards the doctor in question. “No. It isn’t.”

            The look of malice on his face concerned you, “What did he say then?”

            “You wouldn’t believe me.”

            You rolled your eyes, “I’m the only one here who would believe you.”

            “You sure about that?” Rafe responded in short.

            You felt doubt swell in your heart. What could Dr. Mooney possibly have said to upset Rafe?

            “He wants you. He doesn’t care about you getting better. And he definitely doesn’t like how close we’ve become.”

            His words shocked you. Dr. Mooney?! You stared hard at Rafe, not finding his jest funny, “Bullshit. Why are you lying?”

            “See. I knew you wouldn’t believe me.” Rafe stood up, shaking his head, “Whatever. He’s obviously got you wrapped around his finger.”

            Scared that Rafe was going to leave you, you rushed forward, grabbing his wrist like he had yours. You didn’t care if Dr. Mooney saw, “No, wait. I’m sorry. I’ll listen.”

            Rafe stared down at you. He gently overturned his wrist, catching your hand in his, your fingers briefly tangling before he finally sat back down. You let go of his hand.

            “He really said that?” You questioned. You had a hard time believing it, honestly. Dr. Mooney had never shown any interest in you like that. And you believed him when he said he was determined to help you get better. More so, why would he admit that to a patient of his own, that he was essentially going to prevent you from leaving the facility? It didn’t make sense, but you weren’t going to express that.

            “He didn’t have to.” Rafe replied, his answer making you frown. “But I know him. Because I am him. He’s threatened by me.”

            “No, that’s not—”

            “Yes, _____. I see the way he watches you. Think about it. He knows you & your addiction better than anyone else, even yourself. He knows what to say, what to do to get you to listen to whatever he says. Even now, he hasn’t stopped looking at you once since you came over here.”

            But that was because of the two of you getting caught. Nothing more. However, you couldn’t deny the burning sensation igniting deep within yourself. Was it true? Was it really true that Dr. Mooney saw you as more than a patient? You were conflicted on how to feel about it. Part of you was pleased, but the other part, disappointed.

            “Something Dr. Mooney will never admit is that he’s as much of a man as any of us. He still has carnal wants. And he wants you.” Rafe told you, “And who wouldn’t. Look at you. You know what you do to men. Just because he’s your doctor doesn’t mean he doesn’t look at you like he wants a taste himself.”

            His words left you feeling unwell.

            “You should’ve seen the way he watched you when you got undressed just now. Probably wondering what else you have going on under there. I mean, he got a peek last week when he interrupted us. He knows you dressed down for me, not him, & it pisses him off. It pisses him off that you want someone other than him.”

            You shook your head, “No. We’re at the beach! I wore this for the beach…” But you could hear the doubt in your own argument.

            “You say that but we both know.” Rafe chided you, “And so does he. You’re caught in the middle, _____, don’t you see that? Being pulled between two men who want you.”

            You were getting too hot, too flustered. You felt dizzy & your stomach lurched. No. Dr. Mooney didn’t want you. He couldn’t. Rafe was just fucking with you again. He had to be. Dr. Mooney was a good man, a good doctor. He cared about you. Rafe didn’t.

            Angry, you stood up, glaring down at Rafe, “You’re lying. That’s what you do. You manipulate. Just like how you manipulated me in the quiet room.”

            Rafe laughed loudly at that, “I manipulated you? Or were you just desperate for someone to want you?”

            “Fuck you.” Your voice broke as tears pierced your vision.

            “Well, I would’ve if your precious doctor hadn’t stopped us.” Rafe stood with you, stepping close enough to touch but he didn’t, “You know what I’m talking about. You know when a man wants you. You’re really telling me you haven’t noticed?”

            Rafe’s words embedded themselves into your skin.

            Not Dr. Mooney. No.

            But you weren’t sure. Not anymore.

            Rafe sniffed, licking his lips as he stared down the beach, “He may say he cares about you, but he doesn’t. You’ll see for yourself. Just wait.”

            “You’re wrong.” Your voice shook.

            “Fine.” Rafe caught your chin, forcing you look up at him, “You say that now. But when you see what I’m talking about, don’t come running to me.”

            With that, Rafe left you where you stood. You kept your arms wrapped around yourself, uncomfortable. Today was supposed to be a good day. A beach day with Rafe. But now, you wished for nothing more than to be locked within the confines of your room.

            Storming towards the canopy, you ignored the concerned looks Nurse Carney & Dr. Mooney were sending you way. Turning your back to them, you slipped back into your cropped hoodie & jeans.

            “_____? Are you alright?” Dr. Mooney asked from behind you.

            “Fine.” You feigned a smile, “I’m gonna go for a walk.”

            “Are you sure you’re okay?” Dr. Mooney stood to your right. You couldn’t look him in the eye, afraid you’d see what Rafe insisted was there.

            “Yes. I’ll be nearby.”

            Passing by him, you slipped your shades onto your face to hide the tears that threatened to fall. This beach day could go to hell for all you cared.

part five(:

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[fanficshiddles]

Stranger Danger, One Shot

Thank you for the prompt: OFC is out late one night in the pouring rain, she accidentally bumps into Tom who offers her a lift home, however instead of Tom taking her back to her house, he kidnaps her and takes her back to his house, Tom is a dominant daddy and been looking for a new little for a while

WARNINGS: RAPE/NON-CON, KIDNAPPING, FORCED DADDY KINK

-

Liz was rushing home after being on a date, that didn’t go as well as she had hoped it would. Now it was bucketing down with rain and she was soaked through, not having an umbrella or even a jacket with her since it was nice when she headed out.

She was so engrossed in trying to get back as quickly as possible, she never noticed the tall man coming out of the pub on front of her heading to his car, that she knocked into him by accident.

‘I’m so sorry!’ She gasped out, looking up at the tall man through the rain.

‘Entirely my fault, darling.’ He said charmingly with a smile.

Liz titled her head for a moment when she locked eyes with him, surely this wasn’t…

‘I… I better go.’ She then went to continue moving, she really wasn’t rating getting drenched with the rain.

As she began moving, the man gripped her elbow to stop her.

‘Please, my car is just here. Can I give you a ride somewhere? You’re soaked through, you might catch a cold.’ He offered as he motioned to said car that was just by them.

‘Oh… Uh…’ She paused a moment, knowing she really shouldn’t go with a stranger. Though she had a feeling she knew who this guy was, she was just struggling to believe it was really him.

‘My name’s Tom. Tom Hiddleston. I know, stranger danger. At least let me find you an umbrella if you don’t want a ride.’ He offered kindly.

‘I… I thought I recognised you!’ Liz laughed a little.

Tom smiled widely and motioned to his car again. ‘I have heated seats, can get you partly dried before you even get home.’

Liz looked at the car then back at Tom and nodded. ‘Ok. Thank you!’

Tom quickly ushered her over to the car and unlocked it, he opened the passenger door and helped her in.

Liz took a moment to let it sink in that she was currently sat in Tom Hiddleston’s car, while he shut the door for her and walked around to the other side. Out of everyone she could have bumped into. Though she couldn’t deny, she was glad she was out of that damn rain, it was pelting hard against the windshield.

‘Crazy weather, huh? I was sunbathing earlier today, wouldn’t figure it the same day.’ Tom chuckled as he started up the car, setting the wipers to full speed.

‘Yeah, it’s a bit nuts. It was lovely when I headed out earlier, stupidly didn’t think to check the weather to see if I’d need a jacket.’ Liz sighed as she put on her seatbelt.

‘Hopefully this will help warm you up a bit.’

Tom flicked a switch to turn on the heated seats and it wasn’t long before she could feel the warmth against her back and bum. She couldn’t deny it was much better than walking home, even if she was technically in a stranger’s car… But with it being Tom Hiddleston, she figured she’d be safe enough. From what she’d seen in interviews with him, he seemed so lovely and sweet. Besides, she figured after a bad date, at least a kind, handsome, gentleman was driving her home.

‘Were you out anywhere nice? I’m surprised your boyfriend just left you alone on a night like this, it can be rough for a pretty woman to be out alone. Never mind in the rain.’ Tom said softly as he pulled out onto the road after getting her address.

‘Oh, I uh, don’t have a boyfriend. But I was on a date... A bad date. I was just desperate to get home, that’s why I wasn’t looking where I was going.’ She said embarrassedly.

‘Ah. Was it bad in a he was a big red flag sort of bad, or just awkwardly bad?’ Tom asked.

‘Bit of both.’ Liz said after pondering a moment.

‘Sorry to hear that, darling. On behalf of other men, I apologize.’

Liz giggled a little and smiled. ‘I know everyone’s not like that. I just got unlucky.’ She shrugged.

‘Well, I’d say I got luckybeing able to be in your presence, even if it’s for a short while.’ Tom said charmingly.

Liz blushed a little and turned to look out the window. That’s when she realised that Tom was going the wrong way, in a different direction to where she lived.

‘Uh, this is the wrong way. It’s on Lakeland Avenue I stay.’ She said apprehensively.

‘Don’t worry, this is a shortcut tonight. There’s football just finishing about now, so we’re avoiding the traffic by going this way.’ Tom reassured her and gave her a warm smile.

‘Ah right, thanks. I don’t drive so I guess I never really think about that sort of thing.’ She said sheepishly. ‘Driver knows best.’

Tom nodded in agreement. ‘What is it you do for work?’ He asked.

‘Currently I just do some ad-hoc admin work online. I’m doing an online course right now, so that takes up a lot of time, but being able to work online helps me juggle both easier. Plus, it’s flexible.’

‘Nice, sounds like you’ve got it all planned out… where are you from? Your accent tells me this isn’t your home town.’ He grinned at her.

‘You got me.’ She laughed. ‘I’m from up North, near Newcastle. My parents love the country life up there, but I wanted the excitement of London, for some reason.’

Liz relaxed more when she recognised the street they were now on, he was heading in the right direction.

‘That must have been a difficult move, very brave to come down to such a big city on your own.’ Tom hummed softly.

‘Tell me about it. I’ve only been here a month, but I left all my friends behind. That’s why I thought I’d try a dating app, to meet someone. Though maybe I should just be looking for a friend app or something, if such a thing exists.’

‘Perhaps.’ Tom chuckled.

When they pulled down Liz’s street, she felt a little relieved. She wasn’t sure why though, it was Tom Hiddleston after all. Though he was still technically a stranger to her.

Tom stopped the car outside her house and smiled at her. ‘We have arrived.’

‘I can’t thank you enough, really. Much better than walking home in this.’ She smiled back at him.

‘You’re very welcome. Hopefully we will bump into one another again.’ He said as he held his hand out.

She took his hand and blushed when he bent down to kiss the back of her hand.

‘Well, thank you again.’ She turned to open the door, well, tried to. It was locked. She turned back to look at Tom. ‘Doors locked.’ She said awkwardly, trying not to let the worry in her voice show.

Tom nodded once, then he got out of the car and shut the door behind him. She was confused, and began to panic internally when she saw in the rear-view mirror that he was going into the boot. He popped it open and it sounded like he was rummaging around for something.

Liz’s heartbeat quickened and her stomach was in knots. What was he doing? What was he looking for? Why didn’t he just unlock the door for her?

A few seconds later, the boot slammed shut, making her jump, and he made his way to the passenger door. He opened it and a wave of relief hit her, he had an umbrella in hand that he popped open and held up.

She internally smacked herself for getting worried, he was just being a perfect gentleman.

Liz got out of the car and Tom escorted her to her door, under the umbrella. She fumbled in her handbag to get her keys out and unlocked the door, then she looked up at Tom with a big smile. ‘Thanks again, you’ve been a true gent.’

Tom bowed his head slightly. ‘Of course, got to treat a princess right.’ He winked at her. ‘Take care of yourself, Liz.’

Liz felt her cheeks heat up again.

‘Hopefully I’ll see you around again.’ She blurted out before she could stop herself.

‘I’m sure you will.’ He grinned, a dark glint flashed across his eyes that she didn’t see as she turned to open the door.

As she took a step forward, that was the last thing she remembered as suddenly a damp cloth was pressed over her mouth and nose. Then everything went black when she passed out.

-

Liz’s head felt funny when she came to. Her eyes slowly fluttered open and it took her a moment to focus on her surroundings. It didn’t take much longer though for her to realise she was in a strange room, that definitely wasn’t her place.

Panic began to set in, she sat up and looked around, it was a bedroom. Though not one she knew, at all. Her chest felt tight and she began to breathe a little heavier.

She heard the door opposite the bed unlocking, then it swung open and in walked… Tom Hiddleston.

‘T… Tom… Where am I? What’s going on?’ She asked, her voice shaky as she still tried to catch her breath.

She hadn’t even realised that she was only wearing a very thin, see through nightgown. No underwear, either. Not until Tom smiled and his tongue shot out to lick at his lips as he looked at her body, then she noticed her attire and her panic only grew worse.

‘Shhh, you’re alright, princess. You’re safe here with Daddy, there’s no need to get into a panic.’ Tom said calmly, softly.

He walked towards her on the bed, though what he said only made her scared and even more confused.

Liz noticed on the dressing table there was some of her make-up and hair products. It was obvious because one of her make-up sets was quite expensive and large. Then she realised the nightgown she was wearing, was actually her own. And on the bedside table was the picture of her parents she had from home.

Tom sat down on the edge of the bed and reached out to stroke her shoulder, she flinched and moved away from him.

‘Nu uh. You don’t ever shy away like that from me.’ Tom said firmly as he reached out with his long arms and he managed to grab her wrist, his hand was so large that she didn’t even want to try pulling away as he tugged her over to him.

Though when she realised he was trying to pull her onto his lap, she put up a fight and tried struggling out of his grasp, but he was too strong and before she knew it, he had her sitting on his lap. She tried not to move as she could suddenly feel a very evident bulge underneath her…

‘Please… let me go.’ She whined as tears rolled down her cheeks.

‘Aww, don’t cry, little one. I know you want this just as much as I do. I think you bumped into me on purpose, a little princess in desperate need of someone to save and look after her. I just got lucky, since I’ve been wanting a little of my own to love and care for.’ He hummed softly and started stroking her hair after wiping her tears off her cheeks.

‘No… No, no, no. Just let me go. Please, I won’t tell anyone. You can’t keep me here.’ She cried.

‘Oh but I can, sweetheart. No one will be looking for you, you told me yourself you’re alone here. Well, you were. You’re not alone anymore, you never will be again. Now you’ve got me.’

Liz couldn’t believe this was happening, she felt like she was trapped in a nightmare, but wasn’t waking up from it. Though things were just beginning for her…

‘Now, first things first. We need to train your lovely little body to accept me. You’re going to make me very happy, and in return I’ll make sure you enjoy everything just as much as I do.’ His left hand slid up her thigh under her nightgown, she tried squirming away but he was bold with his movements and didn’t let her squirming deter him.

Tom grabbed both of her wrists and held them at her back in one hand, his other hand managed to get between her thighs and he started slowly touching her. She tried clamping her thighs closed, but his hand was already where it needed to be. Now and then he pinched her inner thigh, to make her open her legs more.

‘Now, now, come on. I’m making this easier for you, little princess. Need to get you nice and wet before you can take my cock. Don’t want it to hurt, do you?’ He whispered into her ear, his breath warm against her.

‘I don’t want this at all.’ She sobbed, but Tom ignored her.

He slowly rubbed her clit and through her folds, carefully working her up. And it worked, even if her brain didn’t want it to, her body had a mind of its own. Tom grinned widely and kissed her shoulder when he felt the start of her arousal, using it so he could circle her clit more.

‘See, you do want this. Daddy knows best, you just need to accept it and trust me.’ He purred.

Liz just cried quietly, she accepted she wasn’t going to get away or get him to stop. She shouldn’t have trusted him, shouldn’t have accepted his offer of a ride…

It didn’t take too long before Liz couldn’t hold back a small moan, the pleasure was coursing through her veins as he stroked her clit in just the right way, she couldn’t help herself.

‘That’s it, my good girl. You’ll come for me, then you’ll be ready.’ He coaxed softly and carefully inserted a long finger up into her, his thumb took over playing with her clit.

‘No, no…’ She whimpered in defeat, one more attempt at pulling free from him failed. Then he forced her into an orgasm as he curled his finger and found her g spot, rubbing firmly on it worked wonders and she came all over his hand.

‘Ohhh yes, that’s it.’ Tom moaned. ‘Now, you should be ready to take my cock.’

He briefly let her go and placed her down on the bed so he could unzip his trousers. Liz curled herself up, yet was all out of tears. She couldn’t believe the way her body betrayed her like that. When she looked over at him and saw the size of him, she panicked.

‘Nu uh, uh.’ Tom tsked at her as she tried to slide off the bed.

They had a small scuffle as she really tried to fight him off, but soon found herself with his tie around her wrists behind her back and she was positioned over him as he sat on the bed with his back against the headboard.

‘That’s it, ease down onto Daddy’s cock, princess.’ He purred and gripped her hips, positioning her cunt right over his cock.

Liz tried pulling her hands free but his tie was too tight and began digging into her skin the more she struggled. She let out a cry when she was pulled down onto him and the tip of his cock pressed into her.

‘Ohhh, that’s it. Look at your lovely little pussy, opening up for me.’ He growled.

Tom smoothed his hands up and down her sides, then he went back to her hips and pulled her down further on him. As the tip of his cock slipped further into her, she let out a gasp. Her body was tight and started squeezing down on him, needing to adjust to the intrusion.

‘Fuck… You feel so good, princess.’ Tom groaned and buried his fingers into her hips more.

He looked down and could see that she wasn’t even halfway down on his cock yet.

‘No… it’s too much. Please stop. No more.’ Liz begged between panting.

‘Shhh, it’s alright princess. You were made for me, I will fit. You just need to relax a little more, just a bit more to go.’ Tom cooed and began to rub her clit.

He pulled her down a little further, she felt so full and like taking anymore would be completely impossible.

Tom slid a hand round to her back and he started stroking her back, reassuring her. He leaned in and kissed her forehead. ‘Such a good girl for Daddy, taking his cock so deep. I’m so proud of you.’

Liz was completely confused, scared, aroused... Everything at once. She thought it was finally over, that he was in her as deep as he could go. Though when she looked down between them, she realised there was still a few more inches to go and she let out a whimper.

‘Just a little more to go, then you can relax and just keep Daddy’s cock warm. Then, tomorrow, you’ll be ready for me to fuck you so hard you won’t remember anything else.’

He thrust his hips upwards at the same time as he pulled her down, filling her up completely. She panted hard as her cunt clenched around him, adjusting to him. It helped some when Tom paid some more attention to her clit again, though she didn’t want to admit it.

‘There we go. See? Not so bad now, huh? Just settle nicely and keep me warm. I told you that Daddy would take care of you, I wouldn’t be so mean to just fuck you without letting your body adjust. I know it’s a little scary, but you’re my brave good girl and I’m so proud of you.’ He stopped rubbing her clit to reach up and smooth her hair back from her face.

Liz was defeated and all she could focus on was how full she felt, how his cock was pressing against every single bit of her inside. To her dismay, he felt so good now the deep pain of the stretch was easing...

‘You’re mine now, princess. And this is where you belong.’ Tom hummed and gripped her chin as he kissed her on the lips.

[plussizefantasia]

CozyTober Day 4: The Smell of Smoke in the Air

Eliot Spencer x reader

wc: 2.7k (this sprinted away from me)

warnings: minor discussion of dv, drinking alcohol

a/n: Eliot is one of those characters that I have to write stories for myself because there isn't very many people who do. So to all the people who love him like me: here ya go! Please Reblog if you enjoyed this so more people can see it too! See you all later for Day 5!

One week… Nate had given the team one week to recoup and recollect after our latest con went sideways.  The grumpy bastard shoos you all out of the brewpub and tells you not to come back for a week or he’ll sick Sophie on you. Hardison and Parker don’t seem to have a problem with it, they jaunt out of the doors, tossing ideas of what to do between them all the while. You distinctly hear Parker mention something about a new vent installation at a museum whose name you can't pronounce. You shake your head but smile. It's nice, that Alec and Parker have each other, someone to share the troubles of this kind of life with. 

“So what you gonna do with your week?” Eliot sidles up next to you, hands you a mug, and joins you in looking out the window into the rain that seems perpetual here.

“Not sure” you shrug, “maybe skip town, visit one of my other apartments?” you shrug and take a sip, chai with a dash of vanilla and cream exactly the way you make it. You’d probably spend the week in Seattle, and check in on your building. You paid for it under a fake name that Hardison was kind enough to put together for you. The penthouse held some of you stuff, decorated and ready to go just in case, and the rest of the building was down-low housing for women who needed it. You had set it up when the team was splitsville after the David job. You suddenly had more money than you knew what to do with and wanted to put some more good into the world. 

“Sounds like a good time.” Eliot sips from his own mug. “Want company?” 

His question is masked with a heavy nonchalance but you know Eliot, better than the rest of the team and maybe even better than himself. You clock the way his eyes dart to the ground and he licks the corner of his mouth. He’s nervous, but trying not to show it.

Silly man, doesn’t he know that spending time with him is all you ever want to do? Doesn’t he know that he’s the reason you stuck around? Sure, working with a man like Nate Ford, and doing good was reason enough, but Eliot- Eliot is who you’d follow to the ends of the earth, Nate Ford be damned. 

“Why not?” You shrug and flash a smirk at him. “We‘ll leave in two hours, I have a pilot who owes me a favor. Unless a private plane is too rich for your blood.” You quirk an eyebrow at him.

“Two hours, see you then.” Eliot winks at you and downs what is left in his mug. He turns and walks away, pushing past the doors and into the brewpub kitchen. 

You let out a sharp breath and smile privately. You shake your head and pull out your phone, you have a call to make.

“Frankie, it’s me. I’m calling in that favor you owe me.”

____ 

Two hours later you are waiting at the runway, a packed duffle on the ground by your feet. You tap your phone against your palm and scan the entrances looking for Eliot. You had texted him the address half an hour ago and he had responded with “;)” which could mean literally anything and you kinda want to hit him for not using actual words. 

Frankie descends from the plane and nods to you, “Ready to go?” he asks, reaching down to grab your duffle. 

“Patience is a virtue, Morales.” You bit your lip and continue looking around for any sign of Eliot. 

You don’t have to wait much longer, the sound of Eliot’s boots hitting the asphalt perks your ears. He is sporting a dark pair of jeans, a red henley, and his leather jacket. His hair pushed back buy the pair of aviators sitting atop his head. He also has a duffle bag, dark brown leather with silver hardware. You can tell that it’s well-loved, how many places has that bag been?

“Not planning on leaving without me were you sweetheart?” Eliot flashes you a disarming smile and comes to a stop in front of you.

“You’re late.” You shoot back.

“Couldn’t find parking.” He shrugs and moves towards the door of the plane, taking the steps two at a time. He peeks his head out from the door and looks down at you, still standing on the runway. “You coming?” He asks.

The plane ride is nice, the two of you talk for some of the six-hour flight. You sleep for a little bit of it, Eliot reads a leatherbound book that you can’t read the name of. It’s peaceful, which isn’t usually the case when it comes to the time you two get to spend together. 

Eventually, you land in Seattle and disembark. Frankie passes you keys as you get off the plane. “This makes us even right?” You nod at him and respond, “Yeah, we’re even. At least until the next time I need to save your ass.” 

He laughs and claps you on the back, radioing to the tower for a refueling tankard so he can head back home. 

You and Eliot walk side by side through the airport, easily locating the Jeep Frankie had arranged for you in the lot. It’s a nice forest green and looks brand new, you’ll have to ask him where he found it. 

“Hop in, it’s another forty-five minutes into the city.” You climb into the driver’s seat and toss your bag in the back.

The car ride is similar to the plane. Talking with Eliot is easy, he embraces low-stakes conversation just as well as he listens to the tougher stuff. 

Eventually, you get into the city and a few minutes later you are pulling into a street lot next to your building. It’s nondescript, blending in easily with the buildings around it. You grab your duffle and Eliot does the same, making your way to the front stoop. You press the buzzer button next to the door and wait a moment before the light flashes green and the e-lock on the door disengages.

Eliot raises an eyebrow at the level of security but you just shake your head at him. “I’ll tell you later.” You mouth. He nods and steps out of the wetness that was Seattle’s downtown and into the space. 

The lobby is sparse and painted a muted grey but it isn’t clinical in a way that neutral spaces can sometimes be. There’s a certain warmth that emanates throughout the whole space. 

You nod your head at the blonde woman sitting behind the desk sitting in the corner.

“Hey Marcy, how are things going?” 

“Good! We’ve moved out three girls and moved in two more.”

“Sounds like a busy month, are you taking time for yourself?” You ask her.

“‘Course I am, in fact, Tommy will be by soon to pick me up so we can go see that new spooky movie in theaters.” 

“Good, well we won’t hold you. Have a good night Marce.”

“You too ma’am.”

You visibly grimace. “I’ve told you to use my name every time you’ve called me ma’am since we met Marcy.”

“You’re my boss, ma’am.” You can see her trying to hide a smile and just laugh lightly before making your way towards the elevator.

“One day Marcy, one day you will use my actual name.” 

Eliot just stands back and takes in the banter, he doesn’t really know how to feel at the moment. You have a whole different life here, with people he doesn’t know and apparently, you’re a boss? What else doesn’t he know about you? He’s excited at the prospect of figuring that out.

“Eliot, are you coming?” You ask him, hand out holding open the elevator doors. 

That spurs him into action and he sends a polite nod to Marcy’s way before following you into the smaller space. 

The ride up is short, only eight floors before you reach the top floor, your floor.

The space is decorated exactly to your taste, this is your favorite place to lay low and he can tell. The space screams you and he can’t wait to spend a week with you here. He’s been trying for literal years to bridge the gap between friends and coworkers to something more but there has always been something in the way. First, it was his own hangups about his past, then it was Moreau. Then the team was under attack, then, then, then. But now... Now was his chance and he would not waste it. 

“I imagine you have questions.” You split the silence, offering him a tumbler of amber liquid.

“A few, what is this place?”

“This place as in my apartment, or this place as in the whole building?”

“Yes.” He takes a sip of the whiskey. It’s deep and oaky, smooth. The way he likes it.

“Well, after Dubenich tried to blow us up I figured I could use a place off the record that I could lay low in if push comes to shove. My share of that job was a lot bigger than I thought it would be so I started looking around. I’ve got places like that all over the globe, five I think. This building though, it’s the only one I have like it.” You make your way to the large couch in the center of the space, it looks both chic and comfy at the same time, and when he sits he’s surprised by the softness. 

“I bought the whole building, it was easier paperwork-wise that way, but I didn’t need the other twenty-four apartments so I started a shelter. I hired Marcy, who has actual experience in that kind of thing, and asked her how much money she would need to keep this place running and stocked. She gave me a number, I added a zero to the end of it and gave her an expense account. I have more money than I know what to do with, but Marcy does, so…” You shrug and take a sip of your own drink.

“Thats … amazing.” Eliot breathes into the space. “You’re amazing.” He says a little louder. “Not many people in your situation would do the same thing.” 

“I’ve done some pretty shitty stuff El. I guess… This is my way of trying to put more good into the world than bad. Like, evening out the scales of karma or something like that.”

“Yeah,” He whispers, “I know what that's like.”

“I know you do, who do you think gave me the idea?” You look at him.

Eliot places his empty glass down on a coaster sitting on the edge of your side table and grabs your own out of your hand, putting in right next to his. He holds your hand in his own. The roughness of his skin brushes nicely against your own. Your eyes track from the point of contact, up his arms, and into his eyes. He’s already staring at you, deeply looking into your own eyes as soon as they make contact. 

“I didn’t think that I deserved nice things. I had done unspeakable things to innocent people. Guys like me don’t get happy endings. Then, you crashed into my life with your soft edges and your witty jokes, and your awful taste in music. You made me want nice things. You made me…” he trailes off.

“Made you what, Eliot?” You search his face for the answers you want.

“You made me hope.” He whispers into the air. 

A smile spreads across your face, soft and filled with all the love you have in your heart for the man in front of you. 

“Good.” You laugh, pulling Eliot’s face into your hand and placing a single delicate kiss on the corner of his lips.

You pull back, only inches away, and scan his face once more. You clock the small scars that paint his face. Places where skin had split and healed and split again. Your eyes trace the curve of his brow, the plushness of his lips, and the shadow of stubble trailing his jawline. Most noticeably though, you watch a flush run up his neck and fill his cheeks. 

Your smile widens. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you blush before,” you tell him.

“I haven’t.” He laughs.

“I like it.” You kiss the other corner of his lips softly, waiting and wanting for the flush to grow a deeper shade of red.

That second kiss though, spurs Eliot into action, and from one second to the next you are in his lap, as he ravishs your lips. He’s forceful and gentle at the same time, pulling all kinds of feelings from your heart and noises from your throat.

The sun sets.

The sun rises. 

Sometime in between you fall asleep on your couch, you laying between his legs with your head resting on the left side of his chest. His arms wrap loosely around you and his hair forms a halo around his head. 

Somehow you wake before him and manage to slip out of his hold, replacing your body with a pillow in his arms when he begins to stir.

You stand over him for a minute grinning like an idiot at the sight of his chest peeking out between the open buttons of his knit shirt. God, you could get used to waking up to a sight like this. 

You decide with a quick scan of the pantry and fridge that you’ll make pancakes for breakfast, you have a box mix a bottle of oil, and a single unopened bag of chocolate chips. 

You practically dance around your kitchen, mixing the batter, heating a pan, and spooning out enough for the first couple of pancakes. 

—

Eliot wakes up when the sun streams in from the window and casts over his eyes. He takes in his surroundings and smiles his own goofy smile when he remembers what happened the night before. 

Surprising even himself, he recalls more of the conversation between the two of you than anything else that had transpired. You have more in common than he realized, this both soothes his heart and makes it ache at the same time. What had you gone through before meeting the team? What had you done that made you seek your own form of redemption? How could he ease those burdens for you? Could he ease them at all?

He’s brought out his musing by the wafting smell of smoke followed by the loud chirping of the smoke detector. He jumps up from his spot on the couch and follows the smell to the kitchen where his eyes land on you. You’re standing in front of a pan of what he assumes was supposed to be pancakes except they’re charred and stuck to the bottom of the pan.

He swoops in and takes the pan from your hands, kissing you on the cheek as he brushes past you and towards the sink.

“What were you planning to make for breakfast, rocks?” he teases you and chuckles at the pout that spreads across your lips.

“They were supposed to be pancakes.” You glare at him. 

“Sit,” he points at the stools sitting on the other side of your island. “I’ll take over.”

You obey, though not without rolling your eyes. Eliot’ll make better pancakes than you could anyway so it isn’t too much of a loss. Your pride is a small price to pay for amazing food.

You watch him move around the space like he owns it. And you start to think, not for the first time how amazing it would be to have Eliot in your space like this all the time. 

You’re going to enjoy this week. You make a mental note to thank Nate Ford again, then think better of it. He doesn’t need anything else to inflate his ego.

[hamiltonconfessions-but-better]

Before getting into the main article, I'll quickly debunk a few common misconceptions: 

1) Alexander Hamilton never purposely set his son up for his death. In Blow Us All Away he talks about how his mother can’t afford another heartbreak and he doesn’t want her to get hurt. And even if Phillip hadn’t thrown away his shot as Alexander instructed him to, he would’ve been shot anyway because Eacker shot early on the count of seven.

2) Alexander Hamilton is not a villain, there is no villain in Hamilton. If you think here is, you missed the entire point of the musical and Burr’s insight. He calls himself the villain in Hamilton’s history because people will always find their own opinions on people and paint them as the villain without sharing the full story. LMM did just this by giving insight on both Hamilton and Burr, its history, there is no villain. Everything musical Hamilton did was in good intentions. He was never intentionally malicious nor did he ever go out of his way just to hate on Aaron Burr as people like to think. 

3) Alexander Hamilton isn’t this heartless person who doesn’t care to spend any time with his family. He always tried to make time for them, and he even says himself in Dear Theodosia that he’d never be anything like his father. He says in It’s Quiet Uptown he’d give his life up for Phillip’s, and he does take pride in everything his son does. He constantly worries if he’d be enough for Eliza in That Would Be Enough, who says herself that he’s perfect the way he is, she just wishes he’d share a fraction of his time. Although unfortunately he can’t spend a lot of time with her due to his job, it’s clear he genuinely loves and cares for her.

—

Alexander Hamilton cared about his family

The interpretation that Alexander Hamilton is a kind of sociopath, who's action/speech is an elaborate facade, is unsupported fan speculation.  As a 2 hour long musical, LMM had enough time to establish any character personality traits, motivations, and how they act. If this was the case, it would be addressed in the musical as it would be an important plot-line. When there are multiple songs in the soundtrack describing Alexander’s character, especially at the first track, everything is consistent with his pros and cons. For example, when Alexander worries about being good enough for his family - that is how he actually feels. Alexander makes sure to stay alive and make it out the Battle of Yorktown for his wife.  Alexander’s personality is consistent with every character he interacts with: His wife, friends and enemy- never once displaying sociopathic traits of being able to switch facades.  So his dialogue/actions are genuine and valid evidence. 

Alexander’s affections towards Eliza before he even discovered about the child. Proving Alexander loved Eliza, and loved her for for herself and not some of other malicious motive involving rank:

"Eliza, I don’t have a dollar to my name, an acre of land, a troop to command, a dollop of fame [...] "No stress, my love for you is never in doubt." [...] "As long as I’m alive, Eliza, swear to God you’ll never feel so helpless. [...] "My life is gonna be fine cause Eliza’s in it".  - Act 1, Helpless.

He clearly wasn't doing it to get some tactical advantage for himself, as he says himself that he’s worried that he can’t provide for Eliza’s life in That Would Be Enough. Even if it was a plan he was doing by himself, he would have definitely mentioned it while he was confessing everything in The Winter’s Ball as it would have been the subject.  But he doesn't. Clearly, it's not true. When Alexander asks if it mattered “if, Burr, or which one” he says that as a joke, he’s never met any of the Schuyler sisters. He says it as a joke because Burr brought up his image as a tomcat. They’re friends, they’re making jokes about how they’re reliable with the ladies. Not once was Alexander toying with Eliza’s emotions for his own benefit. 

alexander hamilton defense essay 1/(?)

-alexander hamilton defense anon

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[skyward-floored]

I'd like to hear about your hw rewrite ideas 👀

- hero-of-the-wolf

*cracks knuckles* gladly!

I mostly just have notes on fleshing out the story, changing a few characters, actually fitting the game and other era stuff in with canon in a way that might make sense and things like that. And I only really have stuff about the base game since that’s the one I own, so I’m not going to go into dlc/definitive edition stuff as much. I’m going to focus on the three different displaced eras mostly in this post just because that’s what I’ve mostly got fleshed out the most :)

But first I also have to mention a couple other things first:

Kid Link has been upgraded to story mode character, instead of merely unlockable in that one mode. Sheik has a much more legitimate reason to exist and Impa realizes much earlier that this random Sheikah warrior is actually the missing Zelda. Cia still looks suggestive, but has clothes that look more like clothes and not just underwear. She and Lana have the same skin tone. And I’m sure there’s more I’m forgetting but that’s the main stuff. Moving on!

Skyward Sword

I’m placing this one about... hm. I actually have two ideas here about that.

The first is to have this take place a few hundred years before skyward sword, and be only a distant history lesson by the time sksw itself rolls around, which would make sense but for the fact that Skyloft looks a little too much like it does in sksw to be that far off.

The other idea is to make it be fifty or so years before sksw, and be part of the reason Skyloft isn’t all that populated. The bit of war that touched them took out a fair amount of the population, and Gaepora was a kid around when this all went down, which inspired him to start the knight academy when he was older. Both have their pros and cons, though I think I’m leaning towards the second.

That’s the biggest thing I’m changing for this era, though I will address the Groosenator paradox, being “how can the Groosenator be around to stop the imprisonef if this is before Groose is even born”. Well you see, canons in loz have two names: canon, and Groosenator. The army from hw brings their canons along with them when they go to sksw’s era, and they call them groosenators because they’re from an era after they were invented. Bam.

Ocarina of Time

Placing the time for this one is tricky, since Ruto is an adult, but I don’t know if she’s like... gone through oot..? Is this the mm/tp timeline where Link is still around? Is this the ww timeline where Link left? I do not know. And I don’t know which makes more sense.

Aside from the Sheik stuff I’m largely leaving this bit untouched. I think it would be fun to include more sages, maybe even oot Zelda, but admittedly I haven’t thought this one through quite as much (except for the sheik stuff).

Twilight princess

I’m placing the era of twilight in this game as happening after tp itself. “But Peggy where’s tp Link then” he’s either on vacation so far away he didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late or Cia accidentally yeeted him to botw as a wolf. Don’t worry about it.

Anywho this part begins with Lana heading to twilight-era Hyrule, finding it absolutely covered in twilight, and later meeting Agitha and Midna. In my version I’m kicking out Agitha as a main playable character, because out of all the cool characters in twilight princess they picked her?? The bug girl?? She’s nice and all but no. Sorry. She can still be around as part of the story (saving her makes a good level mechanic), but not as a major player. She can even be playable still, but not as a major person.

I’m replacing her with the Resistance. Lana gets to the era of twilight and finds Rusl, Shad, Ashei, and maybe Auru (don’t know if he’d be active enough to want to fight) trying fruitlessly to protect Kakariko, figure out what the heck is going on, where the huge influx of monsters came from, and how the heckin twilight is back. Lana explains about the monsters, but can’t tell them much about the twilight. Somewhere in here Midna shows up on her hunt for Cia, furious at being an imp again, even more furious about the twilight spread over Hyrule again, and especially majorly furious that Zant is somehow back. The game never explains this, but I’m saying that Cia somehow brought him back. Or he was secretly not dead and laying low. One of those.

The Resistance goes along with Lana (and Midna once they convince her they’re on the same side) to stop Zant (Zelda maybe shows up for a bit, but she’s holding down the fort in Hyrule, so after a quick “oh crap Midna’s here that’s bad”, she’s not around as much). I figure the Resistance members are all one “character” in that each combo is like, a different one of them or something. Or they’d all be different lol idk. This is getting really long and I’m running out of steam haha.

But yeah those are my thoughts on those parts at least— I have more thoughts about character interactions and some other random things, but like I said this is really long XD hopefully that answers your question at least a little :)