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babeforjjmaybanks · 5 months ago

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INTO IT ੭* ‧₊°

part 2 of this!

pairing: frat!rafe x shy!femreader ��ৎ

summary: after you crowd his mind for weeks, rafe invites you to one of his famous ragers and things get a little crazy.

warning(s): heavy drug use, p in v sex (protected), boob sucking, alcohol, body shots, reader almost gets laced-, alot of swearing, praise kink, fighting/arguing, biting (hickeys), gagging, mentions of vomiting, power trip(?), size kink, rafe is a hornball, ass grabbing, oral (f receiving), face grabbing, hair pulling, slight choking, breeding kink if you squint, possessive rafe, crying, nail digging/scratching, rafe spits on a guy- they're intoxicated but reader verbally consents!

wow that's a lot ..

mentions of: y/n, gorgeous, rafey, pretty, slut, sexy, princess, girlfriend, mama (once or twice), sweet girl, wife, good girl, baby, sweetheart ౨ৎ

a/n: I didn't even bother proofreading this, sorry for mistakes! this took so long to write ngl, low-key horribly written.. this might be the freakiest thing i've ever written. but as usual, hope you enjoy & leave notes! <3 taglist: @maybankslover

word count: 3626

divider by: @im4yeons

"you want me to do what?"

y/n and rafe thankfully had a week off school. and rafe, like the frat boy he is, decides to throw a rager. and of course he wanted her to come! after their last interaction, rafe was busy juggling football and his father, and y/n was busy keeping her stable reputation. they hadn't had an actual conversation in weeks. just speaking to each other in the hallway and texting during the day didn't give rafe much to jack off about.

that isn't the only reason he wanted to see her of course, he had grown fond of her. over the span of a few months, he was completely whipped. even though he was still scared to ask her out, to him, he was hers and she was his.

he hadn't stopped thinking about her since that night as if it wasn't bad before that. he noted the times she woke up, her class routes, and what time she went to sleep. always making sure she had eaten and sending her money even though she tells him not to, like a boyfriend would. since they couldn't find time to study together, he actually took it upon himself to open a book. it didn't have the same effect, of course, but it was something.

"oh come onnn sweetheart, live a little. I haven't seen you in forever it's driving me fuckin' crazy." on the other side of the phone rafe ran a hand through his curtain bangs and tossed his head back in frustration. “you just saw me two hours ago, rafey.”

y/n laid on her stomach kicking her feet back and forth, twirling her hair and giggling. her two friends stayed silent, teasing and mocking her quietly making faces. sarah and kiara were her closest friends, they all had honors classes together and would sometimes study and gossip in the library during and after school hours. ever since she started “seeing” rafe, sarah noticed an improvement in his moods. so, like any sister, she wanted to know all the details. they were practically hanging out every day and almost got kicked out of the library once.

“school doesn’t count, I need to see you, feel you.” rafe always had a short temper and even worse patience, but for you? he was willing to wait days, weeks, maybe even months aslong as it meant he got to see you. he knew how much your grades meant to you, so he never texted you during study hours. even though he secretly wanted to talk every second of the day, he’d never admit it. how shameful it was whenever you were out and he heard a male voice on the other end, he swore he could feel every vein popping out of his neck.

“okay, since you’re so eager, i’ll go. what time do I need to be there?” rafe let out a chuckle, a smirk on his face already imagining his big hands on your waist, fitting so perfectly. “hello? you still there?” rafe snapped out of his perverted trance. “shit— yeah my bad, party starts at 10 ends whenever I want it to. dress however you want, you look good in anything.” y/n giggled and rolled her eyes, “okay, see you then.” “alright, bye pretty.” you smile and hang up the phone, as usual, because he never hangs up on you. atleast not since that time you were about to say something and he hung up in your face and wouldn’t stop apologizing.

you checked the time, it was 6pm. It took sarah about 2 hours to curl her hair, an hour for kiara to decide what to wear, and it took all of you combined just about 4 hours to get ready.

so for the next four hours, you mentally prepared yourself to go to your first rafe cameron rager.

y/n stood in front of the mirror, brushing through her damp hair with a slightly nervous look on her face. the excitement of the night’s party thrown by rafe and sarah was definitely building, but so were the butterflies in her stomach. she wasn’t sure what to wear or how to make sure she looked her best. sarah, who was sitting cross-legged on the bed, flipped through a few dresses, occasionally holding one up to y/n for her approval. meanwhile, kiara was by the closet, pulling out accessories and chatting with her.

“I still can’t believe rafe’s throwing this huge party, well i can, but I can’t believe he invited me.” she muttered, her eyes flicking back to her reflection. “what if I don’t look okay? what if I don’t fit in? oh my God what if I throw up or something?!”

sarah looked up from the bed and gave you a reassuring smile. “of course, you’ll look amazing,” she said, her voice warm with confidence. “you’re y/n—you can’t not look good. besides, everyone’s going to be too busy trying to figure out if I’m going to make it through the night without embarrassing myself.” she winked playfully.

kiara, who had been silently inspecting the jewelry, suddenly held up a sparkling gold necklace. “how about this one?” she asked, holding it out towards you. “It’ll catch the light and really make everything pop.”

y/n gave a small laugh, her nerves still visible. “It’s beautiful, but... I don’t know. I’m just not sure I’m cut out for something like this. I mean, it’s rafe’s party. what if I stand out for the wrong reasons? or, i don’t stand out at all..”

“y/n, you always stand out,” sarah insisted, standing up and walking over with a dress in hand. “and if you don’t, we’ll make sure you do.” she paused, grinning mischievously. “honestly, you might just outshine me tonight, which would be a first.”

y/n chuckled, shaking her head. “I’m not trying to steal your spotlight, sarah.”

oh, please,” kiara teased, holding up a sleek black dress against your frame. “you’d be stealing the spotlight whether you wanted to or not.”

“okay, okay,” y/n said, her smile widening as the tension eased a bit. “I just want to feel comfortable, you know?”

sarah lifted a red hip hugging dress and held it up. “This is your moment, y/n. you’ve got to go big. the red one is perfect. you’ll shine all night, no problem.”

after a moment’s hesitation, she nodded. “okay, I’ll try it on.” she stepped into the adjoining bathroom to change.

while she was gone, kiara rummaged through a drawer and found a pair of matching gold earrings. “these will go perfectly with the necklace. she’s going to look stunning.”

when you returned, dressed in the shimmering red dress, sarah’s eyes widened. “wow,” she said, breathless. “I knew it would look good, but you look—” She stopped, searching for words. “like you stepped out of a dream.. I might have to steal you from my brother.”

you blushed, suddenly feeling a lot more confident. “Really?”

kiara smiled and adjusted the necklace around your neck. “absolutely. you’re going to turn heads tonight. and probably knock rafe off of his feet.”

“thank you, guys,” y/n said, looking at her reflection. “I feel... I feel good now.”

sarah clapped her hands together. “we’ve got you looking fabulous. now let’s get to that party and get totally drunk with no regrets, okay?”

you smiled, already feeling the excitement bubble up again. “definitely. thanks for helping me get ready. I couldn’t have done this without you guys.”

the girls exchanged a quick hug, and with one last look in the mirror, she was ready to step out and enjoy the night.

the girls arrived at the party at about 10:32, there were about 30 cars parked from the house to all the way down the block, and a bunch of people out on the lawn. including her friends two boyfriends, jj and john b.

"fashionably late I see." jj embraced kiara in a warm hug and turned twords you. "no way you got y/n to come to a party, what'd they bribe you?" you shoved him and let out a nervous laugh. "actually.. rafe invited me." rafe, you felt your face warm up everytime you thought about him. jj and john b exchanged playful glances at each other and then looked back at you, "rafe invited you?" jj questioned, "to a rager?" john b added on.

"it's not that big of a deal, just a party." you fiddled with your bracelets in embarrassment, was it really that surprising that you were out partying? talk about a homebody.

"well, if anyone knows how to party, it's me." jj took off his shades and took a swig from his red party cup. "where's pope and cleo?" sarah clung onto john b's arm while she scanned the area, "haven't seen them in a couple minutes, probably somewhere eating each other's faces off. speaking offff.." john b trailed off and snaked his arm around sarah's waist. "catch up with you guys later." they waved the group off and disappeared into the crowd.

soon after, everyone split up. you walked into the house by yourself, there were people everywhere. on the floor, stuck to the walls, on the counters, the couches, and the tables. a couple minutes ago you texted rafe that you were at his house but no response yet, you walked over to the drink table and poured yourself a cup full of light and dark alcohols hoping you didn't regret it later. but after the first sip, it was so gross you gagged.

by yourself, taking small sips from your cup, you hear someone call your name.

"topper?" you raise your eyebrow at the figure moving through the crowd, it was infact him. "hey gorgeous, what are you doing all alone? where's rafe?" he was clearly drunk, but still knew not to flirt with you too much or rafe would kill him.

"I wish I knew honestly.." you took a swig from your cup and sighed. "ah cheer up, I'm sure he's somewhere getting high off his ass. here," topper took a joint from behind his ear and lit it. "first hit, all yours." you grabbed the weed and took a hit, and another, and another after that. a non familiar burning sensation in your throat and chest. you chased it with your cup and leaned against the counter. "see? feels better already. all you needed was a little weed." for the first time ever, you and topper actually laughed together. after some more conversation and him making sure you were still capable of saying yes and no, he went off to go hookup with some blonde.

not even a minute later, a guy came up to you. "your name's y/n right?" you had never seen this guy in your life, let alone knew his name. "yeah, it is." you spoke softly and pulled your dress down a bit. "kevin, nice to meet you." he held his hand out and you shook it, your phone vibrated in your black kurt purse that rafe had bought you, but you were too focused on the conversation to acknowledge it.

"that dress looks sexy on you.. do you smoke?" his eyes dart from your lips to your chest, if you knew any better it'd be clear he was trying to hit on you, but you thought he was just being nice. "thanks," you mumbled, "not really but sometimes?" he let out a chuckle and held out the blunt between his fingers.

but before you could accept it, out of nowehere, rafe shoved him. “don’t give her that shit, fuck ‘s your problem?” he wrapped his arm around your waist and moved Infront of you, red party cup in his hand. “chill rafe, ‘s just some light shit it won’t kill her.” the guy actually laughed in his face, and rafe didn’t like that at fucking all. he handed you his cup and grabbed the guy by his shirt with both hands. “you ever pull some shit like that again i’ll fuckin’ kill you. now get the fuck outta my kitchen.” rafe threw him to the ground and spat on him, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and turning twords you, “‘m sorry sweetheart, you gotta be more careful.” rafe wiped his nose and pressed a kiss to your temple, resting his head on yours. the smell of alcohol and expensive cologne intoxicating you. he grabbed his cup and caged you in his arms.

"I will, 'm sorry rafey." you wrapped your arms around him and rested your head on his chest, trying to settle the spinning in your legs and the ache between your thighs.

rafe examined your figure, the way the red dress complimented your skin, the way the dress hugged your body with slits in various places, the way your ass was almost poking out, how your gold jewelry accented the red, fresh mani-pedi topped off with an anklet.

he was practically drooling.

"'s okay baby, don't think about it yeah? I wanna try something if you'll help me." he pressed a kiss to your lips, hand moving down to grip your ass. "okay, what is it?" you batt your eyelashes at him, rafe swears he could've died right there.

"cmere," he grabbed your hand and interlocked your fingers, leading you to the kitchen, "I'll explain in a second."

and explain he did. at first, you were a little confused but decided to just follow his lead.

rafe lifted your chin up, placing the lime in your mouth. saying you were nervous would be an understatement, but you wouldn't dare start shaking. he placed his hand on your waist and grabbed the table salt, shaking some onto the area between your shoulder, neck, and collarbone. in one swift motion, rafe took his mouth to your skin. guaranteed to leave a mark, it wasn't anything short of licking, biting, and sucking.

he downed his shot and slammed the glass on the table. grabbing your face with his free hand he bit the lime and grabbed it out of your mouth with his teeth, nearly biting your lip. he tossed it to the floor and interlocked your lips in a sloppy, needy kiss. cheers and squeals could be heard in the background, but you were too focused on how hard your heart was beating. rafe was caging you in against the counter, the slit in the back of your dress allowing the cold material to stimulate your skin. after a couple seconds rafe pulled away, breathing heavy hair messy and lips swollen. he smiled at you and you smiled at him.

"that was.. wow." which was really all you could manage to say, catching your breath. "how many times have you done that?" rafe looked down at you, admiring your flushed face. loose strands of hair, eyes glossy, lipgloss smeared, he couldn't get over your eyes. he wiped the gloss off your face with his thumb. "once," he smirked, "unless you wanna do it again." you giggled and rested your head on his chest, arms wrapped around him. "rafey, can we.. go to your room?"

if he wasn't absolutely rock hard already, he definitely was now.

he stroked your back softly with his knuckles, fingers running down your spine. "'course we can princess, whatever you want."

rafe picked you up gently tossed you over his shoulder, hand covering your ass and arms securing you on his shoulder. before you knew it, you were upstairs sitting on his bed. he took off your purse and shoes, putting them on the floor, rubbing your calves before joining you on the bed.

“you alright sweet girl?” rafe laid beside you, “mhm.” he kissed your forehead and pulled you closer to him, embracing your small frame beneath him. “can i ask you something?” you hear his breath hitch, “mhmm.’

“will you be my girlfriend?”

the room is silent, minus the music playing downstairs. you lift your head off his chest to look up at him, he’s looking down at you with low, but emotional eyes. “rafe.. are you serious?” propping yourself up on your elbow now, “yeah, hundred percent.” he sits up and digs into his pocket, pulling out a ring.

a darry ring.

It was gorgeous, and it was gold. he grabbed your hand gently, waiting on your response. “ofcourse I will,” he slides the ringer onto your finger and cups your face, kissing you softly. his hand strokes your thigh, moving himself ontop of you. the kiss becomes heated and passionate, his hands roam your body and one slips under your dress, his thumb rubs circle into your core causing your back to arch off of the bed.

rafe breaks the kiss, starting to suck on your jaw and down to your neck. “been dreaming about this pussy for weeks.” he takes his cap off and places it on your head, backwards ofcourse. he kisses your thighs and spreads them apart, you comply needing this just as much as him. “such a good fucking girl.”

he slides your lacy underwear down your legs and tosses it to the floor. mouth immediately latched onto your cunt, broad nose nudging your clit on his tongue licks between your folds. you moan as he inserts a cold, long digit into your slick hole. curling it so that it hits the right spots. a familiar knot forming in your stomach as you take his hair inbetween your hands tugging and pulling at it. almost embarrassed at how quickly he could make you cum. he mumbles words against your cunt sending vibrations to your core. “‘s okay, let it out, cum ‘m my fuckin’ face.”

with a long string of moans and curses, rafe didn’t let up. still mercilessly lapping at her cunt through her orgasm. “rafeyyy,” she whined, “‘s too much!” he finally decatched his mouth from her heat, face drenched and vision hazy. he pressed kisses to her thighs and rose to her face, kissing her sweetly.

“rafe,” she moaned put breathlessly against his lips, “I want it, please.” she runs her hands through his hair and looks him in the eyes, his heart skips a couple beats. “you sure?” he strokes her side gently, “yes, i’m sure.” rafe took off his shirt and his pants, tossing them to the floor aswell. reaching over to his dresser and grabbing a condom. he pulls down his boxers and tosses them to the floor. and holy shit was he big. not just big, but long. tip swollen and leaking every second. he strokes his self a few times before rolling the condom onto his dick.

he pulls the rest of your dress over your head, eyes glued to your breasts. he kneads one with his hands and takes the other into his mouth, sucking and biting. you moan into your fist biting your knuckles harshly. he trails kisses down your stomach and aligns himself at your entrance, rubbing his trip between your folds. spit dribbles onto his dick befofe he slowly pushes the trip in, wincing at how tight it is. you grip and claw at his arms as he bottoms out. “slutty fuckin’ pussy, so greedy suckin’ me in like this.” he earns a whine from the girl beneath him, still adjusting to his size. he moved slightly, a loud moan crept from your throat. you were full, to the brim.

It wasn’t long until he found a steady pace, rocking his hips in and out of you slowly, grip tight on your hips. every stroke sent a jolt of pleasure through your body. He hit the spot, every single time. rafe presses down on your stomach "you feel that shit? 'm so fuckin' deep in this pussy— my pussy." rafe laughed teasingly, picking up his pace.

he tosses your legs over his shoulders and fucks into you, hand gripping the back of your thigh as he moans into the crook of your neck. at this point, you couldn’t control the noises you were making. you were crying, it didn’t necessarily hurt, but he was so fucking big.

“rafe— fuck.” you were clawing at his back now, and it made his ego shoot through the roof. he chuckled lowly in your ear, “feels good? you love this fucking dick? tell me. tell me you love this shit.” you could barely speak with the way he was pounding into you, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes. “I love it— oh God rafe— I love you.” he groans, his thumb rumbs circles into your clit. “you love me? fuck— i fuckin’ love you. 's pussy is so fuckin good— can't let anyone else have it. put a fuckin' baby in you 'n make you my fuckin' wife."

you were so close. It was becoming too much, his words, his thrusts, his love, you could feel it all. "fu—uck you like that shit mama? squeezin' me so fuckin' tight like this. you wanna have my fuckin' baby?" he grabs you by your neck and kisses you sloppy and rough, just like the sex. "gonna cum.” you moaned breathlessly into the shell of his ear, arms wrapped around his neck pulling him closer to you. "yeah? do that shit you got it, make a fucking mess on my dick.”

your orgasm washes over you in waves of pleasure, rafe doesn’t stop fucking you. his thrusts become sloppy as he releases into the condom, chest heaving. your skin sticks to his as he tosses the condom into the trash, pulling you ontop of him and wrapping the blanket around you. he strokes your back and kisses your neck softly, you can hear faint buzzing coming from your purse.

“I love you, boyfriend.”

“I love you too, girlfriend.”

#rafe smut #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe #frat rafe #rafe outer banks #chase atlantic

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daydreaming-nerd · 1 year ago

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You Want a Baby? (Bat Boys x Female! Reader)

Based off of multiple resquests... and by all means request more of this shit. My Ruhn asks have been kind dry. Would hate for the frat pack to run a train on the reader...

AN: You guys I spent so much time on this I hope it lives up to expectation because this is my kind of thing.

Summary: It's the perfect storm, you're ovulating, all your mates happen to be home and they all want to see you pregnant with their child.

Warnings: Double penetration, breeding kink, size kink, possessive mates, Over stim, literally so many things I'm probably forgetting

Word count: 3738

It was that time of the month, well not THAT time.

Fae periods were a bitch, that much was true. But fae ovulating? It was a whole different thing. The need to be touched, to be filled, was excruciating. Ever since I had found my mates, three of them to be exact, it was like all those sensations had been heightened. Every time I ovulated, all three of my mates couldn't be present.

The first time Rhysand was meeting with Tarquin leaving only Cassian and Azriel to fuck me senseless. The next time around it was just Azriel to keep me sated. One of the most memorable times was last year when it was just Rhys and Cassian to help. However, I patiently waited for a day when all three mates would be here to take care of me, a day I secretly hoped would be today.

I woke up this morning to an empty bed and a note that said they had all gone to Windhaven to check on the Illyrian camps. I didn’t mind their absence too much until later that afternoon when I felt my body start to sweat with need. I went to the bathroom to strip off my clothes, leaving me only in the black lingerie that Azriel had bought me for solstice last year. I couldn’t help but admire myself, running my hands down my body. It wasn’t until then that I realized what was going on, I was ovulating.

The boys were in Windhaven which meant there was a possibility that they could all be here by tonight. But with the tensions in the Illyrian camps high, I knew it was most likely a long shot. So I spent the day dancing around the townhouse in nothing but my lingerie, loving the feeling of the fresh air on my skin. As the sky got darker I realized my mates weren’t likely to come home.

I made my way upstairs to our oversized bed and tossed myself on top of the covers. I tried to sleep and push all thoughts of Rhysand’s hands, Azriel’s tongue and, Cassian’s cock from my mind. I was unsuccessful, and ended up finding myself writing all over our shared bed, begging for any kind of friction the sheets offer me. That’s how the boys found me, squirming around our bed in nothing but my lingerie.

“Well, what do we have here?” Cassian drawled, leaning against the doorway.

I sat up straight, trying to act like I wasn’t about to reach a hand down my panties just seconds ago.

“I told you both,” Azriel said smugly, walking into the room with Rhysand in tow.

“Told them what?” I ask bringing my knees to my chest in a lame attempt to cover myself.

“I told them that you were ovulating today,” Azriel smirked. “I’ve been tracking your cycle since I got left out last time,” he looked to Cass and Rhys with a death glare.

“We got back from Windhaven a few hours and decided to get a drink at Rita’s,” Rhysand explained, stalling towards where I sat on the bed. “We were talking about you.”

“You were?” I ask, sensing the seriousness in Rhysand’s voice.

“Oh yes we were little one,” Cassian laughs.

“We were talking about how amazing you would look pregnant,” Rhysand explained, his voice like liquid sex.

“R-Really?” I say, not trusting my own voice.

“Yeah,” Cassain answered, taking a step toward me. “We think we're ready for a baby.”

“Only if you’re ready though,” Rhys assured me.

My heart skipped at their words. The idea of carrying any one of their children excited me. I couldn’t lie, I had been thinking about it since my last cycle.

“What do you think, little one? Gonna let us put a baby in you tonight?” Azriel drawled, leaving a kiss on the shell of my ear.

I couldn’t even speak, all the intelligent words leaving my brain. All I could think about was how feral the fae were when trying to conceive. My legs would’ve fallen apart if it wasn’t for my arms holding them together. I nodded my head, still unable to think.

A collective growl filled the room as Azriel grabbed my arms and stood me up in the center of the room, leaving me on display for each of my mates. They closed in on me instantly and I had to crane my neck up to meet each of their gazes. Cassian’s hand slid under the strap of my bra inspecting me thoroughly.

“Which one of you bought her this little set?” Cassian said, slipping the strap of my bra off my shoulder while Rhysand worked on the opposite strap.

“I did,” Azriel said, rubbing circles into my hips as he left open mouth kisses on my shoulders.

“Well thank you Az,” Rhys smirked, unclasping my bra.

My body felt like it was on fire from three sets of hands roaming up and down it. Even if I closed my eyes I could easily tell who touched me where. The sensation of it all had me tossing my head back on Azriel’s chest, trusting him to support my body. He grasped my hips tightly to keep my knees from buckling as Cassian and Rhys stared at my breasts now free of the tight black lingerie.

“Look at those perfect tits Az,” Rhysand drawled.

I felt Azriel’s large hand drift up my torso and to my neck pulling me against his body even more so I could feel his hard cock pressed up against my back. His hand on my throat gently pushed my head to look at him as he said back to Rhysand

“They are perfect,” he smirked, craning his neck down to capture my lips in his.

“And soon they’ll be full of milk,” Cassian pointed out with a smirk, swiping a calloused thumb over my nipple.

Rhysand bends his head down to take one of my aching nipples into his mouth sucking it taut. The gesture catches Cassian’s attention and he leans down to give the same treatment to the other side. The sensation has me arching my back aching to be closer to them. I feel Azriel’s hands grip my hips and yank me against his body again. His hand comes to grip my throat once more as he sticks his tongue down my throat earning a moan from me. I feel Cassian’s lips pull off my tit with a pop as he watches me and Azriel.

“Gods sometimes I forget how tiny she is,” Cassian drawls running his hands up and down my sides. “Look at her with Az she’s like half his size.”

Rhys stops his menstrations on my other breast to see what Cassian is talking about, “She’s practically half all our sizes Cass,” Rhys chuckles.

“Gods I just wanna toss her around like a little doll,” Cassian curses.

“Do it,” Azriel smirks, pulling his lips from mine. “You know how much she loves it.”

Cassian says nothing before picking me up by my hips effortlessly and tossing me onto the bed earning an excited squeal from me.

“Told you,” Azriel beamed with male pride.

Cassian stalked towards me with Rhys and Azriel hot on his heels and I started moving up the oversized bed towards the headboard.

“Oh no you don’t,” he smirks, grabbing my ankles and yanking me down the bed. I wait patiently watching Cassian untie the leathers of his pants, my mouth nearly falling open as his large cock springs out. “Come here baby,” he smiles and I eagerly sit up and lick the tip of his cock.

I looked up at him through my lashes donning my most innocent expression as I took as much of him as I could in my mouth. The rest I pumped with my hand. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Azriel and Rhys fisting their cocks at the sight of me sucking Cassian off.

“Good fucking girl y/n,” Cassain moaned tossing his head back in ecstasy.

I reveled in the salty taste of him, the feeling of every single vein in his cock massaging my tongue. I would never get tired of this, of pleasing my mates. Cassian pulled me off him and pushed my upper half down on the mattress. My panties are ripped off and discarded somewhere in the room. There goes that set.

“Stop Cass, make sure she’s ready, I don’t want to tear her,” Rhysand tells Cassian, the voice of a High Lord making its appearance.

Cassian bends down to inspect my pussy, running a finger through my folds to find me absolutely drenched. “Oh she’s ready alright,” he smiles. “God baby your pussy is so fucking tiny. It’s a miracle you can take us so well.”

“Cass please,” I whine, nearly coming undone at his words.

Cassian starts pushing his cock in me and the stretch has me backing away from him subconsciously. He grabs my hips and pulls me back towards him, pinning me to the mattress. I had been their mate for a while now but every time they entered me I still felt the stretch. Cassian was right, I was half their size, was a miracle I could take them.

Cassian started trusting in me at a fast pace and the sound of our skin slapping filled the room. To my right and left Azriel and Rhys continued to stroke their cocks and as much as I longed to put them both in my mouth, Cassian had me in such a state of pleasure I couldn’t focus on anything else.

“Fuck Cass look at her belly,” Azriel practically moaned. Cassian’s eyes snapped to my stomach where he could see the bulge from his cock thrusting into me. I moaned at the sight.

“Yeah, you like that baby?” He smirks, leaning over to capture my lips in his. His pace speeds up and within seconds he’s cumming inside of me.

Cassian pushes his cock in me a couple of times, his attempt at burying his seed deep inside me. He pulls out soon after and I whine at the sudden emptiness.

“That’s the one that’s gonna get her pregnant,” Cassian beams with male pride, his cock already hardening.

“Pfft, you wish General.” Azriel scoffs positioning himself between my legs.

He pushes in slowly and I cry out at the stretch once more. Each glorious inch of him brings immense pain and pleasure.

“Shhh be a good girl and take it all,” Azriel coos until his hips are flush with mine. “That’s a girl.” he moans as he begins fucking me hard.

My mind goes to mush almost instantly and the moans coming out of my mouth are damn near feral. The need to be fucked and filled by each of my mates runs so deep in my veins. My hands claw and scrape and find Azriel’s forearms as he slams his hips into me, seeking out his own pleasure.

“Az please let me cum, I-I’m so c-close,” I mewl, each word hard to get out.

“Not yet baby, you don’t get to cum until we all have a load in that little pussy,” Rhysand drawls, pumping his cock. “Speaking of, step aside Az I’m not gonna last much longer.”

“No, I’m not done with her yet,” Azriel growls, his possessive side coming out.

“You think I can fit in there with you then?” Rhysand asks.

“Now this I gotta see,” Cassian jests.

The thought of two cocks fucking my pussy at once has my eyes glazing over and my mouth falling open like I’m in some sort of subspace.

“I can take it,” I choke out between Azriel’s thrusts.

“Pick her up Az,” Rhys says, his voice practically dripping with lust.

Azriel doesn’t stop his minstations as he wraps one of his arms around me, lifting me off the bed. My arms wrap around his neck as my forehead bumps his and he stares me down as he fucks me mid-air.

“Good girl,” he rasps, proud of how well I’m taking him.

The next thing I know he’s lying me down again, Rhysand’s warm chest replacing the mattress. His hands wander up and down my sides trying to soothe my nerves as Azriel stops moving.

“Alright little one take a deep breath for me,” Rhys instructs and I can feel him lining his cock up at my entrance.

I do as I’m told, taking the deepest gulp of air possible, excited for what comes next. The second I let my breath go I feel Rhys pushing his cock into me aside Azriel’s. The stretch is more than any I’ve ever felt before but the sounds escaping Rhys and Azriel’s mouths make it so worth it. Once Rhys is brushing my cervix along with Azriel tears prick my eyes and Cassian is kneeling before me in an instant.

“Shhh breathe baby,” Cassian coos, glancing down to where both his brothers' cocks are seated inside my pussy. “Fuck, you’re being such a good girl. Just gotta take two more loads and then we’ll let you cum alright?”

All I can muster is a shallow nod as Rhys and Azriel begin thrusting in tandem. The constant feeling of fullness has me feeling numb while feeling everything all at once. I arch my back further and Rhys runs a hand down my hip to hold me in place so that he doesn’t slip out. My eyes glance to Azriel who has his eyes fixated on the bulge in my stomach being made by both his and his High Lord’s cock. All the while, Cassian brushes the sweat and hair away from my brow whispering praises to me.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum,” Rhys groans, the vibrations of his chest skittering down my back.

“Me too,” Azriel moans and within seconds I feel his sperm coating my walls just like Cassian’s.

Azriel cumming triggers Rhys to cum as well and even though I can still feel Azriel, the load my High Lord put in me is equally as distinct.

“Holy fuck,” Azriel groans pulling out of me inspecting his work. My breaths are so ragged and my vision so blurred that I can barely make out Rhysand’s voice.

“Take her Cass,” he mutters, or so I think. My assumptions are proven right when I feel Cassian’s arms snake around me, pulling me off of Rhys’ cock.

I whimper at the loss of the fullness as Cassian lays me on top of his chest stroking my hair and kissing my brow. My body vibrates and my heart pounds with the need to cum.

“Poor baby, you wanna cum don’t you?” Cassian coos tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. My eyes are glassed over and my face looks fucked out but I’m still able to nod.

“Make her cum Cass, I want us each to get one more load in her before we’re done,” Rhysand says, already fisting his cock.

“Rhys I’m not sure, look at her. I don’t think she can take much more.” Cassian warns, placing me against the pillows and moving down my body.

“Do you want her pregnant or not?” Rhys snaps.

“Of course I do,” Cassian says. “Can you take three more loads baby?” he asks me.

“Of course she can,” Azriel says, his cock already at attention from seeing his fucked out mate.

“I-okay,” I sputter, still vibrating at the need to be touched. At this point, I was practically bucking my hips into Cassian’s face.

“You want me to lick your pretty clit?” Cassian smirks using one arm to pin my hips to the mattress and the other to spread my folds.

“Y-yes,” I beg.

Cassian chuckles, his eyes fixed on my cunt, “Looks like we made quite the mess of her little cunt,” he muses and both Rhysand and Azirel peer down to investigate.

“Shit Cass it’s spilling out,” Azriel curses.

“Don’t worry brother,” Cassian assures him, as he presses two fingers inside me, pushing the cum deep inside me. “She won’t waste it. Will you baby?” He smiles at me.

“No, I w-won’t,” I say, meaning every word my body still shaking.

“Cass lick her little clit or I will, the poor thing is shaking,” Rhys orders Cassian.

Cassian doesn’t waste a moment before lowering his mouth to my pussy and attacking my clit. It only took five kitten licks for me to orgasm harder than ever before. My back arches off the bed and the tension from my body pushes more of my mate’s cum out of my aching hole.

“Ah ah ah,” Cassian says, pushing two fingers into me again. “What did we say about wasting?”

“Cass it’s your turn,” Azriel bites close to spilling his load.

“Spread em’ baby,” Cassian smirks, spreading my legs for me anyway before burying himself inside of me.

“Oh gods Cass!” I cry out as he starts fucking me relentlessly chasing his own release.

“Fuck I love seeing that little bulge,” Cassian grins, placing a hand over where his cock hit my belly.

Seconds later he’s spilling his load into me, a sound coming from his mouth that I’ve never heard before. My vision nearly goes black, the only thing keeping me grounded is Cassian gripping my throat and pulling me up to kiss me as his second orgasm coats my walls.

“Who’s next?” Cassian asks, pulling out of me.

“Me,” Both Rhysand and Azriel say at the same time.

“Back off Az, you got to have her first last time,” Rhys growls.

Whenever I told people I had three mates they would usually joke about how territorial they would get over me. The irony was that my mates almost never had a problem sharing me, but tonight? Well, tonight was just one of those nights. When mates were trying to conceive they were practically feral, I was honestly surprised things had gone so smoothly till now.

“Yeah, and I literally had to share her pussy with you!” Azriel roars.

Cassain drags me up to lay my upper half on his chest so he can run a hand through my hair and whisper praises to me.

“I’m pulling rank, as your High Lord I’m going first,” Rhysand orders, nudging my entrance.

“Fuck off Rhys,” Azriel says continuing to fist his cock.

Rhys pushes his cock inside me with a groan as he bottoms out. My body shudders and on instinct, I move away from him but he grips my hips and brings me down his cock again fucking into me hard.

In my haze my head falls to the side, my cheek grazing Cassian’s abs, the very ones he let me rut on to get off a few weeks ago, and I meet Azriel. He looks glorious, pumping his cock while watching Rhysand fuck my hole. On instinct, I reach my tongue out and lap at the head of his cock catching his immediate attention.

“You wanna suck it baby?” He muses brushing his cock against my lips. I open my mouth wide, sticking my tongue out in response.

I know I’m so fucked out I can barely wrap my lips around him but Rhys pulling rank seemed like a dick move and I wanted to remedy it in any way I could. Azriel pushes his cock into my mouth letting out a guttural moan in the process.

“Good fucking girl,” Azriel moans and it spurs me on to suck him even harder as he fucks my mouth.

“Oh fuck,” Rhys roars cumming into me for the second time tonight. He knows better than to stay seated in me longer than necessary and pulls out as soon as possible. Azriel’s cock follows, his cock leaving my mouth with a bead of saliva dripping from it.

“Are you fucked out my love?” Azriel croons, grabbing my jaw to face him. It’s evident from my hazy eyes that I am.

“One more load sweetheart,” Rhys whispers, pressing a kiss to my brow. “You want a baby in your belly don’t you?”

“Uh huh,” I rasp still unable to form actual words.

“Open,” Azriel orders his grip on my jaw tightening.

Of all my mates Azriel was always the most dominant. I loved to test Rhys and Cassian, but when it came to Az? I knew it was in my best interest to be a good girl.

So just like I had a million times before I opened my mouth nice and wide for him. His hand gripped my jaw, keeping it open before he spit in my mouth.

“Now swallow,” he growled and I followed his orders once again. I opened my mouth to show him I had been a good girl and he rewarded me by pushing his cock inside me.

“What was that about Az?” Cassian laughed stroking my hair.

“Grounding her, if I’m gonna pump a load in her I want her to feel it,” Azriel groans. “We’ve done it before, haven't we baby?” he asks me and I nod enthusiastically.

Rhys wipes the sweat from my brow as Cassian presses a hand down where Azriel’s cock makes a bulge in my belly.

“She’s gonna cum Az,” Cassian informs his brother.

“Fuck I can feel it. Her tiny cunt is squeezing me so tight I can barely fuck her.” Azriel groans. “Ready baby?” Azriel asks me and I nod once more. “1…2…3…Fuckkk,” Azriel moans, spilling his seed into me.

Despite the haze that fills my head I can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment knowing I did it. I gave each of my mates two orgasms the evidence dripping from my sore cunt, wait fuck.

“Waste!” is the only word I can get out as I feel all six loads of cum spilling out of me.

“Shh, it’s okay mate,” Azriel coos, pressing a kiss to my brow laying down on the side that wasn’t occupied by Rhys. “Cass plug her up,” Azriel continues.

Without warning, two of Cassian’s fingers slide into my pussy keeping their combined cum from leaking out.

“Get comfortable mate,” Cassian chuckles. “We’re gonna have to sleep like this.”

And sleep I do. With Cassian behind me, my head on Rhys’ chest, and Azriel using my stomach as a pillow I’m out within minutes. I don’t know what the future holds as far as children go, but I’d say this was a good first attempt at conceiving.

pregnant! Reader x bat boys Drabble

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delicatelymorbid · 2 months ago

Text

a (not so) night out

Synopsis - you were supposed to have a girls night with Dina, but Ellie was needy and jealous - fluffy to smutty (not quick, i write a lot sorry)

Includes - sub!ellie williams x dom!reader (until the end), possessive!ellie, slight mommy k!nk, ass play, oral ellie!receiving, praise k!nk, use of good girl, objectification k!nk if you squint, orgasm control if you squint

Notes - this is my first FULL oneshot/writing. i’m SO sorry it’s too long, but i’m the type to like a detailed fic. not really proofread, so sorry if there’s mistakes. enjoy my little gays :p

As you got ready to go out with Dina, you heard steps coming down the hall from no other than your sweet girl, Ellie. She leaned against the doorway and crossed her arms, tilting her head at you as she watched you apply finishing touches in the mirror. She also couldn’t help but see the reflection of your top in the mirror, it showing much more than she thought it needed to.

“Where you going?” fell a little sharp from her mouth and you turned to look at her from your chair.

You didn’t care about her question that much, because she looked really good right now, especially with her little furrowed brows that brought a sullen expression on her aspect.

“Out with Dina. Remember? I told you, like, two days ago,” you said gently as you stood up and turned around, showing Ellie your outfit. “Do you like?” you ask with a beaming smile.

Ellie’s eyes narrowed slightly unbeknownst to you and she looked down, nodding. “You look nice, yeah,” she mutters as she took in every detail of your outfit, a tinge of envy eating at her chest.

Ellie didn’t want to ruin your night or mood, but you hanging out with Dina left a bad taste in her mouth. She usually didn’t care, but lately her jealousy and possessiveness was acting out.

You turn to face her from across the room and you slump your shoulders, “Why do you sound like you’re being held at gunpoint when you say it?”

Ellie scoffed and walked over to you, looking down at the floor like a sad puppy. She didn’t want you to know how envious she was of Dina getting your time, but it couldn’t help but slip from her mouth.

“I just…I dunno, why can’t you spend tonight with me? Why you gettin’ all dolled up for her?” she murmured, her head down as she peaked at you, her fingers going to tug down your shirt, wanting to cover more of you.

“Ellie,” you say as if you were lecturing her, but your tone was still gentle since you couldn’t help it. “She’s my friend,” you whispered as you brought your arms around her shoulders, “I’ll spend the rest of my life with you. A few hours with her won’t ruin our time, lovey,” you gently mumble as you lean over and kiss her cheek. “And I’m not getting dolled up for her, dummy.”

“Do you see how you look right now?” Ellie asked with a raised brow after scoffing at you. She shook her head and rested her hands on your hips, pulling you in just a little. “I know, I know, we’re together but…” she trailed off, looking a little embarrassed.

You tilted your head down to find her eyes and you raise your brows, “But what, baby?”

She shook her head, “Cmon. You know I can’t help but get jealous with stupid shit like this. I don’t wanna make you mad, but,” she shook her head again and gently rubbed up and down your sides.

You furrow your brows and shook your head gently, “You’re not making me mad. But look, you got me. I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to worry about me getting dressed up for someone else and you don’t have to worry about me wanting to go look for someone else, either. I got you, and I couldn’t ask for anything more, okay?” you say while searching her eyes but she still had an uncertain expression.

You put your knuckle under her chin to lift her head and you looked at her expectantly, and she began to speak.

“I know, I just can’t help it. Sometimes I think you’re just…slowly drifting and beginning to want someone else,” she murmured as she nudged your hand, insinuating she wanted you to touch her.

Over the course of your relationship, you were observant enough to pick up on things about Ellie. Like how she could only sleep next to the wall, how she liked to have oranges when she stressed out a lot, and how she acted when she felt insecure with you. This was one of those times. The way her pretty eyes could barely look at you and how her hands fidgeted with your hips, wanting to be as close to you as possible but not wanting to be seen as overbearing.

You sighed and softened your expression as you realized that she needed you right now, even if she was too stubborn or too confused to admit it. You cupped her cheek after she nudged your hand and you gently ran the pad of your thumb under her eye.

“Ellie listen to me, you’re not in competition with anyone, okay? You’re not on a time limit with me, either. It’s not like one day you’re suddenly not going to be enough for me. I’m not looking for anything better, because you’re all I could ever need right now, okay?” you mumble as you tuck her hair behind her ear with your other hand.

She nearly pouted as her heart swelled at your words and she nuzzled into your hand, kissing your palm gently. She looked at you through her lashes and mumbled, “I just…I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to mess up, or do something stupid, and have you walk out on me.”

Your eyes soften and you lean forward to kiss her cheeks and all over her face in a gentle manner, peppering her flushed face.

“If you mess up, you mess up. We get over it. We’ll work through it and move past it. The only true mistake you could make that would be unforgivable is if you cheated on me, and if you did that I would literally kill you. I won’t walk out on you for the hell of it. I love you, and I don’t wanna lose you either,” you say as you cradle her face in your hands to make her look at you.

Your words and gentle kisses soothed her anxiety-ridden heart. She melted into your touch, and her body relaxed against you as her hands tugged your waist to pull you closer. There was no denying that she craved your physical reassurance, and it didn’t bother you, either.

"I would never cheat on you," she whispers, her voice tinged with a hint of possessiveness that didn’t go unnoticed by you. “I can't bear the thought of anyone else touching you, even looking at you, and I wouldn’t ever wanna do that either. You're mine, and I’m yours. Forever and always."

You nod and lean in to place a chaste kiss on her jaw, muttering, “Good, because I’d hate to have to kill you.” with a small smile.

You then lean back and take her face in your hands again, looking for her eyes before saying, “Now, tell me you understand that I’m not having these preconceived plans to leave you.”

Ellie sighed and nodded, but her gaze was still reluctant and it made you want to rip her face off, but in a loving way.

“I understand,” she muttered, a small pout falling onto her pillow lips and it made you ache at the sight, especially with her head in your hands.

“Hey,” you mumble, taking her chin in your hand and sort of squishing her cheeks in your grip to make her form a slight pucker. “Cmon baby, tell me the truth. Tell me what you know and what I’ve told you is the truth, not what you overthink about.”

Ellie let out a small sigh, her shoulders slumping a bit as she gave in. Her inner battle with her insecurities and anxieties slowly diminished with the look you gave her and she sighed, “I... I know the truth," she muttered, her eyes still fixed on yours. "I know you love me, and that you won't hurt me."

You smile and nod, “Atta girl.” You then lean in to place a gentle kiss against her squished lips, “Smart girl.”

A small, stubborn “Hmph,” sound left her and she leaned in to kiss you again. The kiss was like a balm to her weary heart, soothing her troubled thoughts. She hummed softly against your lips, her eyes fluttering closed in contentment.

Her body relaxed, her muscles and brain went pliant as she melted into your touch. She leans her forehead against yours, her voice soft and vulnerable. “I just... I need you, baby. I need you to remind me sometimes that it’s all just in my head."

You nod and lean forward to kiss her jaw, “How, baby? How do you need me to remind you? Physical assurance? Verbal? Tell me what you need to help,” you murmur, wanting to fix this hole that was deeply cemented into Ellie’s mind.

She shivered as she felt your lips on her skin, nice and warm. Your voice was like a balm to her rough edges and she felt dizzy under your care, and she loved it. She slightly arched into your touch like a cat craving affection and thought for a moment, trying to navigate her mind as it was muddled. “I... I need both," she murmurs, her eyes closing as she focuses on the sensation of your lips against her skin. "The physical stuff and...and the verbal stuff. I need to know that you're mine and I'm yours,” she mumbled shyly and vulnerably.

You place one last kiss before lifting your head to look at her, and your knees immediately went weak at the sight of her. She was fucking incredible. Pouted lips, soft eyes that were practically screaming solely for your affection. It made you ballistic.

“Hold that thought,” you said slightly strained before walking back over to your desk, grabbing your phone to text someone.

She watched you walk away with her hand following your hips as it fell lifeless onto her lap. She rose her brows in curiosity as you typed on your phone and her mind raced on what you could possibly be doing right fucking now.

"Who are you texting?" she asks, her voice tinged with a hint of jealousy and almost irritation.

“Shut up,” you mumble playfully but then as you turn to look up at her, Ellie had a stoic expression that made you roll your eyes. “Oh calm down, I’m texting Dina. I’m telling her I got sick and I need to stay home,” you say before looking back at your screen to see if you got a reply.

She relaxed at your words, a small smile tugging the corner of her lips but she hid it from your gaze.

"Wait, no more girls' night?" she asked, her tone awful at hiding her happiness from the news. "Faking sick just to stay home with me? Why?"

“Well, considering my options are staying in with a hot, needy girl that tastes good or getting tipsy, I’d place my bets on the former any day,” you say as you turn off your phone following a thumbs up from Dina, placing it back down and turning to look at Ellie with a smile. “I love Dina, but I think you need me tonight,” you mumble, slightly more gentle.

She blushed at your softness and smirked at your teasing, standing up to walk over to you with a sheepish expression. “I suppose I can’t complain about your insults if you’re choosing to put your attention all on me,” she spoke as her hand found its way shyly, yet possessively, onto your hip.

“Oh whatever, you’re only getting it because you were practically crying,” you tease, grabbing her hand and bringing her back onto the bed.

You gently guided her to sit on the edge as you bent down and kneeled before her, resting your hands on her knee and gazing up at her with loving eyes.

She smirks at your retort, her pride wounded only a slight bit. As you kneeled before her, her breath hitched and she reached out, gently running her hand over your head. The intimate position has her feeling flustered, and heat rose in her cheeks as her eyes locked with yours.

You were breathtaking to her, and she was thankful for every bit of air you stole from her lifetime since it was in the sake of love.

"I wasn't... crying," she mumbles, her voice tinged with affection and playful defiance as she tucked your hair behind your ear. "I was just... expressive."

“You were whiny,” you correct as you drop your hands to her calf and you kiss her knee. “It’s okay baby, I’m not mad that my girl needs some love,” you say before placing a hot kiss onto her thigh, slightly darting your tongue out to taste the soft skin.

A soft shiver ran through her at the feeling of your kiss on her thigh. As she watched you, she bit her lip to stifle a moan due to the sight in front of her, her body having a million responses to your touch already.

"I... I wasn't whiny," she protested weakly, trying to sound convincing even as her voice wavered. You then glanced up at her and she nearly twitched. "I was just... vocal about my feelings."

She couldn’t help but squirm a bit, her body growing more and more sensitive with each kiss you left searing into her thigh. Her eyes locked with yours, arousal mixing with a hint of vulnerability.

“Mhm,” you mumble with your lips sucking onto her skin. “I like when you’re vocal about anything. Prettiest voice,” you murmur slowly as you make your way to her other thigh, licking the soft flesh as you grip her knee and let a moan slip out from your throat due to the taste of her lingering on your tongue.

She was sweet, warm, and soft. Your mouth glided over her body easily, as if it were made for you.

Ellie’s other leg was held by your hand and you gently ran your fingers over her calf, trying to show her all the affection she deserved.

She sucked in a sharp breath as your tongue ran along her skin, her body responding highly to your touch. The sound of your moan had her heart rate spike and she bit her lip to stifle a mewl. The feel of your hand on her leg was both soothing and arousing, and she can't help but shiver at the dual sensations. Her body trembled, her voice growing more ragged as she spoke. “I... Fuck, I like it when you say stuff like that," she stutters, her words coming out in soft gasps.

You look up and smirk at her, “You mean complimenting you?” you ask in a slightly mocking tone.

She knitted her brows and nodded, reaching her hand out to gently brush her fingers over your tight grip on her thigh, and the gentle gesture made you feel fuzzy.

You kiss her thigh gently, your movements getting haste as you watched her expression slowly turn into something needy. “Lay back,” you gently command, standing up and using your hands to guide her back further onto the bed. “Atta girl,” you murmur with a breathy tone.

She obeyed your command, her body moving willingly as you guide her back onto the bed. She propped herself up on her elbows, her eyes locking with yours as you tower over her. You kept your eyes on her as you kissed up her body from her thighs. Planting a trail and going attentively made her chest rise and fall quickly, her body growing hotter with anticipation. She can't help but feel a little vulnerable, her heart pounding against her ribcage as she watched you give her all she craved.

Your mouth makes its way up her torso, kissing over her boobs which made her twitch. When you got to her throat, you let your lips graze over the skin and up to her chin until you reached her mouth.

“I think,” you say raspy as you ghost your lips over hers, “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Her cheeks heated up and turned red, green eyes fluttering as your lips hovered in a taunting way. She melted into the sheets, letting out a soft, needy whine as her chest swelled with an overwhelming need for you. “You... you're just... you're just saying that," she whispers, her voice trembling slightly as she grew shy and needy.

You shook your head disappointedly, making her furrow her brows in the most mind reeling way. “I’ll prove it to you, Ellie,” you murmur before leaning down to her ear and softly kissing the shell of it. “I’d fuck you in front of a mirror and call you the prettiest girl and make you repeat it,” you whispered lowly, one of your hands finding their way to her waist, an irritable itch causing you to get handsy despite your self control.

Her breath hitched at your words, her body responding with a needy whine and an arch into your hold. She could nearly feel herself get wet at your bluntness, the thought of you proving it to her driving her wild. Before she could form a proper response, her hips involuntarily thrusted upwards, seeking friction against your body. “I... I don't know if I could handle that," she murmurs, her voice cracking with need.

“Tsk, tsk,” you make with disapproval while looking down at her hips that bucked desperately for friction. “We both know I’d make you take it anyway,” you murmured before kissing her mouth, not letting her object but rather swallowing the pathetic whimper that fell from her mouth.

Ellie’s stubborn protests died in her throat, as did her composure, and she melted against your mouth, her own opening as she silently begged for your tongue. She whimpered softly against your lips, her desire and need for you overtaking any hesitation she may have had. Her hips grind up against you, seeking the friction they desperately craved, and she let out the most pathetic and desperate moan.

“No,” you mutter against her lips, “Keep still,” you say lowly between hot kisses onto her mouth, pressing her hips down with your hand to prevent her from touching you.

She obeyed your command, her body stilling on the bed as you pushed her hips down. A small whimper escaped her lips, her body quivering with need, but nevertheless she was obedient. She listened to you. At first, at least. She felt powerless and vulnerable, her body craving your touch while being unable to take it herself. She looked up at you, her eyes a mixture of desire and frustration. “Please don't torture me," she begs, her voice trembling as her body nearly itched.

“I won’t, pretty girl,” you mumble softly before leaning down and licking her throat, feeling a dull but rapid pulse. “Promise,” you mutter gently.

Her head lolled back and she softly sighed at the feeling of your warm tongue against her throat, her body once again responding to your touch, despite her earlier protests. Her desire began to overly consume her and every graze of your fingers and every stroke of your tongue fueled the irreparable need that burned in her.

She nodded, her voice shaky as she spoke. "I won't move, I promise I'll be good."

Your eyes snap up to her and you softly moan at Ellie’s words, lifting your head to look down at her, “You’ll what?” you ask, wanting to hear it again.

You then take your hand to her thigh, gripping the flesh and lifting her knee to her chest, settling your body between her legs with your hips aligned to her center.

She felt her chest burn at the way you spoke, making her talk and giving her small commands like this made her nearly submit all decisions to you; she didn’t care, she went wild over your small acts of dominance.

She looked up at you, her eyes dark with desire, and whimpered pitifully. "I'll be good, I promise. Please, just...” she murmured before reaching up and tugging on your shirt and gritting softly through her teeth, “Touch me."

You furrow your brows at the mess underneath you and you shook your head. “No, baby. I’ll touch you when, and how I want to, and you’ll be an obedient girl right?” you ask while tilting your head in a condescending way, deciding to tease her as you grind your hips against her, barely allowing any friction.

You could see the pure struggle written all over her expression and she involuntarily bucked her hips, whining at the feeling.

You feel yourself get wetter by the second, Ellie’s fucked out state making you immensely horny and needy, too. You just liked to humiliate her. You couldn’t help it, her glossy eyes, parted pink lips and the most insatiable sounds drove you crazy.

You shook your head at her, an act of feigning disapproval just to get that pathetic look out of her. “I told you to stay still, didn’t I?” you mumbled gently, your tone mocking as you pressed your hips firmly into hers, pushing her down. “What happened to my good girl?”

She nearly broke at that and it made you smile. She threw her head back and gripped your shoulder, digging her fingers into your skin and cursing under her breath.

You tilted your head, studying each small change in her aspect for every move you made. You then traced your hand down the back of her thigh on the leg that was brought to her chest. Your fingers gently ran against her warm skin until you brushed the inner parts of her thighs, an overly sensitive area for Ellie.

“Just be patient, sweet girl” you softly cooed, watching how she unraveled. “I know you can do it, you’re my girl.” you mumble.

She nodded, her breath coming in sharp inhales as she closed her eyes, trying to focus solely on not moving as your fingers were torturing her.

“Good girl,” you draw out lowly and firm, as if you were genuinely proud of the mess she was.

At the same time the praise left your lips, you moved your hand a few inches and palmed her clothed pussy and also thrusted against her, teasing her horribly. Your hand against her felt nice, but the fact that you put a barrier between your thrusting hips made her fucking ache.

Her body jerked at the feel of your hand against her, her need for you growing to almost unbearable proportions. She arched her back, pressing herself into your palm, and a low and desperate moan escaped her throat.

"Yes, right there," she gasped, her eyes fluttering open briefly. "Please, baby. Please keep doing that. I'm... I'm being such a good girl for you, aren't I?” she whined, caring for both your approval and more friction from your palm.

“Fuck,” you whimper out while looking down at Ellie. She was a complete mess and it was making you unbearably dizzy. “So fucking needy,” you say as you begin to slowly move the palm of your heel against her clothed mound, not caring about dragging it out anymore; she was too pretty to not want to please.

She was heavy-lidded and in pure bliss from your tone and touch, leaving her desperate as she began to grind against your hand, soft moans spilling from her mouth as she wrapped her arms around your neck.

“Fuck,” you hiss, feeling your hand get damp over her shorts. Unbelievable. “This all for me, princess?” you mumble, looking down as her hips shook and a mewl rang in your ear.

Ellie nodded desperately, her voice coming out in a breathless whisper, "Yes, it's all for you. Only you." She bucked her hips up, the need in her voice and actions growing even more intense as she sought more of your touch. "Please, I... I need you so badly, baby. I... I want to be good for you, please."

You kiss her mouth fervently before leaning back, “Be a pretty girl for me and play with your tits,” you mutter, your voice cracking with need.

You dragged your nails across her thighs and sat up, spreading her pretty legs and settling yourself between her thighs as you sat on your haunches. You reached forward and hooked your finger onto the hem of her shorts, pulling them off her legs and kissing her calf gently as her legs rose in the air.

Her eyes nearly lit up at your command, her hands instantly going to her chest, shaky fingers toying with boobs over her shirt as she looked at you with her lips slightly parted, her hips barely bucking off the bed.

You shook head immediately, the barrier of clothing a sign of disrespect to you, “Take your shirt off,” you mumble as you lean forward, kissing the hem of her underwear sweetly under her bellybutton and pushing her shirt up to help get it off.

The kiss on her stomach causes her to shiver, and she fumbles to remove her shirt, her hands trembling with need. She sat up fully, allowing the shirt to come over her head and tossed to the ground. She looked at you, her bare chest rising and falling with ragged breaths, waiting for your next command. "Like... like this?" she whispered innocently, her voice thick with need as her eyes fell onto yours as your gaze fell onto her pretty boobs.

Her fingers toyed with her nipples and you nearly drooled at the sight, especially after hearing her tone, it was like she was desperate for your approval.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, Ellie’s innocent question making your head spin. “Just like that, baby,” you say breathily. “Lay back for me just like before,” you coo gently, keeping your hands on her hips.

Ellie went back against the pillows, like a full course meal just for you. She began to knead her breasts and you nodded, “Doesn’t that feel good, princess?” you ask, your voice going raspy as you ran your hands over her thighs gently.

“I don't know," she whispers, her voice trembling, "I've never..." She falters slightly, unsure what to say, her need for you overriding her own shyness and uncertainty. She looks up at you, her eyes still dark with desire. "I... I want you to touch them. Please, I need to feel your hands on me. Will you...?"

You scooted closer to Ellie, lifting her legs over your thighs as you settled close in the space between her thighs. You watched her with furrowed brows, her question causing a burning ache in your tummy to grow. You shook your head gently, “Keep going. Let me watch,” you mumbled, soft fingers kneading the skin of her thighs.

Ellie gasped as you gripped her thighs, her body arching instinctively at the feel of your fingers digging into her skin. The feeling of your thighs touching hers has her feeling hot, needy, and pathetic. Any sliver of your skin touching hers made her burn up, not to mention your words were infuriating her. She wanted you to touch her so badly, but she also liked how you practically rejected her and made her act like a slut for your own pleasure. She also couldn’t deny loving being your own star. She loved your attention, and the fact that she could practically see how horny you were just by watching her turned her on even more.

She whimpered softly, her need overriding her normal hesitation, and whispered, "Please... please touch me. I want you to touch me all over. I... I need you, baby. Please, I'll do anything you want, just... just touch me."

Her words came out whiny and broken, a haze of lustful need clouding her mind as her movements became slightly irregular, impatient almost.

You slightly snapped.

“Hands or mouth?” you ask, voice strained and sharp. Impatient.

Her brain couldn’t comprehend the words leaving your mouth at first, but then her eyes shifted to a pleading look and she whined, “Mouth. Please, please, baby.”

Immediately, you brought your mouth to her breast and began to suck and toy with the sensitive skin, causing Ellie to gasp and find her hands on your shoulders.

Her body went pliable under your power and she shuddered and gasped for each suck and soft bite you left onto her skin, causing a desperate, “More,” to leave her mouth.

You hissed, kissing your way across her chest to catch her other nipple into your mouth, swirling your tongue sweetly over the mound to stimulate that sweet spot to get Ellie breathless. Your hand pinched her other nipple and Ellie’s head was thrown back in pure bliss, soft whimpers and shaky breaths coaxing your ears.

You released her from your mouth with a ‘pop’ and sat up, looking down and the horribly drenched spot on her soft, cotton underwear. You couldn’t help but groan, spreading her legs and wiping your thumb firmly over her clothed pussy.

“Fucking christ,” you cursed through your teeth. “You’re fucking soaked, baby,” you say, causing Ellie to whine and blush.

You continued to move your thumb over her, soft moans starting to spill from her mouth and she angled her hips so you kept stimulating her clit and it made you dizzy, her getting off on your hand like that.

You felt hot. You needed her. Bad.

“Get on your hands and knees,” you say darkly, your tone coming out commanding but also desperate.

She was a trembling, panting mess. Her eyes met yours in a glazed look with need and she nodded in compliance, sitting up with shaky limbs and turning to position herself on her hands and knees. Her body practically trembled in anticipation. "Please," she whispered, her voice cracking as she looked back at you with the prettiest doe eyes you’d ever laid on.

However, that fucking drenched spot clouded your mind and all you could focus on was how she would taste.

You sat up on your knees behind her, aligning your hips with her ass and grinding into her, moaning at the pretty sight. You slapped her ass, earning you an unforgettable gasp.

“Put your face in the pillows,” you order gently, your tone contradicting your mean words and it made Ellie dizzy, causing her to roll her eyes back as she complied and arched her back, burying her face into the pillows with her ass on full front for you.

“Please… you know I don’t like teasing,” she whimpered sadly, her hands beginning to grip the pillow she rested on.

You were kneading her ass with your hands, feeling the warm flesh under your fingers and you muttered, “Shut the fuck up,” before leaning down to bite her ass.

She bit onto her pillow, yelping as she felt your teeth sink in and her back arched more, a throaty moan escaping her mouth as she tried to be quiet.

You sit back onto your haunches, admiring the sight before you, gripping her sensitive flesh under the crease of her ass, spreading the skin softly and watching her pussy open from underneath her soaked underwear.

“Mom…” her voice broke out and trailed off, a horribly undeniable embarrassment but needy tone lacing her trailed off word. “Baby,” she whined.

“I told you to shut up,” you rasp out.

You dig your fingers into her ass and Ellie nearly cried out, she was so frustrated. The scent of your shampoo on her pillow wasn’t helping either, and when she felt you kiss her pussy over her underwear she completely broke.

You had leaned forward, smelling her mess before placing a hot kiss onto her, groaning at the evidence of how ruined she was for you.

“Fuck.” you hiss roughly before hooking your fingers desperately over the hem of her underwear and pulling it down, baring her in front of you to allow such a lewd sight to be exploited. “Touch yourself.”

Ellie shook at your command, her hand slowly but surely making her way between her legs, her mind reeling at the feeling of your soft hands on her. You guided her knees to spread a little more and you saw her pretty fingers come out from under her tummy, the digits instantly going to stimulate her achy clit.

“What was that you almost called me? Couldn’t help but think you almost said Mommy, sweet girl,” you mumble, kissing her ass as you gasped, watching her pussy nearly cry and drool with need.

A guttural moan was cried into her pillow and you smiled, tracing your finger barely over her outer lips as you watched her tremble.

“‘M sorry,” she muttered, her fingers picking up the pace but then you bit her ass, making her stop momentarily.

“Slower, bunny,” you coo.

Her hand flexed and she gave out, crying out in frustration, “Please, I want more. Please I’ve been good, I’ve done everything you’ve asked. Fuck just- I want you to fill me up, please!” she begs out as her tone gets louder.

One thing about Ellie was her sexual tendency to cry when she got too frustrated or pent up, and you could practically hear her tears now. It turned you on, knowing she was writhing as she was so close yet so far to where she wanted to be. She shifted her hips, begging for your mouth, fingers, anything, and her pussy quivered under the feel of your breath and your nose grazed her asshole, making her gasp.

You grunt at the ghosting contact, feeling yourself ache with need for her. You don’t make a sound, the only thing ringing between these walls being her frustrated breaths and her fidgeting limbs against the blanket while she waited for you to do anything. You take your hands on each side of her inner thighs, using your thumbs to spread her open to completely expose her.

You then leaned forward, blowing cooling and teasing air onto her aching pussy. A soft whimper was heard from her and her body blushed with a faint red. But her body also relaxed, it being a mix of you finally touching her and just your touch in general.

You muttered, “So pretty,” before leaning in to connect your mouth with the flesh, gently flattening your tongue against her clit and dragging it up to her ass, earning you a beautiful moan from your girl.

“Atta girl,” you praise, making Ellie whimper and look back at you, having those ‘am I being good?’ eyes.

“Thank you,” she breathes out gently, her hips slightly shifting indicating she wanted more.

You kiss her inner thigh before going back again, offering her gentle strokes with your tongue onto her clit, wanting to build her pleasure. And, oh, did she love it.

Ellie completely melted into the bed, her body going lax and not a care in the word for the sounds that left her throat. Whines, cries, and honest moans rang around the bedroom. For every lick and suck that you gave was met with a moan and slight jerk of her body.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” she whimpered out. “Just- Stop, for a second. I…” she rambled, and you released her clit with a soft suck before replacing your tongue with your fingers, softly circling.

Ellie didn’t say the safe word, so technically you didn’t have to completely stop but you still wanted to see what was wrong so early on.

“What’s wrong, pretty girl?”

Her favorite pet name.

She grunted in response and she nudged your thigh with her foot, making you look down and softly cradle her ankle.

“I… I don’t wanna cum yet,” she whispered, obviously embarrassed but mostly flustered, slightly shifting forward to get away from your fingers.

You tilt your head at her and furrow your brows, moving your fingers up to her entrance, toying with her since you knew she couldn’t cum from penetration. Typically, at least.

“Can I finger you?” you ask hoarsely, a frantic nod coming from Ellie.

“Go slo-“ the words died in her throat as she felt your finger slide into her, barely.

It felt different this time; it felt too good.

You could feel her flex onto your middle finger, causing your jaw to drop as you watched your finger get sucked into her pretty hole, making you wetter by the second.

“Wait,” she mumbled out mixed with a moan as your finger glided into her slowly.

She was fucking sensitive.

“Baby, you feel so good,” you mutter, your tone strained as you watch your knuckles disappear into her.

“Nmph,” she whimpered , almost sounding drunk off the feeling of your finger inside her. “Slow- Stop,” she gasped, feeling you slightly curl your finger and she reached behind, grabbing your wrist.

“No baby, let go,” you order gently, her nails still digging. “Cmon, baby. Don’t you wanna be good for Mommy?” you asked in a mocking tone and she broke.

Ellie had always danced around the topic of calling you that because she was nervous, but you knew what she wanted, and you knew the effect it would have.

She dropped her hand and whined, “Please,” while looking back at you.

“Just ask me before you cum yeah? Wanna be a good girl for me don’t you? Good girls need permission to cum,” you mumble, slowly picking up your pace.

You then pull out your finger to insert your ring finger, going slowly to help Ellie accommodate to the stretch, making her mind mush at the feeling. Ellie had a thing for feeling ‘full’, and you were gonna accomplish that tonight.

“Can I make you feel good baby?” you rasp out.

She struggled to reply as your two digits slowly but surely slipped into her, but she knew you only accepted verbal replies in times like this.

“Yes, Mommy, please,” she whimpered, bucking her hips back onto your fingers and swallowing your knuckles inside her.

You slowly pull out your fingers, watching her ass follow desperately. She looked back at you with furrowed brows and you mumbled, “Lay on your back,” and she did.

You began to lay on the bed, guiding her knees to her chest and kissing her warm skin that tasted sweet.

“Relax, sweet girl,” you murmur before going between her legs and spreading her ass with your hands, grabbing handfuls of the flesh.

She watched you as her breathing picked up, the knot in her tummy stronger than ever and the blush on her entire body heating her up.

You leaned down and stuck out your tongue, swirling it gently on her ass as you looked up at her to see those pretty green eyes roll back. You moaned into her, making her feel fuzzy.

You let up and then spit on her ass, swirling a finger in her hole to get it nice and wet before trialing it down to her ass, toying with her.

“Mommy,” she whimpered, almost as if she was begging for you to go easy.

“What is it baby? Don’t you wanna be filled up and used? That’s what your pretty holes are for, right?” you asked condescending, barely pushing the tip of your ring finger into her ass, making her eyes flutter.

“Fuck!” she hissed, throwing her head back and spreading her legs for you.

You smiled and then with the same hand, used your middle and index finger to slip into her pussy, making her gasp harshly.

“Perfect fit,” you mutter, making her mewl.

When you got dirty like this, Ellie couldn’t keep up. She liked it so much when you fucked her into oblivion, but she got so sheepish that she couldn’t handle it. She just didn’t want you to stop.

“Please,” she moaned.

“Look at this pretty pussy getting my fingers nice and wet to fuck you properly. You fucking nasty girl, you like this don’t you? You like being filled and used don’t you baby?” you say, your voice rolling off Ellie’s back like honey, making her brain malfunction.

“Oh god,” she cried, her hands reaching all around to grasp onto something to try and stabilize her.

“That’s it, baby,” you murmur before leaning forward and connecting your mouth to her clit.

You look up at her, watching her chest go up and down as your fingers reach places she normally can’t, causing her hips to fervently move. You didn’t mind it, not this time at least. You wanted to make her feel good, and you couldn’t stop after seeing her like this.

“Baby,” she moaned out, your tongue and fingers bringing her close to the edge, all the fucking foreplay did enough already and she was more than prepared to cum all over you.

Ellie couldn’t take it, your moderate pace with your mouth on her. It was like every move you made was thought out and attentive. Like it was intentional to make her cum instantly, but not in a rushed way. In a ‘I know what makes you feel good’ way. Not to mention, your fucking dirty mouth did a lot, too; Ellie was a sucker for dirty talk.

“I told you to tell me when you’re about to cum,” you mumble. You could feel her flex against your fingers, like she always did when she was close and you began to quicken your pace, your fingers going a little faster and your mouth going relentlessly fast. It was her favorite.

“S…Sorr…Sorry,” she staggered out, moans coming out broken as she lost composure. “Can… Can I cum? Please, please, please. Let me cum for you, let me, Ple-“ it died in her throat as her back arched against the bed.

“Cum for me baby,” you grunt out quickly before going back to her clit, working your mouth around her to desperately bring her to ecstasy.

She began to flex onto your finger, her thighs closing around your head as her back arched and sharp whimpers left her mouth. Her hands went to your hair, tugging as her sounds got louder and more lewd, all as she began to cum around you.

You didn’t let up, either. You knew better than to stop. You kept going at that good pace, hitting that special spot for her. Making her feel good. And she rewarded you. Her sweet cum spilled across your hand, tears prickling her eyes as she begged for you to stop, moans and whimpers leaving her mouth.

You were on cloud nine moaning into her. You began to slow your fingers and mouth, sucking on her clit as she jerked and desperately tried to push you off. She was throbbing against your fingers and you let out her ass, but kept inside her pussy, enjoying the feeling of her pulsating against you.

“S- Stop… Can’t take it,” she pleaded breathily.

You looked up at her, your eyes fucked out and hazed. You sucked her clit one last time before letting go, licking around her thighs and ass to clean her up of her mess.

You groaned at the taste, leaning back to watch as you slowly pulled your fingers out of her, seeing how soaked your fingers were and she whimpered at the loss.

You kissed all around her inner thighs and sucked on your fingers while looking up at her, her face flushed and fucked out.

You pulled down her legs to allow her to lay properly and you crawled up, kissing her skin and holding her in your arm before kissing her lips.

“You did so good baby,” you mumble, kissing her cheeks, causing her to softly laugh.

“Made me feel good,” she mumbled, tugging on your shirt, wanting your attention.

“Mm,” you mumbled before looking down at her mouth, leaning in to slowly kiss her, a gentle moan leaving the both of you as she cradled your face.

As you broke the kiss, she looked up at you and slipped her hand under your shirt, touching your hip.

“You’re so perfect,” you mumble before kissing her mouth again, but when you did, she pushed you into your back.

“Yeah?” she murmured, kissing your neck and immediately abusing your sweet spot with her mouth.

“Ellie,” you whined, trying to get away.

“No, baby. My turn,” she said darkly, bringing her fingers up and slowly slipping them into your mouth. “Suck.”

It was like a switch flipped and your eyes went from fucked out to desperate, immediately obliging to her words and sucking on her fingers.

“Good girl,” Ellie murmured, watching as she fucked her fingers into your mouth slowly, getting ready to make you feel good now.

#lmk if you want a part two #ellie willams x reader #wlw nsft #ellie williams #ellie x reader #sub ellie williams #tlou fanfiction #ellie x you #fanfic #wlw fanfic #dom reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams oneshot #ellie williams smut #wlw smut #smut #oneshot

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weirdkpopgirl · 10 months ago

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Sulky | Jeno Imagine #12

Title: Sulky

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: mildly suggestive, a little making out towards the end

Word Count: 952

Author's Note: Alright, I know I literally just posted something for Jeno a few days ago. But this idea was just living rent free in my mind, and I just couldn't resist writing it. I know you guys like this stuff too, so I thought writing this couldn't hurt. I'm Jaemin biased, but Jeno is just so cute especially when he's sulky. Anyway hope you guys like it ^ ^

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ

Now, it was no secret to anyone that Jeno got sulky easily. When you two first started seeing each other, you found it quite funny how things could so easily hurt such a tough, masculine guy. Of course, you’re usually able to provide him with enough reassurance to make him a smiley puppy again. Teasing your partner was never in your nature. But you’d occasionally step out of character just because Jeno’s reactions were hilarious.

The two of you were lounging on the couch in his apartment’s living room, mindlessly scrolling through your phones. You paused when you came across some photos from his recent concert. While you admired how fiercely handsome your boyfriend looked on stage, another member unintentionally caught your eye.

“Wah, Jaemin looks amazing in that stage outfit,” you remarked, showing him the picture. “I can’t imagine all the screams from fans when they saw his abs.”

Jeno glanced at the photo and shrugged, his expression unchanging. “I mean, it’s nothing new. Everyone knows Jaemin works out, so I don’t think that many people were surprised.”

At first, you didn’t even notice your boyfriend’s lack of interest in the subject, too preoccupied with scrolling through more photos of his attractive member. In fact, you found his comment a bit hard to believe.

“No, but the lighting from the stage makes you see how perfectly defined and sculpted his abs are!” you said in awe, as you came across a close-up picture that a fan had taken.

Your boyfriend’s grip tightened on his phone, and he shot you a sideways glance. To him, it was almost as if you had forgotten he was sitting right beside her.

“My stage outfit showed my abs too, you know,” he muttered.

The hint of sulkiness in his voice was something you caught immediately, and that's when you realized he was jealous. Although it wasn’t your intention to make him feel this way, you couldn’t help but find the pout on his lips adorable. Deciding to push his limits just a little, you feigned obliviousness to his growing discomfort over your sudden interest in Jaemin.

Leaning back on the couch, you sighed. “Well yeah, but I’ve already seen your abs plenty of times. Not that I find them boring now, but…”

Jeno’s pout deepened and he whined softly, his jealousy now clearly evident. You bit your lip, stifling a laugh because he was just so endearing like this. However, your innocent teasing soon backfired.

Determined to make his point, he sat up and lifted his shirt, revealing his own well-defined abs, a testament to his consistent workouts. Before you could even say anything, he grabbed your hand and pressed it against his firm stomach with an intense gaze.

“Tell me, who do you prefer,” he demanded in a dark yet calm voice. “Jaemin or me?”

Your cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, and your breath slightly hitched at the sudden contact. Feeling the ridge of his muscles beneath your fingers quickly brought out your instinctive shyness. You rarely saw this possessive side of Jeno.

“Jeno…” you began, your voice barely above a whisper. You searched your brain for something to say, but you were too flustered to find the right words.

“That’s what I thought,” he interrupted, a satisfied smirk spreading across his face.

Before you could pull away, Jeno leaned in and captured your lips in a passionate kiss. His lips were soft yet demanding, a reminder that you belonged to him and him alone. As the moments passed and his lips showed no signs of moving, you closed your eyes and gently placed your hand under his jaw. One of his hands was already on your waist and as he felt you kiss back, he pulled you closer and deepened the kiss with a tender urgency.

His lips moved against yours hungrily, the only sound of the room the soft smacking of kisses. The kiss deepened, and you felt his tongue gently part your lips, exploring with a slow, deliberate intensity. Your lips molded together, warm and yielding, and the sensation sent shivers down your spine. The subtle, rhythmic movement of his mouth against yours was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but respond with equal fervor.

When you finally parted, you needed a moment to catch your breath. Jeno’s gaze remained fixed on you, silently seeking reassurance, his eyes revealing a hint of vulnerability.

“Of course I prefer you,” you replied, looking at him as if the answer were obvious. “Jaemin’s visuals might be impressive, but you know I only have eyes for you.”

Jeno’s grin widened, and he wrapped his arms around you, bringing you back to your previous cuddling position. “Good,” he said, sinking comfortably into the couch cushions with you.

Soon after, his tone turned playful yet still a bit possessive. “But I’m still putting you on a Na Jaemin ban from now on.”

The lingering sulkiness in his comment made you want to roll your eyes. But instead, you laughed and rested your head on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. You knew that protesting would be useless, and he’d get over it eventually.

Yet, you also knew that what you and Jeno had was unbreakable. With how much you two loved each other, you were inseparable, no matter how sulky he got.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ

previous masterlist -> current masterlist

#nct dream #nctzen #kpop #czennie #nct dream imagines #nct #nct dream fluff #nct dream scenarios #nct jeno #jeno lee #jeno x reader #jeno scenarios #jeno fluff #jeno imagines #jeno #lee jeno #nct imagines

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ramp-it-up · 3 months ago

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Peach VI

Peach V | Peach VII

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers is a mob boss trying to get clean. It’s definitely because he’s in love. With you. He's got you on his turf in NYC. You two FINALLY admit your feelings for one another and seal the deal. But how far are you willing to go for this love?

Pairing: Art Dealer/Artist/Philanthopist (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

A/N: This is it! I hope the smut is up to par. When I tell you I’ve agonized about this. But thank you to all who were in my inbox and dms giving me encouragement this week. Love you bunches! ❤️

This fic is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and DIRECTLY AFTER the events in Peach V. Your interaction keeps me writing, so let me know if you like it by commenting and reblogging.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Angst. Slow burn, Mutual pining, idiots in love, eye fucking, Steve Rogers is an artist, y'all!, sending (almost) nudes, phone sex, possessive Steve, references to shibari, mutual masturbation, pining, references to sex in a car, the "L" word, oral (f recieving), fingering, overstimulation, nipple play, size kink, pleasurable pain with sex, definite breeding kink, raw p in v, Lil bit of Dom Steve if you squint, references to murder. Something big may or may not happen after the last line.

Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-------

Steve Rogers left you in your hotel room, a quivering, emotional, mess.

He’d made you cum, hard, but you felt that he was holding back, that if you’d told him how you felt it would have been so much better.

Or maybe that was all in your mind. Steven Grant Rogers was on your mind a lot since you met him as Grant Stevens in Atlanta.

A lot happened in a short amount of time that caused you to deny your feelings for him. And now you were no longer trying to keep him out.

He was definitely a distraction, but now you couldn’t deny your feelings for him any longer. You just needed to be a woman about it and tell him.

What’s the worst that could happen? You weren’t going to marry the guy, you just want to explore these mutual feelings. It shouldn’t be complicated.

Right?

You still had the rest of the week in New York to stress out about it, so that was a plus. The afternoon was ahead of you and the next day was the Summitt.

After that, you had your one on one with Steve.

Bucky told you about Steve being an artist himself during your meeting with him. So, for your meeting with Steve, you requested that you see some of his artwork, and he agreed.

You were curious to see what he could create, and you were anxious and turned on at the thought of him as a creator.

You were so into Steve Rogers.

And you didn’t know what you were going to do about that.

—--

Steve had to stop himself from going back up to your room three times after he left. He finally exited the hotel and stalked down the street back to the Rebirth building to his car and pulled out his phone, dialing Bucky and pulling out of the garage.

He needed a drive and a little alone time to clear his head and come down from you, but he also needed his friend’s help.

“Wassssaaaap! Did you get the–”

Steve cut Bucky off.

“Remember that shopping trip we took a few weeks ago? For the ring?”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah. Meet me on 47th street.”

—-

That afternoon, you just kept your distance from Sharon and ignored her, focusing on the task at hand and all business. You didn’t want to waste energy on her.

Your energy was spent on thinking about Steve and wondering if he was thinking of you too. You wanted to text him, but you were chilling. You didn’t want to seem to eager.

You were successful in your self control until 11 pm as you tossed and turned in your hotel king bed. Doubts, but mostly need and desire, coursed through you.

You were going to find out exactly what Steve was doing right now and who he might be with. You shook your head at how much you cared; it was definitely not something you regularly did. You weren’t used to feening for someone.

You were choosing violence as you posed on the bed in front of the mirror. You sat on the bed, crossed your legs and snapped a picture.

You weren’t naked, but your panties were skin tone and your sleep bra was sheer and you were feeling needy.

Before you thought too hard, you sent it to Steve, then jumped in bed and pulled the covers over your head with that feeling of dread and panic when you don’t know if you’ve done something supremely reckless or not.

—

Steve was ready for the Summit, but he couldn’t stop thinking of you. Sleep was elusive, so he was self medicating, sketching your body from memory of mostly touch.

His phone vibrated and he almost didn’t pick it up, but when he saw your name, his heart sped up.

He clicked through to your message and his heart started hammering in his chest.

Sorry, wrong thread.

The picture you sent along threatened to give him a heart attack. He zoomed in a couple of times and then read the message again. What the fuck?

——-

In less than a minute your phone was ringing. You picked up immediately.

“Don’t fucking play with me, Peach.”

Steve’s growl got you wet, but you instantly regretted your horny decisions.

“It was a mistake.”

“It absofuckinlutely was. You’re joking about it being the wrong thread, right? That is mine, correct?”

You shivered at his double meaning and at his possessiveness.

“Yes, Mr. Rogers.”

Your voice was needy and that awakened a hunger in Steve. He was beyond frustrated that he wasn’t there to spank your ass raw, but he remained quiet.

You sensed his mood.

“If I were there, I’d make it up to you…”

You were testing the waters, experimenting to see if he would give you what you wanted despite his annoyance.

If he would give you what you needed.

“What would you do?”

Steve’s baritone was silk in your ear.

“What?”

You suddenly found that you couldn’t breathe.

“What would you do if you were here?”

“I’d kiss you,” you rushed out in a whisper.

Steve paused, letting your sentence hang in the air.

“And?”

There was an edge to the question.

“And… My lips. All over you.”

Fuck, he was hard. Just a few words in your husky voice, and Steve delirious, imagining his hands in your hair as you kissed him.

“Where?” he asked mercilessly, his voice broken with lust.

“Everywhere…your face, your neck, your nipples, your abs. Your cock.”

You were definitely not a virgin, but you were blushing through the phone although your hand was rubbing the skin at the edge of your underwear.

“Want you in my throat.”

Steve had to concentrate to stay hard.

“Oh? What if I want more than that?”

“You can have whatever you want...”

A sense of power flooded Steve’s body, both heady and intoxicating at your admission.

“You should be very careful when you make that offer, Peach,” he said softly.

“I trust you.”

Holy fuck. Why did that mean everything to him? He cleared his throat.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered.

“Okay.”

You complied so readily, it made Steve even harder.

Your clit was so hard as you circled it.

“Are you wet, Sweetheart?”

You moaned and Steve reached into his sweats and curled his fingers around his aching cock.

“My pussy is so messy for you, Mr. Rogers,” you whispered, thrilled and afraid of how much you wanted him.

Steve rolled his eyes as his cocked jerked for you.

“Such a good little slut.”

“Fuck…”

You realized the breath you’d been holding as you listened for his voice.

“Your pussy is so beautiful Peach. And god, you taste so good. Just like a sweet peach.”

Steve knew he had you in the palm of his hand. But fuck, you had him in yours too.

“But your cunt is so tiny. I’m gonna needs to get you ready for me, Baby.”

“Is it going to hurt me?” you whined.

Steve was about to explode at your little innocent voice asking the most nasty question.

“Yes, Peach. It is,” he growled as your anticipation reached 100.

Your breath sped up and so did your fingers. Steve grunted, his fist moving faster, thumb swiping the copious dribbles of precum dripping from his slit.

He should have known it was over as soon as he opened your message.

Hot sex was happening.

Electronically.

As the coil in your belly wind tighter, you realized with both joy and dismay that you were addicted.

“Steve, “m so close…”

“Of course you are.”

Steve soaked up your cute little sex sounds, thirsty for more.

“You know what I’m thinking about, Doll?”

A shaky breath was your only response. Steve continued.

“I think I want to tie you up. Silk ropes all over you, pretty little knots. I’d tie your arms behind your back, so those tits would sit up pretty for me to slap, lick and suck. That ass would be tied up so sweet and open so I could eat it.”

Your eyes rolled at the sensations his words and your fingers were sending to your clit.

“I’d fuck your throat and cum all over that soft, sweet body. Over and over, while I tease your greedy little cunt. I want to see it drip down your delicious nipples, your belly, your hungry pussy, your pretty face. I need to see all of you covered in my cum. Everywhere, marking you as mine…Mine.”

You gasped, and then moaned and your entire body tightened up then released.

Your mouth hinged open as you came.

“Mine,” Steve hissed, tightening the knots around you both and jerking his cock until cum spurted out. He listened to your breathing and knew that you’d just cum as well.

Suddenly, he missed you.

“You good, Peach?”

You hesitated.You heard the yearning in his voice and you wanted to be in his arms, but you lied to him anyway.

“Yeah.”

Steve smiled at you. He shook his head even though you couldn’t see.

“Sweet dreams. See you tomorrow.”

“Night Steve.”

—---

You needed a distraction.

Steve looked so delicious this morning, sitting on stage and serving art intellectual in a dark turtleneck and brown corduroy suit. A suit that was tailored to the detriment of everyone who looked at him.

Holy shit.

This man was wearing a corduroy suit and he made it look damn good.

And he made you feral.

You decided to give your cousin a hard time to prevent yourself from becoming a simp.

“You look like that damn heart eyes emoji, ya know.”

She didn’t look at you as you yanked her chain. She just continued to follow Bucky’s every move and lit up when he glanced her way. She was gone, girl.

You teased her some more until you saw Steve. You sighed and gazed at him, straightening your spine as you remembered how he made you cum twice yesterday. And he’d hardly touched you.

As if sensing your gaze, Steve’s head turned. Those mesmerizing blue eyes locked with yours, and the rest of the world disappeared in an instant. For a moment, you were frozen. Pinned in your seat by his magnetism.

This feeling was so heady.

When you realized you’d been caught staring Steve down, you tried to change the unspoken subject.

“Bucky is pretty much the man.”

“Fucking-A.”

Her chuckle was all-knowing. Then she read you.

“Steve is the shit too.”

You couldn’t front anymore.

“He’s amazing. I had no idea about everything that he does. Have to say, I’m impressed.”

She was speechless and so were you. You both continued enjoying the forum when your phone buzzed.

You look beautiful today. You’re my favorite thing to study. Can’t wait for today’s art experience. Meet me at the Laguardia Place entrance immediately after the talk. Sunlight is precious.

You were his favorite thing to study!

You waited on the edge of your seat until the end of the summit. Then you were up and walking out toward the entrance post haste.

The hair on the back of your neck raised when you saw Steve watching you from the door of Rosenthal Pavilion.

His smile when you made eye contact knocked the breath out of your lungs.

In that moment, you realized that you were in love with Steven Grant Rogers.

Holy hell.

His deep voice greeted you as you arrived.

“I’m anxious to get started.”

Steve searched your face and found a different look from the partially closed off expression you’d showed him since Thanksgiving.

Your face was open and trusting. His heart did a funny thing in his chest. It was almost too good to be true.

Could you love him, too?

He tempered his mood with sensible words, filling the space that he wanted to fill with romantic declarations.

“I’m going to take you to my favorite artistic landmark in the city. I’ve loved it since I was a boy.”

You smiled up at him and took his hand.

“Let’s not waste any more time.”

—--

The driver that was taking you and Steve to your meeting place was the same one who picked you up from the airport. The one that your cousin knew so well.

You stared at the back of his head and then glanced over at Steve. He raised his eyebrow at you because of the look on your face. You grinned back, then leaned forward to tap the driver on the shoulder.

“So… Nico…”

Your eyes cut over to Steve with a mischievous look. His heart beat out of his chest at the joy you were serving him along with your chaos.

“You ever drive my cousin and Bucky around the city?”

Nico stole a look at you and smiled.

“Yes ma’am. All the time.”

“Do they ever do the nasty back here…?”

Nico laughed heartily as Steve shook his head.

“Peach…”

You shushed Steve.

“Hush, I’m trying to get the dirt. Now Nico, tell the truth…”

Steve sat back and listened to your unhinged behavior on the drive over to the Brooklyn Botanical Garden. Your spirit and your laugh made him warm inside, despite the cold day.

—-

Nico stopped the car at the Washington Avenue entrance to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. Steve got out, shouldered his backpack, and then reached for your gloved hand with his own.

For some reason, you felt like a princess as you stepped on the path. The air was crisp, and there were traces of snow lingering on the ground.

You came out of the car chattering and laughing, making Steve’s heart light.

“I know Nico wouldn’t crack, but I could tell from the way he went red. Those whores….”

“Literal Freaks,” replied Steve. “Bunny is an appropriate nickname for him, because he and your cousin…”

Steve shook his head and rolled his eyes, although he fantasized about christening the backseat of the Lincoln for you and him.

The wrought-iron gate creaked softly behind you as you entered the Garden, and you looked around in wonder as the gravel path crunched beneath your boots. A magnificent metal and glass structure was in front of you.

“This is the Steinhardt Conservatory. Wait until you see the inside.”

Steve smiled and took your hand as you stepped through the glass doors into sudden warmth shaking your head at him.

There was a heavy scent of flowers and a haze of the waning rays of sunlight beaming through the glass panels overhead. It gave everything golden highlights, including you and Steve.

You squeezed his hand as you looked around in awe.

“Beautiful,” you murmured.

And then you noticed that he was looking at you.

“Yes…”

You grew warm as you looked into his gorgeous blue eyes.

“It’s like a completely different world in here.”

“It’s our world for the moment. Just you and me.”

He wanted to add the word Forever, but he didn’t. You felt it though.

You started on an indoor path and Steve pointed out the unique flowers and plants in his warm baritone. You were impressed, again, with how much he knew.

Steve Rogers was not a stereotypical mobster. This was a man who followed a path in life that landed him where he didn’t want to be and was trying to make up for it.

As he spoke, Steve drew you into his enthusiasm, and you found yourself smiling and relaxing, asking questions and marveling at the vast indoor space.

When you came to a small alcove furnished with a wooden bench and beneath a sprawling magnolia tree, Steve stopped and took his backpack off his shoulder, and then taking off his coat and draping it over the bench as you did the same.

"Please, sit."

His voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking the subtle command.

You hesitated.

"Why?"

"So I can sketch you."

Your stomach did an odd little flip.

"Here? Now? I wanted to see your sketches, not be your sketches."

You performed on stage in front of hundreds with barely no clothes on and you were so nervous to let Steve Rogers sketch you with winter layers of clothes on. What was wrong with you?

Steve raised his eyebrow and his gaze swept up your body slowly, making you shiver. Clothes couldn’t stop the intimacy of that look.

“Too late for that.”

You raised your eyebrow at him and you felt irrationally happy. Steve had drawn you.

“Do you not trust me?”

You regarded him, guardian your reaction because you didn’t want to seem too eager.

“I do Steve. I trust you.”

It was true.

Steve smiled.

“Then please, sit down.”

You gave in with a sigh and lowered yourself onto the bench.

"Fine," you muttered. "But no weird artistic liberties. I better have a nose."

Steve chuckled, flipping open the sketchbook.

"I make no promises."

You watched as he proceeded to balance the sketchbook against his bended knee. Then he looked at you seriously, holding your gaze for a moment before his attention returned to the page, and his pencil began gliding effortlessly across the paper.

His thick fingers were surprisingly agile, moving with long, sure strokes. But then again, you shouldn’t have been surprised, with the way his fingers had previously made you feel…

For a few moments, the only sound was the soft scratch of his pencil against paper.

You attempted to sit still, staring at the plants around you. You also tried to pretend that you weren’t aware of the way he studied you with that relentless focus, switching his gaze between you and the sketchbook.

After a few minutes, Steve made a soft noise, something between a hum and a chuckle.

“What?” you asked, turning your head and narrowing your eyes at him.

“Nothing.”

He didn’t look up. But he spoke.

“It’s just... you’re trying so hard not to move, but you’re fidgeting anyway.”

You caught the hint of humor in his tone and it made you a little too happy again, so you decided to cause problems.

"Well, maybe if you didn’t look at me like that.”

"Like what?"

His lips curled into a knowing smirk, looking up at you quickly, then back down.

You fidgeted again.

"You know…"

Steve chuckled, deep and low and shook his head.

"Oh. Am I ‘sparkling my eyes at you again?’”

You scowled at him and he laughed.

“I'm an artist, Peach. I study form."

His eyes traced up and down your body, lighting you on fire again.

You clenched your thighs together to fight the flow of arousal threatening your thighs. This was dangerous. Steve was dangerous.

"You're insufferable, Steven."

“Well, can you suffer on a little longer, so I can capture more detail?”

You cocked your head in that adorable way.

“What details do you need?”

“I need…”

Steve looked at you like he needed all of you.

And he did.

“I want to capture the way your nose crinkles when you're annoyed, or how you're gripping the bench like you're about to get up and run.”

You unclenched your hands and sat back.

“You’re making me nervous.”

He tapped his pencil against the sketchbook. Then he looked down again to continue drawing.

"Interesting."

"What is?"

He licked those red lips of his and your eyes tracked the movement.

"The fact that I make you nervous."

The way he was looking at you made butterflies riot in your stomach. That special electricity was buzzing around you both.

Suddenly, his pencil stopped. Then, without warning, he reached out, brushing his fingers beneath your chin, tilting your face slightly.

You stiffened.

"Hold still," he murmured.

His thumb ghosted over the curve of your jaw and settled at the edge of your throat.

Your breath hitched.

Steve’s eyes were dark now and his voice was softer when he spoke again, but there was an edge to it now, hinting at something rough beneath the surface.

“You always do this?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“React like this when someone touches you.”

You pursed your lips together and shook your head.

Just you.

"You’re doing it again," he mused as he stroked the side of your throat with his thumb.

"What, Mr. Rogers?"

You were about to combust. He clenched his jaw and increased the pressure of his fingers on your neck.

"Fighting it."

"I- I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"You do," he intoned, his voice stern.

"Don’t hide from me, Peach."

Your pulse beat beneath his fingertips.

"You think I don’t notice how you react to me?"

Steve’s hand grasped your throat, pressing more firmly before he let go.

"Hold. Still," he murmured, those blue, blue eyes stormy.

His fingers tilted your face up with authority now. You froze for a moment as his thumb came up to pull your chin down to open your mouth.

“Breathe.”

He slowly pulled his hand away and you had to stop yourself from chasing his touch.

Steve clenched his jaw, trying to restrain himself. If he had to guess, you were wet and ready for him to do whatever he wanted to you right now. But he willed himself to be patient.

He picked up his pencil again, rolling it between his fingers, like nothing had happened.

"Good girl," he offered to the page as he returned to his sketch.

Steve knew what he was doing. Knew exactly how much he affected you. You waited impatiently, clenching your thighs together desperately as his pencil continued to scratch on the paper.

"Done," he said, as he lifted the sketchbook toward you.

You gasped as you looked at the page.

The drawing was stunning. Steve had captured you with uncanny accuracy, from the curve of your parted lips to the shading of the different colors in your eyes. The hollow of your throat seemed to pulse, and you could almost see the indentations of his fingers.

The portrait was beautiful. And it told you everything you needed to know about how he felt.

“This is… how can I thank you?”

Steve’s heart flipped in his chest as he reached out and grabbed your waist, pulling you toward him on the bench.

"Steve…"

His eyes went to your mouth.

"Say that again," he murmured, barely above a whisper.

Your whole body was burning, but you stayed quiet. You were paralyzed with the possibilities.

"No? Too shy now?"

His voice made you impossibly wet. If you gave in, you were about to get everything you didn’t know that you wanted. And that scared you.

You let out a shaky breath.

"Steve."

Something flickered behind his eyes. Something hot.

“Have I told you that I love the way you say my name?”

His hand came up again against your side, slowly, more deliberate. His fingers moved over the curve of your side, and slid against your breast, his thumb ghosting over your nipple.

He continued, tracing over your cleavage and finally landing against your throat again, pressing against your pulse and driving you crazy.

"You're shaking," he murmured, voice low, thick with need.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he leaned in and gave you a kiss against your throat. And he lingered, lips warm against your skin, before pulling back just enough to smile against your skin.

Your whimper told him so much.

"You act so tough, but you’re so easy to ruin."

You raised your arms and pulled him close, fingers playing at the nape clutching the hair spilling over his collar.

“You made me this way, Steve. And I don’t want you to stop.”

His now dark blue eyes searched yours as his fingers tightened on your waist.

“What does that mean, Peach?”

He’d pulled you closer, his eyes on your face as he waited for your answer. The anticipation was so much. He huffed and then dove into the curve of your neck, inhaling and tasting you there, as if he couldn’t help himself. His large hands palmed your breasts, pressing your nipples insistently.

“Oh…my….Steve!”

You squirmed in his grip.

“I asked you a question. Do I need to stop touching you so you can answer?”

“Please, no, Steve. Need you...”

You were the queen of changing the subject.

“Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

His lips were on the curve of your jaw, so close to your lips. You whined. He cocked his eyebrow, the question not so silent.

You huffed, making your decision to go for it as your hands came to the side of his face so that he knew your intentionality. You wanted to look into his eyes when you said it.

“Moment of honesty? I want you Steve. I feel…I want to be yours. Really been yours since you put your hands on me in Atlanta. I can’t categorize or control this feeling. So I’m giving in. Are you ready for the chaos that is me being yours?”

Steve’s eyes lit up and he reached for you, pulling you into his lap as his lips crashed into yours. His hands were everywhere. He tugged you closer as he kissed you and both hands came down to grab your ass and pull you onto his erection. His desire for you was apparent.

When you broke apart, you chased his lips and then kissed him again, greedy.

“I’ve been ready. Been yours for a while, now Peach. Since the day I saw you…”

His voice was gentle and he was looking at you like you were fine porcelain. You felt so safe in his arms. He pulled back to look you in the eye.

“And this feeling? This is exactly how it should feel when it's meant to be.”

He kissed you again and his mouth took possession of yours in a way that was tender, yet full of promise.

“I gotta let you know that if you’re mine, I’m gonna give you what you need. When you need it. Do you want that? Do you trust me with that?”

This was the important question.

“Yes, please. I want that, Mr. Rogers, sir. And I trust you.”

"That’s so fucking hot… but I’m trying to behave. Even though I reserved the pavilion just for us, we’re still in a public place,” he murmured.

His voice was calm, controlled. But those sea blue eyes told a different story.

"You call this behaving?"

You rolled your hips against his cock. Steve kissed you again and let out a sexy chuckle, then stood you both up, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

"If I wasn’t," he murmured, "you’d already be begging me for more."

You linked your arms around his neck and looked up at him as the cutest woman on earth.

“What if I don’t want you to behave? Like you said, you have the pavilion reserved. You can bend me over the bench and fuck me raw. Right here.”

Steve’s pupils took over his eyes and his jaw clenched. Your stomach dropped as he looked as if he was about to do just as you suggested. But he took a deep breath and smiled.

“We’ll explore that kink later. Our first time needs to be in private.”

Steve reached for your coat and helped you with it before putting his own on and gathering his things. He took your hand and led you out and across the grounds. He pointed to a familiar building.

“Your hotel is right there. Or do you want me to call Nico to take us to my place?”

You looked up at Steve as your breath vaporized in the cold air.

“We need my hotel. I’m ready. Right now.”

—--

You were in your room again, not entirely sure how you arrived, the journey through the park hurried and full of anticipation. You weren’t thinking too hard, you just knew you needed Steve. Immediately.

You were pushing his coat and blazer off his body and feeling his chest. The steady thrum of his pulse tapped a staccato in your palm.

“Your heart's beating so fast,” you whispered.

“You do that to me, Peach.”

“Really?” you questioned, suddenly unsure of yourself.

“You have no idea how much power you have, do you?”

“Me?” you asked in a small voice.

Steve nodded.

“You drive me crazy. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”

It was confession time.

“It’s you that has the power, Steve. I can't stop thinking about you. Your voice gets me there.”

You felt tongue tied as you told him your raw feelings, all the while taking off your and his clothes.

“Sometimes I — I think I'm going to cum just from hearing you speak. Today, at NYU, I could hardly sit still. You're like a drug, pulling all my attention.”

Steve’s shirt was off now and you were in your bra; he pulled you near him to get his mouth on you.

“When I'm near you, I'm so hard it aches.”

“Really?” you whispered. “Are you aching right now?”

Steve groaned as you pulled back to unzip your skirt and take off your boots. He leaned back against the wall and palmed his crotch over his pants.

“Like you wouldn't believe.”

Steve couldn’t believe that he had you here like this, giving yourself to him. He had to tell you the truth.

“Look at me, Peach.”

You looked into his eyes.

“I’m In love with you.”

His rough voice pulled an involuntary sound from you.

“You're mine, Peach You always have been.

Your breath caught in your throat and your heart thudded against yor ribs.

“Oh god, Steve. I- I love you too.”

Your smile blinded him. If he blinked it was because of that. Not that he was going to cry.

Not at all.

He laughed as an expression of joy and then your lips met.

The kiss wasn't soft or sweet. This was feral, sharp, and intense. You moaned into his mouth, sucking his bottom lip into yours as he unhooked your bra.

“I fucking want you,” you whimpered into his mouth.

Steve smiled against your lips.

“Good, cause I fucking need you, my sweet Peach.”

Steve stood, looming over you, all big and fucking magnificent. The vision of him, all lithe muscles covered in smooth skin, and light feathering of hair making its way down his torso, between the defined planes of his abs and into his waistband, was… Good Lord.

You licked your lips, mouth instantly dry.

Steve’s mouth hooked up on one side as his fingers worked his belt and fly. His pants fell in a matter of seconds, and there he was, wearing nothing but black boxer briefs.

Steve was all thick thighs, and long, powerful legs, his hand slowly stroking himself over the sizable bulge in his underwear.

You gaped at him.

Then, he pulled his underwear down, eyes on your face for your reaction. It was classic, your mouth hinged open and your eyes were like saucers. There was no way anyone could be that perfect.

His dick was long and wide, at least eight or nine inches, and curved eloquently (if a dick could do that) against his abs. It was so pretty and your mouth watered for it at the same time your pussy clenched, as you were thinking he was correct. You would struggle to take him.

His smirked deepened as he reached for you and pulled your panties down slowly, his short fingernails scratching your legs and making you shiver.

For a moment he just stared, drinking in the sight of you spread before him

“Fucking sublime,” Steve breathed, the words filled with reverence.

“I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else, baby.”

He leaned over you and set about doing just that, kissing you deep and filthy, tongue diving to claim every inch of your mouth. You cried out, scratching at his broad shoulders as he suckled and nipped, worshiping your breasts until you were mindless with sensation.

Steve took his time tracing your torso with his lips, teeth and tongue, learning your body and paying attention to every sigh of pleasure as he climbed down your body.

The press of his mouth to your pussy made your back arch, and a ragged moan escape your mouth. Steve growled into you, the vibrations running through your soaked cunt.

He parted your pussy lips with his thumbs, and dove to lick your clit with the hot velvet of his tongue.

Slow, thorough licks made you writhe beneath him.

“That’s it,” he whispered, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Ride my face, Sweetheart. Fuck my mouth ‘til you cum all over it.”

You arched like a bow as he latched on to your clit and sucked, two thick fingers thrusting deep to stroke along your inner wall. His practiced fingers found your g-spot and massaged it ruthlessly, curling and scissoring until you sobbed his name.

“Love when you call my name, Peach.”

He looked at you like you were something to be worshipped, and then continued what he was doing. When Steve bit down gently on your clit, your orgasm crashed over you in a burst of white light.

You shuddered through the aftershocks, trembling as Steve lapped at your folds. Each lick sent a jolt of electricity through you, on the edge of too much.

Rising to his knees, the thick, heavy length of him rose up again, even more swollen and glistening at the tip.

Steve notched the thick head of his cock at your entrance and his eyes crossed as he slowly sank into your tight, dripping heat.

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

Inch after thick inch, he claimed you, stretched you, with a delicious push/pull of pleasure/pain. His length was one thing, but his girth was everything.

When he bottomed out, you both groaned at the intensity of the connection. He looked you in your eyes as your hearts pounded in sync, your breaths mingling as you got used to his size.

“I’ve never felt so full, Stevie…”

You quivered in his arms. And he knew that he was utterly possessed by you. It was more than just physical; it was an overwhelming sense of rightness.

“Perfect,” Steve rasped.

“So fuckin’ perfect, sweetheart. Like you were made for me.”

He dropped his head and trailed open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat, pausing to suck hard at your pulse point.

“Please,” you whimpered, the ache between your thighs growing unbearable. “Move.”

“As you wish.” he whispered, brows knitted together.

You whimpered and your hands grasped the sheets as he started to move. He bent and sucked your nipple hard, causing a jolt of electricity through your body. Your brain was cloudy and you scratched his back as your eyes shuttered closed.

“Open your eyes, Peach,” Steve ordered darkly.

As he looked you in your beautiful eyes, Steve couldn’t hold back any longer. He started increasing his pace until he was fucking you roughly, pushing your knees to your chest.

“Yes.. feels so good Steve. Oh my godddddd, fuck me!”

Steve’s eyes roamed your body as he did as you asked. Your beautiful breasts bounced. The bed knocked against the wall and you gasped for breath, your face transfixed on the eye contact between you and Steve.

He was lost, one hand gripped your hair, and the other braced on the headboard. He fucked you hard, grinding against your clit with every stroke.

You were whimpering, on the verge of screaming as you two made noise up and down the hotel hallway.

He leaned up and grasped your throat, gritting his teeth as he asked a question.

“You want me to cum inside you? You trying to have my baby?”

“Unnnnnnghhhh! Maybe….”

You opened your eyes and pouted up at him.

“Paint my walls, Steve...”

Steve choked on air as he spurted hot cum into your welcoming pussy, but he pulled out, shooting the last jet of cum on your clit and pussy lips. Then, like a heathen, he bent between your thighs and started licking.

You sobbed, writhing as he devoured you.

“Need to eat you more than anything, my sweet, sweet Peach.

“Steve, Stevie… oh my god!”

You clutched his hair, tugging sharply. It was too much.

“Oh my God. Please Steveeeee!”

He raised his head, grinning as you fully collapsed, limp and spent. Your pussy was tender, your face flushed, your eyes gleaming.

You were beautiful.

You looked at him and shook your head as he took you in his arms.

“Are you mine?”

“Yes,” you whimpered out.

“I would die for you, Y/N L/N,” Steve murmured against your temple, panting. He held you tight, carding his fingers in your hair.

“I promise to keep you safe, and give you everything you need, I promise you that.”

“I believe you, Steve. I trust that.”

—

You and Steve stayed up late, ordered room service and talked about a lot of things, music, your parents, his friendship with Bucky, Nat, and Steve, everything.

You laughed and cried, and then settled back in his arms in the dark to sleep, his hand rubbing your hip as his breathing began to slow.

“Steve, can I ask you a question?”

It had been nagging at you for a while.

His sleepy voice answered you.

“Shoot.”

You chuckled.

“That’s just it. Have you ever… have you ever killed someone?”

Steve stirred, pulling you closer to him and moving his mouth next to your ear.

“Hmmmmm. I’d have to marry you before I answered that question.”

Your heart slammed against your chest and your eyes went wide in the dark.

“What?”

You tried to keep your voice even. You didn’t know what this feeling was that came over you. Steve continued, seemingly calm and not spiraling like you were.

“You can’t be compelled to testify against your spouse. It was a joke, Peach.”

You were silent for a good while.

“Oh.”

Steve stirred, leaning up against his elbow.

“Do you… are you saying that you want to get married?”

Steve thought about the ring that he had at his penthouse.

You laughed.

“Nah… what we looking like just up and getting married like that? We hardly know each other.”

“True. But when you know, you know.”

Steve kissed you and the small amount of logic in your brain was rapidly dissipating.

“Would it make us look crazy…?”

You could sense Steve’s smile in the dark.

“…Or would it be so beautiful?” He replied.

Steve wrapped you up in his arms and settled down again. Your mind spun as his breathing slowed to a steady rhythm and you spoke again.

He was probably asleep, but you had to get it out.

“If you ask me, I’m ready…”

The light switched on and you were staring into the beautiful blue eyes of Steve Rogers.

——

I’m so anxious about this one! Please let me know how you feel? Reblog, comment, like. TIA!

Read Peach VII

#knock you down fic #this is the right one #steve rogers #peach fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x you #mob boss! steve rogers #chris evans #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan #mob boss!bucky Barnes

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sugoi-and-spice · 11 months ago

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Taking Care, Taking What's Mine - A "Play Nice" Commission

Summary: A Play Nice AU Chapter, in which, rather than taking the high road and trying to build a real relationship with the girl he's been sextorting for weeks, Tomura Shigaraki baby-traps her instead.

CW: Quirkless!AU, Dub-Con, Smut, Extortion, Baby-Trapping, Forced Pregnancy, Love-Bombing, Manipulation, Power Play, Possessive Shigaraki, Yandere Shigaraki, Morning Sickness, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

AO3 Link

A/N: Happy fucking Father's Day readers!! Lmao! I got this AMAZING commission a while ago to write an AU of my AU (a fanfic writer's dream come true honestly), of Shigaraki baby-trapping MC and well, while it took longer then I meant it to to come out, I'm so glad that I could post it on Father' Day of all days lmao.

Anyway though, this was so much fun to write. Shigaraki has been on the journey of bettering himself for so long in Play Nice now, it was a total blast returning to form and writing him nice and scummy again.

I'd love to do more of these honestly, so as a reminder: I give discounts on Commissions that take place in my AU's.

Play Nice, Burnt Bridges, Step by Step -- all of them. They're super fun for me to write and most of the heavy-lifting of ideating and plotting has already been done for them, so I'm happy to write fics like this for cheaper. :)

Anyway, enjoy some forced parentification on this day of dads. xD

“Hey, hey— are you alright?”

She lifted her head from where she’d been resting it against her gym locker, the coolness of the metal being the first thing to even remotely ease the headache she’d been fighting for the last three days.

“Yeah, of course,” she tried to force a weak smile as Nejire approached her, clearly concerned, “Why do you ask?

The captain was dressed in her practice suit. And she quickly realized that so were all the other girls, most of them already making their way out the doors to the pool deck. She was the lone straggler who hadn’t even managed to undo her uniform tie yet. Nejire looked over at these girls, and then back to her, wordlessly demonstrating why that should be obvious.

She laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of her head, “Okay, I guess I’m feeling a bit under the weather today…”

And that was the understatement of the century. She felt like absolute shit . Piling on top of that stubborn pounding in her head were a pair of really sore tits, a lethargy that stuck with her no matter how much vending machine coffee she chugged, and cramps that had shot straight out of hell and directly into her uterus.

But to be honest, she couldn’t complain too much about these ailments. In fact, she was pretty damn relieved. These were all her tell-tale signs of PMS. They were a little worse than usual this time around sure, but if that was the tradeoff for the relief of not being pregnant, she’d take it in a heartbeat. Her period was only one day late at this point and it had all but paralyzed her with fear.

Of course in retrospect, the fear did seem a bit silly. After all, Shigaraki’s creepy family doctor had warned her there might be some changes.

“I never start patients new to birth control immediately on a Long Acting Reversible Contraception,” he explained, “Especially not teenagers.”

“Why not?” she demanded, “It’s reversible, right? It’s not like you’re tying my tubes or anything.”

“No, but you never know how your body is going to react to the hormonal shift. You could develop acne, weight gain, hair growth—”

“I don’t care about that superficial stuff.”

“... Migraines, blood clots, depression,” he continued, looking at her pointedly.

She looked away, feeling a bit stupid for interrupting him now that he’d listed the more serious side-effects.

“I’m not saying you have to stay on the pill forever. But give it a few months, see how you feel on it. It can help us better determine which long-term birth control is best for your body without any unnecessarily invasive procedures.”

She shuddered at the very thought of being stuck in this set-up with Shigaraki for months. She hoped he’d get bored of her sooner rather than later.

Well, on the brightside, at least this sketchy-ass doctor seemed to be as interested in looking under her skirt as she was having him down there. However, this still left the ever so pertinent issue of:

“Okay, but there’s still the issue of getting the pills. No pharmacy is going to give me these without signed parental consent.” She had the always convenient Japanese purity culture to thank for that.

Ujiko simply smiled and pulled out a wheel of birth control pills from his medical bag right then and there.

“Consider these the same as this appointment,” he said, cupping his hands over hers and placing the wheel firmly into her palm, “ Off the record. ”

And then the rest of the “appointment” had descended into one of extremely thinly-veiled intimidation that bizarrely enough, she’d relied on Shigaraki of all people to save her from. By that point, she’d been scared so shitless she had very little argument left in her to try and reason him into just giving her the damn IUD.

The regret of not standing her ground on the issue did hit her later that night on the train home. Particularly when she thought over the fact that the way they were keeping these pills off the record was by having her pick up her refills through Shigaraki. The idea of giving him even more power over her like that made her feel sick to her stomach. And yes, while logically she knew that he had just as much motivation to keep her from getting pregnant as she did (she had a feeling All for One would not take too kindly to his star successor knocking up a lowly commoner such as herself), she still just had a bad feeling about the whole thing.

So she’d resolved herself on her first refill day to completely lay into Shigaraki for any level of tomfoolery he may get up to in this situation. There would be no forgetting, no being too busy to pick up the pills for her, absolutely nothing. She was ready to rain full fire and brimstone on him if there was even a hint of bullshit.

But to her surprise (and relief), she hadn’t even crossed the threshold of his bedroom before he was tossing a new pack to replace her wheel with. Simple and nonchalant, and then he was just as quick as always to badger her about getting her clothes off already, get on the bed already, break up with your boyfriend already.

It was the same old, same old — for better or for worse. Even if she couldn’t trust Tomura Shigaraki himself, that action had at least ensured that she could trust his own desire for self-preservation.

And that was better than nothing she supposed.

Back in the locker room, Nejire asked her, “Do you think you’re coming down with something?”

She smiled at her friend, joking, “Nothing I don’t come down with every month.”

Nejire tilted her head in confusion for a moment before the lightbulb visibly lit up in her head.

“Ohhhhh,” Nejire nodded sympathetically, “Yeah, Aunt Flow can be a real meanie sometimes, huh?”

She laughed, then winced as the action worsened the throbbing in her head, “Damn it— you can say that again.”

Nejire’s brows furrowed and she brought a hand to the small of her friend’s back, “Hey, why don’t you take this afternoon off?”

She looked back to her, surprised, “Oh no, I couldn’t…”

“Sure you could!” Nejire chirped, “And honestly, you probably should. We’re working on our weakest strokes today. I had you down to work on your fly.”

Visible dread filled her as she thought about doing that much undulation in her current state.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Nejire laughed, “Seriously, go home. We’ll miss you, but we love you too. So we want you to take care of yourself.”

She debated a little more internally, one other loose thread dropping into her mind’s eye.

“If I do… Do you mind—”

“I’ll let Mirio know,” she shot her a wink as she clarified, “ After practice. I’ll let him know you just need the peace and quiet.”

She smiled at Nejire, genuinely grateful. This. This right here was what made all of the bending over backwards she did to fit in and please others worth it. To be cared about by such a good person.

The warmth of that care stayed with her all the way out to the school gates, where she was then immediately filled with dread upon realizing that she’d need to go in one of two directions depending on where she was going after school: the train station home, or the walk to Shigaraki’s.

And just which direction she was scheduled to go today.

She let out a long groan, anguished and loud enough to startle a couple members of the going home club that passed her. For once though, she didn’t care about her reputation, she was too focussed on what a goddamn nightmare she was falling into.

She pulled out her cellphone with a sigh. Yes she knew the effort was probably futile, but damn her if she didn’t at least try.

Yup. She could’ve seen that coming from a mile away. She sighed as she shoved her phone back into her bag and started the very slow trek over to Shigaraki’s.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding,” Shigaraki said as he looked her over his doorway, “You look like shit.”

She shot him a wholly unimpressed look as she shoved past him into his bedroom.

“Yeah, I fucking told you.”

Shigaraki, surprisingly, didn't have anything to say about her tone, even with her brusqueness towards him being more than usual. He just watched her drop down face first onto his bed and curl her legs up into her chest.

She sighed at the slight relief the position gave her. While dealing with Shigaraki’s antics was about the last thing she wanted right now, she supposed that at least she could be grateful for how much closer his apartment was to her school then her own home was. It saved her a good fifty-minutes of white-knuckling a train stanchion to keep down her groans of pain. Now at least she could get the relief of laying down much sooner.

If only for a little bit.

“What’s going on?”

She bristled at Shigaraki’s voice, the unwelcome reminder that she wasn’t going to be able to truly relax right now. And while there didn’t seem to be any entendre or even impatience in his question, the fact that his voice was getting closer to her was enough to make her suspicious.

“My head aches, my back aches, my boobs ache — everything aches,” she grumbled down into his sheets, “And I feel like I’ve been donkey-kicked straight in the uterus.”

“You start your period or something?”

He didn’t sound sarcastic when he asked it, not that typical boy way of asking any time a girl did something they considered “moody”. It was a genuine question. But it irritated her all the same.

Everything seemed to be irritating her these days.

“About to,” she answered, “It’s like a day late, but it’s definitely coming.”

She felt the bed shift a bit as he sat next to her.

“Are you nauseous at all?”

Her brows furrowed, a bit confused by the interest.

“I guess a little,” she answered, because even though it was mild, there was a certain turn in her stomach that wasn’t unlike motion sickness, “But honestly, I think it’s just from the pain. This has been going on for like three days.”

“Have you taken anything for it?”

She could’ve laughed if she wasn’t so annoyed by the reminder of all her futile attempts to alleviate this. Because of course he was looking for a quick fix so they could fuck already.

“I’ve taken everything for it,” she groaned, “Nothing’s working.”

He just hummed in response, and then she could feel the sheets behind her dip a bit as he repositioned himself. Into what orientation, she wasn’t sure. She was about to turn her head back and ask him what he was doing when she felt his hand featherlight across her hip.

And between her legs.

“No, Shigaraki please,” she whined, pulling he knees closer into her chest, “I’m not kidding, I’m seriously in a lot of pain—”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Tell that to your hand then,” she snapped as his fingers tried to wiggle their way between her clenched thighs.

“I mean I’m not doing anything for me. This is for you.”

“Oh is it now,” she deadpanned.

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” he insisted, more irritably this time, “Orgasms help with cramps, right?”

She stilled, sufficiently stumped by that particular statement. Because yes, she could say from experience that they absolutely did. She’d spent many a nasty period with her fingers latched to clit to chase that particular path of relief.

…but why the hell did Shigaraki know that?

She gasped as she suddenly felt the gentle roll of her clit under three fingers. Apparently, in her moments of distracted deliberation, Shigaraki managed to push his hand past the plush lock of her thighs and under the hem of her panties.

“Sh-Shigaraki…” she whined, pushing her elbow blindly and weakly back towards him.

He caught it gently in his free palm and, rather than trying to pin or strain it in whatever which way he desired, like usual, he just held it there. Didn’t even hold it in place really, just shielded himself against its determined path towards his ribs.

“I’m serious,” he said, uncharacteristically soft, “I’m trying to help you.”

She finally mustered up the strength to — despite how much her aching abdomen hated her for it — turn and glower at Shigaraki.

“No funny business?” she pressed.

He settled his own flat expression on her, “When have I ever been funny?”

More times than she’d like to admit honestly, but she got what he was saying here. He was a pretty serious, straightforward person on principle. He didn’t bullshit, he didn’t pull cheap tricks, and, shockingly enough, he didn’t typically lie. Frustrating as it was, Tomura Shigaraki was pretty much always unapologetically himself and he always did what he wanted.

So if he said that he was doing this to help her, then she supposed that she didn't actually have a lot of reason to distrust him.

Plus, his fingers hadn’t stopped their soft, but affective ministrations between her legs, and the pleasant sparks of heated relief they were sending through her were undeniable.

She turned back onto her side with a sigh that was half-exasperation, half pleasure.

“Fine,” she said, throwing back quickly before he got too victorious, “But fuck around and I’ll kick you.”

Shigaraki just chuckled, a soft throaty sound that shouldn’t have sent the chills up her spine that it did, “Yeah, yeah…”

In one motion, careful not to jostle her too much, Shigaraki both pulled her back and scooched himself closer, until her back was nestled snug against his surprisingly firm chest and her head laid in the crux of his bicep.

With this new closeness he was able to be a bit more deliberate with the angle and pressure he used to rub at her swollen sex. And, while she hated to admit it, the increased blood flow between her legs was causing the pressure within her to build quite a bit faster than usual. Enough so that it had her letting go of the tension in her neck and joints — the automatic stress reaction she had to any of Shigaraki’s displays of intimacy — and letting the weight of her head drop fully into his embrace.

A shuddering sigh left Shigaraki at that clear relinquishing of control, of the way she truly let herself lay back and relax into him. It gave him the encouragement he needed to enjoy her to the fullest extent that he wanted her as well, burying his nose deep into her hair.

He started to stroke wider circles around her, the flats of his fingers never leaving her clit, but now allowing the tips to dip softly into her entrance. He didn’t push them in at all past his first knuckles, just enough to catch some of that growing wetness and spread it all across her fluttering lips.

“A-Ah—” she gasped out, “Sh-shit…”

“Like that?” he rasped, hot against her ear.

She bit her lip, nodding needily, “Mm— Mm-hmm…”

He groaned at the response, doubling down on that motion as he started to stud long, hot kisses down the back of her jaw and neck. The feeling, so gentle and intimate and good in combination to the way he worked her sex, had her unconsciously rocking her hips into his touch, and back into his own.

Vaguely through the haze, she could feel the familiar outline of his stiff cock against the cleft of her ass, but shockingly he didn’t try to grind it against her for relief. If anything actually, when her own hips moved unconsciously back against it, he actually shifted his own hips away, anglind them down so his erection pushed into the bed instead. As if he didn’t want her to feel it, that he was concerned about her feeling pressured by its presence.

She didn’t have the chance to think too much into that though, not when his fingers were coaxing her closer to the edge by the second. The mess between her legs was obscene at this point, through teary eyes she could see the overflow of it spreading wide across her thighs and pooling down in the sheets.

“God look at you, so fucking wet,” he groaned, lips having made it down to her shoulder and staying there so that he could have a better view of her writhing under his touch, “You needed this, huh? Fucking needed me…”

She buried her face into his arm to muffle her moans, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of an answer, but also not wanting him to stop.

By some act of God, Shigaraki didn’t push for that answer either. She wasn’t sure why he’d abandoned his typical demands and taunts, didn’t threaten to stop until she gave him the verbal submission and begrudging praise he always wanted. Nor did she stop to think about why, she just let the gratitude course through her, spurred further and wider by the waves of heat rushing through her body, threatening — promising — to overflow.

Shigaraki could feel that axiomatic tension in her body, the boiling point it promised, and sped up his hand to stoke the flames.

“You’re close aren’t you? Oh yeah, you’re close…” his kisses turned to nips at her neck between progressively more demanding growls, “Gonna be a good girl and come for me?”

Fuck, hearing those last words spill from his mouth should not have done what it was doing to her. But it was speeding up her peak, and it was speeding it up audibly.

“Yeah, yeah that’s good, really good. Let it go. Go ahead, be a good girl and let it go.”

She cried out, her arching back forcing her face forward and mouth unmuffled as finally, finally her body went blissfully loose, the pain of the past few days overtaken by waves of heat and pleasure. One after the other, her hormone-driven sensitivity wrung out multiple orgasms, and his frantic fingers were happy to work her through each one until she was begging him to stop.

“Good girl, yeah, yeah, just like that. That’s a good girl,” he continued to praise, returning time and again to that phrase he could feel her getting unconsciously excited over, “That’s my good girl…”

It was just a few blurry moments of consciousness after that. She was pretty sure she whined something like “too much” to him at some point, and he whispered back something that she was sure was just utterly debauched right back. Or maybe it was sweet nothings, he had really favored those by the end of this escapade after all.

Whatever it all was, she supposed it didn’t matter. All that mattered in those seconds of labored breaths and fluttering lashes was the beautiful bliss and relief that finally overtook her body. That allowed her to immediately fall asleep in his arms.

Shigaraki held her there for a long time after. He raked his eyes greedily across her body, letting himself carve every detail deep into his memory. He knew he didn’t need to, not anymore. Her boyfriend, her parents, hell, whether or not she got into Todai with him, it was all a non-issue now. There was no reason for him to lose this anymore. She wasn’t going anywhere in life without him. He was going to be able to revel in this sight for the rest of his life now. And he just couldn’t believe how lucky he was for that.

He chuckled a bit at that. Well, maybe lucky wasn’t the right word. This was all by design after all, weeks of very deliberate planning and deception. It was just like he’d always been taught. It didn’t matter what hand you’ve been dealt — and Tomura Shigaraki had certainly been dealt a shit hand in a lot of ways — a real winner made his own luck.

Sensei would be mad, Shigaraki knew that much. Everyone would be mad in fact, but he didn’t care. He was just following the fundamental lesson Sensei himself had instilled in him the day they met.

Take whatever you want, and fuck all the rest.

Several minutes into hearing those sweet deep breaths of unconsciousness from the beautiful girl in his arms, Shigaraki finally peeled his fingers away from her cunt.

And slid a wide hand up to cradle her tummy.

It was dark when she woke up, not a single one of Shigaraki’s many monitors or television lit the windowless room. That was odd for a couple of reasons, the first of which being that the overhead lighting had definitely been on when she’d dozed off. The second of which was that any time Shigaraki wasn’t preoccupied with helping her study or studying her, he was chronically attached to at least one screen, if not multiple, so it was more than a bit odd for him to have zero on. The reason for the lack of blue light however became quickly apparent as her eyes finally adjusted to the darkness.

Shigaraki wasn’t here.

She was totally alone in his room, alone and tucked into his bed. Had he gone to the bathroom or something? But then why would all the lights be off? It seemed like he’d probably been gone for a while. Weird…

She threw off the covers and flipped her legs around with much more ease than she’d done anything over the last three days, much to her relief. However long she’d been out, the sleep had clearly done her some good. The pounding in her head and pelvis had finally ceased, perhaps just in time for her to actually start her period. She did feel some dampness between her legs after all. Although…

Her face heated up as she remembered the much more likely cause of that.

Damn it, she thought with a groan, dropping her head into her hands. She couldn’t believe that she actually let him do that to her, for her. He was going to get entirely the wrong idea from it. The idea that she might actually like him and want to spend time with him, that there was some kind of connection between them that extended past the time she was required to spend with him to keep him satisfied. And she absolutely could not deal with that.

Being his little sex toy was one thing. A demoralizing thing, yes, but a manageable one. She’d seen the way Shigaraki treated things he objectified — games and magazines and the like. He got bored of them quickly. And if she was one of those things in his eyes, then eventually he’d get bored with her too and she’d be free.

If he was attached to her though? Had found connection in her and a desire to keep her in his life? She didn’t even want to consider that nightmare scenario.

She made her way out into the hallway, looking up and down from the empty bathroom on one end of the hall to the top of the staircase on the other. She didn’t have to contemplate the lack of presence on this floor for long though, when she heard Shigaraki’s voice echoing up from downstairs, talking emphatically to Kurogiri, she assumed.

She couldn’t hear exactly what he was talking about, but whatever it was, he was being particular about it. “Don’t overcook” and “perfect” were a few of the words she managed to catch, so it was about food, maybe? The accompanying sounds of sizzling pans and clanking cookware would certainly support that. As would the smell that suddenly hit her.

It wasn’t an unpleasant smell by any means. In fact, it was salmon, one of her favorites. But for some reason at that moment, the smell hit her with a particular intensity that made her feel overwhelmed.

And really fucking nauseous.

She just barely made it to the toilet at the end of the hall, not even fully down to her knees by the time she was emptying her stomach into the bowl. It wasn’t just a brief moment of sickness either. The bouts were loud and long, she was sure that it echoed throughout the entire apartment. It left her red-faced, skin covered and hair clumped with sweat, not to mention still gagging long after she had nothing left to gag on.

A hand she barely even noticed came to rest on the small of her back in the midst of it all. It was only in the aftermath, spent and dry-heaving that she could process the fact that it was Shigaraki, kneeling at her side, patiently stroking small circles into her clammy skin and encouraging her softly.

“Let it out. Just let it all out.”

She groaned once she finally seemed to have a solid thirty seconds of dry, steady breath. And Shigaraki used that respite to nudge a glass of water into her hands.

“Here.”

She didn’t argue or agree, just took it from him with shaky hands, tossing half of it just into her mouth to swish around and spit the remaining bitterness from her tongue.

“Drink some of it too.”

She nodded shakily, still too drained and disoriented to be irritated with his telling her what to do, or suspicious of the fact that he was being so nice.

And still, as she took entirely too long to finish the rest of her water with timid little sips, he just knelt on the ground with her, moving the hand on her back to rest on her knee, thumb rubbing circles into the spot where a bruise would undoubtedly form.

Finally, after a long, silent stretch, she managed to croak out, “W-What time is it?”

“Only seven,” he answered, “Kurogiri’s got dinner almost ready downstairs. Seared salmon, brown rice, avocado salad—”

She whined, shaking her head roughly at the very implication of food.

“Don’t like salmon?”

“I-I do… It’s just—” she gagged a little as she remembered that smell that had set this all off in the first place, “Th-The smell right now. It’s too much…”

“Oh yeah…” he nodded understandingly, muttering something to himself that she couldn’t quite make out. It sounded kind of like, “Heightened” and “Read about that…”

Her brows furrowed a bit, frustrated and confused. She was getting the feeling that he was really not telling her something.

“W-What?”

Shigaraki just waved her off, “No, that’s fine, that’s fine. Salmon’s not the only thing he made. There’s sauteed spinach, wakame tofu soup, toasted—”

Jesus Christ, was Kurogiri cooking for an army down there or something?

Well, whoever it was all for, and as delicious as it all sounded in theory, imagining those foods in practice right now was making her feel sick all over again.

“Mm-mm, Mm-mm!” she whined, shaking her head again.

She didn’t want to risk opening her mouth right now, lest she blow chunks all over the front of Shigaraki’s shirt. Although wouldn’t that be a nice little serving of karma for him…

“You need to eat something,” he insisted, more lecturey than she’d ever heard him, but with a strange gentleness to his voice as well, “And you need to drink some more too. You’re totally dehydrated.”

She shook her head more emphatically at that, which only resulted in her falling forward into his chest.

He caught her before she could fall any further, scolding her not too harshly, in fact, a bit whimsically, “Is this how you’re gonna be the whole time?”

She pulled her head back to look at him, a confused furrow in her brows that brought the corners of his lips up.

“It’s not a bad look on you to be honest. All weak and petulant,” he brought a hand to pinch lightly at her cheek, “It’s kinda cute actually.”

Her eyes narrowed, finally feeling her stomach steady enough in her to be annoyed. He chuckled, just as amused and endeared by this look as the last.

“Well how about okayu?” he offered with a patronizing little lilt, “And maybe some ginger tea?”

He clearly wasn’t going to let this go. And infuriatingly, he was right not to. She definitely was in no shape to go home on this empty stomach.

She sighed.

“Yeah… Yeah okay.”

Going at her own shaking, snailish pace, Shigaraki helped her up onto her legs, pulling her immediately into his side as he led her back towards his bedroom. Normally she’d protest, stick an elbow right into his ribs and storm on ahead of him, but honestly she needed the help right now. So she sucked it up and let him lead her back into his bed.

But that didn’t stop her from eying him suspiciously as he propped his pillows up behind her and tucked her back in under his comforter, the overall way he doted and fretted over her, even stopping to look back at her one more time from the doorway before he returned downstairs to give Kurogiri the new marching orders.

She dropped her head back against the pillows when finally alone, a bad feeling settling heavier and heavier in her stomach. This was beyond weird, the way he was acting. Sure, the guy was overbearing and constantly demanding of her attention, stupidly needy even. But doting? Not only willing but eager to put her needs ahead of his own? Caring deeply about her actual well-being and not just what he wanted to be her well-being? This was all way too out of character for him.

“…You can tell me. If he bothered you, I mean. N-Not just the Doctor either… If um… If anything’s bothering you.”

She sighed at the memory. Alright, maybe she wasn’t giving him enough credit. He’d shown at least some capability and even interest in her wants and well-being, he wasn’t a complete monster.

But still, all of this? The cooing and the caring and the, erm, servicing even that he’d done? It felt like too much. Like she was missing something really key about it all.

Like something was wrong .

Whether she ended up getting lost in that train of thought for long, or Kurogiri had already had some okayu whipped up downstairs, she wasn’t sure, but she was startled by how quickly it seemed that Shigaraki returned with a breakfast tray in hand. She cocked her head as he set it up over her lap, this was a lot more robust than she was expecting, and, she realized as she examined everything on the tray, a lot more stocked as well.

There was okayu, front and center for her, yes. But also on the tray was another small bowl of soup (looked like the wakame that Shigaraki had mentioned, a thing of plain yogurt (the really fancy kind that came in the glass jars), a glass of orange juice…

And a little dish of four pills.

Painkillers or antiemetics maybe? They looked more like vitamins…

“Go ahead and start with the okayu if you want,” Shigaraki explained as he climbed up into the bed next to her, “But I want you to try and get some of the wakame and yogurt down too…”

As he settled down, his legs flush with her own, he continued to rattle off instructions and explanations for the rest of her tray, sending her mind completely spinning, faster and faster, like a goddamn Gravitron.

And she was ready to get the fuck off.

“...if nothing else though, take the vitamins. You need the folate, calcium, iron, and the omega-3 especially, since you don’t want the salmon—”

“Okay, stop, stop, stop !”

Shigaraki paused, having the audacity to look at her like she was crazy for snapping.

“Jesus—what the hell are you even talking about Shigaraki?!” she demanded, “What’d you say, folate? What? What is all this?”

He cocked his head, clearly playing innocent. Whatever this was, he was clearly enjoying the slow unraveling of it all.

“What’re you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about!” she snapped, “All this attention and doting and food stuff! What the hell is this all about?!”

He just smiled back at her, taking in how pretty she looked, even when mad (especially when mad sometimes), God, to think that this really was his forever now. He wondered if they had a girl, how much she’d look like her. He hoped a lot…

“I just want to make sure you’re getting all the vitamins and nutrients you need…”

He reached over then, spreading his hand flat against her stomach.

“ Both of you .”

She froze.

No.

No, he couldn’t mean—

She tried to speak, tried to ask what the ever-loving- fuck he was talking about, but her mouth had seemed to go dry. She tried several times to open and wet it a bit, but every time she did, it felt like her throat was closing too. It took at least four desperate attempts for her to finally force out one rasped:

“... what? ”

Shigaraki’s grin widened, and he started to rub circles gently across her belly.

“You’re gonna look so cute, all big and round with my kid,” he giggled suddenly as he remembered something, “Oh, and your tits too. I wonder how big they’re gonna get…”

She stared at him, unblinking, unbreathing. Everything but un-fucking-existing.

He couldn’t be serious. He was fucking with her. He had to be fucking with her!

“Th-That’s not funny.”

His grin evened a little, not disappearing outright, but settling away some of its blissful excitement into something more coyly victorious.

“I said it already,” he reminded, “When have I ever been funny?”

She shook her head in disbelief.

“N-No. No, no, no this isn’t— there’s no way—”

“I’ve got the tests ready when you need to pee, but I think it’s pretty clear. These are all the symptoms I read about.”

“No!” she insisted, “N-No, no— this is, it’s my period! It’s just a day late, it’s not—!”

He chuckled, “I know the symptoms can be similar, but come on. When’s the last time you’ve hurled like that thanks to your period? And the sensitivity to smell? You know this is different.”

Crumbling, every argument she could possibly think of was crumbling to dust before she could even get the thought fully formed. And cruel, vicious reality was more than happy to take its place.

“B-But my birth control pills…”

“Fertility pills,” he explained, his splitting-grin returning in full, “I would’ve preferred to get Clomid from the doctor, but it looks like the over the counter stuff and tracking your cycle worked just fine.”

Her stomach dropped. Pieces of memories, peculiar behaviors and nagging thoughts she’d had over the last two months falling into place. How there were stretches of times where he’d cancel their sessions, only to insist they make them up a few specific days in a row. How he wanted to go multiple rounds a lot those days. How he’d stopped wanting blowjobs from her entirely. How he seemed to only want to fuck her from behind or with her knees pressed hard into her chest, positions he could fuck her the deepest in.

And how he’d have her stay still with his cock buried in her after he came.

Back then, she just thought he was being weird and pervy. And in a way she was right.

Horribly fucking right.

Shigaraki shifted his legs away from her so that he could bring his head down to her lap, laying his cheek blissfully against her belly.

“Was so easy,” he hummed against her skin, “Like your body was just waiting for me to knock you up. Waiting for me to make you mine…”

His hands moved across her body, one coiling behind her back so that he could pull her tighter into him, the other lacing his fingers through her own. The fingers on her trembling left hand.

“Both of you, forever,” he growled happily, a predator who had finally and definitively sunk his teeth into his prey, “All mine.”

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worldly-fluster · 5 months ago

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The LADS boys...when you go 'missing'???

(angst with some comedy cause it's fun)

So the plot is: you get tired of being near people, get overwhelmed and overstimulated so you need a bit to yourself...well you forgot to tell a certain someone you went MIA. He...panics? I don't think that's the right word for what he does.

Sylus(featuring the twins), Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel

ALSO-None of you are dating yet in any of these I write. Unless I specifically say so anyway. Lil note at bottom too lol

Sylus-

•So. He is definitely not panicking.

•He sooo knows where you are.

•He tells himself anyway.

•Only to realize that you weren't where he thought you were.

•You were supposed to be at one of his bunkers- your favorite bunker that he has in his possession. He even saw you go in there!

•But you aren't there?!

•The only way you could have left his/Mephisto's sight was if you literally disappeared. Like, poof Lola's gone.

•He looked everywhere in that place for you but he couldn't find a clue so he branched out.

•Poor Mephisto...his poor little wings, having to fly around like a, well, Chicken with its head cut off.

•It was actually a whole TWO days until he remembered that the twins existed and he could get their help.

•They were gone too??

•So, time skip until almost a week- 5 days, 8 hours and 37 seconds on the dot- he wasn't counting- go by and he gets a call from the twins.

•Apparently, they walked in on you having a breakdown and when you asked them for help to get you away from everything for a bit, they couldn't say 'no'.

•And all three of you completely forgot to tell the big boss man. Actually legitimately did forget.

•The twins were panicking about your well-being that they forgot about Sylus until you said you were okay enough to go back.

•lets just say, he was not pleased.

•All three of you- more like the twins only, he couldn't stay mad at you- were 'grounded' until he said so.

Xavier-

•He didn't really think much of you being gone at first, he just figured Jenna sent you on another mission by yourself again. The third time that week.

•Yeah he was worried, but he only got really worried when he asked Tara about it and she said you went on leave.

•He almost immediately signed for his own leave.

•He tried calling, texting, everything. But you didn't answer so he thought the worst.

•Where was his little teddy bear?

•he tried your apartment- he teleported into it and no it wasn't trespassing, he was checking on a friend. What do you take him for? A criminal??

•he tried all your favorite shops, cafe's and even asked Zayne, your doctor, whom had no idea about this but we'll get to his reaction later.

•it was barely two days until he found you.

•at a cat Cafe/bed and breakfast that you told him about in passing a few weeks before.

•He remembered it only because he remembered you were wearing that cute little blue blouse he got you for your birthday a month ago while telling him and he saw someone wearing something similar to it while he was pani-sorry, calmly looking for you.

•Oh he pouted.

•he whined.

•he almost cried.

•so a few head pats and apologies later he was docile and telling you not to do that again, without him anyway.

•he didn't think to ask Jenna about your whereabouts, she knew where you were going the whole time.

Zayne-

•He only realized something was wrong when Xavier popped in asking where you were. Saying he couldn't find you.

•Zayne thinking rationally, first tried to contact you.

•because who would ever ignore their doctor?

•...wait no, you have done that.

•Panic.

•has his own mental breakdown for a few minutes then immediately goes home because life is too much and he needs a bit.

•...why did he find you cuddled in his bed with all the plushies you have given him.

•you're gonna be the death of him, he swears.

Rafayel-

•He noticed immediately.

•boy texts you every other minute because he's bored. Wether it's a meme of a fish or about how sharks eat for free. In this economy?? He thinks not.

•so when you don't text back the normal 'k' within 2 minutes, he calls Thomas to inform him that the assassin sea urchins finally got you and are now after him.

•on a serious note, he is ✨ panicking ✨

•you are officially 'missing' for about a day and a half when he finally gets a message back from you.

•he ignores all messages and calls from you until he sees you in person.

•acts like he doesn't know you but then his act quickly falls apart as he starts whining about it being more than 800 years and something about the assassin urchins being back, crabs wanting vengeance and how barnacles are the new currency of the new age.

•Just text him next time you want a long vacation from everything. He knows the best spots.

##So I might actually write out these things at some point when my brain starts working correctly, who knows when that will happen lol##

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #zayne love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace

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floralcyanidee · 2 years ago

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ᴛʀɪᴘʟᴇ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ

Bruce Wayne x Reader x Jonathan Crane (NSFW)

When you notice Dr. Jonathan Crane watching you and your husband at a fundraising party, you get a little curious. When Dr. Crane angers you, he presses you to explore that anger. Will he regret it?

warnings: smut, nipple play, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (both vaginal and anal), oral sex, cock warming, anal sex, anal fingering, blowjobs, dirty talk, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, porn without much plot, masturbation, forced masturbation, threesome, male x male, male x female, male x male x female, cum swallowing, spitting, face sitting, face fucking, crying, sub/dom tones, dom!reader, sub!jonathan, kinda sub!bruce but not really, ya know, just pure filth

word count: 5254

author’s note: welcome to our one-way ticket to hell besties <3 I didn't proofread this because it just poured out of me and I was truly possessed by the writing demon today. I had an idea and literally ran with it. I don't think I've ever written something so filthy before lol please enjoy and give feedback!! READ THE WARNINGS this fic isn't for everyone tbh.

main masterlist | cillian murphy masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

MOODBOARD FOR THIS FIC

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

One thing about being married to the Bruce Wayne was he had a thing for throwing parties and fundraisers at your mansion. This meant you had to dress up quite a bit, and you had to look really good as you were Bruce’s wife, of course. He always ensured you had the newest and most gorgeous gowns to show off at the gatherings. You’d spend the whole day getting your hair, makeup, and nails done, only to be at the parties for a few hours. And that was usually because Bruce had other duties in the city, he got too distracted by what you were wearing and needed you right then, or he simply let his antisocial side creep up on him. Tonight at the fundraiser he’s throwing, he seems content and has been by your side most of the night. Nothing drastic was going on in the city that demanded his action. But something was bothering him, you could tell. He’s slightly off, and you catch him staring at someone in the crowd a few times. You’re never able to pick them out, though.

You and Bruce are by the champagne table, and you notice Bruce is gazing out into the crowd of partygoers again.

“Bruce?” you ask softly, putting a hand on his bicep, “You alright?”

Bruce blinks hard a few times before turning to you, “I’m fine, darling.”

“You sure? You seem distracted by something this evening,” you scan the room, but to no avail for whomever Bruce is focused on.

“I just thought I recognized someone,” Bruce says, sipping his drink.

“Hmm. Alright, then.”

“Have I told you that you look beautiful tonight?” Bruce smiles, letting a hand slide across the small of your back.

“Only about a thousand times,” you giggle, leaning into your husband.

You happen to look up, and that’s when you see him staring at the two of you. Dr. Jonathan Crane. He quickly averts his eyes away, but you have already caught him.

“Is it Dr. Crane that you recognize?” you ask Bruce, motioning to where he’s standing with some other rich psychologists.

“Yeah,” Bruce exhales, shrugging, “I thought he had left the city a while ago.”

“After the asylum got turned loose? I figured so, too. Oh well,” you say, looking up at Bruce, “If he’s here, then he’s donating, so maybe it’s not so bad.”

“You have a point,” Bruce raises his eyebrows, “I’m still keeping an eye on him, though.”

You knew of a few of the villains Bruce has come in contact with, including Jonathan. He had almost killed your best friend and sent the whole city insane. Who knows what would have happened to Gotham if it weren't for Bruce. But a part of you is curious about Jonathan- a deep, intellectual part of you. Why is he still here? Is he still a doctor? Your brain becomes dizzy with all the questions. If Jonathan is here acting casually on his own accord, you could, too. You tear away from Bruce without a word, drink in hand. Bruce calls after you, panic surging through him when he realizes where you’re headed.

“Dr. Crane,” you smile upon arriving in front of him and another psychologist, “Wonderful to see you here.”

“Ah, Mrs. Wayne. I wouldn’t miss a marvelous party for a good cause. Have you met Dr. Robin here?” Jonathan smiles back, not missing a single beat.

“I have not,” you look over to the tall woman in front of Jonathan, clad in a pantsuit. You reach out a hand for her to shake, “Y/N Wayne.”

“I know who you are, Mrs. Wayne,” Dr. Robin says politely, her Australian accent strong, “Your dress is quite lovely, I must say.”

“Thank you,” you reply with a smile, willing her to leave so you could speak with Jonathan alone.

“Well, I’ll be off. Seems you two have something to discuss,” Dr. Robin announces her departure, much to your relief.

“It was nice meeting you,” you say sweetly as she walks away.

“You as well, Mrs. Wayne.”

You turn to Jonathan, who clears his throat as he looks you up and down. You’re nearly the same height as him, if not slightly taller, in your heels.

“It’s really brave of you to be here, Dr. Crane,” you turn your head to the side, giving him a closed-lip smile.

“Please, call me Jonathan,” Jonathan responds, “And what would you mean by that?”

You take a step closer to him, leaning into his ear, “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Jonathan. Or should I say, Mr. Scarecrow.”

Jonathan doesn’t flinch. In fact, he grins at you as he exhales a laugh, “Those days are behind me, I’m afraid.”

“Uh-huh,” you cross your arms, “And why should I believe you?”

Jonathan glances behind you to look at Bruce, who is on edge and watching the entire conversation to ensure nothing is tried. A muscle in Jonathan’s jaw twitches, “You don’t have to. But if I were up to no good, why would I be in the presence of the Batman and his lover? Quite unintelligent, wouldn’t you think?”

“And why are you here, exactly?”

“Trying to get myself back into the Gotham scene,” Jonathan looks at you matter-of-factly, “I’ve missed a lot being gone, you know.”

“Oh, I do know. And maybe you should’ve stayed gone,” you try not to snarl at him.

“Now, now, Mrs. Wayne. That is no way to speak to a donor,” Jonathan says, his voice dripping like honey with malice.

“You better be glad there are people around or-”

“Or what?” Jonathan asks, raising his eyebrows, a smirk itching at his lips.

“I’d fucking break you right here.”

“Sounds like a fun time. However, I’m not sure your husband would appreciate that in many, many ways.”

You scoff, “Don’t be crass. I’m not flirting with you. If I were, you’d know it.”

“There’s a fine line between desire and hatred, my dear,” Jonathan whispers in your ear, causing goosebumps to arise on your skin, “It’s a fun line to walk.”

Annoyance swells in your chest. You desperately wanted him to shut his bratty mouth. You also wanted to enjoy the rest of the party, but now that Jonathan had you riled up in anger, you wanted nothing more than to slam him against the wall and-

“Everything okay over here?” Bruce approaches suddenly, taking you by surprise.

“Everything is fine, sweetheart,” you place your hand on Bruce’s chest as a warning, “Nothing to worry about.”

“Dr. Crane isn’t bothering you, is he?” Bruce’s nostrils flare.

“Not at all,” you defend the doctor, “In fact, I’m probably annoying him.”

Bruce laughs humorlessly, “Oh, is that so?”

You cock your head at him, “Did you need something, dear?”

“Just want to speak with you privately,” Bruce says.

You go to say something, but Bruce interrupts you, “Both of you.”

If Jonathan is just as confused as you are, he doesn’t show it.

“Lead the way, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce walks briskly to one of the guest rooms down the hall from the ballroom, making sure no one is following or watching the three of you. He ushers you and Jonathan inside, following suit before closing the door behind him.

“You know,” Jonathan says, breaking the silence, “I never pegged Mrs. Wayne for the threatening type out of the two of you.”

You bite your tongue, and Bruce looks over at you.

“Say what you want to say. I brought the two of you in here so you could solve your conversation away from those nosy fuckers outside,” Bruce rolls his eyes, fixing his cuff links.

“We aren’t children, Bruce,” you scowl.

“Then act like it,” Bruce sasses back.

“I do not need two men on my bad side right now. Remember what happens when you’re on my bad side, Bruce?”

Bruce looks between you and Jonathan, a hint of nervousness in his eye, “Don’t bring him into this, darling.”

“No, no. I’m curious now,” Jonathan grins deviously, stepping closer to you, “What happens when someone is on your bad side, Mrs. Wayne?”

Now realizing how your words and threats may have sounded all night to Jonathan, you backpedal.

“Not what you think, Dr. Crane,” you cross your arms, taking a step back from the doctor.

“Oh really? So your antagonizing and threats don’t mean anything?”

“What do you think they mean?”

“As I said earlier, desire and hatred are very close to one another,” Jonathan says suavely, “And I honestly can’t tell which you feel toward me.”

You make a disgusted sound despite the growing need to pin this man down and give him what for. Not even sexually, but simply because you’re tired of him speaking. However, Jonathan wasn’t bad-looking by any means- and sometimes, you and Bruce liked to try new things. But you don’t think Bruce would want to fuck with a murderer and criminal, especially one he’s had close encounters within the city. Jonathan almost burned him alive once, so you aren’t sure about whatever he’s insinuating going very far with your husband.

“Hatred,” you spit, “It’s hatred. Plus,” you look over at Bruce, “I don’t think my lover would appreciate me having anything to do with you anyway.”

Jonathan snorts, his eyes flickering between you and your husband, “Are you so sure about that?”

You furrow your brow, laughing incredulously at him, “I’m certain.”

“I don’t know,” Bruce says suddenly, “I wouldn’t mind seeing the fucker squirm on your account, Y/N.”

You nearly gasped, suddenly very aware of the animosity you were aiming at Dr. Jonathan Crane, now becoming sexual in nature. Not that you meant for it to, but now that it was insinuated out loud by someone other than Jonathan, you pondered your true feelings. As you’ve said, Jonathan was a looker. If you weren’t married to Bruce and the man wasn’t psychotic, you wouldn’t mind taking him for a ride. But you are married, and he is psychotic.

Jonathan has his hands shoved in his pockets, a smirk on his face as he studies you, “You want this. Don’t deny it, Mrs. Wayne. I can tell by the look in your eyes.”

You purse your lips together, “What I want is for you to shut up and behave. All you do is act high and mighty when you’re nothing but a little rat.”

Bruce tries to hide his laugh by covering it with a cough, “I’ll let everyone know it’s time to leave. When I come back, you two better be taking care of things.”

You look at Bruce, who gives you a slight nod in approval to do as you wish before he steps out of the room. No one is in charge in the bedroom permanently between the two of you. The dominant role is shared or is back and forth, depending on the day. To your shock, Bruce gives you the complete reins in this situation. But Bruce knew how much you despised Dr. Crane for what he’s done, even if a part of you is desperately curious about him. Desperate enough to demean him sexually, even. You want to humiliate him. Make him cry and make him regret having even come here. You want him to think of you whenever he feels shame or embarrassment for the rest of his life.

“A little rat, huh?” Jonathan chuckles, undoing his cufflinks.

“Yes,” you blink, forcing him to walk backward to the bed as he struggles to remove his blazer.

You shove him roughly onto the bed, watching him bounce from the mattress with a look of disorientation. Jonathan eventually gets his blazer off, discarding it onto the floor. You can’t properly climb on the bed with your gown on, so you reach behind your back, undoing the clasps that hold the silver dress together. You kick off your glittery heels, letting the gown slip to the floor in a pile. Underneath your dress, you decided a black lingerie set would do nicely. You’re glad you picked well, considering such a doting man was now staring at you like you were a piece of meat and he was starving. You try to ignore the logical side of your brain telling you this man is dangerous and crazy. But the other side of your brain is telling you that his cock is definitely dangerous and crazy, too. And you wanted to find out for sure.

“Now,” you begin to crawl to where Jonathan wordlessly lays, watching you carefully, “Are you going to be good and keep your mouth shut, pretty boy?”

“No promises,” Jonathan flashes a toothy grin, and you angrily rip his button-up open, buttons flying everywhere across the room.

Jonathan’s mouth hangs open, “That was an expensive shirt.”

“Nothing you can’t replace,” you shrug, running your hands along Jonathan’s handsome chest before letting your nails graze his nipples.

Jonathan shudders at the feeling, and you remove your hands from him, sitting back on your heels, “Lay on the pillows.”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am,” Jonathan purrs, doing as told, surprisingly.

You hear the door open behind you, and you turn around quickly to see Bruce.

“Everyone is cleared out. Brought some fun stuff, too,” he places a box on the floor, kicking it to the end of the bed for you to grab it.

You lean down over the edge of the bed and retrieve the box, crawling on your knees to where Jonathan lies. You open the box and hum in satisfaction at Bruce’s choice of toys and trinkets. You fiddle with one toy, dragging your gaze to Jonathan with a wicked smile on your face. But before you reveal the toy, you snatch some rope out of the box.

“Now you have no choice but to be good, Dr. Crane,” you snicker, offering Bruce some of the rope to tie Jonathan’s left wrist to the bedpost with.

You tie Jonathan’s right wrist tight enough for him not to move too much but not enough to where blood flow is cut off. Jonathan tugs at the rope, looking at you and Bruce with a nervous yet exhilarating smile.

“I’m privileged to be living such a fantasy,” Jonathan sighs.

“You’ll be wishing you had never stepped foot in this house when she’s done with you,” Bruce smirks, unbuttoning his shirt cuffs and rolling his sleeves up.

“Ah,” Jonathan laughs.

Before he can comment any further, you shove a ball gag into his mouth, strapping it behind his head securely. A deep feeling of satisfaction to him finally being quiet fills you. But the joy of seeing such an evil man at your mercy is more intense.

“You better be glad I chose the ball gag instead of having Bruce have his way with that pretty mouth of yours, Crane,” you say, and Bruce shakes his head from where he stands beside the bed.

Drool begins seeping out of the sides of Jonathan’s mouth, and you can’t help but coo at the sight of his tightening pants and his reddening cheeks. You grab his face between your fingers, squishing his flesh. You hum in satisfaction before letting go of his face and focusing on his slacks. You all but tear his belt off his hips, hurrying to unbutton his pants before ripping them down his thighs. Bruce removes the pants the rest of the way as you climb onto Jonathan’s lap, your clothed core atop his throbbing, leaking bulge.

You kiss Jonathan’s jaw, leaving harsh bites along the column of his throat as you travel down, continuing your assault on the skin of his chest and torso. You reach the band of his underwear, which you tease with your hands, snapping the band against Jonathan’s skin. He tries his best to laugh from underneath the ball gag, spit sputtering from the gaps of his mouth. You slowly peel his underwear down his legs, watching as his hard cock slaps against his stomach. You let Bruce pull the underwear off completely, and he tosses it somewhere in the room to be found later. You lean down to lick the bead of precum off Jonathan's tip before pulling away completely, allowing Bruce the room to tie up the doctor’s ankles to the bottom bedposts. You stand at the foot of the bed, chuckling darkly as Jonathan struggles against the restraints.

“Not so powerful now, are you, Dr. Crane?” you laugh, knowing he didn’t like you calling him by his professional name, “You look so pathetic, lying there with your poor cock out for us to see. Bet you wish one of us would touch it for you, hmm?”

Jonathan stays silent, his eyes boring into yours as he yanks his arms, testing the rope’s strength. He realizes he truly can’t move or speak and that he’s entirely at you and Bruce’s mercy. Not the worst position to be in, Jonathan thinks.

“Which of us should do the honors?” you ask Bruce, a playful smile on your face.

It isn’t often Bruce gets to mess with the other man during your experimental sexual encounters. Still, you figure this is personal enough for him to want to be involved.

“You can take this one. I’ve got other plans,” Bruce says, smirking deviously.

“Oh really?” you grin, “I’m excited to see those.”

You climb back on the bed, moving toward Jonathan’s lap, where his weeping cock is getting redder by the second. Grabbing the base of it, you move it forward enough for it to meet your lips. You lap your tongue on Jonathan’s tip, smearing the precum around before licking a stripe up his entire length. You pull away, letting his cock slap painfully against his stomach again. You harshly grip Jonathan’s balls, causing him to cry out muffled. You massage them as you take his length into your mouth, bobbing your head as you continue to take him in entirely. You press your breasts into the bed, letting your ass be exposed for Bruce to take advantage of as you suck off Jonathan. Bruce wastes no time walking over to you, letting his hands run over your asscheeks before he pulls your pretty black underwear off. Bruce dips his head down to flatten his tongue against your wet slit, gathering your arousal as he swirls it around your cunt. You moan around Jonathan’s cock, causing him to twitch.

“God, I love this pussy,” Bruce pants against you, “Too bad you can’t get a taste, Crane.”

You peer your eyes up to Jonathan’s, his icy blue eyes now dark from his blown pupils. He’s glaring at Bruce, trying to regulate his breathing as his tip hits the back of your throat. Jonathan’s eyes roll into the back of his head as you fuck him with your mouth, letting his cock slam into your throat. Jonathan tries to thrust into your mouth, but you push his hips down against the mattress. You’re slobbering, and tears are streaming down your face as you take his length as much as you can, wanting him to get as close to cumming as possible. Bruce sucks your clit harshly, letting two fingers slip into your wet pussy. You groan, the vibrations sending Jonathan batty. You feel him getting close, and you blindly fumble around for the box of toys that still remains on the bed somewhere. You find it, pulling off Jonthan’s cock as it twitches uncontrollably. He growls as you find the toy you were looking for. You give Jonathan a few pumps, gripping his length as tight as you can, watching as the precum helplessly spills from him. Before Jonathan can react or cum, you slip a cock ring onto him, sliding it down to his base. He cries out from behind the ball gag, his chest heaving. You lay your head on his thigh, watching as his cock turns bright red. Bruce continues to eat you out, his teeth brushing against your clit occasionally, causing you to moan. Your breath hits Jonathan’s angry length, making him shiver. You look him in the eyes as Bruce adds a third finger, fucking into your g spot harshly as he bites at your bundle of nerves. You maintain eye contact with Jonathan as you cum, letting your nails dig into the soft flesh on his thighs.

“Lucky for me,” you trace Jonathan’s tip teasingly with your finger, catching your breath, “I get to cum as much as I want.”

Jonathan stares at you without making a sound, focusing on his breathing so he doesn’t explode into a fine mist from the overstimulation.

“Now it’s your turn since you’ve been a good boy,” you remove the ball gag from Jonathan’s mouth, licking up his spit from his lips before he can lick it off himself.

“Open your mouth,” you demand, and Jonathan does as told.

You gather his and your saliva in your mouth before spitting it onto his tongue.

“Now show me how good you are at eating pussy, Dr. Crane.”

You flip yourself around, hovering over Jonathan’s face as you slowly remove the cock ring. Bruce removes his button-up, laying down between Jonathan’s spread legs. Jonathan lets out a strangled cry at the feeling of Bruce’s hot mouth on his sensitive cock. You push your pulsing cunt onto Jonathan’s face, to which he happily starts lapping hungrily. You watch as Bruce hollows his cheeks around Jonathan, and the sight alone makes you even wetter than before.

“Fuck,” you mutter, Bruce’s eyes meeting yours.

You rock your hips against Jonathan’s tongue, urging him to continue. Jonathan wishes he could bury his fingers in your cunt, but he settles for his tongue instead. Twisting and pushing it inside you, he uses his nose to press against your clit, shaking his head. You grip Jonathan’s hair, cursing at the feeling of his tongue dragging in your walls and his nose flicking your bundle of nerves. You grasp your barely clothed breasts, letting your thumbs play with your nipples through the thin lace. Bruce moans around Jonathan while watching you, letting Jonathan fuck into his throat.

“Wanna cum, you piece of shit?” Bruce pulls off Jonathan, who gasps a ‘yes,’ “Be careful what you ask for,” Bruce chuckles.

You plan on milking the doctor for all he’s got all night. You want him spent and begging for mercy. Anything to make him miserable.

Bruce takes Jonathan back into his mouth, bobbing up and down quickly and stroking what he won’t take into his mouth. Bruce allows Jonathan to buck his hips into his face. Jonathan lets out a pitiful cry as he cums in your husband’s mouth, white-hot spurts of seed shooting down Bruce’s throat. You feel Jonathan roll your clit between his teeth before sucking it between his lips as he rides his high. You growl, letting your self-control go out the window. You chase your own high, letting Jonathan torture and tease your bundle of nerves with his tongue and teeth until you finally release in his mouth. Jonathan slurps and suckles every drop of your arousal from your cunt, licking until you pull off him.

“Lucky for you,” you pant, beginning to untie the rope bound to Jonathan’s wrists, “This next part requires your cooperation. Promise you’ll behave?”

“Yes, Mrs. Wayne,” Jonathan nods.

You let Bruce finish untying the doctor as you discard your bra. You instruct Jonathan to move to the side, allowing you to lie down in his place. You demand that Jonathan climb on top of you. he does as told, and Bruce roughly pushes Jonthan’s face into your chest. You laugh at Bruce’s typical roughness, especially when it makes Jonathan look flustered. His ass is now in the air, revealed to Bruce.

“Have you ever been fucked in the ass like a good boy?” you ask Jonathan, your fingers in his hair.

He doesn’t look at you or respond.

“I’m asking you a question, Jonathaaan,” you say threateningly, your fingers now gripping his hair harshly as you lift his head for him to look at you.

“No,” Jonathan says breathlessly.

“Well, that’s about to change,” you say, “Any regrets about being smart-mouthed to me yet, Dr. Crane?”

Jonathan glares at you, panting as Bruce spreads his ass apart, “Not yet.”

“Good,” you smile, letting his head drop abc to your chest, “Now obey me and show me how much you’re enjoying this.”

You move Jonathan’s face, maneuvering his mouth to your hardened and sensitive nipple. Bruce takes some lube from the box he brought, smearing it against his fingers before teasing Jonathan’s asshole with the tip of his index finger. Jonathan keens around you, his body beginning to shake as Bruce slowly pushes a finger inside him. Jonathan sucks harshly on your nipple, gasping as your husband wiggles his finger inside his tight ass. He laps at your bud, focusing on trying to please you and taking Bruce’s long finger simultaneously. A second finger is added, stretching Jonathan further. The doctor lets out a sharp groan at the delectable burn. He attacks your other breast, letting his finger circle around the one he was just attached to. Bruce prods a third finger into Jonathan, and he lurches forward from the feeling of fullness.

“If you think you’re full now, just wait for Bruce’s fat cock, baby boy,” you taunt.

Bruce twists and curls his fingers inside Jonathan, doing his best to prep him for his unforgiving length. When he pulls his hand away, Jonathan gasps from the sudden emptiness. Bruce spreads his ass apart again, his slacks and underwear now discarded as his hardened cock pressed against Joanthan’s gaping hole. Jonathan whimpers around your nipple, pausing momentarily as Bruce slides himself into Jonathan.

“Fuck,” Jonathan shudders.

“You can stop now. I need you elsewhere,” you pull Jonathan’s head off your breasts, sneaking your hand between the two of you to his newly hardened cock, stroking it in your hand in time for Bruce to bottom out.

Jonathan whines, collapsing on your torso as the air leaves him.

“Tapped out already?” you pout, sticking your bottom lip out at Jonathan when you lift his head by his hair again, “Too fucking bad.”

Bruce then pulls out of Jonathan almost all the way before slamming back into him, his tip brushing against Jonathan’s prostate. Jonathan screams as you guide his cock between your slick folds, his body overstimulated. You let Jonathan weakly push his length inside your soaking cunt, your walls enveloping him immediately. Bruce wraps an arm around Jonathan’s chest, anchoring himself to the doctor. His other hand grips Jonathan’s hip with intensity. The feeling of Bruce pounding into Jonathan’s tight little ass affects you directly as Jonathan pushes deeper inside you every time Bruce thrusts into him. Soon, a rhythm is established, and you’re nearly in tears from pleasure as you watch Jonathan become a withering, crying mess underneath Bruce.

“Doing so good taking Bruce’s huge cock,” you praise Jonathan, bucking your hips with his every time he involuntarily moves forward, “You could at least try a little harder to fuck me like you want to, though.”

Jonathan’s forehead is teeming with sweat as he struggles to actually thrust into you while Bruce fucks into his prostate. You give him the benefit of the doubt- the first time getting fucked in the ass is intense. So you rock and swivel your hips on Jonathan’s cock roughly, letting him reach up to grab your breasts for leverage. He pinches your nipples, twisting them hard, sending electricity to your cunt. You pulse around Jonathan’s length, causing him to grunt miserably. Bruce’s hips are slapping onto Jonathan’s asscheeks loudly, and Jonathan’s cock twitches pitifully inside you.

“Cum, sweet thing,” you coax Jonathan, whose hair has long since lost its gel hold and has begun flopping into his face, “Cum inside me.”

Jonathan starts fucking into you the best he can, tears streaming down his face as he cums, a hoarse scream leaving his throat. Bruce is still fucking him without mercy, and you let Jonathan’s soft cock remain inside you as he whimpers helplessly, his hands gripping your sides.

“That’s it,” you praise him gently, “Let Batman fuck you silly like you deserve.”

Jonathan peers up at you, giving you the dirtiest look he can muster as you cackle, Bruce grunting as he cums inside Jonthan’s ass and on his back.

“Christ,” Bruce sighs, pushing his hair from his face as he winces, pulling out of Jonathan’s quivering asshole.

Jonathan collapses on top of you in a mess of sweat, tears, and cum. You let him catch his breath before sliding out from under him.

“One last thing, sweetie,” you say, your tone sugary, “Sit up on the bed for us.”

Jonathan weakly pushes himself up, flipping onto his back and laying his head on the pillows.

“Touch yourself,” you demand, sitting on your knees at the end of the bed beside Bruce, “I want you to cum until you can’t cum anymore.”

Jonathan opens his mouth to protest, but you motion for him to shush, to which he tiredly gives in. You dip your hand to your slick clit, swiping at it as Jonathan strokes his sensitive cock for you. Bruce watches you and Jonathan touch yourselves, unable to really get himself up again. He instead sits behind you, playing with your tits and rubbing his large hands on your hot, sticky skin. Bruce relishes in watching Jonathan fall apart as he looks away in embarrassment.

“Keep your eyes on me, Crane,” Bruce’s voice booms, making Jonathan jump.

Jonathan gulps, reluctantly keeping eye contact with Bruce as he bucks into his hand, moaning hoarsely as he gets close. He can’t help but think about how he was between the two of you, getting fucked by you and Bruce at the same time. With that, cum shoots from his overused cock onto his stomach, and he cries out in embarrassment when you demand he get off again.

You stay like that, letting Bruce replace your hand as you spread your legs further open to allow him to fuck you with his fingers. You bounce on them, moaning quietly as Jonathan fights to keep his eyes open, his wrist flicking to the best of his ability. The night goes on, and Jonathan eventually taps out, sobbing almost uncontrollably as he runs out of cum. You and Bruce give him time alone before slowly moving him to the shower, where you help him wash off. You and your husband also washed yourselves off, assisting Jonathan out of the shower when you were all done. He’s wrapped in a towel, wincing as he walks back to the bed and curls up under the covers. You follow suit, wrapping your arms around Jonathan and soothing him as he finally falls asleep. Bruce holds you from behind, sighing contently.

“Too bad it takes doing this to humble a villain,” Bruce jokes.

“And the fact I could help was exciting,” you chuckle, “I never get to fight criminals like you do.”

“Maybe you should. You’ve got the mouth for it. Your sass is unmatched,” Bruce buries his nose in your hair.

“Mmm, I think I’m good,” you say, stroking Jonathan’s hair out of his face, “One villain is enough for me, I think.”

You and Bruce quietly watch the evil, despicable fucker sleep soundly.

“Can we keep him?” you ask Bruce, to which he tries not to burst out laughing.

“So you can torture him more? Absolutely.”

“Awesome.”

taglist:

@sstar-ggirl @cillsmurphs @ldklollord @thecherrycocktail @dunklerkeks1611 @hllywdwhre @ecstaticforus @faelvz @ceruleanrainblues @yongi-lee @baizzhu @aporiasposts @hjmalmed @queenshelby @amanda08319 @naty-1001 @orijanko @raineeace @nela-cutie @cutexlr @flwrs4aust @langdons-slut @shynovelist @trixie23 @cillianbabe @slut4thebroken @mypoisonedvine @burnyouwithacigarettelighter @cranesbathtowel @arieslost @nefhertari @forgottenpeakywriter @llucky-llove @october-atoner @madlittlecriminal @ynisthatyou @starbxnny @darkmoviesquotespizza @newtsniffles

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snowysosturn · 7 months ago

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Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Part 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Finale

Pairing : Y/n x Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : MDNI, mentions of drugs, mentions of court, slight angst

Leaving the courthouse, I couldn’t shake the buzzing energy coursing through me. My feet moved faster than my brain, and before I knew it, I was on the subway. I didn’t need to think about where I was headed, I just knew I had to tell someone, and it had to be Willow. She’d understand better than anyone. After all, we had just talked about both Chris and Nate only a few days ago. The odds of bumping into Chris after reminiscing about him? Too weird.

I had Willow's live location on my phone and saw she was home. Perfect. No need for a warning text. I got off the subway and sped walked to her apartment in Beacon Hill and hurried up the steps, barely pausing to catch my breath before knocking. When she opened the door, her face lit up with curiosity.

“Oh hey! Everything alright?”

I stepped inside quickly, my heart still racing. “You’re not going to believe who I just ran into.”

Her eyes widened as she shut the door behind me. “Who?”

“Chris.” I said, my voice almost breathless.

“Wait, Chris Chris?” she asked, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Yes, that Chris.” I confirmed, and her jaw dropped.

“Oh my God! You have to tell me everything.”

We walked into her living room, as I spilled every detail of my courthouse encounter.

“I saw him at the courthouse. He was there for Nate, apparently, but Willow.. he looked so good."

Willow dropped onto the couch, her mouth open in disbelief. "Oh my god. What are the odds of that?"

"I know, right?" I said, feeling my face flush again. "We had a little catch up when we ran into eachother outside. Nothing serious, but I was dying inside the whole time. Then Nate showed up, and it got a little awkward, but Chris asked if we could hang out sometime."

She leaned forward, wide eyed. "And what did you say?"

"I said yes obviously, have you seen the man?"

"Well no.. no one has in years." Willow laughs. “What was Nate there for?”

“Uh something about over possession of weed, I should’ve been listening better but I was kind of in a state of shock.”

“Oh..bit of a red flag.. but you have to admit..” she said, grinning, “the universe is totally messing with you right now. We were just talking about him and now he’s asking you to hang out.”

“I know, it’s crazy.” I shook my head, still processing it all. “Speaking of listening better, I need to write a report on the court case today, can I stay here and do it?”

“Yeah of course,but can get takeout or something?” Willow suggests.

We spent the next hour gossiping, ordering pizza, and chatting about Chris, all while I tried to write my report. Our food arrived and the moment I closed over my laptop, my phone dinged. I instinctively glanced at the screen, and my heart skipped a beat.

It was an Instagram notification.

I checked it, and there it was – a message from Chris. I stared at the screen for a second, then gasped, my eyes widening in disbelief.

“What? What happened?” Willow asked, almost dropping the boxes of pizza.

I turned to her with a mix of shock and smugness, unable to hide my excitement. “It’s him.”

“No way.” She said dropping the boxes on the table and rushing over, peering at my phone. “What did he say?”

I read the message aloud. “He asked if we could plan a date.”

Willow squealed, nearly knocking over her drink. “You have to respond. Now.”

“I don’t want to seem desperate!” I protested. “Let me wait a few minutes. Just.. you know, play it cool.”

But Willow wasn’t having it. “Y/n, please. It’s Chris. The way you’ve gone on the last few days you’d think you’re yearning for the love of your life.”

Reluctantly, I typed out a reply, my fingers shaking slightly as I hit send. Almost instantly, my phone buzzed again with his response.

@christophersturniolo: Great! How about dinner at Woods Hill on Friday?

I glanced at Willow, my heart racing all over again. “He’s suggesting a fancy restaurant.”

“Of course he is” she said, a smirk on her lips. “You better say yes.”

I nodded, my mind spinning, and quickly agreed to the plan. A moment later, another message popped up, this time with his phone number.

@christophersturniolo : Text me your address on Friday, and I’ll pick you up.

I couldn’t believe how quickly this was happening. But as excited as I was, a small part of me couldn’t help but wonder... Woods Hill was a pretty fancy place, how was he affording something like that? I knew his family situation wasn’t great, but I couldn’t base it off that after all these years, I wondered what he was doing with himself now, but i’m sure i’d find out soon enough.

Friday came faster than I expected. I stood in front of the mirror, checking my reflection for what felt like the hundredth time. My outfit was simple but elegant – a blue grey two piece set, something that worked for a nice dinner but wasn’t too over the top. I wanted to look good, but not like I was trying too hard. My parents were out of town for the weekend, I was relieved I didn’t have to explain this whole “first date with a guy I haven’t seen in six years” situation.

After one last glance at my reflection, I texted Chris my address:

28 Glenland Rd, Brookline.

He replied almost immediately.

Chris S: On my way. See you soon!

I tried to stay calm, but my nerves were all over the place. What would we even talk about? How was he doing after all these years? Was this going to be awkward? I didn’t have much time to dwell on it because soon enough, I saw his car – a black Mercedes, pull up outside. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my purse and headed downstairs.

Chris was waiting outside, leaning casually against his car with that same confident smile. He looked good, almost too good.

“You look amazing.” he said, holding the car door open for me.

“Thanks” I smiled, feeling a little more at ease as I got in.

As we drove to Woods Hill, the conversation between Chris and me felt effortless, like slipping into a familiar rhythm. It wasn’t long before we were laughing about old memories from being teenagers, moments we hadn’t spoken about in years. I couldn’t help but glance over at him, the sound of his laughter making me feel nostalgic and.. something more. It was like time hadn’t passed at all, yet everything felt new.

But there was a shift in the air as we neared the restaurant. Woods Hill was upscale, the kind of place that required a reservation and wasn’t cheap. As much as I enjoyed his company, I couldn’t help but continue to wonder-how was he affording this? I debated whether to ask or let it slide.

Chris seemed to notice my silence as he pulled into the parking lot. “You okay?” he asked, shooting me a glance that was both teasing and concerned.

I smiled, trying to brush off the worry. “Yeah, it’s just.. you seem like you’re doing well for yourself” I said, keeping my tone light but curious.

His smile faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered, flashing me that same charming grin I remembered. “I’m getting by.”

There was something unspoken in his response, something that left a lingering question in the back of my mind. But I let it go for now. The valet took the car, and we headed inside.

Once seated, the ambiance hit me immediately. The restaurant was warm and intimate, with soft lighting and elegant decor that made it feel like we were the only two people there. I caught Chris’s eye across the table, and for a moment, it felt like time slowed down. There was something about the way he looked at me, like he was really seeing me, not just the girl he used to know but the woman I had become. It made my heart skip a beat.

The waiter came and took our orders, and as the quiet settled between us, Chris leaned in a little closer, his eyes never leaving mine. “So” he said, voice low and warm, “what are you doing in college? What’s the big plan for you?”

I couldn’t help but smile. He always had a way of making me feel like I was the only thing that mattered. “I’m studying law.”

His eyebrows shot up, genuine surprise lighting up his face. “Law? Really?”

“Yeah. It’s a lot, but I love it” I said, feeling a little rush of pride. “I want to help people, maybe work in criminal law eventually.”

He leaned back, his eyes locked on mine, so surprised it almost knocks the breath out of him. “Law.. I didn’t see that coming. But it suits you. You’ve always been sharp, and now you’re out here trying to change the world. That’s.. pretty amazing, Y/n.”

Hearing him say that made my heart flutter in a way I wasn’t expecting. His words were sincere, the admiration in his voice making me feel warm inside. The way my pulse quickened every time his gaze lingered on mine. It wasn’t just catching up with an old friend. It was something more.

“I don’t know about changing the world just yet” I said, laughing softly. “But I work in my mom’s bridal studio too, you know, gotta earn my own living.”

“Oh she still has that going? I remember you going in there to get money off her when we hung out one day.”

“Oh my god I remember that day so well! We went and sat on the grass in Public Garden for hours just chatting, so weird to think of how long ago that is now.. What do you do for work actually?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

Chris hesitated, just for a split second, but it was enough for me to notice. “I.. do some odd jobs here and there. Nothing major. Kind of like freelance”

“Oh that’s cool” I replied, not trying to look too deep into anything, even though alarm bells were going off in my mind. Maybe it would come with time where he opened up about his own life a bit more.

But in saying that, not too long after he told me he was still living in Somerville, but no longer with his family.

“I’m staying with my uncle now” he explained, sipping his drink. “Medford Street.”

I paused, the name ringing a bell. “Medford Street? That’s kind of a rough area, isn’t it?”

He shrugged, brushing it off. “Yeah, it’s not the nicest, but it works for now.”

I nodded, though something about his response didn’t sit right with me. The easy way he dismissed it, like he didn’t want to get into too much detail. There was more going on than he was letting on, but I didn’t push it. Not tonight.

As we continued talking, I felt myself softening toward him more and more. Every laugh, every shared memory seemed to pull us closer together. It was like we were both trying to pick up where we’d left off, but with this added intensity, like we were discovering each other all over again. And for some reason, it felt fast, like we were diving headfirst into something neither of us fully understood yet.

I pondered with the thought of asking him if he was seeing someone else, was this just a casual thing he does with girls or was there potential with this? Before the words could leave my mouth, Chris’ phone started to buzz on the table.

I froze, my eyes darting to his phone screen. Chris picked it up so fast that I couldn’t see the caller name properly, only that their name began with V. The only name beginning with V that came to mind was Vanessa. God, please don’t let him be entertaining other girls.

But Chris quickly silenced the phone, his easy smile returning as if nothing had happened. “Sorry about that” he said, brushing it off. “Just work.”

I wanted to ask more, but something in his tone made me stop. Instead, I smiled back, but my mind was racing. Who was this V person? And what was this “work” he kept mentioning? God is he a sex worker now or something? I’m not trying to jump to conclusions or anything but I’d rather just know.

Still, as the night wore on, it was hard to deny the pull between us. We laughed, we teased, and every time our eyes met, it felt like something electric passed between us. By the time we finished dinner, I felt more connected to Chris than I had in years, maybe more than I ever had before.

Chris’ phone rang again and he grabbed it immediatly and stood up. “I’m so sorry I have to take this.”

As Chris walked outside to take the call, leaving me alone at the table, a knot tightened in my stomach. I stared down at my half empty drink, stirring it absentmindedly. What had I gotten myself into? The evening had started so well, easy conversation, genuine laughter, but now, the air felt heavy with something unspoken. There was an edge to Chris, a shadow of something I couldn’t quite put my finger on, and the more I thought about it, the more uneasy I became.

When he returned, his expression was tense, his smile forced. I could see it in the way his shoulders hunched, the way his jaw tightened as he approached the table. “I’m really sorry, Y/n” he said, his voice strained. “I have to go take care of something. It’s work related.”

My heart sank. This wasn’t the carefree Chris I’d reconnected with earlier in the night. There was something off, and it was glaringly obvious now. I nodded, trying to keep my tone neutral, though disappointment raged through me like a thick fog. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah” he replied quickly, too quickly, his eyes avoiding mine. “Just a bit of chaos. I’ll drop you home.”

The drive back felt like a far cry from the laughter and comfort we’d shared earlier. A thick silence filled the car, and every so often, I would steal a glance at him, hoping for some kind of explanation. But he kept his eyes on the road, hands gripping the wheel a little too tightly. The lightheartedness, the connection from earlier, it was gone, replaced by an invisible wall between us.

I fiddled with the strap of my bag, my thoughts racing. Why wasn’t he telling me the truth? Whatever this “work” was, it had a hold on him, and for some reason, he didn’t think I could handle knowing what it was. The more I thought about it, the more upset I became. If this was going to work, if we were going to be anything, I needed more than half truths.

When we finally pulled up outside my house, I was desperate for the night to end, but part of me didn’t want to leave things this way. I reached into my bag, fumbling for my keys, only to realise they weren’t there. “Oh shit” I muttered under my breath. “I forgot my key, on my way out.. The door just automatically locks behind me and my parents are out of town.”

Chris offered a faint smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “No problem. I can wait until you figure something out.”

I glanced over at him, searching for any sign of the man I’d spent the evening with, the one who had made me laugh, who had seemed so familiar. But all I saw now was someone distant, someone keeping secrets. “Actually” I said slowly, an idea sparking in my mind, “I can climb up to my balcony through the treehouse. It’s.. kind of a weird setup, but it works.”

Chris raised an eyebrow, a genuine laugh escaping his lips this time, the tension easing just a bit. “I’ve gotta see this.”

We walked around the side of the house, and I led him to the old treehouse. The previous owners had built it for their kids, and it connected perfectly to the balcony outside my bedroom. The wood creaked as I climbed, feeling like I was a kid all over again. When I reached the top, I looked down at Chris, who stood below, arms crossed, watching with a bemused expression.

“See?” I called down, forcing a smile. “Easy.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Alright, I’m impressed.”

I lingered for a moment, leaning against the railing, wanting to say more but unsure of what. “Goodnight, Chris” I finally said, my voice soft.

“Goodnight, Y/n” he replied, his smile still faint but warmer than before. “I’ll text you.”

I nodded, turning away as I opened the door to my bedroom, thank god I’d a habit of keeping it unlocked, and into the safety of my room. The second I collapsed onto my bed, all the emotions I’d been hiding the last hour rushed to the surface. The excitement, the sparks from earlier, they were overshadowed by something darker now. That nagging feeling of disappointment sat heavy in my chest, pulling me down.

Chris was hiding something, something big. And as much as I wanted to ignore it, to brush off the unease gnawing at me, I couldn’t. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for the truth, but I knew one thing for certain. If we were going to fall for each other, this secret, whatever it was, would be standing in our way. And I wasn’t sure how much of it I could take.

a/n: "freelance" is hilarious to me lol

taglist: @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @lvrsturniolo @slutniolo @spaghetti835928383 @marrykisskilled @sturnsxplr-25 @bxtchboy69 @vickytaa

#snowy speaks #allies or affiliates?#dealer!chris #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #the sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo series

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cloudyluun · 18 days ago

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Like Hell You’d Tell Me No | PB fic

(tommyshelby x fem!reader – s2 era)

Summary: When Y/N gets sent to Birmingham for her own protection, the last thing she expects is to be dropped into the middle of Shelby territory, especially under the icy watch of one Thomas Shelby. But somehow, she keeps breaking his rules... and somehow, he lets her. Between unannounced office visits, drunken nights in his chair, and a new bestie in Ada Shelby, Y/N is stirring up more than just trouble. And when things start to heat up between her and Tommy, they might just find themselves caught in a moment that neither of them is quite ready for, yet.

A/N: okay so, I always write Harry (literally always), but while prepping for my internship I decided to finally watch Peaky Blinders... and now I’m unwell. Like, genuinely not okay. Tommy Shelby lives in my head rent-free and I can’t make him leave. 😭

So instead of lesson planning like a responsible adult, this little fic idea basically wrote itself at 1AM with Taylor Swift playing in the background lol. Not sure if I’ll continue this or if I’ll dabble in multiple fandoms, but I had fun writing it and wanted to share in case anyone else is also deep in their Peaky Blinders phase

Word Count: 4147

Warnings:

Light drinking

Mentions of past threats/harassment (non-graphic)

Protective/possessive behavior (from Tommy, ofc)

Language (it’s Peaky Blinders, there’s swearing lol)

Slow-burn tension and emotional build-up

Mentions of minor violence (one punch, classic Tommy move)

Unresolved romantic tension (aka cliffhanger ending 😌)

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Tommy just… stares.

The silence in the room stretched, thick as the smoke curling from his cigarette. Papers sat idle in front of him, ignored now. The man across the desk – some poor bastard talking percentages – had gone completely still, mouth half-open like he was about to continue his pitch until she appeared out of nowhere.

She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes scanning the room like she’d walked into a pub instead of the Shelby Company office. Young, maybe mid-twenties, wearing a travel-worn coat and scuffed boots. There was something in her look. Not arrogance. Just no fear. Like she'd met worse than a room full of Shelbys.

“Door was open,” she said again, tilting her head. “Didn’t think it was a problem.”

Arthur snorted behind her. “Bloody hell, she’s brave.”

Polly didn’t say a word, but the look on her face was a mix of amusement and caution. Always watching.

Tommy took a slow drag, tapped ash into the tray. “You must be Y/N.”

“Yeah,” she said, stepping in without being asked. “You must be Tommy, Thomas Shelby.”

“Bit early to be on first-name terms.”

“Bit late not to be,” she replied, dropping her bag by the wall like she belonged there. “You owe my brother a favor. I’m the favor.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. Not from her mouth. Not from anyone, really. But the message had come a few days ago, and he’d read it twice just to be sure. Michael Carter. They’d served together. Pulled him out of a trench once. Didn’t talk much after the war, but when a man like that writes and says his sister’s in trouble, you pay attention. You don’t say no.

“What kind of trouble?”

She shrugged. “The vague kind. London’s full of it. Wrong place, wrong time. Few names I shouldn’t have known, a few blokes who didn’t like me walking away.”

Tommy leaned back in his chair. “You running?”

“I’d call it more of a stroll,” she said. “Don’t worry. I didn’t bring much baggage.”

He looked at her. Really looked. She was tired but not broken. Something restless behind her eyes. There was a fight in her, the kind that either got people killed or made them dangerous friends. He wasn’t sure which yet.

“You’ll stay above the shop,” he said after a pause. “Spare room. Polly’ll take you up.”

Y/N glanced toward Polly, who gave a small nod.

Tommy picked up his pen again, glancing at the man across from him who’d gone completely pale. “Now, if we’re done with the interruptions–”

“I’ll get out of your hair,” she said, already walking off.

“Don’t wander.”

She turned in the doorway, gave a small smirk. “No promises.”

Polly followed her out a moment later, her heels sharp on the floorboards.

Arthur leaned in with a low whistle. “She’s got some fire, that one.”

Tommy didn’t answer. He was staring at the spot she’d been standing in. His jaw clenched as he exhaled smoke through his nose.

“She gonna be trouble?” Arthur asked.

“She already is,” Tommy said quietly, then went back to pretending to listen to the pitch in front of him.

Upstairs, Y/N was already sizing up the space. The spare room was clean enough. Not warm, but not cold either. Polly stood by the door, watching.

“You’re lucky,” Polly said finally. “He doesn’t like people in his office. Doesn’t like people full stop.”

Y/N looked around, then dropped onto the bed with a soft thump. “I’ll keep out of his way.” Polly gave a dry smile. “Let’s see how long that lasts.”

Downstairs, Tommy stubbed out his cigarette, but his hand hovered near the tin for another. He didn’t light it. Just sat there, staring at the door where she’d come in like a storm in worn boots and sharp words.

A favor owed, he thought. Just a favor.

But he already knew better.

The days that followed proved it. She didn’t just stay in the spare room. She moved through the betting shop like she’d always been there. Tommy had told himself he’d figure out what to do with her once things settled, once he had time. But time didn’t slow for the Shelbys. And she didn’t wait for permission.

“You know there’s a kettle in the back, right?” she asked one morning, walking into his office without knocking. Again. She set a chipped mug down on the desk like it was hers to do so. “You don’t have to drink your weight in whisky before noon.”

Tommy looked up slowly. “You bring tea to every man who gives you a place to sleep?”

“Only the grumpy ones,” she said, hands in the pockets of her skirt. “Which is lucky for you.”

He didn’t answer, just stared at the steam curling from the cup.

She lingered a second longer, then turned to leave. “Try not to scowl into it too hard. Might go bitter.”

That was the third time that week she’d barged in. Polly had stopped bothering to intervene. Arthur found it funny. John asked if she had a death wish.

Tommy just drank the tea.

It wasn’t that she was rude. She just didn’t care about the little rules. Rules like knocking before you enter a room that belongs to Thomas Shelby. Rules like not sitting in the man’s chair while drunk at the end of a long day.

Which she did.

It was Friday, the shop was quiet, and she had found the whisky in the cabinet behind the front desk. Arthur had offered her a glass earlier. She’d declined then. Hours later, she helped herself.

Tommy walked in to find her kicked back in his chair, legs tucked under her, nursing a glass. Her boots were off and resting on the floor beside her. She looked comfortable. Dangerous thing to be in his space.

“You’re in my chair,” he said.

She turned her head lazily. “Didn’t think you’d mind.”

He didn’t say anything. He looked at her for a moment, then walked to the other side of the room. Took off his coat, hung it up. Sat on the edge of the desk, lit a cigarette. The quiet filled the space between them.

“You always drink alone?” he asked finally.

“I wasn’t alone,” she said. “You came in.”

Arthur came by halfway through and nearly choked on his laughter. John followed, paused in the doorway, gave a long low whistle.

“She’s got some bloody nerve,” John said under his breath.

Tommy said nothing. Just exhaled a long stream of smoke and looked at the ceiling.

After a few minutes, she stood, wobbling just a bit, and set the glass down neatly on the desk.

“Thanks for not shouting,” she said. “It’s rare.”

He watched her as she walked out, barefoot, leaving the smell of whisky and some kind of sweet soap in her wake.

The door clicked shut.

Arthur leaned closer to Tommy after a beat. “You gonna let her get away with that?”

Tommy didn’t look at him. “She’s not doing any harm.”

John raised an eyebrow. “She was in your chair, brother.”

Tommy stubbed out his cigarette. “She’s not in it now.”

That was how it was. She floated in and out of the betting shop like smoke, slipping through the cracks no one else dared to touch. She was younger, yes. Full of jokes and sudden laughter. The kind that didn’t come from politeness but from deep inside, like she refused to let the world make her quiet.

He didn’t know what to make of her yet. But he noticed things. The way she talked to everyone. The way she read newspapers he hadn’t even opened yet. The way she knew how to patch a rip in her own coat with needle and thread without making a fuss. Like she’d done it a hundred times.

She didn’t belong here. Not really. But she was here. And the longer she stayed, the more it felt like a storm had rolled in and decided to settle.

He didn’t know what the hell he was going to do with her. But he knew sending her away wasn’t an option anymore. That thought sat in the back of his mind the night Arthur burst through his office door, out of breath and sweating.

“She’s at the Garrison,” he said. “Alone. Some bloke’s not takin’ the hint.”

Tommy didn’t say anything. He stood, grabbed his coat, and walked past Arthur without a word. His pace was calm, but his steps were hard. Each one louder than the last on the wooden stairs.

The Garrison wasn’t far, but it felt like miles. His hands curled into fists at his sides. Inside, the music was low and the laughter was higher than usual. A Friday night crowd. Voices blurred together until one stood out.

“Come on, sweetheart,” a man was saying. “Don’t be so bloody cold.”

Tommy moved through the crowd like smoke. He didn’t shove. Didn’t speak. Just walked until the man came into view. Broad-shouldered, older, drunk. Y/N was backed against the wall near the end of the bar, her arms crossed tight and chin lifted. She wasn’t scared, but she wasn’t laughing either.

“I said no,” she repeated, voice firm.

“And I said I don’t care,” the man replied, hand brushing against her arm again.

Tommy didn’t stop walking. The man didn’t see him coming. One second he was smirking, the next he was on the ground, nose caved in and blood gushing. No warning. No words.

The room went quiet.

Tommy didn’t look down. He turned to Y/N, who hadn’t moved. Her face had gone pale.

“Come on,” he said.

She followed him out into the street without arguing. The cold hit her hard, cutting through the whisky in her blood. They walked in silence for a few blocks, her footsteps uneven beside his. She hadn’t even grabbed her coat.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said finally.

He didn’t look at her. “Yes. I did.”

She shoved her hands into her pockets. “I could’ve handled it.”

“I’m sure,” he said, voice flat. “But, he touched you.”

She stopped walking. He stopped too, turning to face her.

“I don’t need a fucking bodyguard, Tommy.”

“No,” he said. “You need someone to keep you alive. That’s me now.”

She stared at him, jaw tight, but her voice cracked when she spoke again. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

He looked at her. Really looked. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair wind-blown, and her eyes shining in that way they did when she was holding too much in. She was trying to be tough, but her hands were shaking.

He stepped closer, calm now. “You all right?”

She looked away. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“It wasn’t the first time someone got too close.”

Tommy’s jaw clenched. His fingers flexed at his sides. He didn’t say what he wanted to say. That London was behind her, but its shadows were still clinging. That he should’ve never let her walk out alone. That the second he got word she was in danger, his heart had pounded like it hadn’t since France.

Instead, he took a breath and said, “Next time you go out, you take someone with you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Arthur? Polly?”

“Me,” he said. “Preferably.”

The silence stretched between them, and something shifted in her face. Not fear. Not defiance. Just something quieter.

“Right,” she said. “Okay.”

He nodded once, then turned and kept walking. She followed.

The streets of Birmingham were dark, damp, full of half-spoken threats. But she walked beside him like it was the safest place she’d ever been.

The next morning, Y/N sat cross-legged on the floor of the spare room, trying to make sense of the mess she called her belongings. Half-unpacked bags, a few folded letters, and a pair of boots still caked in city grime. She was tugging a comb through her hair when there was a knock on the door. “Mind if I come in?” came a voice.

Y/N turned to see a woman leaning in the doorway, lipstick perfect, hair pinned up tight like she meant business even on a quiet day. She looked familiar in that way all the Shelbys did.

“Ada, right?” Y/N said.

“That’s me. Figured it was about time we had a proper chat,” Ada replied, stepping in without waiting. “They’ve all been talking about you.”

“Yeah?” Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”

Ada grinned. “Only if you hate compliments wrapped in irritation.”

She handed over two cups of something that smelled strong enough to kick. Y/N took one with a grateful nod.

“Whiskey in the coffee?” Y/N asked.

“Bit of both. It’s the Shelby way.”

They sat near the window, legs stretched out, warmth settling into the space.

“You’re not like them,” Ada said after a moment. “Not from here. Not stuck in it like the rest of us.”

Y/N gave a little shrug. “London’s not exactly better.”

“No, but you’ve still got light in your eyes,” Ada said. “Most people around here have it beaten out of them by twenty.”

Y/N looked out the window. “I don’t know about light. I just don’t see the point in pretending everything’s always awful.”

Ada sipped from her cup. “That’s what I mean. You’re a bloody breath of fresh air. Especially among all these grumpy bastards.”

Y/N laughed. “Speak for yourself. You’re just as sharp.”

“I get it from my mother. And years of watching Tommy scowl at paperwork.”

At the mention of his name, Y/N glanced away, but Ada noticed. Of course she did.

“He’s different with you,” Ada said.

Y/N frowned. “Different how?”

Ada leaned in, smug. “Less growling. More… I don’t know. Breathing.”

“You’re making things up.”

“I’m not.” She pointed her cup at Y/N. “You’ve got him wrapped around your little finger, you know that?”

Y/N blinked, actually blinked, and then laughed into her drink. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on,” Ada said. “He doesn’t even let me in his office unannounced.”

Y/N bit her lip. “Maybe he’s just tired of telling me off.”

“No. That’s not it.” Ada gave her a long look. “He trusts you.”

There was a weight in those words Y/N hadn’t expected. She didn’t answer right away. Trust wasn’t something she’d had a lot of lately. It felt strange to even think about.

“He walked me home last night,” Y/N said quietly. “After a man at the Garrison got pushy.”

Ada nodded. “I heard. Arthur said Tommy didn’t say a word. Just broke the bloke’s nose and left.”

Y/N stared down into her mug. “He didn’t even look angry. That’s what got me.”

Ada tilted her head. “That’s worse, you know. Means he meant it.”

Y/N smiled faintly. “I know it’s just a favor, what he’s doing. Letting me stay. Letting me be here.”

Ada stood and stretched. “It started out that way, but i believe it has turned into more. That’s why it matters.”

She walked toward the door, then turned. “You’re good for him. Whether he admits it or not.”

Y/N stayed by the window after she left. The coffee had gone cold, but she held it anyway, hands wrapped around something solid.

Out in the street, she caught sight of Tommy crossing to the shop, coat pulled close, face unreadable as ever.

She watched him for a second too long. Then she looked away, heart skipping in a way she pretended not to notice.

By the time evening came, the betting shop had been cleared out, lanterns strung up, and Polly’s birthday turned into one of those Shelby nights that started quiet and always ended with someone singing out of tune. Y/N wasn’t much of a drinker, but it was hard to say no when John poured heavy and Polly kept pressing glasses into her hand with a look that said she’d take offense otherwise.

She’d laughed too hard, danced once with Ada, twice with Arthur, and ended up slipping out when her head started to spin and the voices all blurred into one. The music still floated through the floorboards when she made her way up the stairs and pushed open the office door.

She didn’t even bother with the lights. The soft glow from the hallway was enough. She crossed the room like it was muscle memory now and dropped into the chair behind the desk. His chair. She tucked one leg under herself and took a slow sip from the bottle she’d brought up.

The first sip burned. The second didn’t.

She leaned back and closed her eyes for a second, listening to the muffled laughter below, the distant clink of glasses. The door creaked after a few minutes. She didn’t open her eyes.

“Told you I like your chair,” she said lazily.

Tommy stepped inside and shut the door behind him. “You’ve got a habit.”

“I’ve got nowhere else that’s quiet,” she replied.

He walked across the room and sat on the edge of the desk, facing her. No coat, sleeves rolled just enough to show the edge of his tattoo. His tie was loose. He looked like he’d stopped pretending to be the man everyone thought he had to be.

She glanced at him and smiled faintly. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the party?”

He shrugged. “They won’t miss me for a few minutes.”

She tilted the bottle toward him. “Want some?”

“I’ve had enough.”

“Then keep me company.”

So he did. They sat in the kind of silence that had weight but no pressure. She traced a line in the wood grain of the desk with her finger, then spoke, soft and unguarded.

“Do you ever feel like you don’t belong anywhere?”

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze stayed on her face.

“I used to think London was it,” she went on. “Then everything went to shit. I came here thinking it’d be worse. But now I just feel stuck in between.”

She looked down. “And I hate feeling like a guest. Like I’m just waiting for someone to tell me it’s time to go.”

“You’re not a guest,” Tommy said.

“Then what am I?”

He didn’t flinch, but he didn’t answer either.

She looked at him, really looked. The way his eyes softened in moments like this, when no one else was around to see. How still he went when he let his guard down. Like it scared him more than war ever had.

“You don’t talk much,” she said.

“I say what needs saying.”

“Right.” She took another sip. “But you listen.”

Their eyes met. Her thumb brushed the side of the glass, and his fingers reached out absently to take it from her. Their hands touched – just a second – but it was enough to make her chest tighten.

He set the bottle down without breaking the gaze. Neither moved.

“Why are you always so calm?” she whispered.

“I’m not.”

His voice was low. Closer now. She hadn’t noticed how near he’d leaned until she could feel the warmth of him, the faint scent of tobacco and something colder underneath.

Her fingers curled around the arm of the chair.

His hand was resting near hers on the desk. Not quite touching. But close.

Too close. Not close enough.

The silence pulled tight between them. She wasn’t sure who was holding it there, but it felt deliberate, like something balanced on the edge of a blade.

She didn’t move her hand.

Tommy shifted closer, the worn fabric of his sleeve brushing hers. Her breath caught. He didn’t look at her yet, not directly – his eyes stayed on the papers scattered across the desk like they meant something. Like any of this was still about business.

“Don’t smoke in here,” she said quietly, not looking at him either.

“I’m not.”

“You were earlier. Without me.”

He didn’t argue. Just leaned back the slightest bit, the corner of his mouth twitching like he might smile, but didn’t. His voice stayed low.

“You always this jumpy around men, or just me?”

She turned her head. Met his eyes. “You always this full of yourself, or just with women who talk back?”

There was a flicker in his expression, something like approval, maybe amusement. Maybe something sharper underneath.

“Maybe I like women who talk back.”

“Maybe you like trouble.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth for the briefest second. “I’m in the business of it.”

That pull in her gut tightened. Her fingers curled harder around the arm of the chair, grounding herself. It wasn’t enough.

The room had gone quiet again, except for the tick of the clock on the mantel and the soft hum of music and voices seeping in from the hallway. The party still spun on without them, but here it felt like everything had narrowed to the space between their hands.

She turned slightly, just enough that her knee brushed his. She didn’t apologize. Neither did he.

“Thomas.”

He lifted his eyes again. That look he gave her made her forget what she was about to say. Or maybe she hadn’t planned to say anything at all.

He leaned in. Slowly, like he wanted her to see it coming. His breath was warm against her cheek, and there was that scent again – tobacco, sharp gin, and something colder. Something metallic, like the edge of a coin.

The air between them thickened. She could feel her pulse in her throat, in her fingertips.

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Is this the part where you kiss me, or tell me I’ve crossed a line?”

Tommy’s eyes darkened, his focus slipping to her lips, then back up. A slow smirk curved his mouth, not the cruel one he used in business, not the charming one he pulled out for show. This one was quieter. Closer to real.

He leaned in just a little more.

Then came the knock.

Three sharp raps on the doorframe.

“You two decent?”

Ada’s voice cut through the moment like a blade.

Y/N jerked back in her chair, heat rushing to her face as if she’d been caught doing something she hadn’t even done.

Tommy straightened slowly, not looking away from her. The smirk was gone. What replaced it was something harder to name. Something held tight behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” he called, not loud. “We’re decent.”

Ada poked her head in, grin wide, eyes darting between them. “Well, don’t let me interrupt whatever this was.”

“It was nothing,” Y/N said too quickly. She cleared her throat. “Just work.”

“Right.” Ada’s grin didn’t budge. “You’re missing the part where Finn tries to charm the Americans. It’s going about as well as you’d expect.”

Tommy gave a short nod. “We’ll be out soon.”

Ada raised a brow but didn’t push. “Suit yourselves.” She ducked out again.

The silence came back, heavier this time.

Y/N stood, smoothing her skirt like it might help her pretend nothing had happened. Nothing almost had.

Tommy watched her. Didn’t say anything at first.

She didn’t meet his eyes.

“I should–” she started.

“Go back to the party,” he said softly.

She looked at him then.

“We’ll finish this later.”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading, you’re a total angel! Don’t forget to like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! It means everything to me! 💖

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fucking blinders #peaky blinder headcanon #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x imagine

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screeching-bunny · 2 years ago

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may i request a yandere god/angel? The idea of something so pure..the one thing you have faith in is actually the thinkg keeping u trapped in their obsession bubble is so appealing to me. having no hope left anymore. just them <3

Yandere! God Hcs

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

🌟 Yandere! God embodies profound wisdom and possesses knowledge beyond mortal comprehension. They have a mysterious aura and speak in riddles, often challenging his followers to seek enlightenment and often confusing the hell out of them. He’s very unpredictable and playful. He finds joy in playful interactions and enjoys surprising their followers with unexpected twists while they worship him. He lives for drama and will one hundred percent mislead his followers.

🌟 Yandere! God is starstruck when he first sees you. He can’t believe that such a cutie is worshiping him and is such a devoted follower. Any prayer that you wish for, he immediately tries to make it become a reality. Since he’s an all powerful god, you can best believe that he will misuse his powers when it comes to you. What’s this? You met a cute guy at work and flirted with him? Well too bad he got struck by lightning five times and died on the spot. Truly unfortunately. He’ll do his best to isolate you from your friends and family. You’ll be so lost that the only thing you can do is just pray to him whenever you can. The thought of this has him kicking his feet up in the air and twirling his hair.

🌟 Yandere! God plans out exactly how and when you guys will finally meet in person. After watching you for many hours he wants this moment to be as perfect as possible. He makes sure to be as dramatic and extra as possible, revealing himself in a very flashy way. Some lightning here and there and some cool looking smoke for his entrance. One day your just praying to him and poof he’s out in front of you.

“WHAT THE— WHO ARE YOU?!?”

“Some people want to meet me, some people don’t believe me, and some people claim to be me. I am…?”

“OH MY GOSH YOU’RE BATMAN?!?!”

“Yes it is— WAIT NO!!!”

🌟 Yandere! God eventually stops speaking in riddles around you because of your inability to get the correct answer. It’s just the only way that he can communicate with you properly and have you understand what he’s saying. Don’t worry though he still loves you nonetheless even if you are a total airhead. He will, however, personally tutor you if it ever really comes down to it. He still speaks in riddles to everyone else but you.

🌟 Yandere! God enjoys watching you pray to him. You view him as someone to look up to and ask about life questions. He makes sure to manipulate you by giving you advice that causes you to become a social outcast to the rest of the world. Who needs friends or a lover when you have him? Whenever his servants hear him say these things to you they just side eye him. They don’t try to do anything about it though because there’s no stopping him when it comes to love.

🌟 Yandere! God uses his followers as entertainment. They’re like his own personal reality tv show that he can control whenever he wants. He loves dropping random things on them and watching them freak out about it. Do you remember the time when a bunch of archeologists dug up an ancient rock with diamonds around it? Yeah, that was his badly made art craft that he threw away years ago. Do you also remember that hurricane that nearly destroyed a country a few months ago? Yeah that was also him, he just accidentally sneezed in the wrong direction that day. His followers believe that anything he does has a meaning behind it. Those natural disasters that have been happening recently must be a test from him. When in reality it was just you messing around with the weather because you we bored.

🌟 Yandere! God would make a new flower and name it after you. His love for you is infinite and would like to spend all of eternity with you. When you first met him you thought that he was supposed to be a generous and pure being. It was because of this thought that you never really saw his advances towards you as romantic. You just brushed these thoughts off and thought you were crazy for even thinking this was. When he found out what you were thinking he nearly ripped his hair off.

🌟 Yandere! God uses the idea of enlightenment to forever trap you by his side. Ditch all the people that you once knew and live with him. This is the only way for you to reach your full potential. People are just vial and disgusting so just jump right into his arms. He’s honestly so good a gaslighting that you don’t even question him and just do exactly what he says. To him it’s almost comical but he couldn’t be prouder of you. If you ever tried to gaslight him it wouldn’t work. I mean you can’t out gaslight the original gaslighter. He was literally the blueprint.

🌟 Yandere! God is terrible at cooking. This is understandable because he is a god and doesn’t need to consume food in order to survive. You, however, do need it. He tries his best to cook food for you but whenever you eat his food you always get food poisoning and need to run to the toilet. He always looks so proud when handing you the dishes that he made that you don’t have the heart to tell him that you don’t want it. So you usually just suck it up and shove it right down your throat.

🌟 Yandere! God is aware that you are a mortal and will one day die. So he tries various ways to make you immortal whether you like it or not. The thought of you dying just pains him and he’d do anything to prevent it from happening. He would destroy and sacrifice the entire universe if it meant that you’d be safe with him. Being with him is so suffocating. He’s like a clingy dog that always bites for attention. There is honestly no quiet moment where you get to be alone in your own thoughts because he is always watching you.

#yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere oc #gn reader #yandere god

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holdmytesseract · 8 days ago

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daryl dixon x fem!reader

🪶 part one

warnings for this part: twd stuff? thirst - a lot, daryl has a man bun and is an absolute cutie patootie, swear words, teasing?, carol and daryl being best friends, cliffhanger?

word count: 3,5k

a/n: this lil' mini-series is based on this post @ellasdixon made. i actually just planned to write a thirst oneshot, but well... my writer brain decided there had to be way more plot, so... i hope y'all enjoy this!

a big shout-out goes to @fictive-sl0th for helping me along! oh, and @dixonsdarkelf , of course for your guidance with the poem!

disclaimer: a few lines in this are not mine. it's from the series, obviously. i just used them for the plot. masterlist 🪶 EoH Masterlist

LITRM Masterlist 🪶 Daryl Masterlist

The first time you had seen him was all those years ago, when he and his group 'raided' your camp for all the guns you possessed to fight the Saviors. He had been the one who tied your hands with that uncomfortable, scratchy rope. Daryl - like the woman with the katana addressed him - had been kneeling in front of you on the rough, earthy ground. One big, work-worn hand had captured your smaller ones around the wrists, while the other worked to wrap them up with the rope. His long chestnut brown curls had fallen into his face; preventing you from seeing his stunning blue eyes. He hadn't said much during the task at hand. Nothing but a few grunts. Your eyes had been stuck on him the entire time; entranced, stunned, enchanted.

It had been only a short encounter. A small touch. A fleeting moment - and yet you remembered everything. It was like engraved in your mind.

Now, Daryl stood merely a few yards away from you on the sandy underground of the beach in Oceanside - your home, so many years later. The memory from your first encounter was still vividly present, like you discovered. Sure, you had seen him before after you first saw him. Quite a few times actually, but most of the times only fleetingly. This... This was different.

The archer had passed you by with a soft touch on your arm and a 'Hey, Y/N, ya good?'. You wanted to answer him casually, but when your eyes met his and the wind carried his scent to you - a mix of smoke, leather and something earthy and musky, your mind went blank. Mostly. All you were able to think about was that damn moment all those years ago and suddenly crashed those warm, fuzzy feelings you had thought dead full force into you again.

Apparently had the crush you developed on the handsome archer never ceased. It had been just hidden; buried underneath a ton of other feelings.

You had barely managed to give him a proper answer; too overwhelmed by his sudden presence and the feelings running wild inside you. Now he was watching you (and everyone else) fighting off the walkers Jerry and Ezekiel released from that old shipping container to practice your fighting skills and test out different strategies. To say you had a hard time concentrating was an understatement. Your eyes were like glued to Daryl; unable to tear them away from him.

"Y/N?" Michonne's voice reached your ears and brain, but nobody was home at the moment. "Y/N. Hey, Y/N." Only when your friend grabbed your upper arm and gently shook you 'awake'. You blinked; focusing again and turned your head to face the woman. "Huh? What?" "Eyes up front, soldier. This is where it's at!" An uptight smile crossed your face as a reddish blush crept up your cheeks. "Uh, yeah, sorry, I just... I thought I saw something out there in the distance," you lied; referring to the ocean. You actually hated lying, but your brain just short-circuited in that very moment; not finding a different way out of this kinda embarrassing situation.

Michonne's eyes flickered over your face as if to analyze your reaction and expression. Then she turned her head up front again. A knowing smirk was on her face - unbeknownst to you. "Sure, Y/N, whatever you say."

It got only worse the following days from that point on. It seemed like everywhere you went, everywhere you looked, there was always Daryl. As if he was a ghost, haunting you. It wasn't your fault that you ended up sitting underneath a tree, which shielded you from the warm sun, your old notebook in hands and drawing the handsome archer working a few yards across from you. It was clearly his fault.

Well, at least now you had a... reason to constantly watch him. You just hoped that neither he, nor someone else noticed it. That's why you opted to 'hide' underneath that tree; providing you the perfect opportunity to fully indulge in the crush you harbored for him.

Most likely unbeknownst to him had chosen Daryl violence today - in your opinion. His old, kinda ragged brown jeans were still the same, sure, but they nevertheless didn't fail to accentuate certain... body parts as he moved around and helped Beatrice to fix that small boat with the leak. Therefore, that it was a quite warm day for Spring, he didn't wear that greyish black shirt he had worn yesterday, no, he wore a black one... With the sleeves ripped off - what caused his arms to be on full display. Logically. A perfect view on his tattoos. A perfect view on his bulging biceps. To say he had a pair of strong muscles was probably an understatement... Always carrying around a quite heavy crossbow was apparently showing. It was the first time you saw him with bare arms, and you positively had to swallow.

If you could, you would definitely take a bite out of those delicious arms. Just a small nibble.

The sweat glistening on those arms in the afternoon sun wasn't helping at all. If not, it made everything just worse. Just like the sweat on his chest - on which you caught a pretty good glimpse of as well, since the top two buttons were undone. Tanned skin - kudos to quite a few hot summers spent without sunscreen in the Georgia heat, adorned with a dark patch of chest hair curling over his pectorals and clinging to the slick skin there; leaving you thirsting for more.

Was there more underneath that shirt? A happy trail perhaps? Starting from just underneath his navel and leading straight over the softness of his stomach past his pelvis region straight to-

Your eyes widened as you caught yourself thinking this; a blush spreading over your cheeks. You quickly shook your head to try to get ahead of these... inappropriate thoughts.

But... Weren't all your thoughts kinda inappropriate at the moment?

Most likely, yes, and you definitely felt a bit bad for sexualizing him so hard, but you just couldn't help yourself. Your crush on the brave and selfless archer with his rough and tough edges but definitely with that heart of gold underneath the hard shell was beyond huge. Not that he'd ever feel the same way about you, but a girl could dream, right? Instead of acting on your feelings you chose to suffer in silence; afraid of making a fool out of yourself.

You sighed softly and gave his shirt on your drawing a last pencil stroke, before you redirected your attention back to Daryl; now focusing on his handsome face.

And you really thought things couldn't get worse, but like so often before you got proven wrong...

Those eyes... Those beautiful, breathtaking blue eyes... You were sure you could drown in them - and you wouldn't even complain if you did. It made you kinda sad that you just possessed a pencil to draw and not any colors. Such eyes deserved to be seen.

Daryl's beard hadn't changed much. Except that the fine hairs got a little bit more gray in them now - and you would lie if you said that it wasn't hot. His shoulder-length, chestnut brown hair hadn't changed as well; was still one of your favorite features of him.

Your hand which was literally glued to the sheet of paper on your lap seemed to work on its own accord, as you kept on drawing the handsome man. But suddenly, he stopped at his task at hand to rummage through the pockets of his pants. Once Daryl had found the object of desire, he did the unthinkable. It caused your eyes widen to the size of plates...

He tied his long curls together into a man bun.

Your jaw dropped; brain on the verge of collapsing. The man across you looked even prettier now - something you didn't think was possible. Until this very moment. It suited him to perfection. You had always thought his long hair to be sexy. But Daryl with a man bun was just devastatingly hot. You'd even go as far and say it was a panty dropper.

"You'll catch flies if you keep on staring at Daryl like that." The sudden voice urging to your ears from your left managed to burst the dreamy bubble around you. You blinked and quickly clapped your mouth shut again; head snapping into the direction of said voice. Michonne was standing beside you; arms crossed over her chest with a smirk on her lips. "W-What?" You squeaked, then quickly cleared your throat. "I-I wasn't staring. I was just... in thoughts," you stated; trying to somehow get out of this kinda embarrassing situation. "You weren't staring at him?" You shook your head, acting innocent like a well-behaved school girl. "No." The woman raised a suspicious eyebrow at you, but stayed quiet. Michonne just eyed you for a long moment in silence, "If you say so..." before she moved to sit down beside you. "What are you drawing?"

You instantly blushed; clutching your notebook against your chest. "Uh, nothing." "Nothing?" "Nothing important," you corrected and hoped Michonne would just buy your story and drop the topic, but deep down you knew that you blew your cover already at the very beginning of this conversation. Her smile widened. "Just Daryl, right?"

Well, shit.

Your silence was answer enough for the Alexandrian. "Show me? I won't laugh or judge you. Promise." You took a deep breath and looked at your friend, before hesitatingly handing your notebook over. Michonne's eyes scanned the paper; instantly widening. "Wow, Y/N, this... This is beautiful! Absolutely stunning."

A small smile spread on your face.

"Thanks..." The woman shook her head; still marveling at your art. "Amazing, truly..." She looked at the drawing for another moment, before handing the notebook back to you - and you really believed that you were off the hook now.

"You like him, don't you?"

Nope.

"W-Well, I-I-I...," you stammered; the reddish color returning to your cheeks. "Oh, you absolutely do," Michonne smirked, while you helplessly shrugged your shoulders. "H-He's a kind, cute guy..." "Yeah, you got it bad for Daryl," she giggled; placing a hand on your shoulder. "Why don't you tell him?"

Your eyes widened a second time.

"T-Tell him?! Are you out of your mind?!"

"Why?!" She chuckled. "Because he won't ever - not even in my wildest dreams reciprocate those feelings, Mich!" You exclaimed. "And I certainly don't plan to make a damn fool out of myself." You clapped your notebook shut and hugged it to your chest; resting your chin on your drawn up knees. The woman sitting beside you sighed. "Y/N... Life's too short for this bullshit. Every day could be our last, as hard as it sounds. We've got no time to 'think it over' or to 'wait another while'... Just do it. Tell him. Friends, family, hope and love is all we got those days. Thought you know that." With those words your friend stood up and left you alone again with your crush on the archer and those raging thoughts inside your head.

"Where is it... Where is it..." You mumbled under your breath as you rummaged through your stuff. You were on the search for your beloved notebook. You could've sworn that you placed it on your bedside table yesterday, but it wasn't there. It was nowhere, actually. Not on your bed or under the mattress. Neither in your backpack, nor in the box where your fishing gear and weapons were. It seemed like it just vanished - and you were close to losing it. This notebook meant so much to you. Held various memories, captured in the form of drawings and sometimes even poems. You didn't know what to do if you had truly lost it.

Frustrated, you made your way outside the hut; almost crashing into Cyndie. "Woah, Y/N, carefully." She was carrying a crate with fresh fish. "S-Sorry," you apologized instantly and rubbed your left upper arm. The leader of your group frowned. "Are you okay? You seem... absentminded and worried." "Yeah, I'm good. It's just... I can't find my notebook..." Cyndie knew how much value this plain little object had for you. "I'm sorry. I hope you'll find it again. Look around the camp. Perhaps you forgot it outside somewhere and somebody found it. I'll keep my eyes open, okay?" You smiled softly at her. "Thanks." Cyndie gave you a compassionate smile in return, then passed you by.

Following her advice, you started to search the camp. It just had to be here somewhere...

"Tara woulda been proud," Daryl stated, while walking side by side with Michonne through the bustling camp. "Mhm, hope so," answered the Alexandrian leader with a smile. "It's good to bring the kids also... Let 'em see the ocean for the first time." "Yeah, I know one idiot that woulda loved this." Michonne's smile even widened as she gently bumped Daryl's upper arm with her fist, causing the crossbow-wielding archer to smile as well.

The two friends kept walking in silence, before Michonne spoke up again. "Hey, what you got there?" She asked; noticing in the corner of her eyes the not very subtle book which peeked out of Daryl's back pocket of his jeans. "Oh, uh, tha'..." He reached behind to retrieve the item, "Found it underneath a tree." and handed it over to his friend. Michonne inspected the paperback sized book. Her eyes widened. She knew that book. It was yours. The conversation she had with you yesterday immediately flooded her brain again.

"Have you looked inside?" Daryl shrugged. "Nah, not really. Jus' flipped through the first few pages... Lotta drawings 'n some poems or sum'thin'." The woman smiled; unable to resist the urge to help you and Daryl along. Sometimes you had to push them into the right direction, right? "It belongs to Y/N," she said; turning her head to face her friend. "Yeah? Really? Didn't know she could draw like tha'... 'S real good." "Mhm... You should take a look at her last drawing," Michonne said; still smiling like a Cheshire cat. Daryl frowned. "Why? 'S her personal stuff. Been already snoopin' 'round too much." The Alexandrian leader stopped in her tracks to pat the archer's shoulder, "Do it. Trust me." before she walked away.

Daryl was quite confused about his friend's behavior. A frown stretched across his forehead. Nevertheless, did he decide to follow her advice and take a look at the last drawing. Once he reached said page, his eyes almost widened to the size of plates; jaw dropping. The drawing wasn't just anything or anyone, no... It was a drawing of him. A beautiful one at that. Very detailed and so realistic, as if you had taken a photograph of him. Just in black and white. The only color this piece of paper possessed was an oceanic blue. His eyes. The archer smiled softly; feeling honored that you'd draw him. He didn't question yet why. But then he noticed the small text written underneath the drawing...

'Your eyes so blue, just one view enough to sink and drown. Can only think of you etched into my mind like a tattoo. Is this what love feels like? Then never wake me up and let me wander in this dream of mine, too afraid to cross that line.'

The archer stared holes into the written poem; totally taken aback. He wasn't stupid. He knew what those words apparently meant - and they caused his brain to malfunction. A woman. Apparently in love. With him?! How was he supposed to react now? Clapping the notebook shut again, he quickly stowed it away in his back pocket again, before it got too real for the archer.

He carried the small item around with him for days. It almost felt like it was burning a hole into the fabric of his tattered jeans. It was always present in his mind. You were always present. It didn't help that he often saw you. Constantly. Everywhere he looked, there was always you. He knew he should give you the notebook back, but he was afraid. What was he supposed to say anyway? He just didn't know how to react or what to do. And when he left Oceanside with the others to return to Alexandria, Daryl felt utterly guilty. So guilty and so helpless, that he did the only thing his brain was telling him seemed right to do... Ask his best friend for help.

"I feel like there's a reason you took me on that hunting trip. Am I right?" Carol's voice urged to his ears from behind him. He swallowed. He should've know that the woman looked right through him. She knew him like the back of her hand. No wonder after all those years spent together in a apocalypse... "I can literally see the gears turning in your head, Daryl." He stopped; Carol coming to stand beside him, while Dog already trotted ahead. "So there is," she stated finally. "You gonna tell me or do you need another while to come around?" Daryl scoffed and shook his head, before he continued to walk. "Came out to hunt. Gonna do tha' first." A smile spread across Carol's cheeks, "Alright. Whatever you say, pookie." as she followed him and their animal friend.

About two hours later, the two of them sat around a little campfire they made; grilling a few of the fishes they had caught. "You're awfully quiet. More than usually," stated the gray haired woman after a long while of almost crushing silence. "Whatever it is that's on your mind, it must be bothering you a lot..."

It did. She wasn't wrong.

Daryl sighed. He came here to talk and he wanted to. It just didn't come easy to him. Things like that never did. Wordlessly, Daryl turned to rummage through his backpack and handed Carol your notebook. "Last drawing. Towards the end of the pages." His best friend gave him a curious but also questioning look, before she opened the book; skipping to the last drawing.

Like Daryl's before, Carol's eyes widened as well as she studied the page. Then she smiled. "I think someones got a huge crush on you." As if it wouldn't be obvious... "Let me guess who? 'Cause I think I know." The archer looked at the woman sitting beside him; leaned against the log with an almost shocked face. "Ya know?!" She nodded. "Y/N." Daryl's jaw dropped. "Wha'? How do ya know?" Carol chuckled. "Are you kidding me? It's obvious. Have you never noticed how she looked at you whenever the communities meet?" The clueless man blinked. "Of course you haven't..." Carol rolled her eyes but was still smiling. "That her notebook?" He nodded; swallowing hard and trying to find his voice again. "Found it... Quite a few weeks ago. Back when we were at Oceanside for tha' training..." "And you didn't give it back to her?" Daryl shook his head; chewing on the inside of his bottom lip and nervously fumbling with his fingers - and Carol knew. "You saw the drawing and now you don't know what to do, right?" Another nod, before a beat of silence passed between the two best friends - only the sound of the crickets and the crackling fire could be heard. "'S jus'... I dunno how... how to act on this. I've never..." He paused. "I've never thought someone could ever love me, ya know... Let alone a woman... 'M a stranger to all 'a this..."

Carol gave the man a compassionate smile; not judging her best friend and rather wanting to help. "Do you have feelings for Y/N?" Daryl thought for a moment, then merely shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno," he whispered; staring like hypnotized into the fire. "Okay, let me rephrase that question... What did you feel when you saw Y/N in Oceanside a few weeks back?" The archer thought again. He was trying. He really was. "Uh, happiness, I guess? Like... 'S always nice to see 'er. She's a kind woman." Carol nodded. "And what do you feel now when you think of her?"

Her best friend swallowed; the stone he had just found on the wooden ground beside him suddenly very interesting.

"Been lookin' at tha' drawing a lot... Been thinkin' 'bout her also a lot... 'S... I dunno. 'S like somebody handed me glasses 'n I see her different now tha' I wear 'em." Daryl paused. "When I think of 'er now, I... I think 'bout how, uh, great she is. 'N how... pretty. Feels like an itch in my, uh, stomach. A tickle or some flutter. Dunno how else to describe it." Carol smiled encouragingly at him. "That's good. Keep going. What else?" "Uh... Think my heart also beats, uh, faster. 'S like I've been runnin' a damn marathon or sum'thin'." "Mhm," the woman sitting beside him hummed. "Do you have the urge to see her? Talk to her? Be with her?" Daryl blushed; cheeks turning crimson. He nodded.

Carol's smile brightened, and she hooked her arm through his; patting the strong muscle. "Wha'?" The archer asked a bit confused.

"You're in love, Daryl."

🪶 part two

tags: @angelwings-crossbowstrings @belitoxx @fictive-sl0th @marvelcasey05 @loz-3 @whore4romance @stitchintimefan @bigbaldheadname @making-the-most-0f-it @erebus-et-eigengrau @km-ffluv @0-aubrie0 @sweetz1919 @mikaela-granger @secretsicanthideanymore @dilfdixon @txtttttttttttttt @dixons-sunshine @cakesandtom @mayday2007 @dixonsdarkelf @huntedmusicgardenn @ffsjustletmesleep @negansbestie

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon the walking dead #twd daryl #the walking dead #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon series #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #twd

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salmonballsss · 23 days ago

Text

The Violet Hour

(Chapter 4)

You are a young, awkward historian obsessed with the Salem witch trials. One name repeats through obscure documents: Agatha Harkness. She's not supposed to exist anymore. But when you find a book authored in her name and follow the trail to a remote New England town, you're met with a woman who looks nothing like she belongs in your century—and who wants absolutely nothing to do with you…

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: None yet.

So… it’s been a couple hours.

Or days?

Oh, who am I kidding.

Yeah.

Days.

You just couldn’t do it.

Come running back to Agatha’s house the very next day after finally meeting her? Please.

Then she’d just think you were clingy. Desperate. Some needy little grad student flinging herself back to her feet after one morsel of attention. One crumb of eye contact.

She was right.

You were like a lost puppy.

The past few days have been filled with aimless wandering around Hollow Wood — mostly the central part of town, which you’ve now memorized down to the cracks in the sidewalks and the smell of the bakery. You haven’t ventured out into the woods or the rural trails just yet.

Well… not until today.

You’d just finished getting a painfully late sandwich — 3 PM, because apparently time doesn’t exist anymore — and had slinked back into your hotel room. The place creeped you out at first, but it’s starting to grow on you.

Like mold.

Charming, quirky, historic mold.

The townsfolk are nice enough. A little nosy, a little bored. It’s got that classic small town energy — where everyone knows each other’s birthdays, breakups, and bowel movements. During your walks, you’ve strained your ears shamelessly eavesdropping on conversations, hoping—

No.

Begging.

To hear anything Agatha related.

But no dice. Not even a whisper. No mysterious woman in purple. No town legend. No nothing.

Maybe Billy was right. Maybe she is a dead ghost lady.

Maybe you wandered onto haunted land and Agatha’s just a projection.

A cursed mirage.

Maybe she died in a witch trial hundreds of years ago and now only appears to lonely sapphics with trust issues.

Pft. Yeah. Right.

You shake your head and pull your pants on, followed by your ever reliable Converse.

Today, you were going to one of the Salem Witch Trials sites Agatha mentioned during your “not an interview” interview.

It’s for research.

Academic integrity.

Totally.

You tried writing your thesis to kill time, but without your notebook, it’s like your brain has eaten itself and declared a strike. No notes, no quotes, no structure. Just you staring at a blinking cursor like it personally betrayed you.

You even flipped through every cursed channel on the ancient hotel TV — hoping for a history special, a documentary, anything related to Hollow Wood…

Nothing.

Of course.

You grab your bag and the replacement notebook you bought in town just two days ago. Though… you don’t think you’ll be using it much longer. Not once you get your hands back on your real notebook — the one in Agatha’s possession.

You sigh and head out of the hotel room, using the old brass key to lock it up. You'd scream if you lost anything else — or if something got stolen because you didn’t double-check the lock.

As you leave the hotel lobby, you pull your rain cover on. You’d made it a habit to check the weather every morning since meeting Agatha. You’ve learned Hollow Wood, much like back home in Washington, is the definition of weather-induced whiplash.

One minute it’s torrential rain and borderline hail. The next? Blue skies and a goddamn rainbow.

You make your way into town, passing by the shops you’ve already tourist-trapped and explored while procrastinating — instead of, you know, being a big girl and going to get your notebook back like an actual adult.

A few of the shops had actually been cute. You even bought a sweatshirt from one. Adorable. You’ve been bonding with retail therapy.

Eventually, you reach the edge of town. It’s sunny today, which you take as a personal gift from the gods — at least you won’t have to lug around a stupid umbrella while hiking through the woods like a history-obsessed Bigfoot.

Yes that was a Washington joke.

Once you reach the small ranger park just outside of town, you pass a few teens and adults lounging around, laughing and talking like normal people.

Maybe if you got Agatha to like you—

No!

No. Not going there.

You reach a rocky trail — the one you know leads to the rural land that houses one of the old Salem Witch Trial sites. Specifically, the cemetery.

Locals have mentioned it. A few of the braver teens trek up there to “prove something,” only to come back pale and tight lipped, refusing to talk about what they saw.

---

The trail is longer than you remember from Google Maps.

It winds through thick trees, moss draped branches, and enough uneven rocks to personally ntarget your ankles. You almost roll one twice, but you just mutter something about “historic suffering” and keep going.

Because this is research.

Real academic field work.

You’re out here touching grass — haunted grass — for the sake of your thesis. Your future PhD committee better give you a damn sticker for this.

It’s beautiful, though. The kind of eerie, untouched beauty that makes you forget you’re technically trespassing on possibly-cursed land. The forest is quiet. Not silent — there's the occasional bird, the crunch of your steps, the wind whispering like it knows things — but quiet in a way that feels intentional. Like the woods are watching.

And you're flattered, honestly.

You keep walking. Your bag bumps against your hip with each step, your replacement notebook tucked safely inside along with a bottle of water and a sad excuse for a granola bar you shoved in there earlier.

About twenty minutes in, you pause for a second to catch your breath. The trail’s gotten steeper — of course it has — and the canopy overhead is starting to thicken, casting everything in a soft green twilight.

Still no rain, though.

So far, so good.

You check your phone: 4:17 PM. You’ve got time. You’re making good pace. You take a quick swig of water, adjust your bag, and keep moving.

By the time you see the crooked wooden sign half-buried in ivy, your heart skips a beat — okay, two. One from exertion, and one from excitement.

Historic Salem Burial Site — 1 Mile Ahead

You grin. Like, full on nerdy grin.

This is it.

You can practically taste the dusty archives and ghost stories. You’re already imagining how you’ll word the next section of your thesis: A firsthand walk through early colonial terrain revealed the emotional residue embedded in the land itself…

Ugh. Beautiful.

You press on with renewed energy, practically skipping like some kind of Disney princess. If birds landed on your shoulders right now,you wouldn't even question it.

It’s almost 4:45 by the time the trees thin out and the forest floor begins to dip downward, the ground softening under your steps. There's a break in the brush, and just ahead — barely visible through the trees — you can see it.

The cemetery.

Or at least what's left of it.

Sunlight filters through the branches in dusty gold beams, and beyond them are the lopsided silhouettes of headstones. Cracked. Weathered. Old enough to make your chest flutter.

You stop just at the edge of the clearing, standing still. You’re panting a little, cheeks flushed from the hike, shoes muddy, hair probably sticking out in all the wrong directions. But none of that matters.

Because this is it.

This is history.

This is your thesis.

You slow your steps and take it in.

There are maybe twenty headstones in total, scattered unevenly across the clearing like bones half buried in the earth. Each one is slightly different — some tall and grim, others squat and mossy, leaning into the ground like they’ve been whispering secrets to it for centuries. A few are better maintained. One even has a stone offering bowl placed at the base, half filled with rainwater and a decaying daisy. Others are so eroded you can’t even make out the names, just the crumbling shapes of letters long swallowed by time.

You walk carefully, mindful of where your feet land. This is rural land. Old land. Sacred in a way no church could ever replicate.

And your mind — oh, your mind is doing somersaults.

You’d done it. You made it. All it took was a dozen archival rabbit holes, and a woman named Agatha who you’re still not entirely sure exists on the same plane of reality as you. All because you read her book…

God, you’re a weak woman.

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head at yourself, breath visible in the chilled air. You really flew across the country for this. And now you’re standing in a forgotten graveyard that probably hasn’t seen a visitor in years.

Your eyes land on one stone — off to the side, built into the edge of a low cobblestone wall like it was slotted in after the fact. It juts awkwardly from the ground, more brick than headstone, but you recognize it immediately.

You drop your bag, pull out your notebook and pen, and crouch down in front of it.

You squint through the moss, brush it gently away with your sleeve.

The name reads:

Bridget Bishop

Hanged — June 10, 1692

Your breath catches, just a little.

Bridget Bishop. You’d written about her. Extensively. She was the first to be executed during the trials — sixty years old when they dragged her to the gallows.

Accused of "sundry acts of witchcraft.” Classic.

Five girls had claimed she bewitched them — Abigail Williams, Ann Putnam Jr., Mercy Lewis, Mary Walcott, Elizabeth Hubbard — the usual suspects. Said her shape would pinch and choke them. Said she tore a coat by apparition. One girl even claimed her specter threatened to drown her if she didn’t sign the Devil’s book.

You remember the Cotton Mather quotes. You’d scrawled angry margin notes all over Wonders of the Invisible World like it was a horror novel written by an unreliable narrator — which it kind of was.

The accusations hadstacked high: A third nipple which of course vanished mysteriously between examinations, bewitched lace, poisoned cats, dolls hidden in the floorboards, even her own husband’s claims.

And still — still — it was her attitude they hated most. The way she stood her ground. The way she didn’t apologize for existing.

“She lies too much,” they said. “There’s little occasion to prove the witchcraft. It is evident and notorious.”

You swallow.

A slow sadness moves through you — a weight in your ribs that balances out the excitement. These were not just stories. These were women. And this one — this woman — was the first to hang.

You press your fingers gently to the cold stone.

“Sorry,” you murmur.

Then, quietly, you smile.

Because she mattered. And you’re here. And she will not be forgotten.

You stay there for a long time, scribbling observations, sketches, and personal thoughts. You move from stone to stone — cataloging, mapping, transcribing what you can. Most are unreadable, but you note their placement, their condition, any symbol or scratch that might help you identify them later.

Hours pass.

You barely notice.

Until you pause to stretch your back — and realize it’s darker than it should be.

The sky’s gone pale gray-blue, and the light filtering through the trees feels… muted. The wind has quieted. You glance up.

Fog.

Thin at first, like a breath across the field. But it’s thickening — curling low around the headstones, inching in from the woods like it’s alive.

And suddenly you’re aware of just how quiet it’s gotten. Not silent, but heavy.

The kind of quiet that makes your skin hum.

You zip up your jacket, turn a slow circle, notebook clutched against your chest. You hadn’t meant to stay this long.

The sun’s setting.

You’d gotten lost in history.

And now it feels like history might be ready to stare back.

You take a deep breath and tuck your new notebook back into your bag — now stuffed with a half drunk water bottle and the crumpled wrapper of the granola bar you'd had for a snack.

You pull out your phone just to check the time, expecting maybe… six?

7:48 PM.

"Fuck."

You hadn't meant to stay this long. It was supposed to be a quick visit. A little peek at the cemetery, maybe a few notes, a sketch or two, and then back before sunset.

But this?

Three hours?

You blink in disbelief at the glowing screen, your thumb still hovering over it when a cold droplet hits the glass.

Then another.

Then many — sudden, insistent — pattering lightly across your shoulders and hair.

You glance up sharply.

Fog is curling in around the graveyard like smoke. Dense and low to the ground, creeping fast through the trees, swallowing headstones whole.

The sun — what’s left of it — is dipping fast below the horizon, leaving behind deep, long shadows that stretch like claws.

You hadn't meant to overstay your welcome.

You would've brought a flashlight. Or your umbrella. Hell, even a coat with a hood.

"Shit. Shit, shit."

You scramble to your feet, brushing dirt from your knees, heart racing now.

"Maybe I can—"

The words die in your throat.

Because you see it.

Perched on a moss covered headstone, half-shrouded in fog — still, and watching — is a crow.

Same dark glint in its eyes.

Same unshakable stare.

Same unbearable stillness.

Your breath catches. Heart thudding loud in your ears. The hairs on the back of your neck rise with the slow, deliberate spread of fear through your chest.

The rain picks up — sharp, insistent — and above you, dark clouds roll in to swallow what little remains of the sky.

You're alone.

In the woods.

At a cemetery.

No flashlight.

No umbrella.

And that crow — that same crow, you're sure of it — caws once. Loud and harsh.

Your whole body flinches.

Fear floods your veins like ice. You're frozen.

Because you remember.

You remember the day at Agatha’s estate. That same sound. That same crow — sweeping over your head like it was marking you.

Watching.

Following.

Stalking.

Finally, your instincts kick in — not telling, but yelling at you to move. To run.

You take a shaky step back, still half frozen in place.

Then another — before you spin around, breaking into a sprint.

You run through the cemetery, not so mindful of your feet now.

You had to go.

Now.

Branches slap your arms. Your lungs burn. The rain is coming down harder now, and every squelching step threatens to knock you off your feet. You don’t stop — can’t stop — not when every instinct is screaming that something is behind you.

You don’t see it.

But you feel it.

Every gust of wind becomes a breath on your neck. Every creak of a tree becomes a footstep. The fog coils tighter, swallowing the forest inch by inch — until all you can hear is your own frantic breathing and the slap of your feet against the forest floor.

God, you shouldn’t have stayed so long.

You shouldn’t have come here alone.

You should’ve known better.

You dart around a gnarled oak, feet sliding in the mud — and then you trip. You catch yourself against a root, scrambling back upright, heart pounding, soaked from head to toe. Your fingers are trembling as you wipe water from your eyes.

And that’s when you hear it.

A low caw from somewhere deep in the fog.

You spin, chest heaving. The sound echoes through the trees — familiar in a way that makes your skin crawl. You glance up into the branches, searching for it — then all around you, like some wild animal might pounce at any moment.

Just like before.

The crow from the house.

Watching you. Following you.

And still, there’s nothing.

No shape. No person. Just fog and trees and the hiss of rain on leaves.

You’re panting now. Whimpering, maybe — though you don’t even realize it. You push yourself forward again, breaking into another run, vision blurring, every ounce of panic spiraling out of control—

Until you hit something.

No — someone.

Hard.

You yelp, completely losing your footing, arms flailing as you fall straight into the mud with a heavy splat. Cold, thick earth coats your hands, knees, and sides. You’re soaked and filthy, your chest heaving with exertion and terror.

“…Charming.”

A voice.

Cool. Clipped. Annoyed.

You freeze.

Wiping your eyes with a mud-streaked sleeve, you look up — and there she is.

Agatha Harkness.

Unmoving. Calm. Spectral.

She wears deep plum trousers with black boots, a long indigo blue coat swirling at her calves — buttons gleaming faintly like polished onyx. Her white shirt is open at the collar, collarbones peeking beneath delicate chains. A familiar brooch gleams at her chest — that unmistakable knot of silver.

Her hair is down this time — long, loose waves curling perfectly over her shoulders, the ends damp at most .

Somehow, the rain hasn’t touched her. Not really. Not like it has you.

Agatha glances down at her coat, brushes the fabric once with her hand — and the flecks of mud slide off like dust, leaving no trace.

She looks back at you. Dry. Unimpressed.

“I suppose next time,” she says, arching a brow, “the little historian might consider using a map.”

You stare at her, breathless, blinking against the downpour.

Agatha sighs, as though this entire situation is a personal inconvenience she’s begrudgingly choosing to witness. “Though I do admire the dramatic flair,” she adds, cocking her head. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were being chased by werewolves.”

A beat.

“Or vampires. Or perhaps a particularly menacing squirrel.”

You manage to push yourself upright, slipping once in the mud. You look like hell. She looks like she commands hell.

“I—I thought someone was following me,” you manage, clutching your bag.

Agatha gestures vaguely to your state. “And how’s that working out for you?”

You blink. A breathless, half-sobbing laugh escapes before you can help it.

She quirks a brow but says nothing.

“Why are you even out here?” you ask hoarsely, arms crossed over your shivering frame. “It’s getting dark, and cold, and you could’ve gotten—”

“Lost?” she cuts in, arching one brow. “Like you are now?”

Before you can even begin to come up with a retort, a low caw cuts through the fog.

Your spine stiffens. You flinch.

Agatha’s eyes flick past you toward the forest — where the crow was. Where you ran from. Her voice drops, muttering mostly to herself:

“Dramatic little shit.”

You blink. “Sorry — what?”

“Nothing.”

She takes a step forward, scanning the trees like they’ve personally offended her.

You shiver. And not from the rain.

“I wasn’t lost,” you grumble finally, finishing what you were going to say. “I knew where the trail back was.”

Then her eyes drop to your bag. And suddenly, her whole expression shifts — from mild amusement to something far too knowing.

“Right, and that’s why you ran in the opposite direction of it?” Agatha says with her annoyingly knowing tone.

Despite everything — your soaked clothes, your aching feet, your rising suspicion that you were going to die in these woods — you couldn’t stop the tiny curl of warmth in your chest at the sight of her again.

You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her.

Not since that day at her house. Not since she’d let you in — then promptly made you feel like you were on trial yourself.

And yet, here you were again.

Drawn to her like a moth to a blue eyed flame.

You freeze.

Mouth slightly open.

The fear is still buzzing through your veins, not yet caught up with the new reality. You’re not being chased. You’re not alone. But maybe — you realize — that’s not a comfort.

Agatha studies you for another long, quiet moment. Then, her gaze softens just slightly. Almost imperceptibly.

“You chose an interesting spot to spend your afternoon,” she says, voice low.

You tense. You’d only gone because Agatha mentioned it when you went to her house a few days ago. Or… also for your thesis.

But she’s the one who brought it up. Told you it was on the outskirts of town.

And then, like an afterthought, like the inevitable drop of a guillotine:

“Bridget always did like company.”

You go still.

Goosebumps race down your arms, and not from the cold.

You hadn’t said Bridget’s name aloud. Not once. Not when you were there. Not in the notebook. Not anywhere Agatha should’ve known.

You clutch your bag closer without realizing it. “How did you—?”

She cuts you off with a look. “You’re soaked.”

Which is true. You’re rain drenched, mud caked, teeth beginning to chatter. You look like you’ve been spit out of the earth and left to die.

Agatha sighs again — the sigh of a woman clearly cursed with patience she didn’t ask for.

“You should be more careful,” she mutters. “This place doesn’t like strangers stomping around after dark.”

You blink up at her, still catching your breath. The forest crackles quietly around you — like it's listening.

“This trail doesn’t lose people,” she adds, with the offhanded sharpness of someone quoting an old rule she might’ve written herself. “People lose themselves.”

You scoff, but it comes out wetter and shakier than you’d like. “Well, thanks for that cryptic horror movie wisdom.”

Agatha’s head tilts. Slowly. A glint of teeth, a narrowing of eyes.

“Careful,” she says, and it’s almost a purr — soft and smooth and terrifying.

You swallow. Loudly.

The blush that hits your ears is immediate and mortifying. You fumble to recover, grumbling as you clutch your bag tighter.

Agatha gives you a once over before, breezing past you.

You stare at her, dumbfounded, then realize the rain has picked up again — colder now, like punishment. Meanwhile, Agatha looks… untouched. Her clothes aren’t even wet. Not really.

It’s almost insulting.

Agatha eyes the woods with a sneer, like it’s an unruly pet that refuses to heel.

You drag your hand down your face, slick with rain, and try to pretend you’re not shivering.

“So, I’m guessing the inn is about…” You glance down the barely visible path behind you. “An hour and a half that way?”

Agatha doesn’t answer at first. She just watches you with that look — the one that makes you feel like she’s already figured out your next ten thoughts and is unimpressed with all of them.

Finally, she sighs. “My house is closer.”

You blink. “Okay.”

“I’ll show you a shortcut.”

Your eyebrows go up. “Really?”

She turns, already walking. “Come, pet.”

Your soul leaves your body.

You trip over your own feet scrambling to follow, lips pressed together so tightly they might fuse.

“Pet?” you echo, horrified.

She doesn’t turn around. “Would you prefer ‘lost child in need of a leash’?”

“…Pet is fine.”

You follow her into the trees, the fog curling low and wet around your ankles, swallowing everything behind you. You're not sure what direction you're going anymore — or if the direction even matters. The woods feel older here. Sharper. The trees lean closer like they’re eavesdropping.

You’re still trying to orient yourself when Agatha stops without warning.

You nearly run into her again, skidding to a halt.

She turns slowly, her face unreadable — and then, without warning, steps behind you.

You stiffen.

Her hands — warm and uncomfortably grounding — settle on your shoulders.

“Relax,” she murmurs, voice low against your ear. “You’ll only make the forest twitchier.”

You don’t even know what that means. You don’t want to know what that means.

Her thumbs press lightly against your upper back, guiding you a step to the left. “There. Path’s clearer this way.”

You nod, absolutely not breathing. Not even a little.

Your heart is Racing and your mind reeling. You’re pretty sure you blacked out for a second.

Then her hands fall away, and she brushes past you again, the tails of her coat fluttering behind her like a shadow that forgot it needed to be tethered.

You follow. Because you don’t trust the woods.

And — more unsettlingly — you don’t trust the feeling crawling down your spine when you aren’t near her.

Not quite safety.

But something close enough to it.

---

Once you make it back to Agatha’s — through some weird ass winding path in the woods that made you internally ask, how the fuck does she know her way around out here?

You’re freezing. Drenched. Exhausted. And still reeling from the whole graveyard experience… You were having a blast at first sure… then- well you know what happened.

Not to mention you have no idea why you’re being brought to Agatha Harkness’s house.

Or, for that matter, why she was even at the cemetery in the first place.

But your brain’s too scrambled to work that out right now. You’re soaked to the bone. Tired, scared, confused — all in that ordr — and at this point, honestly just trying not to pass out face first into a patch of moss.

You follow her up the creaking steps of her hidden away woodland estate. You’re not even sure if this house exists on a map. It probably doesn’t. It doesn’t feel like it should.

You stop beside her — slightly behind — as she pulls a key from the pocket of her plum colored trousers. The same ones that somehow managed not to get muddy despite the hell walk through the woods.

Your eyes wander.

To her profile, lit soft and golden by the porch light overhead. It makes her features look… different. Softer. Sharper. All at once.

Your gaze travels from her brow bone to the slope of her nose — just the slightest bump in the bridge then to the tip that juts out deliciously— and down to her lips, which are slightly parted.

And for a second—just a second—you wonder what it’d be like to—

“You have a staring problem, you know that?” Agatha says, completely deadpan.

She doesn’t even look at you.

Just unlocks the purple door, pushing it open like it’s muscle memory, and steps inside.

You freeze.

Your face burns.

Then, without a word, you follow her in. Of course you do. Because apparently that’s what you do now.

Just how much could you embarrass yourself in one night?

Answer? to be determined.

You’ve noticed a pattern with her. From the first time you met to now — you just… follow.

Wherever she goes. Like gravity’s got a new favorite plaything.

And it’s not like you want to resist.

Not really.

Once inside, you immediately take your wet and mud caked Converse. To be polite, of course. Even though your clothes are clinging to you like a second skin and you’re currently dripping all over her floor.

Gods.

You are an idiot.

You sigh and shut the door behind you. And just like the first time, that strange warmth hits you right away — radiating from the walls, from the scent of lavender and cedarwood curling in the air.

You exhale.

For the first time since stepping into those cursed woods, your body actually starts to relax.

You glance over at Agatha, who flicks on a few lights with the causal grace of someone who’s never once had to fumble with a switch. Not to mention that you were Still trying to catch up with everything that just happened.

While you were stood there — dripping in the entryway — Agatha cast you a slightly amused glance. Not annoyed. Not biting. Just… amused. Maybe even a little curious .

Her eyes wandered down the length of your soaked form

You swore you saw the ghost of a smirk.

With a soft sigh and a small tsk , she stepped closer.

You froze.

Her perfume hit you like a truck — deep and dark and expensive-smelling, liYou fought the unholy urge to just… breathe it in.

She reached up and plucked a stray leaf out of your hair with the kind of casual care that made your brain short circuit.

“Honestly,” she said, her mouth twitching like she might actually smile, “is this your idea of playing the damsel? Because you’re almost pulling it off.”

You blinked up at her. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Agatha huffed out a low laugh — just a breath through her nose, but it still counted. “Mm. Suits you, actually.”

Then she turned and walked off like she hadn’t just set your heart on fire with a stray compliment.

You stared after her, stunned. Still very wet. Maybe in more ways than one.

“Come on little historian, let's get you a towel. I wouldn't want you to ruin my floors.”

Next Chapter

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