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dollgxtz · 2 months ago

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His Watchful Eye Pt. 5

Word Count: 11.6k

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, kidnapping, syringes, hitting, bloodshed, attempted rape, lots of blood, sylus goes a tad bit crazy, pet names like kitten, sweetie, doll, little mouse, stalking,

Taglist: @ngh-ch-choso-ahhhh, @eliasxchocolate, @nozomiaj, @xmiisuki, @sylus-kitten, @its-regretti, @m0onlustre, @ve1vet-cake, @letgobro, @starkeysslvt, @yarafic, @prince-nikko, @leiaglmela @connorsui, @iluvmewwwww75, @biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer, @mysssticc, @babygirl-panda19, @someone-somewheres-stuff, @zaynesjasmine1, @honnylemontea, @altariasu, @the-slytherin-poet, @sorryimakira, @pearlymel

AN: I decided to make this chapters theme red since it fits the bloodiness of this chapter. This is on A03 as well! Also YALL I'm so sorry, apparently my taglist hasn't been tagging people correctly. It should be fixed now! I’ll go back and fix it on the other lists as well!! Per usual, heed the warnings and enjoy! Next chapter is definitely going to have lots of smut, I’m already writing it 😌

"Your tears, your pain, your misery," Sylus whispers, his voice dripping with a dark intimacy as his hand moves gently to your face. His thumb brushes against your cheek, wiping away a tear that hasn’t yet fallen, his touch both tender and terrifying. "It all belongs to me."

“I am the only one who gets to see you cry”

Read Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.6

The darkness had swallowed you whole. When you blink your eyes open, the world is a blur, as though you’re caught between waking and a nightmare. Cold, sharp and biting, is the first thing you feel, seeping into your skin from the damp concrete beneath you. Your nightgown is soaked, sticking to your body, the freezing water from the shower still dripping slowly from the showerhead, an eerie rhythm to the otherwise oppressive silence.

It takes a moment before the memories resurface, and when they do, they crash over you like a wave. The basement. Reese. The other man. The betrayal. Your heart clenches painfully as you recall the way Reese had looked at you when he led you here, his guilt ridden face made you scowl.

How dare he have a conscious when he had led you to your very demise? You had trusted him. Told him about your kidnapping, your escape. He had listened with kind eyes, nodding in all the right places, making you believe he was different—that he was your salvation in a world that had turned cruel. He had seemed so genuine, offering you a place to stay, a promise of safety. But now, that memory feels like poison, a twisted mockery of the trust you had so willingly given him.

How could you have been so naive?

You groan as you try to sit yourself upright, every muscle in your body protesting with sharp pain. The cold has seeped so deeply into your bones that it feels like your limbs are made of lead, heavy and uncooperative. Your fingers dig into the rough concrete as you push against it, your nightgown clinging to your skin, wet and miserable.

Your head spins, the pounding ache a reminder of everything you’ve been through, but you grit your teeth and force yourself to move. Lying there, helpless, isn’t an option. Not anymore.

Each breath is a struggle, shallow and ragged, as you steady yourself against the wall behind you. The dampness of the basement, the steady drip of water in the corner, the faint musty scent of decay—it all feels suffocating, as though the walls are closing in. You blink hard, trying to focus, to ground yourself in the moment, but the betrayal still burns in your mind, cutting deeper than any physical wound.

Reese's face flashes before your eyes again, his soft voice promising safety, and you can’t help but let out a bitter laugh, though it quickly dissolves into a shaky exhale. Safety. What a cruel joke.

You had simply traded one prison for a colder, darker one.

You look around the basement, squinting in the dim light. Your legs ache as you try to move them, pins and needles shooting through your feet as you attempt to stand. Your body feels battered, but the deeper pain—the one rooted in the betrayal—hurts far worse. Reese wasn’t some random passerby, some kind stranger. He knew what he was doing, and worse, he had listened to your story of suffering and seen you as an opportunity to fulfill some promise.

As you lean against the wall, trying to steady your shaky breath, Reese’s words echo in your mind, gnawing at your already fragile sense of reality.

“I promised them a girl.”

The phrase rattles around in your skull, unsettling and cryptic. What did he mean by that? Who was them?

Your stomach turns, the bile rising in your throat as you replay the memory over and over. Reese had said it shakily, his voice trembling, his eyes wide with barely concealed fear. But his words were soaked in something far darker, something that made your skin crawl the moment they left his lips.

Promised them a girl.

The weight of it sinks in deeper, heavier with each passing moment, like a noose tightening around your neck.

Your hands curl into fists, nails digging sharply into your palms as you struggle to suppress the rising wave of nausea and panic. Every breath feels like a battle, the air thick with dread. You want answers—need answers—but more than anything, you need to get out of here. Every second you spend trapped in this basement feels like a countdown ticking away to something far worse than anything your mind can conjure.

Whatever Reese had promised them, whatever twisted deal he’d made, you won’t let it come to pass. You won’t be some pawn in this dark, twisted game he's playing. You refuse to be reduced to a bargaining chip for them, whoever they are. They might have Reese tangled in their web, but they won’t have you.

Your eyes drift toward the dingy mattress settled on a metal frame, barely visible in the dim light. A tattered towel, a folded pair of sweatpants and a white shirt lie haphazardly on top of it. You hesitate for a moment, the sight catching you off guard. Did Reese leave these here for you?

The thought sends a wave of conflicting emotions through you—anger, confusion, even a twisted sense of pity. Despite everything, despite handing you over to whatever fate awaits, had he still tried to offer some small gesture of comfort? Or had this been planned, just part of the sick arrangement, a way to keep you alive long enough for them?

You shake the thought from your mind. It doesn’t matter.

The cold clings to you, a constant, suffocating presence in your wet nightgown. Your teeth are still chattering, your skin icy to the touch. Without thinking too much about it, you rush over to the mattress, snatching the towel and the sweatpants. The rough fabric of the towel is worn, but it's warm enough as you rub it over your chilled skin, drying the water that’s soaked through your night gown.

With shaking hands, you strip off your wet, heavy dress and quickly pull on the dry sweatpants and t shirt. The warmth is immediate, a small, fleeting relief that feels almost like a luxury in this basement. You wish they weren't so loose, but it’s better than nothing.

Your body is still cold, still trembling, but the damp heaviness has lessened. You feel lighter, a little less trapped by the elements, even if the air around you remains heavy with the weight of everything that has yet to happen.

Reese’s face flashes in your mind again, his nervous, guilt-ridden eyes, and you can’t help but wonder—was this his attempt at an apology? His way of making up for the unforgivable?

Abruptly, you hear it – footsteps above, faint but unmistakable. Your entire body tenses as you freeze in place, straining to listen. The whispers that follow are barely audible through the thick ceiling, but you can catch snippets of words, just enough to recognize one of the voices: Reese.

Your heart thuds against your ribcage as you make your way towards the metal hatch at the top of the stairs, every step agonizing from the cold and strain. You push through the pain, desperate for more information.

You press your ear against the frigid metal, the voices growing clearer yet still muffled. Reese's voice is shaky and filled with nervous energy, like when he made that dreadful promise to "them."

"She said she was kidnapped," Reese's voice trembles, sending a wave of chills down your spine.

A cold sweat breaks out across your skin. A lump forms in your throat as you strain to listen, your mind racing. You had trusted him with everything, thinking he would help. The other voice – deep and calculated – interrupts.

"By who?" he demands harshly.

"I don't know," Reese replies, panic evident in his voice. "She didn't give names…I didn't ask…I didn't think…"

"Idiot," the man hisses angrily, cutting off Reese's rambling. There's a moment of silence before heavy footsteps approach closer. Your heart pounds violently in your chest.

You hear something unmistakable—a faint scraping sound. Your blood runs cold as you slowly realize what’s happening.

The metal handle of the hatch begins to turn.

It’s a slow, deliberate movement, the iron grinding against itself with a low, ominous creak that makes your breath catch in your throat. Your heart skips a beat, eyes widening as you stare at the hatch, watching the handle twist further, the tension of the lock giving way with a soft, metallic click.

Panic floods through you as the realization hits like a punch to the gut—they’re about to open the hatch.

The handle continues to turn, and with a surge of panic, you pull away from the hatch. Your body moves before your mind can fully process, instincts kicking in. You scramble down the creaky wooden stairs, your legs protesting with every movement, but you push through the pain.

Each step feels like it takes an eternity, the sound of the hatch above grinding against your nerves. You reach the bottom, your breath ragged, and without a second thought, you make a desperate dive under the bed.

You scramble under the grimy mattress, your heart pounding as you press your body flat against the cold floor. The space beneath the bed is cramped, dark, and thick with dust, but you force yourself to stay still, biting back your panic. Your breathing comes in short, shaky bursts, but you try to control it, barely daring to inhale as you listen to the creak of the metal hatch swinging open.

The footsteps echo louder now, descending the wooden stairs, each step making your pulse race faster. You watch from your hiding place, the dim light casting shadows across the room as the first pair of feet—Reese's—comes into view. His sneakers shuffle nervously against the floor. Right behind him, heavier boots thud down the steps—boots that belong to someone much more imposing, someone far more dangerous.

You peek through the gloom, barely daring to lift your head.

Reese speaks first, his voice shaky. “I-I swear, I don’t know who kidnapped her. She just told me she was running, that she escaped. I didn’t ask for details.” There’s a tremor in his voice, thick with fear.

The other man’s voice is low, cold. “And you didn’t think to get more information? You were too busy playing hero.”

You didn't recognize this voice. He wasn't the one from earlier that had helped Reese bring you down here.

Reese mumbles something incoherent, but you can hear his terror. The other man clearly isn’t buying it. The booted footsteps hit the last step, and the man takes a slow, deliberate step into the basement.

You curl up tighter, heart racing, your body nearly paralyzed with fear as you catch sight of him. He’s taller than Reese, broader, with an intimidating presence that fills the room. His voice cuts through the tension. “Where is she, Reese? You promised us a girl. So, where is she?”

Reese stammers, his anxiety palpable. “She’s—she’s here, I swear, I locked the hatch. She couldn’t have gone anywhere.”

The man lets out a slow exhale, clearly unimpressed. “She better be. Otherwise, you’ll have hell to pay.”

You can feel the weight of the man’s presence shifting, scanning the room, and you shrink further into the darkness, praying that the shadows will keep you hidden. The dread mounts as the sound of their steps grows louder.

Your heart races, every muscle tense as the heavy boots come to a stop right beside the bed. You can feel the air shift, the man's presence looming dangerously above you. His shadow stretches over the mattress, and for a second, you think maybe—just maybe—he'll move on. Maybe he won't look under here.

But then, in one swift motion, he crouches down.

His eyes lock onto yours, blue and calculating, a cruel smile playing at the edges of his lips. Your stomach drops, panic surging through you like wildfire. You try to scramble backward, to escape deeper under the bed, but it's too late. His hand shoots out, iron-tight fingers wrapping around your ankle.

"No more hiding, little mouse," he growls, his voice thick with menace.

You kick and thrash, but he’s far too strong. With a brutal yank, he drags you out from under the bed, your nails scraping uselessly against the concrete floor as you try to find some kind of grip. Fear pulses through you, sharp and overwhelming, as you're pulled out into the open.

"Got her," the man says, his grip on your ankle tightening painfully. He hauls you upright, forcing you to stand even as your legs buckle beneath you.

Reese is standing off to the side, pale and trembling, his eyes wide with guilt and fear. He doesn’t say a word as the man forces you up, his cold fingers digging into your arm now, holding you in place.

The man looks you over, his smile fading as he studies you with dark, unreadable eyes. "This is her?" he says, glancing at Reese, his voice a mixture of disbelief and something far more dangerous.

Reese stammers, his voice barely above a whisper. "Y-yes. I swear. She’s the one."

The man turns back to you, his expression hardening. "Good," he mutters darkly, tightening his grip on your arm until pain shoots through your shoulder.

You bit back a cry of pain, refusing to give him the satisfaction. The man's grip tightened further, his fingers digging into your flesh like steel talons. Your heart raced, pounding against your ribcage as you fought to keep your composure.

"Let. Me. Go." You hissed through clenched teeth, each word dripping with venom.

The man's lips curled into a cruel smirk. "Feisty, are we? Hilarious. Won't last long though".

He released your arm abruptly, causing you to stumble. As you regained your footing, you noticed Reese had retreated to a corner, his face a mask of guilt and fear. The betrayal stung, but you pushed the feeling aside. There would be time for that later. Right now, survival was your only priority.

The men turned toward the metal hatch at the top of the stairs, drawn to the sound of heels clacking against the wooden steps. You tensed, every muscle in your body coiling with anticipation as another pair of legs appeared, descending with an air of confidence. A woman stepped into the basement, her dark hair swinging with each precise step, her sharp brown eyes surveying the room with calm, calculated detachment. She was dressed in a crisp, business-casual outfit, perfectly put together, every detail deliberate.

Her heels struck the floor with a final, authoritative click as she reached the bottom of the stairs, her gaze locking onto you immediately. There was no warmth in her eyes, no recognition of you as a person—only cold assessment, as though you were an object, a piece of inventory.

She didn’t speak right away, her expression unreadable as she glanced at the man beside you, then at Reese huddled in the corner. Her presence demanded attention, a silent command of the room that made your skin crawl.

“Is this the girl?” she asked at last, her voice smooth but carrying an edge of impatience.

The man nodded, his smirk never faltering. “She’s the one boss.”

The woman’s eyes swept over you again, lingering on you for a moment longer than before. You felt her gaze like ice, sharp and invasive, as if she could see through you, past your fear, right down to your core.

“She doesn’t look like much,” she remarked, almost casually, though there was a quiet menace in her tone. “But she’ll do hopefully.”

Your heart dropped, dread pooling in your stomach as her words hung in the air. Whatever Reese had gotten you into, it wasn’t just a betrayal—it was something far more dangerous. And now, you were caught in the middle of it.

Your mind raced as you tried to think of a way out, but the walls felt like they were closing in, your options shrinking with every second that passed. You had to do something—anything—before it was too late.

You certainly couldn't fight your way out of here. It was 3v1, and the days of little food and constant stress had weakened you significantly. Your limbs felt like lead, and any attempt to resist would be useless, not against these people—especially with the woman’s calculating gaze locked onto you.

"Wh-what is this?" you stammer, trying to sound calm, but the tremor in your voice betrays you. "What do you plan to do with me?"

The woman turned toward you, her expression cold, detached. She raised an eyebrow, as though mildly amused by your question, but there was no kindness in her eyes—only a chilling indifference.

“Does it really matter?” she replied, her voice smooth but laced with cruelty. She stepped closer, her heels clicking against the floor with each deliberate step, her presence looming over you. “You’re not in a position to negotiate or ask questions, are you?”

You felt your pulse race, panic swelling in your chest. You tried to stand straighter, to show some semblance of strength, but your body betrayed you, trembling from exhaustion and fear.

The man who had grabbed you before let out a low chuckle. “She’s already scared. Good. Makes things easier.”

Reese, from his corner, shifted uncomfortably, avoiding your eyes as if he couldn’t bear to look at you. The guilt was written all over his face, but he said nothing, didn’t even try to stop what was happening. He had already played his part in this nightmare.

The woman tilted her head, her gaze unwavering. “You’ve been promised to someone very important, and it’s best if you cooperate. Things will be... easier for you.”

Your stomach dropped at the implications of her words. Promised? You were no longer just a person—you were a transaction.

Your mouth went dry as you forced the question past your lips, your voice shaky. "Promised for what?" You had to know. Every terrible possibility ran through your mind, but the uncertainty gnawed at you even more.

The woman paused, a brief flicker of something—pity, maybe?—crossing her face. She sighed softly, like she was indulging a child who didn’t know better. “I guess it couldn’t hurt for you to know,” she said, her tone almost bored. “Won’t make much difference in the end.”

She stepped closer, crouching down so she was eye-level with you. Her gaze softened slightly, but the words that followed made your blood run cold.

“You’ve been promised to a very wealthy man,” she began, her voice calm, detached. “His wife...she’s dying. Organ failure. They’ve tried everything—medications, various treatments—but nothing’s worked.”

Your mind raced, struggling to process the meaning behind her words. Organ failure? The realization hit you like a sledgehammer, a wave of nausea rolling through your stomach as her words continued.

“He’s willing to pay any price for a match,” she explained with chilling indifference, her eyes boring into yours. And if you're a perfect match for her...” She paused, letting the weight of the situation sink in before she added, almost with a shrug, “Your organs will save her life.”

A sickening silence followed, the air thick with your disbelief.

They were going to harvest your organs.

Panic clawed at your throat, and your body felt like it was in freefall. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came. The cold, brutal truth hung in the air between you and the woman, her pitying gaze cutting you deeper than anything else.

“You should feel honored,” she added, her voice devoid of any real sympathy. “You’ll be giving someone like her a second chance at life.”

Your heart raced, blood pounding in your ears. Your survival wasn’t just threatened—it was already decided.

Your body went numb as her words settled over you, the realization of what they planned twisting your stomach into knots. But as the silence stretched on, the woman seemed to catch herself, a slight frown tugging at her lips.

“We don’t know for sure if you’re a match yet,” she admitted, almost thoughtfully. “But you're a woman, so that's already one criteria met. And it’s just a matter of time before we find out the second.”

She reached into the pocket of her crisp jacket and pulled out a syringe and a small vial. The sight of it made your blood run cold. Your heart hammered against your chest, each beat a sharp reminder of how close you were to losing everything.

“I need to take a blood sample,” she said, her tone almost professional now. “Don’t bother resisting. We’ll get what we need, one way or another.”

Your limbs froze, panic surging through your veins. You wanted to run, to scream, but your legs felt like they were locked in place. The walls of the basement seemed to close in tighter around you, and for a moment, all you could focus on was the needle in her hand.

The woman’s dark brown eyes flicked toward you, assessing your reaction. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. It’s just a small test,” she said, almost like she was coaxing you into compliance. “If you’re not a match, maybe you'll get lucky. You're a woman after all, you at least have other parts you can use to gain your freedom."

She stepped closer, the syringe gleaming under the dim basement light. Your body tensed, the urge to fight back bubbling up inside you. But you were weak, outnumbered, and utterly trapped.

“Hold out your arm,” she said softly, like she was giving you a choice.

Your breath caught in your throat as the syringe gleamed ominously in her hand. Your heart hurt as you glanced toward Reese, who stood in the corner, guilt-ridden and pale, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t help you—he wouldn’t help you.

You glanced back between her and the syringe, the world closing in tighter with each second. Your mind raced for a way out, some escape, but it was futile. Even if you refused, they’d force you—there was no other option.

You took a shaky breath and slowly extended your arm, the gesture more out of survival instinct than anything. Live long enough to find another way out, you told yourself, trying to cling to that sliver of hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was still time.

The woman smiled, satisfied, as she knelt beside you, her movements smooth and practiced. “Smart choice,” she said, wrapping a rubber band around your arm to prepare for the blood draw.

You winced as the needle pierced your skin, but you forced yourself to stay still. The vial began to fill with dark red blood, and the woman worked with a cold efficiency, as though she’d done this a hundred times before.

After what felt like an eternity, she withdrew the needle and pressed a cotton ball to your arm. “There,” she said, standing up and eyeing the shiny vial filled with your blood. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You wanted to lash out, to scream, but your body was too drained, your mind too scattered. She was right—it didn’t matter if it was easy or hard. What mattered was what came next.

The woman turned to the man with the heavy boots. “Get this to the lab,” she ordered, her tone brisk. “The results will tell us everything we need.”

He nodded and took the vial, disappearing back up the stairs without a word. The metal hatch closed behind him with a heavy thud, and the basement fell back into tense silence.

The woman stayed behind, her eyes never leaving you. “Now we wait,” she said, crossing her arms. “If you’re lucky, you won’t be a match. But if you are… well, we’ll be in touch.”

You swallowed hard, dread pooling in your stomach. The blood had been drawn, the wheels set in motion—and there was nothing you could do but wait for your fate to be decided.

Reese shifted uncomfortably in the corner, his eyes downcast, as if he couldn’t bear to look at you.

The woman glanced at him, a cruel smile playing on her lips. “I suggest you keep her in good condition until we know for sure. We wouldn’t want her damaged, would we?”

Reese flinched but nodded, his guilt written all over his face.

And with that, the woman turned on her heel and left, her heels clacking up the stairs, the metal hatch sealing you back in the basement.

You were alone again—alone with Reese and the suffocating weight of your uncertain future.

As the metal hatch slammed shut, trapping you back in the dim, suffocating basement, something inside you snapped. The overwhelming dread, the helplessness, the betrayal—it all collided at once. Your chest tightened, and your blood boiled with the rage that had been simmering beneath the surface.

Your eyes locked onto Reese, who was still slouched in the corner, avoiding your gaze. His entire body trembled, but all you could see was the man who had led you into this nightmare. The man who had stood by and watched as they drew your blood like you were nothing more than a piece of meat.

You trusted him.

"You," you spat, your voice cracking with fury. "I trusted you, Reese."

He flinched at your words, but he didn’t look up. His hands were shaking, balled into fists at his sides, but that didn’t matter. He had made his choice.

"I trusted you!" you shouted, your voice growing louder, the raw emotion burning through your exhaustion. "I told you everything—I told you about my escape, I thought you were trying to help me!"

Reese's lips trembled, and he finally raised his eyes to meet yours, guilt etched deep into his pale face. "I... I didn't have a choice," he stammered, his voice weak, barely audible. "They—they would've killed me if I didn’t—"

"Spare me!" you snapped, cutting him off. "You sold me, Reese! You handed me over to them like I was nothing!" The weight of his betrayal hit you all over again, the pain of it cutting deeper than any physical wound. You had told him about your kidnapping, he had watched you sob over Xavier, had you thinking he was someone you could trust, someone who cared.

Tears of frustration burned at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You couldn’t —not now, not for him of all people. "You knew what they were going to do to me," you continued, your voice trembling with anger. "You knew, and you did it anyway."

Reese shook his head, his voice cracking as he mumbled, "I—I didn't know they'd—about the organs. I thought..." He trailed off, as if the excuse could somehow absolve him. But it didn’t.

"Thought what?"

"I'd thought they'd just...rape you. And then dump you somewhere..." he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck. "Like the others.."

"Like the others?!" you said, your voice rising. "You...you've done this before? You're...sick! Fucking sick!"

He shrank back, visibly cowering under your words. "I didn't have a choice," he repeated weakly, like it was the only thing he could cling to.

"You always have a choice!" you shot back, your voice cracking from the strain. "You had a choice to be a good person, and you chose to betray me."

The room was silent after that, the air thick with tension. Reese had no response, nothing to say that could possibly justify what he'd done. He just stood there, looking more like a frightened child than the man who had so easily handed you over.

You swallowed hard, your chest heaving with the weight of your emotions. "I hope it was worth it," you said coldly, the anger fading into something far more painful. "I hope whatever they promised you was worth selling me like this."

Reese remained silent, his eyes cast down, unable to meet your gaze any longer.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, but it held no weight, no real meaning. Before you could respond, he suddenly rushed past you, his footsteps heavy on the cold floor. He didn’t look back.

You watched, stunned, as he hurried up the wooden stairs, his movements frantic, almost as if he couldn’t bear to stay in the room with you a second longer. The old wooden stairs groaned under his weight, the sound harsh in the suffocating silence.

You stood frozen in place, your mind whirling with a mix of anger, disbelief, and the crushing weight of betrayal. His retreating figure disappeared through the metal hatch, and the sound of it slamming shut echoed through the basement like a final punctuation to his cowardice.

The room fell eerily quiet, the air thick with everything left unsaid. You were alone again, left with nothing but the cold, the dull ache of exhaustion, and the horrifying knowledge of what awaited you.

You slumped against the wall, the weight of the situation crashing down on you all at once. The basement felt smaller, colder, and more suffocating than before.

Days blurred into each other, each one indistinguishable from the next. The cold, damp basement became your prison, a place where time felt meaningless. Your mind drifted constantly, a mixture of fear, anger, and hopelessness gnawing at you from all sides. You found yourself thinking about Xavier—wondering if he was still out there, still searching for you. He had to be, didn’t he? You tried to cling to the idea that maybe, just maybe, he’d find you before it was too late.

You wished you had listened to him when he said he had a bad feeling about you going with Reese. How could you have been so stupid?

Reese came in and out of the basement sporadically, never staying for long. He kept his distance, barely making eye contact, as though seeing the consequences of his betrayal was too much for him to handle. He left you basic necessities—pads, water, a couple of small meals—but nothing more. Every time he disappeared, it felt like another thread of hope was being pulled away, leaving you more isolated than ever.

You pondered attacking Reese when he came down here next. He seemed fidgety and not as strong as the others. But still strong nonetheless. And in your weakened state, he could still take you down, or threaten you with the gun again.

At some point, you drifted off to sleep, exhaustion overtaking you in the cold dark. Your period had finally subsided, and so did the awful cramping, allowing you to rest at least somewhat peacefully. You weren’t sure how long you’d been out, but the sound of the metal hatch creaking open startled you awake. Instinctively, you didn’t move, thinking it was Reese again—another silent, guilty visit to drop something off before fleeing.

But then, a deep, gruff voice pierced the silence. A voice you recognized, but not in the way that brought comfort.

“Well, look who’s sleeping like a baby,” the voice sneered, low and menacing.

Your heart sank, and fear surged through you as you realized it wasn’t Reese. Slowly, your eyes fluttered open, and your breath caught in your throat when you shifted to look at the voice.

It was the man—the one who had helped Reese bring you down here in the first place. His heavy boots clomped against the wooden stairs as he descended, and his shadow loomed over you, large and threatening. His expression was cold, his eyes calculating as they swept over you, like he was assessing just how broken you’d become since last seeing him.

“Thought maybe you’d die of boredom or despair by now,” he muttered, amusement tinged in his voice. “Guess you’ve got a little more fight in you than I thought.”

You swallowed hard, your body going rigid. You stayed still, instinct telling you that any sudden movement might provoke him. The air around him seemed darker, more dangerous than Reese’s jittery cowardice. This man was different—he was in control, and he wasn’t afraid of you.

“What do you want?” you finally managed to whisper, your voice shaky but defiant.

He stepped closer, his boots thudding against the concrete floor, the sound making your skin crawl. His smirk widened, and without warning, he crouched down, bringing his face level with yours.

“What I want,” he said, his voice low and mocking, “is to see if you’re worth anything besides your organs doll.”

The threat in his words hung heavy in the air, and you knew with chilling clarity that whatever came next, this man wasn’t here to make things easier for you.

The man crouched in front of you, his smirk growing wider as he watched the fear flicker across your face. You tried to keep still, to steady your breathing, but your body betrayed you—a small shiver ran through you, and you knew he’d seen it. His eyes glinted with satisfaction, feeding off your discomfort.

He leaned in closer, so close that you could feel his hot breath on your skin. "Reese might be too soft to touch a woman, but I’m not." His voice was a low, rumbling threat. "You’re property after all. But it'd be a shame to let sweet pussy go to waste before they cut you open."

You recoiled in horror at his depraved words, bile rising in your throat. The man straightened to his full height, towering over your prostrate form with an air of malevolent authority.

"So here's how this is going to go," he said casually, as if discussing the weather rather than your impending ravishment and dismemberment. "I'm going to have my fun..." He smirked cruelly. "And you are going to lay there and take it. Use any teeth and I'll rip them out of your head. Got it?"

Your mind raced, desperate to find some escape from the waking nightmare. But with Reese too cowardice to come down and interfere, and this sadistic brute clearly intent on violating you in the most degrading ways imaginable , you knew you were utterly at his mercy.

A strangled cry escaped your lips as tears streamed down your face. Despite your best efforts, the man's lecherous gaze only widened at the sight of you in distress. His grip on your arm tightened, filling you with pain.

"Go ahead and cry," he mocked. "It only turns me on even more, doll."

You screamed, desperately trying to free yourself and escape his grasp, but he was too strong. He slammed you back down onto the dirty mattress as you fought to kick him away. But he easily overpowered you and forced your leg back against the bed.

"Stop! Please!" you pleaded, horrified as he reached for the waistband of your sweatpants with his rough, calloused hands.

Panic surged through you as his fingers grazed your skin. In a burst of desperate strength, you twisted violently and managed to wrench your leg free. You kicked out hard, your foot connecting solidly with his jaw. He reeled back with a pained grunt, momentarily stunned.

"I said, lay there and take it" he growled, bringing his palm down against your face in a deafening slap. Angry hot pain radiates against your face and you cry out, tears spilling out faster now.

He wastes no time flipping you around, pinning you on your stomach against the bed. You sobbed loudly as he finishes pulling your sweatpants past your rear, rubbing his cold hands against the cloth of your underwear.

"Nice butt, smooth skin..." he growls, tugging off your underwear past your legs despite your struggle. "Oh this is gonna be so much fun."

Your underwear hits the concrete floor with a soft patter and your mind goes numb. There was truly no way out of this. Maybe the struggle was futile all along.

It was time to accept this.

Your body goes limp as you try to dissociate from the sound of the man unbuckling his belt. The sound of him shuffling with his underwear. The feel of his rough hands as he grabs your hips and raises them towards his groin, forcing you onto your elbows. You notice his breathing gets heavier as he takes in the sight of your exposed cunt.

"He shuffles in his pockets for a bit, looking for something. Your mind drifts off as he does so, thinking of the time Sylus had you in a similar position.

The morning he had promised to only do it once that day if you didn't fight him. You had picked the position yourself, not wanting to see him enter you again. At least that's what you told yourself.

Truthfully, you hated the way your face would heat up and your cunt grew wetter at the sight of his toned chest and stomach. The deep rumble of his voice in your ear as he praised you for taking him in all the way. You didn't know why your body reacted the way it did to him but it scared you. You had chalked it up to it just being an involuntary bodily reaction.

But there was no wetness when this beast touched you, no warmth or aching heat in your core.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of tearing plastic.

Ah, he brought a condom. At least you wouldn't have to worry about catching any diseases before you were hacked to pieces.

You almost laugh at the thought but nothing was funny truly. The man grumbles a bit and rolls the condom onto his thick shaft gently, his knuckles popping as he slides it down. The smell of latex and lubricant fill the air momentarily. You wish you could gag at the smell of it, but you're too scared to move anymore. He positions himself, aligning his tip with you. You brace yourself for the pain that is sure to come, your heart pounding in your chest as he presses forward.

"If you make a sound, I'll beat your ass stupid. Got it?" he growls.

You say nothing as he begins trying to push into you, but he had clumsily misjudged where your slit was and kept missing. You couldn't help but let out a quiet laugh, this guy clearly didn't have much experience with the female body. You feel his hand slam down on your head, causing you to cry out.

"Ain't. Shit. Funny..." he snarled, gripping the side of your face even harder. You stifle another sob, trying your hardest to breathe against the mattress.

Still, he kept trying to force his cock inside you, every clumsy miss rubbing salt in the wound of your complete helplessness. He leans back momentarily to try and balance his cock against you. Your head throbs under his grip and you feel your eyes starting to gently close, sticky tears threaded between your lashes.

Your mind, desperate for an escape from the current nightmare, drifts back to Sylus. Memories of him rise to the surface, unbidden yet comforting in their own strange way. You recall his gentle gaze, the way he’d look at you when you opened your eyes in the morning—those moments when everything was still, and his presence felt like a soft cocoon of warmth around you. You’d never once seen him fall asleep before you. No, Sylus clearly only slept when it was "morning". Your circadian rhythms had always been completely opposite, and you knew, deep down, that he was likely watching over you as you slept.

It had never really felt invasive though. There was something about the way he looked at you that made you feel... cherished. As though, in his world of shadows, you were the one light he couldn’t take his eyes off of.

No one had ever looked at you with such adoring eyes—not even Xavier. Though Xavier had cared for you, and there were moments where you saw glimpses of that same tenderness, it was different with Sylus. Something deeper. Something more intense, as though you were the most precious thing in the world to him.

The thought made your heart ache in ways you hadn’t expected. Even now, locked in this nightmare, it was Sylus’s gaze that haunted you—not Reese’s guilt, not Xavier’s concern, but the way Sylus had seen you, like you were fragile and powerful all at once.

Despite everything, he had shown you the most kindness out of anyone in this horrid place.

"Sylus..." your voice escapes in a broken whisper, a fragile plea lost beneath the weight of fear. Silent tears streak down your face, and your body shakes uncontrollably beneath the man's looming presence. His grunting had finally stopped, but the air between you buzzes with his barely-contained fury. His body is tense, frustrated—still unable to force himself into you.

With a snarl, he suddenly flips you onto your back, his hands rough and merciless. The room spins for a second, and your breath catches in your throat. He looms over you, his eyes dark and burning with a cruel light.

"What the hell did I say about talking?," he growls, voice low and dangerous. His hand rises, fist clenched, muscles rippling as he prepares to strike. Your heart lurches, and a terrified squeal slips out, unbidden. You squeeze your eyes shut, body curling in on itself instinctively, trembling as you wait for the blow to fall.

The seconds stretch unbearably long.

But the pain never comes.

Instead, the air shifts—thickening, buzzing with something far darker than the man hovering above you. His fist, still poised to strike, halts mid-air. His breath stutters. Eyes wide with shock, he suddenly clutches at his throat, his face twisting into something grotesque, panicked. His mouth opens as if to scream, but only a strangled gasp escapes.

"Is that anyway to talk to a lady?"

You blink, unsure if you’re seeing it right—red mist, thin tendrils coiling through the air like living smoke. It winds around him, constricting. His body spasms as if in a silent scream, but no sound comes, only those terrible, wet choking noises.

His eyes meet yours for a fleeting second, wide with horror, before his body jerks violently. With a force that seems inhuman, he’s wrenched from above you, flung across the room like a rag doll. The impact as he slams into the far wall is sickening—bones cracking against stone, the wet sound of flesh collapsing under the blow.

He screams in agony, his body convulsing violently on the hard concrete as his cries echo through the space.

Your breath comes in shallow, rapid gasps, the red mist still hanging in the air, pulsing like it has a life of its own before it slowly starts to fade. The air grows colder in its absence, the immediate threat gone, but the tension in your chest refuses to ease. It's over, but the chaos is still fresh, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

Then you see him.

Tall, broad-shouldered, his white hair touched with streaks of silver, and those unmistakable crimson eyes—sharp, intense, but not as lethal as they were a moment ago. There's no mistaking Sylus, even through the haze of confusion clouding your mind. You blink, trying to process it all. He’s here, finally, but the emotions swirling inside you are a tangled mess.

He steps toward you, slow and deliberate, his gaze softening the closer he gets. Despite the relief that comes with his presence, something else churns beneath the surface—frustration, maybe even anger. He’s here, but it took so long. Too long.

"Why do you look so shocked?" Sylus smirks, his voice low and teasing, as if the sight of him towering over you like this is the most natural thing in the world. He tilts his head, amusement dancing in his crimson eyes as he studies your expression. "You called my name, didn’t you?"

You open your mouth, but no words come. Relief washes over you, but it’s tangled with confusion and resentment. Part of you wants to collapse into his arms, to finally feel safe, but another part of you burns with anxiety—why doesn't he look angry at you?

Sylus’s smirk softens into something more genuine, as if he senses the storm inside you. "I’m here now," he says, his voice quieter, almost gentle. But it doesn’t calm the whirlwind in your chest. You don’t know if you want to yell at him or thank him. Maybe both.

All you know is that the sight of him, standing there like he’s always been, stirs something deep within you that you can’t quite name. You're suddenly aware again of your half-nakedness and you rush to put back on your panties and sweatpants, much to Sylus's amusement.

“Wh-what took you so long?” you finally quip, a sharp edge to your voice as you lift your chin, deciding to meet his presence with defiance instead of relief. The condescension rolls off your tongue, even as your heart still pounds from the aftermath. You can feel the tension in your own body, a mix of trauma and pent-up frustration, but you mask it behind a cold stare.

Sylus moves toward the hyperventilating man still writhing on the ground, his gaze briefly flickering with something unreadable before a low chuckle escapes his lips. The sound reverberates through the room, rich and deep, completely unbothered by your biting words. His crimson eyes flick to you, amusement dancing in them, as if your sharp attitude was exactly what he’d anticipated.

“Is this the thanks I get, kitten?” he muses, his tone playful, yet carrying that underlying edge he always seems to have. A teasing smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he towers over you, utterly relaxed, like your defiance is nothing more than an amusing game to him.

"I save you, and all you’ve got is attitude?" He raises an eyebrow, the smirk on his lips widening as if he’s enjoying this far too much. “You’re getting harder to please.”

The comment, laced with a playful challenge, lingers in the air. He seems utterly unaffected, like your frustration has only fueled his amusement, and for a moment, it’s hard to tell whether you want to snap back or let your guard down. That smirk of his—so infuriatingly calm and knowing—pulls you deeper into the whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

Before you can spit out a retort, the sound of scuffling and harsh footsteps echoes down the stairwell. Your attention snaps toward the noise just as Reese is unceremoniously dragged down the steps, his pleas and panicked protests filling the room. The twins, Luke and Kieran, have him by the arms, hauling him down with little effort. Reese stumbles on the last step, crashing face-first onto the concrete.

Luke and Kieran exchange satisfied glances, snickering as they stand over him, a mixture of triumph and mockery in voices.

"We got him, boss," Luke announces with a smirk, nudging the groaning man with his boot. "Tried to run, but he fell flat on his face." He punctuates his words with another casual kick to Reese's side. "Much like he did just now."

Reese winces in pain, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he slowly lifts his head. His gaze darts frantically around the room, his face paling as he realizes who surrounds him. His eyes widen in terror, flitting between you, Sylus, and the man still crumpled on the ground beside him, writhing in pain.

"S-Sylus..." Reese stammers, his voice barely a whisper as it cracks with fear. His entire body begins to tremble, the weight of what he’s done crashing down on him. "You ran away from Sylus...?" The disbelief in his own voice is palpable, as if fleeing from someone like Sylus was a death sentence all on its own.

Sylus’s crimson eyes narrow as he watches you closely, his expression shifting to something darker—something possessive. He takes a deliberate step toward you, the casual ease he held moments ago now replaced with a quiet intensity. His gaze flicks to Reese, then back to you, and though his smile remains, there’s no warmth behind it.

"So," Sylus begins, voice smooth but tinged with something uneasy, "seems the two of you have gotten well acquainted?" The question feels loaded, not out of curiosity, but something more. His eyes bore into yours, as if searching for answers beyond your words. The smirk on his lips falters just slightly, betraying the irritation he’s trying to mask.

The tension between you grows thicker, his posture subtly shifting as if he’s placing himself between you and Reese. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t so much as glance at the trembling man on the ground. His focus is solely on you, as though the possibility of friendship with someone, especially another man, unsettles him more than the danger you just faced.

You shake your head immediately, the denial spilling from your lips without hesitation. "We’re not close!" you say quickly, the firmness in your voice leaving no room for doubt. "He’s no one to me."

Sylus’s eyes remain locked on yours, his crimson gaze intense, but you don’t falter. "Reese… he tricked me," you continue, the words coming faster now. "He’s the reason I’m down here in the first place. I didn’t come down here willingly. I followed him, stupidly thinking he was going to help me."

Your last words are filled with malice as your eyes flick to Reese, who cowers on the ground, unable to meet your glare. You shoot him a look of pure disdain, your anger boiling over at how easily he had deceived you, how he had dragged you into this mess.

Before you can say anything more, Sylus reaches out, his hand cool against your hair as he rubs the top of your head with an almost unnerving gentleness. His touch sends a shiver down your spine, but it’s the smug look on his face that catches you off guard.

“I know, sweetie,” Sylus says, his voice smooth and dripping with that signature arrogance. His eyes glitter with amusement as he watches you closely, his smirk deepening. “I watched you disappear into this house. I saw everything.” He speaks as if he had been in control of the situation from the start, his tone laced with confidence, as if he was always one step ahead.

"You were following me the entire time?" you ask, your voice tinged with disbelief as you try to piece together how much of this Sylus had been controlling from the shadows. Sylus merely chuckles, the sound rich and full of amusement, like your confusion was a source of entertainment for him.

"Something like that," he replies casually, his smirk widening. "I had Mephisto follow you."

As if on cue, swirl of red mist begins to materialize on Sylus's shoulder. The mist condenses around the form until, with a sharp, eerie caw, a large black crow appears, its wings flapping beside Sylus’s head. The bird’s eyes glow faintly, a reflection of the same crimson hue in Sylus’s gaze.

"Mephisto?" you and Reese say at the same time, your voices overlapping in disbelief.

You take a step back, staring at the bird in shock. "Mephisto... he's been that bird this whole time?" The revelation hits you like a slap in the face. You'd seen the bird before—many times, in fact—but you’d never thought it was more than just an ordinary creature. Now, the sight of it perched so confidently on Sylus’s shoulder, surrounded by that ominous red mist, makes your head spin.

Reese, still on the ground, stares up at the bird and then back at you, his eyes wide with fear and confusion. "I thought your name was Meph—" he begins, his voice trembling as he looks between you and Sylus, but his words are abruptly cut off.

Sylus’s expression hardens instantly, the playful amusement evaporating as he glares down at Reese with pure disdain. His eyes darken, the malice in them palpable as he takes a step toward Reese, who shrinks back, trembling.

"Don’t talk to her," Sylus snaps, his voice cold and sharp, dripping with venom. The possessiveness in his tone is undeniable, a clear warning that Reese’s mere presence, let alone his attempt to speak to you, is unforgivable in Sylus’s eyes. The tension in the room grows suffocating, the danger swirling around Sylus like a storm barely contained, and you can’t help but feel the weight of his protectiveness—both unsettling and strangely reassuring.

Mephisto caws again, the shrill sound echoing through the room as if punctuating Sylus’s command.

Reese looks away, trembling on the ground. Your head spins, barely able to process what's going on here. You suddenly feel dizzy, as if the room was getting smaller and smaller.

You hadn't truly escaped from him. Not once, the entire time you had been gone. He had been watching. His influence here stretched farther than you could ever imagine.

Reese looks away, trembling on the ground, clearly too terrified to challenge Sylus any further. His presence becomes insignificant in the midst of everything else crashing down around you. Your head spins, the room seeming to close in on you as the weight of the situation presses against your chest. It’s suddenly hard to breathe, as if the air itself is suffocating you. You try to steady yourself, but a dizzying realization takes hold.

Every step you’d taken, every move you thought was yours alone—he had been watching.

Mephisto.

Sylus had seen everything, every moment you thought you were free, unraveling in front of your eyes now like a cruel illusion. His influence, his reach—it stretched farther than you could have ever imagined.

The invisible leash you thought you’d slipped off, the one you were so sure you'd broken, had never left your neck at all. It had been there the whole time, just waiting to tighten when he decided.

Your pulse quickens, panic settling in as the walls seem to close in tighter, the room shrinking around you. The thought of being watched, controlled, all while you believed you had any autonomy—it sends a cold wave of dread down your spine. Sylus’s smirk, the way he speaks so casually about it, only amplifies the feeling that you were never really out of his grasp.

He knew. He always knew where you were.

And here he stands, calm and possessive, like he’s merely reclaiming what was his all along.

The weight of it all becomes too much to bear, and your legs give way beneath you. You crumble to the floor, feeling as though the world has closed in around you. The realization sinks deeper, suffocating you with the cold, hard truth—despite all your efforts, all your fighting, you’re right back where you started. The leash had never been cut. You hadn’t escaped. And now, the path ahead is one you thought you'd left behind.

Your body trembles, you let out a sob, overwhelmed by the torrent of emotions—fear, frustration, resignation. But before the panic can fully take over, you feel a hand brush against your shoulder, light and reassuring. Sylus crouches down beside you, his presence filling the space, his voice low and deceptively soothing.

"Shh, kitten," he murmurs softly, the nickname rolling off his tongue like a caress, though it only twists the knife deeper in your chest. "It’s alright. I’ve found you, its okay." His tone is affectionate, but there’s something twisted lurking beneath the surface, a dark possessiveness wrapped in that comforting voice.

"You're mine again," Sylus whispers, his voice soft but laced with an iron-clad certainty. His fingers delicately trace small circles on your back, sending involuntary shivers up your spine. You don't look at him, unable to meet his eyes. Your chest tightens, and you can feel the threat of tears building, teetering dangerously close to spilling over.

As much as you wanted to leave this wretched place, to escape the nightmare of it all, the thought of being trapped with him—completely under his control—felt just as suffocating. Maybe more. Yet, despite that suffocating feeling, your body betrays you. You’re not pulling away from him. You’re not resisting.

Why weren’t you leaning away from him right now?

"Don't cry," he murmurs, leaning closer, his breath warm against your skin, drowning out the cold, damp air of the basement. "Not now. Not in front of them."

Before you can process his words, the room fills with a new, horrific sound. Reese and the bleeding man on the ground suddenly scream, the agony ripping from their throats. Red tendrils of mist swirl violently around their bodies, coiling like snakes ready to strike. The sound of broken bones echoes sharply through the space as Reese is slammed into the back wall next to his fallen comrade, the impact brutal, unforgiving. The sight sends a fresh wave of horror washing over you.

You instinctively shift your gaze toward the carnage, wanting to see what’s happening—but Sylus’s hand shoots up, his fingers gripping your chin firmly. With a gentle yet unyielding force, he turns your face back to him, refusing to let you look anywhere else but into his crimson eyes.

"Look at me," he commands softly, his tone dark but calm, as if the violence behind you was nothing but a trivial distraction. His fingers are warm against your skin, his touch disturbingly tender despite the chaos around you.

His crimson eyes lock onto yours, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a vice. He leans in closer, his bourbon cologne enveloping your senses, his presence suffocating yet intoxicating.

"I’m the only one," he murmurs, his voice a possessive, almost dangerous softness, "who gets to see you cry."

The declaration sends a chill down your spine, and your heart clenches at the weight of it. There's a dark finality in his words—a twisted claim over every ounce of your suffering, every emotion that was once yours, now his to control. The room feels smaller, the air thinner, as if everything in this moment is solely for him, as though the very act of your tears belongs to him and him alone.

You can feel the tears threatening again, but now even that feels like giving in to him—another part of yourself slipping through your fingers, taken by the man who holds you so tightly in his grip, both physically and mentally. And as his thumb lingers on your cheek, his gaze never wavering, you realize just how much he's wrapped himself in every aspect of your life.

The screaming in the room builds to a deafening crescendo, filling every inch of the space with the sounds of agony. Reese’s voice cuts through the chaos, desperate, pleading.

“Please, make him stop! Ask him to stop!” Reese begs, his voice cracking, raw from pain and terror. His broken body trembles against the wall, red mist still coiling around him like a vice, squeezing the life out of him with every passing second. He looks at you, eyes wide, desperate, his fear palpable.

"I-I helped you! R-remember? I'm sorry!"

For a moment, you hesitate, frozen in place, the weight of his suffering tugging at some distant part of your conscience. Should you take pity on him? The thought flickers briefly in your mind. But then you remember. The lies, the manipulation, how he had dragged you into this nightmare without a second thought. Your heart hardens.

You look at him, your voice cold and unwavering.

“Go to hell, Reese.”

The words cut through the air, sharp and final. Reese’s eyes widen in horror, but before he can speak another word, Sylus moves with a calm, terrifying ease. Without a second thought, he reaches into his coat, pulling out a sleek black pistol. The room falls eerily silent for a brief second, the chaos holding its breath.

And then, without a word or hesitation, Sylus points the gun at Reese and pulls the trigger.

The shot rings out, and Reese’s body goes limp, his head lolling to the side as blood pools beneath him. The life drains from his eyes in an instant. The silence that follows is deafening, the weight of what just happened settling heavily in the air.

You stare at the scene in shock, unable to fully process how quickly it had all happened. Your breath catches in your throat, your mind racing as you look to Sylus. But he simply shrugs, completely unfazed, his expression calm and even slightly amused.

“I sent him to hell, just like you said, sweetie,” Sylus says casually, tucking the pistol away as if nothing had happened. His voice is smooth, disturbingly nonchalant, like this was just another task to cross off his list. His eyes, however, flicker with something darker—satisfaction, perhaps, or just a quiet thrill at doing what he believed you wanted.

Your stomach twists, a mixture of shock and disbelief churning inside you. Sylus turns his gaze back to you, his smirk still present, as if waiting for your approval or reaction. You say nothing, just watching as Reese's once lively body slumped to the floor.

Sylus then turns his attention to the last man still clinging to life, his crimson eyes narrowing with cold calculation. Without a word, the red mist surrounding him begins to swirl, thickening and intensifying with an ominous hum. The tendrils of mist snake their way toward the man, wrapping around him like a tightening noose.

The man’s breathing becomes erratic, desperate gasps for air as his body convulses. He tries to scream once more, but no sound escapes his throat as the mist constricts further, crushing the last remnants of life out of him. His limbs jerk, his eyes wide with terror as the pressure grows unbearable.

Sylus watches with a dark, detached satisfaction, his hand slightly raised as if guiding the mist with an almost casual precision. Then, Sylus clenches his fist. And with a final, sickening crack, the man’s body gives way. The force of Sylus’s power snaps through him like a vice tightening too fast. His chest caves in, bones splintering as the red mist crushes him entirely.

A grotesque splatter erupts as his body meets the tiled shower wall behind him, his carnage painting it in violent shades of red. Blood and tissue streak down the wall, dripping in a slow, macabre trail, the remnants of his existence.

You flinch, your breath catching in your throat at the brutality of it all, but Sylus remains calm, lowering his hand as the mist dissipates, his expression indifferent to the destruction he’s caused.

"Sorry," Sylus says smoothly, his tone as casual as if he had just finished a routine task. His gaze slides back to you, eyes gleaming with quiet satisfaction. "I didn't want them breathing the same air as you any longer."

The room is deathly silent now, save for the slow drip of blood from the walls, and the overwhelming finality of it all settles in your chest. You can't tear your eyes away from the gruesome scene, the shock numbing your senses as Sylus steps in front of you, his presence once again wrapping around you like a suffocating mist. His dark eyes bore into yours, a predator sizing up its prey, his calmness only amplifying the terror that gnaws at the edges of your mind.

You flinch as the squelch of his shoes on the blood-soaked floor breaks the silence, your heart pounding in your throat. Every instinct tells you to run, but your legs refuse to obey, frozen in the icy grip of fear. Sylus tilts his head slightly, his lips curling into a faint, unreadable smile.

"Woo hoo! Boss is so cool!" Luke chimes in, his bubbly voice shattering the eerie stillness. He gives Kieran a high five before erupting into a fit of laughter. The contrast between his cheerful tone and the grotesque scene feels jarring, almost surreal. You glance at him, baffled by the carefree attitude, as if the carnage before him was nothing more than an impressive show.

He bounces on his feet, voice shrill with admiration as he watches Sylus with the same excitement one might have for a favorite hero. The dissonance is unsettling, pulling you deeper into the spiraling nightmare, where the boundaries between reality and madness blur with each passing second.

Sylus doesn’t react to Luke’s enthusiasm, his focus entirely on you.

Sylus, now visibly more at ease after the extermination of the two men, steps forward with a calm confidence. His eyes never leave yours as he crouches down and effortlessly grabs you from the floor, hoisting you up into his arms as if you weigh nothing. The abruptness of it sends a jolt through your body, and you instinctively try to push away, but his grip only tightens—firm, yet almost playful, like a cat owner gently restraining a stubborn pet.

His chest rumbles with a low chuckle, and when he speaks, his voice is laced with dark amusement. "Ah ah, I won’t let my kitten scatter off a second time."

Your body begins to tremble uncontrollably in his arms, the weight of the situation finally crashing over you like a wave. You had escaped—however briefly—and now you were trapped again. The suffocating inevitability of it wraps itself around you, a crushing reminder that there was bound to be a punishment for trying to flee. Your mind flashes with memories of him slicing open your arm, the cold, detached precision of it, and you wince as the old wound aches in response.

"Please... I'm sorry," you whine, your voice barely above a whisper as tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "Don’t hurt me again, don’t punish me."

Sylus tilts his head slightly, his dark eyes watching you with that unsettling mixture of amusement and something that borders on tenderness. "Sweetie, it’s okay," he whispers, his tone disturbingly gentle. He reaches up to brush a bit of dirt from your face, his fingers cold against your skin. "Do you really think I’m going to hurt you? Am I that scary?"

Despite the soft cadence of his voice, the dissonance between his words and the twisted affection in his gaze only amplifies your fear. He holds you securely as he begins to ascend the stairs, leaving the bloodied carnage in the basement to rot, a gruesome memory that would never wash away.

As you both make your way out of the metal hatchet you spot various bags filled with small white powdery substances settled on the couch and tables.

Drugs. Reese had been tricking girls and trading them for drugs.

The air grows cooler as you pass through the broken, dingy living room and out into the crisp, suffocating night of the N109 Zone. With a shrill caw, and a flatter of his wings, Mephisto takes flight and disappears into the night sky.

A dark car with blacked-out windows waits for you at the curb, its ominous presence sending your heart racing again. You think about making a run for it—just for a fleeting second—but that hope vanishes as the twins scatter hurriedly to the front seats, and Sylus pushes you both into the back with an effortless shove.

The car roars to life, and the world outside begins to blur as you realize the inevitable: you were headed back to your cage, the one you had fought so desperately to leave. Sylus keeps you firmly straddled on his lap, his grip unyielding, as if he thought you’d vanish into the night if he let go for even a moment. His eyes, sharp and predatory, stay locked on you, unblinking and watchful.

For a while, the only sound is the hum of the engine as it cuts through the night, the silence between you as suffocating as his hold. Then, suddenly, Sylus lets out a long sigh, breaking the quiet as he leans forward, his face burying into the curve of your neck. The unexpected closeness makes your skin prickle. He nuzzles into your skin like a bird seeking warmth, though you doubted you smelled like anything but blood and grime.

"I missed you," he whispers, his voice soft but strained, as though it carries a deep weight of worry. He shifts, tilting his head up to look at you, his gaze surprisingly gentle, like someone gazing at something precious. His eyes search yours, a strange vulnerability flickering behind the usual cold dominance. "So, so much."

Something tightens in your chest at the sight of him looking at you this way, as though you were his treasure, something he had longed for. The sincerity in his expression shakes you, confusing your thoughts even further. Could he possibly mean it?

"Did you miss me?" he asks, his lips curling into a small, almost playful smile.

You just stare at him, uncertain how to respond. The words lodge in your throat, and before you can stop yourself, you turn your head away, avoiding his eyes. The truth is, you don’t know what to feel. Had you missed him? Or were you just desperate to be saved, no matter who?

He chuckles softly at your reaction, resting his head gently against yours, his breath warm against your cheek. "It’s okay," he murmurs. "You don’t have to answer."

As the car speeds deeper into the dark, your mind begins to spiral, thoughts tangling into knots you can’t unravel. As his arms tighten around you, keeping you pinned in place, you ponder a persistent thought.

Sylus had said he wouldn’t hurt you—but he never said he wouldn’t punish you.

#umi writes ♡︎#love and deepspace #sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace smut #sylus #sylus x reader smut #l&ds smut #lads #love and deepspace x reader #love and deep space x reader #loveanddeepspace #lnds #l&ds #love and deep space smut #lads smut #love and deep space sylus #l

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silverfairywings · 24 days ago

Text

— IN THE WAKE OF FLAMES. PT II

eris vanserra x reader

summary: even before you became fae, your favourite season was autumn. it’s a little hard to hide this when your least favourite newly appointed high lord has made it his life’s mission to be the most annoying male in your life.

a/n: this one’s really long sorry!! not proofread and I’ve decided it’s going to be incredibly slow burn… send ur thoughts, and if you want to be in the tag list please send an ask instead as I’m more like to see it :)

You make the mistake of breathing in deeply through your nose as you walk through the meadow of the Spring Court, the crisp air and smell of wildflowers tickling its way into your nostril and forcing a sneeze out of you.

The long stems of grass, wet with morning dew and brushing against your calves are like little needles poking your skin. The itching sensation in your nose caused by the sheer amount of flowers makes your eyes water and all you can think about is the relentless urge to sneeze over and over again.

“I don’t think there’s a single living thing within 50 miles that hasn’t scurried away,” Rhysand says, as if he’s commenting on the weather. You open your mouth to respond, but before you can even form the words on your lips, the thought vanishes as the tickle flares up in your nose again and another sneeze explodes from you. “I think that was sneeze number nineteen and we’ve only been here fifteen minutes.”

“I can’t help it. How does anyone live amongst all of this greenery without wanting to scratch their faces off?” you ask, sniffling pathetically. “And how long before the others arrive? Surely counting my sneezes is below the duties of a High Lord.”

“Most Fae don’t suffer with your affliction. It’s probably something to do with how you were Made,” Azriel adds, not unkindly. He stands slightly further away from you, Rhys and Nesta and if it weren’t for his shadows, you’d have thought he was too preoccupied with keeping watch to listen in. “And it’s sneeze number eighteen actually.”

Nesta narrows her eyes, peering behind Azriel and then sighing in relief. “Thank the Mother,” she mumbles. “Took them long enough. If I had to hear another word about your damned nose…”

You sniff loudly to make a point. You’re about to reply until you spot the two figures in the distance, walking towards the three of you at a deliberately unhurried pace. You first recognise Helion, the morning rays of sun setting his skin aglow as though his powers commanded them to; you wouldn’t be surprised if he was actually doing as much to make a fashionable entrance. The charming grin he shoots your ways is contagious and you can’t help returning it until your focus shifts to the person beside him and you try not to let your face drop.

Even half-shielded from view, the sight of Eris sets your teeth on edge. His tall, lean frame sharply contrasts with the brightness of the meadow, his deep mahogany tunic making him stand out further amongst the flowers. The way he walks with such easy arrogance and moves with an infuriatingly casual stride as though he just belongs there makes your skin prickle with irritation.

Eris’ sharp amber eyes sweep across the group until they land on you for a short moment, a flicker of recognition and something else you don’t care to analyse in his gaze before he turns back to Rhys. The brief looks feels like a challenge and you feel your irritation growing, so you wrench your gaze away from him and focus on Helion instead.

“My, what a pleasant little group we’ve compiled,” the High Lord of Day says, tone pleasant and amused as always. He tilts his head, considering. “Morrigan wasn’t available?”

“She’s with Feyre, Elain and Tarquin,” Rhys responds with a roll of his eyes, but his faint smile tells you he’s pleased to see Helion, rather than annoyed. Nesta looks as though she wants nothing more than to go home, and Azriel looks impassive as always. “They’re covering the border on the East side.”

“Lovely group all the same,” Helion hums, winking at you, teasingly. You shake your head at him, smiling despite yourself. “Shall we?”

Gesturing ahead of you all, Helion starts walking and the rest of you follow, but not before Eris catches your gaze again and raises an eyebrow in question. Your cheeks warm and the smile you had previously given Helion starts to slip, but Eris looks away and walks ahead before you can fully react. The few seconds at a time that you engage in eye contact with the male have you assessing how his expression is sharper than it previously was.

His hair is shorter, you realise. The fiery red strands are no longer draping down his back, instead the ends are no longer than his shoulders, the tips just brushing against his collarbones. The previously long front pieces have been cropped short, his hair no longer looking long enough to tie back in a braid without falling back.

It’s almost as though there’s now nothing to soften the intensity of his gaze every time it passes over you and if that weren’t enough to unsettle you, it’s the realisation that you’re paying more attention to Eris’ hair than to the main reason you’re here in the first place.

Diplomatic relationships had greatly improved between Tamlin and the rest of the High Lords after many years of healing after the war. The Spring Court, while nearly restored to its former glory, had become the target of some recent attacks near the borders. Thus, Tamlin had requested the assistance of the other courts, with the exception of no outside help, ever the paranoid High Lord. Unfortunately, that excludes the security of the soldiers you’ve grown accustomed to, which has you looking over your shoulder every few minutes.

You knew Eris had agreed to help, but you weren’t aware he’d be in such close quarters. Well, as close as he could be with you walking right next to Nesta at the back of the group as she twisted and turned the hem of her dress keep it from getting caught on all the foliage.

“Remind me why we agreed to this,” she mutters under her breath, not quietly enough.

Rhysand throws a look over his shoulder while walking. “Because Tamlin requested our help,” he answers, his tone carefully neutral. “And we have a responsibility to agree to reasonable requests from other High Lords. If not to keep the peace between the Courts, then to ensure whatever’s happening doesn’t become a larger problem for the rest of us.”

“You know Tamlin’s not here, right?” Eris drawls, sardonically. “Meaning we don’t have to act like we actually like him.”

“What, the same way we act like we like you?” you mumble, unable to stop the words from escaping. You wince when Nesta snorts loudly, hiding her laughter in her hand. Even Azriel’s lips quirk up.

Eris finally looks over at you properly this time with a faint smirk, tilting his head. “You wound me, darling,” he says, his voice a silky challenge that you know from experience is daring you to push him further. “But I wouldn’t expect any less from you.”

You force yourself to meet his eyes, physically unable to back down now that he’s spoken. It’s as though he flips a switch of irritation in you every time he talks, yet you never learn your lesson. It’s something to do with the amusement in his gaze, as if he enjoys your quick retorts that really gets under your skin.

“And you’re irritating as always,” you say, sighing as though you’re delivering unfortunate news. You look away, dismissively as you walk a little faster in an attempt to catch up to Nesta, from whom you’ve fallen behind. “But none of us would expect anything less from you.”

Eris continues walking at a leisurely pace, still closer to you than you are to Nesta and the others. Damn these stupid long-stemmed flowers.

A couple of them are particularly overgrown, the pollen seeming to waft right up into your nose and setting you off sneezing again. One particularly violent sneeze sends you stumbling and the world spins for a split second. Before you can hit the ground, a firm hand grips your elbow and pulls you upright, causing your back to bump against a solid chest.

You steady yourself and spin around to come face to face with Eris. His hand lingers on your arm, amber eyes glinting with amusement when you glance down, frowning before you yank it out of his grip. “I don’t need your help.”

“Clearly,” he replies drily, but doesn’t comment any further, taking a step back while keeping his eyes on you. His unwavering gaze makes you freeze, and it’s like he can sense your confusion as his lips quirk up. Bizarrely, he doesn't seem to be making fun of you, instead he just looks as though you’re both engaged in your usual banter and he’s enjoying it.

“Keep up, children,” Helion’s voice from ahead snaps you out of it and you step away, smoothing down your clothes and rushing forward to catch up with the others.

Before you looked away though, you caught Eris’ expression being schooled back into his usual aloof demeanour. It unsettles you, but you push the thought away as Nesta tilts her head at you in questioning. You shake your head slightly and smile reassuringly in answer, but her eyes narrow a little in suspicion.

The further you venture into the forest, the more your head clears, away from the pollen in the meadow, indicating you’re close to the border. The large trees offer you a welcome shade and you take a deep breath.

You’re grateful when you’re unable to sense any oncoming sniffling, but something else starts to tug at the edges of your awareness. It starts off as subtle and you brush it off, but the closer you get to the edges of the forest and nearer to the border, the stronger it becomes.

Rhys calls for a halt when you’ve reached your destination and your feet start to walk you to the walls of magic on their own accord. No one stops you, but they watch warily as you close your eyes, trying to understand what you’re sensing.

It’s took a while to come to terms with the abilities thrust upon you by the Cauldron, the ability to detect and absorb other people’s magic. You felt confident enough to distinguish what you felt from the magic of the people around you and it makes you exhale shakily.

“What is it?” Rhys murmurs, voice sharp but quiet as not to disrupt your concentration. You don’t need to sense anything else though, and so you turn around and shake your head.

“Fae magic,” you answer, slightly underwhelmed. “Just regular, old Fae magic. I don’t think there’s anything sinister here.”

The group all seem to visibly relax slightly, although Azriel’s shadows are still flitting around him like a flock of birds, some venturing out to explore and then returning to whisper at his ears. “Whoever was here has gone now. It’s just us.”

“What does it feel like?” Nesta asks, directing the question to you. She’s referring to the magic, knowing you can usually detect a type of feeling with each strain. “How dangerous?”

“It’s not that it’s dangerous,” you explain, feeling the weight of everyone’s expectant gazes. “It’s more angry than anything. And there’s so many of them, all with slightly different undertones.”

“Ah, how wonderful,” Helion remarks, cheery demeanour never slipping. “A large group of angry Fae with the nerve to attack the borders of a known crazed High Lord. Not dangerous in the slightest.”

You send him a withering stare, with no real heat in it. Rhysand ignores him, glancing back at the rest of you. “We should split up for a while. If something feels off, send out a message and we can regroup. Stay alert.”

You all nod, about to wander off until Helion catches everyone’s attention when he starts to literally glow.

The forest is darker where you all stand and it looks even more concealed further ahead so you aren’t surprised he’s doing as such, but the bright light is nearly blinding.

Eris scowls, the flames swirling around his own hands giving just enough illumination without drawing attention. “Why not just send out a beacon to alert everyone to our exact location?”

Helion frowns, glancing at Rhys who, surprisingly, just shrugs. The High Lord of Day sighs dramatically. “Fine,” he cedes, dimming his light slightly. “Happy, little Lord?”

“Ecstatic,” he deadpans, walking off without another word. The rest of you follow suit, going in opposite directions to inspect the border for signs of anything.

You’ve only been walking around for a few minutes alone, trying to feel unique differences in the magic that lingers around you, still fresh. It’s harder than you thought it would be and you’re so frustrated that you let your guard down.

You don’t hear the snap of the twig, but from the corner of your eye, you catch movement and reach for the dagger by your hip instinctively, spinning round toward the source. You swing the dagger out in front of you in a defensive position, just to see that it’s Eris emerging from behind a tree, his amber eyes glinting with amusement.

“Did I startle you?” he drawls, his tone dropping with feigned innocence.

Scowling, you sheathe your blade. “Do you enjoy sneaking around like that? Or do you just have an unhealthy desire to annoy me?”

Eris raises his eyebrows and his smirk deepens like you’ve just said something extremely entertaining. “Well, it’s a talent really, but what was that about desire? Because, that-”

“Stop,” you sigh, wanting nothing less than to hear out the rest of that sentence. “Just… go away and let me focus on this magic.”

You turn away from him and shut your eyes in concentration, but it doesn’t work as you dont hear him move. Knowing Eris is standing there watching you is doing nothing to help, and you’re about to say so when he speaks first.

“How do you know it’s not just mine or Helion’s magic you’re sensing?” he asks, seemingly serious. You frown at him, thinking he’s joking.

“Well, I have met the two of you before,” you reply, injecting your voice with as much sarcasm as possible. “I know what your magic feels like.”

“And?” Eris tilts his head in question. “What does it feel like?”

“Helion’s magic feels bright, awake and fresh and yours feels…” Inviting, warm, strong. You don’t say anything, because you can’t really explain what you sense in his magic as you still don’t fully understand it. Why you’re drawn to it the same way you would be drawn to jumping into a pile of autumn leaves outside your home as a child. You swallow, looking away. “Different.”

It’s not unusual for you to gravitate to certain magical auras, but it’s only ever been towards close friends, family, some select strangers with whom you had a kind word, for example.

Thankfully, Eris doesn’t push. Annoyingly, however, he changes the subject. “Have you considered my mother’s invite to come and visit Autumn?”

“Shush!” you hiss at him, shooting a glance over your shoulder to see if any of the Inner Circle are nearby. The last thing you need is for them to overhear your conversation. It would lead to an unbearable series of questions, interrogations and endless teasing.

Eris’ chuckle is soft, taunting. “Why so nervous, darling? Afraid your friends will finally put two and two together and realise how you truly feel about their beloved court?”

The mental image of Rhys being disappointed in you makes you feel physically sick. He took you in, gave you a place to be free and opened up his home to you. All for you to go and feel like you don’t even belong? Your chest tightens and you decide you could never do that to him. You glare at Eris and attempt to keep your voice steady. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Liar,” he drops his voice down to a whisper. “Would it really be so bad if your High Lord knew the truth?”

You swallow the rising panic in your body, the fear that he’s going to use your insecurities that only he can sense to his advantage. You close the distance between the two of you and your voice is low and sharp as you speak. “What the hell do you want from me, Eris?”

Eris’ expression falters slightly, like you’ve taken him by surprise for a split second. “What?”

“What could you possibly want from me?” you let out a derisive laugh, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “Do you enjoy holding things over me? Because I can’t think of anything I could give you that you don’t already have. So, if you are blackmailing me for something, then I’d prefer if you just came out with it already.”

The words spill out of you with an intensity that you’ve bottled up since you last argued with Eris, but your anger dims slightly when you realise he’s no longer looking amused. Instead, he stares at you with a blank expression and it’s somehow worse than if he were insulting you.

You realise just how close you had gotten to him only when he steps back slowly, as though wanting to draw your attention to the lack of space, snapping you out of whatever furious trance you were in.

A moment passes before he allows himself to give you a faint smirk, but his jaw is clenched and his eyes flicker with something you can’t figure out. “We should get back to your precious High Lord.”

You open your mouth to say… something. You aren’t even sure what there’s left to say, especially since the whole interaction has left you more unsettled than ever. “I-”

“Keep your guard up, Archeron,” he just says, cutting you off before turning around to walk away without sparing you another glance.

tag list: @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @abysshaven @nayaniasworld @rcarbo1 @paleidiot @tenshis-cake @bunnyredgirl

#eris vanserra x reader #eris x you #eris vanserra fanfiction #eris vanserra imagines #eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris x oc #eris fanfic #eris acotar #Eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x y/n

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urinarythreatinfection · 27 days ago

Note

Hi, I really like your work with Sanji! Can I request a fanfic where the reader is a person who didn't get love from his parents as a child, but only money? The reader is a woman, if anything! How the reader will try to show her love to Sanji is your choice! Thanks in advance!

This was a bit hard at first but I ended up getting into it eventually. It might've turned out a little more angsty than I thought but I felt like it worked really well. If you aren't at 1053 i'm really sorry I put it in there bc it worked really well too.

Insecure Love

Sanji x Fem Reader. Angst/comfort and some fluff. Major Spoilers for episode 1053. 2740 words.

Sanji adores you, you’re perfect to him. Beautiful, amazing, talented, everything. You are the best woman he could ever wish for. Sometimes he even lays awake at night thinking of the memories the two of you have made, goofy smile on his face he’s so enamored. There is one problem though, just a teensy one, you’re not at all affectionate. You don’t stop him from being affectionate to you, but you don’t exactly reciprocate or initiate. Instead, you give him gifts, which was nice at first but he started to feel a bit conflicted about it the more it happened. He would rather get love from you rather than a material good you’d bought somewhere. What’s worse is that the gifts have stopped, it’s almost always just money now.

“Here.” You say blankly to Sanji while he’s cooking, handing him cash. He spots you and his eyes trail to the berri in your hand, a small frown on his face. “Is it not enough?” He jolts and quickly shakes his head.

“No, that isn’t it. Thank you.” He forces a smile and takes it, pain in his chest. Your boyfriend tries so hard to make you feel loved, cooking for you, complimenting you, showing physical affection, but all you do is hand him cash like payment for a service; like his love was simply something nice you pay him for. He’s tried refusing it before but you had gotten upset, putting it away with a sad expression until he agreed to take it. Now you look at him as he pockets it, telling himself he’ll use it to buy ingredients for a dish you’ll like. After he puts it in his pocket he hugs you, kissing you for a bit before pulling away. “I’m going to finish cooking soon, my love, would you like to stay here?” His eyes are expectant, hoping you’ll stay, but you shake your head.

“I’ll leave you to it, you should focus.” With that, you leave him alone in the kitchen. He looks at the ingredients he was chopping, the money you gave him weighing down his heart. Is this really so one-sided? Has he just been bothering you this entire time? Maybe he’s just a toy you can play with, a music box that sings for you when you put money inside. Those thoughts crowd his head as he cooks until he accidentally lifts a hot lid with his bare hand, burning his skin; but before he can go to treat it... it heals on its own. The cook grits his teeth, clenching his fist. What a creepy ability. He puts his head in his hands and takes deep breaths, it’s okay, he loves you, you’re still together.

“Are you alright?” Robin asks him as he sets food down in front of the girls, including you, completely spaced out.

“Oh, sorry Robin-chan.” He snaps out of it and smiles at her. “I’m doing okay.” The cook leaves to serve the rest of the crew, steps noticeably heavier than normal. The women watch this, then look to you.

“Did you two argue or something? What’d he do?” Nami asks, ready to defend you, but you shake your head.

“I don’t know, I thought he was okay earlier, I handed him money and he accepted like normal.” You’re confused, and they both look at eachother.

“Like normal..?” Nami asks again.

“Yeah, I’ve been giving my allowance to him since we started dating. I know he sometimes struggles with food budget so I like helping out.” You explain and the two girls stare at you.

“(Y/n) what have you been doing so far in your relationship with Sanji?” Robin questions you and you start to talk, explaining that you’ve been getting him gifts since you both started dating; but you ran out of ideas on what to give him so you’ve started to give him money when he makes you happy.

“Wow…That’s horrible.” The navigator states, starting to pity Sanji.

“Like a sugar baby?” Your jaw drops slightly at Robin’s comparison and you quickly shake your head.

“A sugar baby!?” You’re shocked but start to think about it. “Wait, is that what he wants?”

“Obviously not!” The navigator snaps at your obliviousness. “He basically collapses the moment a woman does something for him but you’ve just been giving him money?”

“Wouldn’t you like that though?” You point out and she frowns.

“That’s different.” She considers money an okay gift for her, though even she would get annoyed if she had a lover that would only give her money and ignore anything else. “Plus you hardly show him affection, I thought it was just your guys’ thing so I didn’t say anything but you’re clearly bumming him out.”

“I haven’t refused anything from him though, and I don’t get mad at him for flirting with other women.” The navigator sighs, mentally facepalming, this isn’t working out. You’re too oblivious and Sanji’s too much of an idiot to tell anyone something’s wrong, much less a woman he loves. Robin comes up with something.

“Tomorrow you should come to our room at noon. We’ll assist you” You tilt your head, confused, but agree.

That night, Sanji heads to bed still sad and only getting worse. He can’t sleep, he’s been having trouble doing so since that happened. ‘She was there, she must’ve seen.’ An unnatural thing, becoming the same type of monster he always despised. You must’ve fallen out of love with him, that’s it. He can’t blame you, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t digging a hole into his chest. He curls up into a ball on his bed, grasping at the sheets next to him like you’ll be there.

_________________

The next morning goes as it usually does on the Sunny. Sanji wakes up early to make breakfast for everyone and when they wake up it’s time to eat. The difference now is that Sanji seems off, tired, he doesn’t yell at Luffy or Zoro and his happy comments towards Robin and Nami aren’t enthusiastic. When he sets down your plate in front of you you look up at him, trying to scan his face if he’s sick. He awakened late so it would make sense if his Germa genes weren’t as strong, maybe he’s gotten sick? You’re worried and so is everyone else, except Luffy who doesn’t notice until after eating. He almost says something but is promptly elbowed so he keeps shut. He means well but mentioning it right now will make things worse, plus, the girls have a plan.

Afternoon finally strikes and you walk into the shared girls room, they aren’t there. 'Maybe I came too early?’ You think to yourself, checking the time to make sure it’s noon. Suddenly you hear footsteps and the door opens, revealing Robin, Nami, and your boyfriend. They push him inside and he spots you, looking shocked; but before he could ask what’s going on the door closes. He tries the doorknob but it’s locked, switched so the lock is on the outside.

“Don’t even try unlocking the door or breaking it down. You aren’t allowed out until you two communicate.” Nami states and footsteps are heard fading away. You stare at Sanji’s back, his hands on the wooden door. Does he not want to be with you alone with you this much? Usually he’d be excited to have time to spend with you.

“Is something wrong?” You ask him and the cook turns quickly, not prepared for this. He isn’t ready yet! He still needs to prepare his heart for the breakup and practice his apologies for you falling out of love. “Sanji..” You reach a hand out to him and he flinches, pressing his back against the wall like he’s afraid of you. He’s scared to be touched by you, scared that when you feel his skin you’ll retract from fear and disgust from the steel-like flesh. It isn’t right, these misunderstandings cause pain and you bite your bottom lip. What are you doing wrong, what did Nami mean by saying what you were doing was horrible? You step away from him and turn around, the both of you too insecure to speak. Fortunately, being trapped in this room will force you to.

‘She can’t even bear to look at me.’ Negativity clouds his judgment, irrational thoughts filling his mind. “I’m sorry.” An apology, it sounds guilty. This must be a sign.

‘He’s breaking up with me…’ There’s too much stress, him avoiding you, being told something is wrong, and now this breakup. The dam of stone formed by the years of trauma starts to crack, tears dripping from your eyes. Sanji doesn’t see it, but he can hear your shaky breaths. It causes his eyes to widen and his worry for you overpowers his instinct to pull away.

“Mon cœur!?” Your lover walks to you and scans your teary face, his hands cupping your cheeks.

“You don’t have to call me that,” His heart breaks, you’re breaking up with him so he would have to stop calling you that. Your next words confuse him, though. “I know you don’t want to.” …He doesn’t want to? Sanji blinks a few times, why would he ever not want to call his everything what she is?

“What are you talking about? I-”

“Stop forcing yourself!” You yell and he jolts. “It must’ve been hard. Your love for women made you stay with me for so long but I know you don’t love me. Being hesitant about my gifts, not talking to me as much, and you're starting to look tired too.” You step back and put your face in your hands. “You must be staying up late thinking about how you could break up with me.” He stands there, shocked. Him… breaking up with you? The perfect woman completely out of his league? Tears flow from your eyes faster and he tries to make sense of it all, his brain so focused on his own faults that the thought of you being insecure of yours is unable to cross his mind.

“Do you mean the berri you’ve been giving me?” He manages to put together and you nod. He continues to think. “You… it wasn’t payment to you?” He doesn’t know what else to call it so he settles with that word.

“Payment?” You wipe your eyes and sniffle. “Is that why you’ve been staying with m-”

“No, nonono of course not. I thought..” Sanji quickly interrupts you, stopping that thought. This is different from what he thought was going to happen, but it still hurts to speak his mind when it only reminds him of what’s wrong, well what he thinks is wrong. “I thought you were giving me those things as payment because you didn’t want to pay attention to me. So I wouldn’t bother you, that my love was just a transaction.” He says the last part more quietly and your heart drops. This is familiar, you’ve felt this exact way before when you were young. Going to your parents for love and only getting money in return to shut you up and get you away. You start to shake and cry harder.

“I-I, I didn’t know. I’m sorry..!” You’re just like them, but Sanji doesn’t care; hugging you.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault.” He’s already forgiving you and you haven’t even explained anything.

“No, it’s n-not okay.” You say while shaking your head, it’s nerve-wracking to talk about your past but you choose to. For him. “I… I thought I was doing the right thing. That I was different from my parents who would give me things instead of love, I always made sure t-to never tell you to go away or reject you but I ended up making you feel the exact same way I did!” You pull away and cover your face. “I’m horrible!”

‘The same way she did?’ He processes what you said, what’s happening. The struggle of trying so hard to be different from family only to end up like them is something he knows as well. His hand goes to his chest, pressing down and feeling almost completely dense skin instead of the regular squish of flesh; just like his brothers. “You don’t think I’m a monster…” You quickly shake your head. “Why didn’t you say so? Are you sure- I mean you never wanted to be with me!” Whenever he was cooking or if he went shopping you would just give him money and wave him off.

“I..” You think about that, then start to get embarrassed. “I didn’t want to bother you, what if I get overly clingy and get you mad?” Sanji hears this and it’s like weight has been dropped from his heart, but hearing you say this so insecurely still makes him slowly sink to the ground. “Sanji?”

“Bother me.. being clingy.” Gods, he would do anything to have you cling to him when he’s cooking or shopping. “You could never, ever, not in an eternity, ever bother me by being ‘clingy’”

“But don’t you get busy? You work so hard cooking and when you’re out shopping you’re talking with women, wouldn’t I make it awkward if I butted in?” He hangs his head in shame, the few times that you’ve agreed to go shopping he has flirted with other women; but he had assumed you didn’t care. In a way, he would do it on purpose hoping to get a reaction, even looking back at you. Anything to show a sign you loved him, that he wasn’t a toy, but all he was doing was making things worse. This lack of communication was only causing pain to you both. How could he ever make this up to you? He was already unworthy and now he had dared to cause such suffering to the love of his life. “Baby…” You crouch down and cup his face so he’s looking at you, his eyes are teary.

“I hurt you.”

“We ended up hurting each other.” You wipe his tears with your thumbs. “Do you still want to be with me? Even if I've been messing up?”

“I should be the one asking you that, treasure. My love.” Sanji hugs you, pulling you close to him so you’re on his lap. You can feel his hesitance, the fear that you’ll pull away because he’s different now, but you don’t. Instead you press closer to him, lifting your head up to look at him. You don’t really initiate kisses, so you’re nervous as you place your lips on his. He’s only shocked for a moment before he kisses back, resting his hand on the back of your neck. This is the longest series of kisses you’ve had, almost a minute before you have to pull away. “S-Sorry, I’ve gotten better at holding my breath lately.” A bit awkward it’s from something he dislikes, though.

“So I don’t have to worry if I kiss you alot?” You ask and his pupils basically turn to hearts.

“No, you don’t.” Before you two can kiss again there’s the sound of the door unlocking, making you quickly get off of Sanji’s lap as he stands up so Robin and Nami don’t see you in an awkward position. They almost think that nothing has happened but seeing the two of you clearly panicked changes their mind, making Robin smile.

“It went well, then?” Robin chuckles happily as the two of you flush. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

_______________

Sanji hums as he cooks, a good mood from making up with you so amazingly. His ears perk up when he hears you come inside, not needing to look to know it’s you. “I’m almost done, my love.” He states as he expertly flips a steak. You don’t say anything, which confuses him but before he can turn around he feels your arms wrap around him and your body press against his back. His girlfriend, who hasn’t shown real affection until yesterday, is clinging to him while he cooks. Is this a dream?

“Don’t turn around, I’m still a little shy.” You say quietly and it echoes in his mind. Shy… shy… Gods, you’re too cute. His face goes red and he falls to the side, blood seeping from his nose. “Sanji!?” You manage to stop him from slamming fully onto the ground, shaking him. He’s in heaven, this is heaven.

#one piece x reader #fanfiction #fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #angst/comfort #angst with a happy ending #sanji x reader #fem reader #female reader #sanji x female reader #one shot #one piece one shot

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spaghettiposts · 8 months ago

Text

Picture to Burn

Cairo Sweet x Reader

Summery: You should've known better than to fall for Cairo, your friend who seemed to have no interest in you, but it only takes one drink to mess things up and get you into her bed.

Warnings: Attempts at writing, angst, miscommunication, slight sexual content, underage drinking, Miller being an inconvenience, and heartbreak

Word count: 3.3k yikes

A/n: Hm, not sure how I feel about this one but its been sitting in my drafts long enough, might need a part 2...

“What do you look for in an ideal partner?” Cairo furrowed her eyebrows, her pencil caught between her lips. Your question threw her off track, and she grumbled softly as she erased a mistake. She glanced up at you, annoyed by your upside-down gaze and the way your lips quirked.

“Someone who doesn’t have a camera hanging around their neck all the time.” She retorted, eyes drifting back down to her notes.

You perked up, grasping the camera that was indeed resting on your neck. “Seriously?” You scoffed, settling back into the blanket.

Cairo smirked behind her pages, taking full satisfaction in your crestfallen demeanor. “Oh, and people who aren’t into Marvel.” She added, chuckling at your deadpan reaction.

Assuming the conversation was over, she resumed writing, scribbling random thoughts only to look away and meet your raised brow, tied with an expectant look. God you had to be needy. With a heavy sigh, she shut her book. Typical, you rarely gave her time to properly invest in her writing.

“Fine…I guess for them to make a good income? You know, enough to support me and my writing. Or at least put up with it.” Cairo explained with a shrug, nose scrunching at the way your eyes softened. Ignoring it, she pointed to you with her pen, hitting your nose, “And you are ten grand in debt, unfortunately missing the cut, so sorry.” She said with a faux pout.

Once again, you scoffed, pushing her away and murmuring about how unserious she could be. Cairo fell back on the blanket with a laugh, feeling anything but apologetic, though your smile gave you away.

As you reached into your bag for your notebook, Cairo assumed she might finally get some writing done. Quiet time was her favorite time with you - if you had to be there, which she preferred if you weren’t, totally. Either way, the sound of you fiddling with your camera grounded her; enough so she could focus on her work again.

Initially, Cairo found certain quirks about you irritating, but as she spent more time with you, she began to see them in a new light. The small curses that left your lips when your camera wasn’t working properly, the spontaneous photos you snapped of Cairo - they became endearing rather than bothersome. And above all, your unwavering support and genuine admiration for her writing. Something Cairo needed more than she’d ever admit.

With each word of encouragement and every heartfelt compliment, Cairo's heart swelled, in a dreadful way. It was more than admiration or appreciation; it was something more, a feeling she couldn't deny, no matter how hard she tried.

Though she continued to brush off your advances and maintain a facade of indifference, yet Cairo couldn't ignore you whenever your eyes met hers, the way your smile seemed reserved for her alone.

Yes, you were her friend, but that was all. Nothing was worth the risk of ruining things now. Especially if you didn’t truly mean what you spoke.

“Have you read anything new lately?” You asked, your back hunched over as you picked with the old thing. Honestly, Cairo couldn’t see why you still put up with it, the damn thing broke all the time. But still, it was a classic model from the 50s, an heirloom from your grandfather, which she could respect.

Her hand reached over and shoved at your back, smiling in satisfaction when you straighten your back, shooting a glare in her direction.

“I finished Lolita, it was on Miller's list for its themes of controversy. I wouldn’t read it again though.” She mumbled, “I did pick up this new book called Rebecca, it’s allegedly a psychological thriller but what’s so dark about being haunted by your partner's ex?”

You scoffed, doodling some part of the camera in your journal, “A lot.”

“Doesn’t seem too bad, I mean they’re dead right? Can’t do anything.”

“I wouldn’t risk crossing a paranormal creature like that.” You commented, with a shrug of your shoulders. Cairo hummed, watching you work. When you made no further comments she returned back to her notebook, spending the hour before class working separately.

—

Despite Mr. Miller's evident excitement towards writings of controversy, apparently, that wasn’t the case with Cairo. It was a mistake, a stupid mistake but a mistake she assumed a man like him would love. How wrong was she?

A student longing for their middle-aged professor was where the line was drawn. The hypocrisy of it all made Cairo want to laugh, who was he to dismiss her paper that way? She knows the other students, the other students who wrote worse. The book Miller had them read was even worse.

But no, what was done was done. And now she was convinced Miller thought she was coming onto her, just what she needed. Cairo wouldn’t be surprised if he reported her and there was suddenly a new switch in teachers. As annoying as that’d be, she didn’t have time to dwell on it.

Instead of a clear schedule, there was now an overdue assignment, dragging her grade down that she had to redo. All. Over. Again.

Oh how she wanted to scream at that, a relaxing week gone.

“Stupid fucking Miller…” Cairo muttered, walking with haste to her car. Once inside she slammed the door, pressing her head against the wheel. A knock on her window startled the girl, causing her to look up with a huff, her eyes widening once she realizes who it is.

“Are you alright?” You ask, waiting for her to roll down the window. She does just that, wiping her face with her arm. Was she crying? “You look…off.” Typically your way of saying she looked like shit. Mascara smeared and all she couldn’t blame you.

Deciding not to answer your question, Cairo motions to the passenger seat, tossing her bag carelessly into the back seat. “Get in.”

“But I already have a ride-“

“And I’m offering…just come inside.” She grits between her teeth, letting out an impatient sigh. She doesn’t know why she needs you in the car with her but doesn’t give herself time to dwell on it, when you’re slipping into the seat next to her.

Your posture is tense and that bothers her. She didn’t mean to come off…abrasive. Taking her eyes off yours, she starts the car, preparing herself for the upcoming conversation. You quickly buckle yourself in without another word.

The car ride could’ve been more comfortable, which usually it was but your consistent nervous tapping was starting to bother the brunette. Wordlessly she threw her stapled papers in your lap, you opened your mouth to speak but Cairo beat you to it, mumbling a small ‘read it’.

You flipped through her work carefully and Cairo didn’t have the heart to look at your reaction, not this time. It was different with you judging her work, not that you judged, words of compliments spilled out of your lips every time you did read something of hers, tugging those same old heartstrings Cairo was starting to get sick of. Unlike those other moments, this time, it was different as you flipped silently through her work. Did she really screw it up this bad?

She heard a hiss leave your lips and if she weren’t driving the car her head would’ve snapped in an instant. Turns out you were only focusing on the grade and notes Miller left, better yet lack of.

You bit the inside of your cheek, slowly sliding the papers back to her, pursing your lips. Cairo huffed, removing one hand from the steering wheel to snatch them back, throwing them harshly towards the back.

So, she was in a bad mood. You thought, hands clutching at your knees, swallowing dryly.

“So?” Cairo asks, her voice on the verge of a shout.

“Well, it was interesting. I mean I skimmed through it so I don’t know, your writing was good- like always.” You spoke rapidly, a nervous trait.

“God Y/n, if you thought it was bad you could’ve just said so!” She blurted exasperatedly.

“I don’t! Cairo you know I adore everything you write, this just caught me off guard. Doesn’t mean I like it any less, I promise.”

A silence loomed over the car, and you shrank into your seat even further if that was even possible. Cairo let out a sigh, losing her grip on the steering wheel.

“Sorry, I'm just feeling…” Cairo's voice trailed off as she struggled to find the right words. She didn’t want to fight, not again. The guilt weighed heavy on her chest every time she saw that deflated look on your face. She couldn’t keep pushing you away, that wasn’t fair. But she also couldn’t shake that feeling of uncertainty she felt around you, about what she wanted, when you were what she wanted, “frustrated with this assignment.”

“And that’s okay,” You reassured her, your voice as gentle as ever, as you reached out to take her hand. Cairo’s gaze flickered down to your hands, feeling a mix of comfort and apprehension, before reluctantly allowing them to intertwine, giving you a small squeeze. “I’m here for you if you need me, anytime.”

Suddenly, the car felt much tighter than before, the lump in her throat growing heavier. She wasn’t sure when her eyes started to water or why your touch felt like a burden, but she knew she couldn’t hold it any longer. It all felt too intimate too quickly. Silently, she withdrew her hand, placing it back in her lap oblivious to the hurt expression on your face.

Yet, she couldn’t ignore the own ache in her chest.

—

A bright white light blurred endlessly in Cairo's eyes, slow and unresponsive to everything else that wasn’t her assignment. She fought tirelessly at the screen in front of her, the now blank page mocking her to no end. In the midst of it all Cairo recalled how easy her first essay had been to create, only to be dismissed.

With a huff and slam at her laptop, she tossed the thing aside, landing back on her bed with a grunt. She separates herself from her work, wiping at her burning eyes with her hands. To say Cairo was frustrated was an understatement. After driving around with you for a while she let you go, dropping you off.

A decision Cairo started to regret.

Once again, her parents were out of town doing who knows what. It was something Cairo was used to, but it still bothered her more than she’d admit. Some company would be nice, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could take rewriting that assignment anyway.

After mulling it over in her head, she lifted herself up, to open her phone. Her eyes remained locked on your contact, holding a photo of you and Cairo at the library. While Cairo had her nose stuck in a book, you looked at her like she was everything and more. The picture only made her stomach gnaw uneasily, but still, with much hesitance she dialed your number, listening to it ring.

“Hey, can you come over?”

An astonishing ten minutes was all it took for you to appear at her door. Cairo smiled at you, tugging you in. She noticed you carrying a small plastic bag but didn’t comment on it, dragging you up to her room.

“I brought you something.” You said, softly closing the door behind you. Cairo sat herself on the bed, tilting her head curiously. “A lot of things actually.”

How Cairo managed to miss the balloon you had brought in with you, reading in big bold letters: ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ was totally behind her. Cairo raised a questioning eyebrow and you explained for her writing losses, and Cairo didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or punch you.

Fortunately, you reached into the bag before she could consider the latter, pulling out a familiar bottle of scotch that had Cairo’s lips contorted into one of mischief and pleasure. “And I figured you could use a drink, or two.” You muttered thoughtfully, tossing the bottle on her lap. Cairo traced the bottle with her fingers before twisting it open with a ‘pop’.

You moved around the room, searching for glasses you could use. Spotting two clean ones on the dresser you grabbed them, and settled down next to Cairo, leaving a respectable distance between you. Cairo already had her lips on the bottle by the time you poured the drinks and you raised an amused eyebrow, handing her the whiskey-filled shot. She downed it impressively and you attempted to do the same, failing quite miserably when the burn settled.

Cairo laughed and you settled further into her bed, grumbling embarrassedly. And it had only taken two more shots for you to really feel the effects, and you could tell Cairo was starting to feel them too, a giddy smile plastered on her face that never seemed to leave. Your shoulders untensed noticeably from how serene the air felt, wishing that every moment with Cairo didn’t feel like walking a tightrope.

Yet there was still something there – a lingering tension of sorts that no matter how hard you tried wouldn’t leave. You assumed Cairo felt the same when you met her eye and a soft smile tugged on her lips, one that you couldn’t help but return.

Time seemed to blur with the buzz of alcohol in your body, everything having been so peacefully quiet till Cairo shifted against the headboard, lips lingering on the bottle. Her gaze met yours and your stomach stirred. Not knowing why, foolishly, you looked away. Never had Cairo looked in your direction with so much fervor, and you’d be damned if she started now, under the influence when she didn’t mean it–couldn’t mean it.

But your heart would always betray you, now more than ever. So when she took another swing, you knew you were a goner by the way her eyes darkened and her teeth shone. Your own eyes remained locked to her lips and you swallowed dryly, feeling your heart race because she was staring back the same way.

Cairo didn’t seem bothered, chuckling under her breath as she tucked the bottle away, then swiftly advancing on you the next second, giving into what you both so desperately wanted.

She stumbles into your lap messily, thighs encircling your waist and you groan when she squeezes, placing your hands on her thighs to anchor yourself. Cairo took the opportunity to trail kisses down your collarbone, her lips moving frantically, eager to kiss every inch of you. You let yourself get lost in the sensation, trying to block out that part of your mind that tells you, this is wrong.

Cairo stifles a moan when your nails dig into her hips, grounding her and you both shiver at the contact. Your hand slides along her side, encouraging her, and she does just that, moving slowly against your thigh. Then the room changes completely when her noises become louder, and the pit in your stomach grows hotter. And you have to take a moment to separate yourselves, breathing out of sync.

“What are we doing, Cairo?” You whisper affectedly, rubbing your hands along her inner thighs and Cairo sighs.

“Whatever you want me to do.” She whispers back in the same tone, bringing your foreheads together. “Guide me.”

Despite her words, she’s the one to bring your mouths together first. It’s hesitant and slow, and you both sigh. Her hips press harder against you, and you break the kiss with a grunt. “More.” And that’s enough for you to kiss her again, in a much more heated kiss than before.

Your head is spinning in pleasure as Cairo’s hips grind against yours. With shaky hands you squeeze her skin, taking control of her movements and slowing them down. Cairo whines against your lips, begging and you realize you’re completely weak against her and give her what she needs, meeting her thrusts.

She comes undone on your thighs next, hips spasming, and gasping against your lips as she comes down from her high. Her body goes limp and she falls on your shoulder for support. You press a kiss into her hair, rubbing her back with your hand to soothe her, not really caring if the act is more intimate for whatever this is.

You switch your positions to lay her to rest on the bed, pressing soft lingering kisses on her face as you do, and she curls in beside you blissfully ignorant to what had happened, and you wonder if she’d still be like this with you if this never did occur.

Still, you hold her tighter, blinking as the past minutes replayed in your head, trying to make sense of the situation. Your thoughts only come to a halt when Cairo’s lips are back on your neck, and you shake away the goosebumps because you know you can’t do this again without truly knowing.

“Cairo—what, what did we do? What was this?” Your voice cracks through the silence, a lump forming in your throat.

“Sex,” Cairo states matter-of-factly, continuing to kiss your neck, but it has your heart dropping to your stomach and suddenly you feel sick. Maybe it was just the alcohol or the heartbreak, or both. Either way, it had you pulling away.

“But did it mean anything?” You ask hesitantly, sitting up next to take her hands off you. Cairo huffs in frustration but doesn’t stray her eyes away from you, the action only making it all the more difficult to ask. “At all—did you feel something?”

“Baby I felt many things,” She chuckles incredulously, raising an eyebrow. “What's with all the questions?”

Her wandering hands make it hard to focus on your words, each touch just a reminder of what you had done just a moment ago. You tentatively take her hands into your own, catching her by surprise. “I just mean- well you’ve never…shown or said you’ve wanted to be with me this way.”

“Just because I had sex with you doesn’t mean I want to be with you. It’s just sex, Y/n.”

You choke in disbelief, feeling a wave of soberness wash over and you let go of her hands, similarly to how Cairo did earlier.

Not really knowing what to do or say, you shuffle away from her, noticing her torn expression. It hurts you to look at her, so you don’t, choosing to face anything—the ceiling, her vanity. But everything ties back to her, and you hated yourself for allowing this to happen.

A wave of silence passes you before you have the strength to repeat something, “Right”. You manage to utter, your voice trembling.

When you make a move to leave, Cairo touches your wrist to stop you and you freeze. “It’s late, and you’re drunk. Stay the night.”

You take a shallow breath, shaking your head in denial. “I don’t think I should.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

“Of course not.” You mutter, sitting back against the headboard. Cairo doesn’t question the attitude, only sparing a concerned glance before moving off the bed. Her movements are sloppy as she makes her way to the bathroom, holding a new pair of clothes.

You don’t register when she returns, but it’s long afterward. Neither of you says a word, choosing to settle in silence. There’s a palpable tension when she places a pillow between you, a silent barrier.

You want to scream, to say something, to remind her who initiated it. Tell her that if anything, you should be uncomfortable with her. But that would be a lie. Your head continues to pound throughout the night, and you decide it’s better to sleep it off, unaware of how deeply affected both of you are.

The next day, Cairo wakes up to an empty bed.

#cairo sweet x reader #cairo sweet #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x reader #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x reader #millers girl

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anadiasmount · 1 year ago

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tainted memories - jude bellingham.

wow wow okay hi!! sorry for the break i took. i began uni again after my holiday so i haven’t been as active on here. but i received this request for jude, and decided to try it out. please leave some feedback as us writers appreciate it a lot 🤍🧟‍♀️

summary: breaking up wasn’t apart of the plan. so was also inviting him to your friends party, but now that he’s back after seven months, a little rekindle never hurts anyone, right?

angst? smut and fluff. minors dni! 🔞

wc: 3.6k

“need any help?” you turned slowly to be faced with those soft brown eyes. his plump lips drew in as he peeked his head through the door. you shook your head and got back to washing the dishes. “you going to continue ignoring me?” he said causing you to begin breathing quicker than before, after feeling his presence come behind you.

you were in charge of one of your girlfriends all -white all-white-themed surprise party, in honor of her birthday. this meant you’d see jude after breaking up over 7 months ago, since your friends were friends with his. while seeing familiar faces made you happy, you couldn't help but feel sad all over again. jude and you ended on good terms, so he thought, after he stressed he wanted to focus on his last months at dortmund and start with his new team in madrid.

you didn’t want to split, rather try and make your relationship work and get through the obstacles you were bound to face together. you physically and mentally weren't prepared to let him go, he was your person, the person who never failed to make you feel like the luckiest girl. you were his, but instead, you let him go, and respected what he asked.

you began a new cycle all over again, from having that hard shell that protected you to being his girlfriend, then back to being that old person you were building your walls up again. people came and went in your life, its what you were used to, and you thought with jude it was different… he made you feel different, in many positive aspects, always supportive, loving, caring, and soft with you.

maybe you pushed him away? maybe you gave him a reason to leave? maybe you weren’t enough for him?

jude being jude still tried to keep contact, he would text, sometimes call, but you knew deep inside you wouldnt be able to move on if he was still present. it hurt because he wasn’t yours anymore, you still loved him, after months being apart, he still brought that spark inside you to burst. it was his effect burned inside you.

the familiar perfume and scent blinded your senses, when you felt two arms trap you from behind, two hands on the edge of the counter. “you haven’t said a single word to me y/n…” you shuddered as he whispered in your ear, his nose tracing your jaw down to the nape of your neck. “say something, please…” the pleading in his voice broke your heart. you dried your hands and turned around.

his face centimeters apart from yours, where you could see his brows fluttering in and eyes darker than usual. “excuse me,” you tried to move out of the way but he refused, “no. did i say or do something? you don’t answer my calls? my messages? tell me why.” you opened your mouth to speak but instead you shook your head again, attempting to move out the way, you still had the responsibility of the party, that was your priority right now.

“y/n-”

“no. you don’t get to do that. you said you wanted your space, and i’m respecting that. i don’t have to give you reasons as to why i’m not speaking with you, jude. what we had was said and done, you wanted to focus on yourself and that's great- “

“y/n? are you done with the dishes were waiting on you to surprise emmy,” one of your friends said, becoming slightly awkward at the room with your ex. she sensed the high tension so she quickly went back outside. jude’s hand wrapped around your wrist, your attention back on him, “we're talking later. we ended on good terms and i plan for them to remain that way,” jude insisted, to which you only nodded your head.

he was confused. for once in his life he was confused that you were such a stranger around him. the girl that stayed up with him while he reminisced and spoke of his early days at birmingham, the one and only girl his mum loved and adored, his girl who made his favorite dish after a bad game, the girl who smiled only around him, the only girl who never failed to bring and feel butterflies in him, the one girl who defended him always, and that girl who made him into a bigger and better person. that girl, his girl, wasn’t there anymore.

maybe he lost you for good? maybe you didn’t love him anymore? maybe you were seeing someone? no, you were his, only his.

the night was successful, the surprise went to plan, and everyone was having a good time. although you were still stuck from earlier, trying to do anything to distract your thoughts from him, whether it was picking up cups, heating up food, talking with your girls especially, and drink the special cocktail you loved dearly. your eyes trailed over to him again, where you locked eye contact for the hundredth time that night. he looked good, way too good, twenty was treating him right.

“you and jude keep ogling? something going on?” you friend asked, catching onto the lingering glances. she took a sip of her red cup, “nothing really. he wants to talk but i don't know if i’m ready for that. i knew he would be coming, but i wasn’t prepared to see him like that. what if he tells me he found someone else? or that-” you panic rubbing your forehead with your palm.

“first breathe, i’m here with you. as much as it may hurt or feel slightly uncomfortable, it's the closure you may need to move on. but what if he wants to talk with you to rekindle again? do you think you would be open to that? and if he says he’s someone else, show him what he will miss on. you're beautiful y/n, and he was lucky to have you once in his life, just don’t let him bring you down again…”

she was right. if he did move on, that wasn’t your place to meddle, you’d have to let him go and be happy for him. but if he did want to consider getting back together, why now? why now when he’s living his best life in madrid? why now after saying he wanted to focus on himself? why now when you’re trying to avoid those soft brown eyes who once brought happiness to you, still do…

“just think about it yeah? right now lets dance, distract yourself from him and the world,” she yelled as soon as krazy by pitbul begin to play. you laughed and danced with your girls, letting loose and for once not caring for what anyone said or did. you threw back two shots, knowing they weren’t going to do anything as you weren't a lightweight.

as the night came to an end, mostly everyone had left, besides him. you said your goodbyes to your friends, offering them leftovers of food and cake, making sure to wish them a be careful, and promising to hang out soon. you sighed tiredly closing the front door, looking over at the big couch that drew you in to sit down on. jude appears, but all you do is stare at your hands, tracing the small tattoos you have to get rid of the anxiety beginning to build up.

“i want to apologize, you were right. i did say i wanted to focus on myself but i was stupid thinking it would’ve still meant us talking like we always did. part of me never wanted to let go of you, and still doesn’t. i thought that i was doing the right thing but in the end i learned the hard way that not only was i hurting myself but you along…” jude says, watching as your head slowly lifts up, your cheeks burning red.

“while it was hard on me, my mind always traced back to you. how your eyes filled with confusion and tears when i broke up with you. i get why you didn’t want anything to do with me, but believe me it was harder to not hear or see you on the daily. please don’t blame yourself for one bit, or think you aren’t enough because you’re more than perfect than what i could’ve asked for…”

“i needed to get away from you, but it's hard doing that when your ex-boyfriend is the talk of the town,” you joke hearing him let out a small chuckle. “i wanted to so badly respond to hear your voice, how you were doing, talk about our silly work problems but i knew if that i continued to hold onto the hope one day you’d come back, it would hurt more than loving you every day,” you said.

“i was confused yeah, but i needed to think on the brighter side that you were doing this for yourself and not for any other reason. I just wanted the best for you and i thought that distancing myself was the best idea… i still love you so much jude, and this, us, hurts. i’m not yours, and i can’t call you mine anymore, i can’t hold or kiss you, love you like i did…” you continued.

“when i heard you weren’t doing okay after three months i almost caved in, but i thought you would’ve hated me or worse just not care. and to not have you like i once did was taking a toll on me. my mom was concerned as to why we broke up, but i couldn’t tell her the truth. i hurt you and im so sorry baby…” jude cried out, grabbing your hands and kissing over your knuckles.

“I want and need you back… i still love you more than ever, and if you let me i can prove to you im now a better and mature man…” he pauses and breathes in, “leaving you was the scariest thing i’ve encountered, not having you by my side taught me i can't live or sleep without you there…”

“and if you say all of this to just leave me again? or you regret your decision to get back with me?” you can’t help but ask, letting a few tears out. what if it got too much for him? you wouldn’t be able to live with another heartache caused by him again. you need to hear him say he’s in it for the long run, not one where he can just up and go whenever he pleases.

“i can assure you right here, right now, that you’re it for me. you’re my future wife, the mother to my kids, the only person i want to grow old with. the only girl who’ll support me at the end of the day no matter what. the only woman who i will forever love and cherish…” you giggle and choke on a sob, feeling jude’s thumb wipe away the tears.

“don’t leave me… that all i ask. but i need you too jude. all i ask is for you to communicate with me, for us to give each other the assurance we need to move forward, that at the end of the day you’re the only one i come back to, to watch spy kids over and over again,” you say making him chuckle, watching as he let out some tears. You wiped them away, brushing your thumb over his soft cheek, his eyes closing at the feeling. “So were really doing this?” you ask. “yes we are really doing this…” jude says leaning and scooting closer to you.

you leaned in, his eyes slowly fluttering closed, was this real? the touch of his lips connecting with yours confirmed it. the way his larger hand cupped your cheek and pulled closer, completely taking your breath away. you whimpered softly as his tongue entered your mouth, him groaning at the smallest sound you made. you brought your hands and cupped his upper shoulders before bringing your smaller palm on his cheek.

jude pulled you onto his lap where you felt the big prominent bulge, leaning forward and grabbing your torso to hold you in place. his lips quickly connected back with yours, tilting his head to the side a bit as he pulled you closer, chest to chest. “jude…” you let out quietly, the tension all becoming too much, too hot…

“yes? fuck- d-do you wanna stop?” he whispered faintly on your lips, to which you shook your head no. you leaned back slightly, your hands going back to unzip the white dress you were wearing, jude’s eyes roaming from your swollen lips down to your chest where your white lace bra covered what he wanted to see. “are you sure? i don’t want you to regret this y/n…”

“i’m more than sure that i want this… i need you, jude. just like you just said…” he groaned and pulled you back towards him, where he kissed your lips like a hungry starved man. peppering kisses from your jaw, down to your neck, and that exact spot he manages to find that makes you go crazy. he bites down gently then sucks the skin where he marked you, kissing softly over it. “i need you too. need you so bad my cock’s aching to feel you again…”

he lays you down onto the plushy soft couch, grabbing a pillow and laying underneath your head. jude quickly removes the dress but leaves you with your white undergarments, his hands dragging your sides, observing your body like it would be his last time seeing it. you begin to cover yourself but he stops you, grabbing your hands with one of his and trapping them above you head.

he kisses you softly on your lips, then your forehead in reassurance, “don’t cover up baby. you’re so beautiful and all mine, yeah?” you nodded leaning up to kiss him again. he lets go of your hands, watching as you sit up again, overlooking at your fingers fidgeting with the button on his top. he lets you do it, your warm palms connecting with now his bare chest, running your thumb over his nipple, looking up shyly to see jude bitting his bottom lip.

as you lay back down, you watch as he removes his pants, his erected cock lined against his black calvins. “staring at me now?” jude teased, his hands resting on your knees as he pulled them apart to settle between them. “can’t help it, jude. you’re so handsome,” you complimented watching as he smirked. “and i’m all yours, right? say it y/n…”

“all mine.”

“good. because all that nonsense from before isn’t true. you’ve always been mine… only mine.” jude removed your bra, kissing from your collarbone down through your sternum, to finally sucking the hard erected nipple into his mouth. a soft moan left your lips, arching your back just a bit, while your hands gently grabbed his head. you didn’t expect your night to end like this, but you weren’t complaining since jude knew what exactly to do. he knew what brought you to the point where you saw only stars.

your eyes connected, watching as he flatly laid his warm tongue on the bud before sucking it again, twisting the tip of his tongue before doing the same to the other nipple. you felt as his lips traced all over your abdomen and hipbone, feeling as he removed the only thing that was left covering you. “can i taste you? make you cum all over my tongue again?” you moaned at his words, telling him to go on.

one hand kept your inner thigh open, as the other one rested over his shoulder. he kissed along the inner flesh before kissing and sucking your clit into his mouth. he groaned, watching as your eyes rolled back. his tongue moved up and down various on the small bead before going left to right, kitty licking all the way down to your coated entrance. “oh fuck!” you yelled out, as he brought two fingers and began to flick them in and out, hitting that certain spot that brought you closer and closer than ever.

he tilted his head to the side, his curls ticking your inner thigh as he began to flick over your clit once again. Jude’s fingers now flicking inside you, “i can’t, i’m close jude…” you said bringing your hands to play with your tits. “yeah? then cum for me y/n. cum all over my tongue like i asked,” to which you yelped and moaned as you felt on cloud nine again, closing your eyes and letting the feeling of euphoria linger all over you body.

he overstimulated you just for a bit, then kissed all the way back up again to your lips, where gripped your hips, grinding into you to relieve himself. “you feel that? that’s how you make me feel baby…” he whispers feeling as your hand slides down his abs, to the waistband of his underwear. the kiss is heated, tongues fighting for dominance, jude pulling away sometimes to groan or moan against your neck, as you gave him the sloppiest handjob.

feeling as he twitches on your palm as you guide your hand up and down, tugging and wrapping your grip tightly before soothing over it. “i need to cum… but not like this. can i fuck you now?” he admits, looking over and making sure there are no signs of you being unsure or regret. “please jude, i want to feel you a-ag-again…” you shuddered as you felt his hot tip being dragged up and down your slit.

one hand helped him stay up, while the other one guided his cock inside you, the familiar stretch of your walls as he easily slides into you. the two of you moan in delight, stunned at the pleasure as jude begins to roll his hips, going deeper and deeper. arching your back as he pulled out his cock and then quickly rolled back in. “jude..” you moan like a devotion, squeezing him tight, hearing him let out a grunt before feeling him thrust back into you.

you cry out as you feel his big length find a nice wave of ecstasy for the two of you, jude’s head falling into your shoulder trying to hold back from cumming on the spot. “you feel so so so good baby. such a tight pussy for me…” he moans out when you scratch his back and grip his biceps. you look down to see where your bodies meet, a wet mess that has you rolling your head back again.

“oh god jude… you’re so deep i can’t-” you turn your head to the side as he finds your g-spot thrusting over and over again, his hips slapping against yours. it couldn't get more better than this. jude grabs your chin and kisses you passionately, swallowing your moans and pleads. “you’re gonna cum for me? need and want you to cum on my cock y/n… show me how much of a good girl you are and cum on my cock, baby.”

jude makes it his goal to have you cumming for him, but you try to hold off so you can cum together. every cell in your body is on fire, ready to burst into fire because it feels so good. it gets harder by the second as he picks up the pace, his thrusts sloppier by the second, moaning your name, resulting in you clenching around him. you're unable to form coherent words, just hearing his breathing getting louder, your chest rising. “i’m nearly there y/n, want you to cum with me, can you do that?”

“yes jude… but i beg you to please don’t stop it.”

jude let’s go of your hips, forehead falling with yours as he reaches his high, feeling his cock twitching inside you, his cum lacing your wet walls with his release. your body tenses for a second, the hot feeling now being replaced by cold waves as you cum, lazily kissing as jude lays on your chest. “i love you, y/n, so much.”

“i love you too Jude. forever like we promised.”

after going up for a shower, jude takes care of you, since you were unable to walk properly. he makes sure you’re hydrated, wearing the plaid shorts you love with a black long sleeve, him just an old pair of boxers he still had lying in your flat, he checks that all lighting units downstairs are off, grabbing the box of cookies and goldfish to eat.

he pulls you into his embrace, hugging your waist never letting go, constantly softly kissing your cheek like he always did. after he uses the restroom and helps you brush your teeth, you’re lying on your bed, the white sheets covering your shivering bodies.

jude lays on top of your chest again, his right hand sliding up and down your side, his head resting comfortably on the crook of your neck, his eyes fluttering and smiling when you kiss his temple lovingly. “go to sleep jude… you need it, i’m not going anywhere,” you promise feeling as he wraps you closer to him. “don’t ever let me go please, just want you here like this all the time…” he confesses, his head coming up to see your glowy eyes.

“i’m not gonna… i feel safe and at home in your arms like this jude. so no, i’m not letting you go again or ever,” you stick with your word. jude’s lips softly kiss yours, tasting your cherry chapstick with a hint of mint.

“goodnight princess. i love you.”

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham one shot #football imagine #football smut #football x reader #football fanfic #jude bellingham x y/n #jude bellingham x you

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tan1shere · 2 months ago

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Breathe

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: it's 3 am and I just thought of this. This is so rare for Ms tann to have motivation omg. Anyways enjoy !

Summary: you had been working yourself to the bone, flat out. Causing your girlfriend to worry about you.

Warnings: bit angsty, reader is stressed, panic attack, but fluffy ending MUAH

Masterlist

Frantic.

Your movements were frantic your whole brain was frantic. Speeding up with what you had to get done. It's as if time crept up on you. It was midnight and you couldn't sleep, all because of this thing you needed to do for work. You didn't want to get fired or anything. And that's the constant thing rattling round your brain.

'You're gunna get sacked.'

'You'll loose your spot.'

'They will think you're pathetic'

"What're you doing up love?" You then hear your girlfriend yawn. "Sorry Bills I didn't mean to wake you." She rubs her eyes adjusting to the light you had on in the living room. "You didn't babe. Why are you up this late?" You scatter the papers on the floor trying to find the one your after. "Bubba?" She then says a tad bit louder. "Hm? Oh, I needed to get this done, go back to bed billie-" "You come back to bed baby. You needa sleep." Your head just shakes. "Can't. I have to get this done." She lets out a sigh. "Please come to bed once your done." You mindlessly nod, still focusing on your work.

Days pass where this kept going on. Midnight, daily. She was getting really worried. Concerned. "Baby, it's your day off." She says looking at you scribbling something down on a piece of paper at the kitchen table. "I know but I forgot to do this." She sighs, her worry increasing. She goes to sit next to you. "Sweetheart." You hadn't heard her, too caught up with your burning thoughts. "Look at me." And you do, but not for long. Only to let her talk. "Your running yourself down, you need to take a break. Please." She pleaded.

But she knew deep down you wouldn't budge. You were definitely a hard worker. You didn't want her to worry either, you were fine. Right? "Its ok Bills once I'm done with this I will." "And when is that because it's been days." You continue to write. "Just a few more days." She sighs, standing up and leaving the room.

It was bad, truly bad. You haven't slept in 4 days, nearly 5 once the clock struck 12. You hadn't eaten. It's as if something was wrong with you, you had never done this before. Until the sleep deprivation kicked in. You felt it, feeling your lids slowly close. Your head going along with it, knocking out on the table. You hadn't even realized. That was until Billie came down, ready to shoot some sense into you, when she saw you dead asleep. She was so thankful. Tip toeing around to shut your laptop, when you wake back up again. "Fuck." She curses under her breath.

"Shit!" You say. "How long was I out for?" You ask her, that franticness coming back. "I dunno babe, you-" "No no no." You look at the clock. "It's 12. No..." Her eyes scan your face. Her worried look still evident. "Baby." She says sternly. Sensing what was approaching. "Oh God." You grab your chest trying to stay calm, but with the lack of sleep mixed with the lack of hunger your body just couldn't. A panic attack started to form.

Billie was quick to you, wanting to grab your face to get you to look at her, but truly not wanting to overwhelm you anymore. "Bub, please look at me." Tears build up, your breathing unsteady. "Baby, hey." Her voice was soft. "I-" You begin, feeling your chest tighten. "Can I touch you?" You finally look at her, nodding frantically, feeling like you're going insane. She was quick to grab your hand putting it on her chest. "Do your breathing. In.. and out." You shake your head but she just nods.

"Yes, in and out." Your eyes shut, trying so damn hard to focus on her voice. Then slowly your breathing comes back slightly. "There you go, that's it. Feel how still my heart is?" You nod, feeling her gently place her hand on your chest. "I want yours to be the same. Deep breath in, through your nose." You do so feeling a little bit calmer. "Then out." You breathe out, feeling the exhaustion finally hit you like a wave. "Few more times." She then says, feeling it still beating a bit fast. You nod, fixing your breathing until it was normal again. Things were silent. Until she spoke up.

"Talk to me sweet girl." Her thumb rubs under your eye, moving to the other. "I had to finish this stupid thing which I'm now coming to my senses was for no reason, I had time I don't know what got into me." That was a lie, you do know. And it was your evil coworker. She knew how hard you worked, knowing how intent you could sometimes be, she's the one who riled you up. "Bub." She knew you were lying too, she knew you better than anything. "Fucking Hannah. She's a stupid bitch oh my god. I absolutely hate her and the way she gets to me so easily." Billie grips both your hands in hers.

Making sure you're staying calm. "She bugs me too, I think you need to tell your boss because if anything she should be getting fired. Not you, because you haven't finished something in the right time. But her for being an evil fucking cunt." You sniffle, a small laugh to be heard. "Billie." "What! She is." You smile at her. "Thank you." You then say. "What for angel." Her hand comes to put any loose strand of hair behind your ear. "For being here, I feel like I've been awful." Her head shakes.

"So far from that, you've been working so hard even if it was worrisome. You were so determined and I admire you tons for that." Her words made you smile. "But I really do advice sleep, please." You nod. "Yeah.. I agree with you, I'm definitely feeling it now." She nods. "Dare I say good, its like you were a frozen statue over the past few days." You sigh a bit. "Sorry baby." She squeezes your hands, in an 'it's ok' way. "And Missy. You needa eat something." She then gets up grabbing a small snack from the fridge.

After that you get into bed with her for well needed rest. You turn to face her as her arm slings over your waist. "I missed you." She then says. "Missed snuggling with my girl."She finishes off. You give her a smile. "I'm sorry again, I truly am Billie I never wanted to worry you or for it to get so out of hand like it did." Her hand lands on your cheek so delicately. "Come to me in future my love, talk to me. That's what I'm here for yeah? I'm here for you always." Your body moves to cuddle hers, wrapping your arms around her. She holds you tightly. "From now on we talk hm?" Your head nods as you feel sleep taking over again. "We talk." - "Good." She kisses your forehead.

"I love you." You then say.

"I love you so much more."

#billie #billie eilish x you #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish x reader #billie ellish lyrics #billie eilish #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish fic #billie eilish angst

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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year ago

Text

Undercover || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!detective!reader Summary: When reports of a crime sends Charles into your path you could never imagine what an effect it would have on your life and the case that you lived to solve. Warnings: 18+ only, mentions of s*x traff*cking, g*nshot wound, reader injury. Enemies to friends to lovers WC: 7.2k

F1 Masterlist

“You do realise it is my day off? That means I don’t need to answer my phone, and definitely not at,” you pulled the glaringly bright screen back to see the time, “two in the morning.”

“I know, I know,” your boss sighed apologetically. “I’m really sorry to do this but I know you were working anyway.”

You sat up and rubbed your bleary eyes to see the pages of reports scattered across your bed. Once again you had fallen asleep working on your own time. “Shut up.”

Chief Conti gruffled a dry laugh knowing he was right and you heard the blinds on his door rattle as he closed it. The sound set you on edge and you tossed the blankets back to start getting dressed as you tucked the phone between your shoulder and ear.

“You are at the station. What the hell has happened?” The only time the Chief was at the station outside of nine to five was if there was a national emergency. Your eyes drifted to the papers on your bed and a slither of hope started to creep in. “Did they find-”

“No. Still no word, I’m sorry,” he said, dashing the hope as soon as it started. “It’s a high profile case so I need to come in.”

You swallowed down the disappointment and grabbed your keys off the nightstand. “Alright, be there in five.”

When you arrived at the police station there were reporters with cameras filling the lobby and they even overflowed onto the front steps that you avoided by skirting around the building to the staff entrance. You were already annoyed with the case and you hadn’t even swiped your access card to the offices - but it was disturbing the air that helped you to focus.

“Ah, Detective, thank you for coming in,” Chief Conti greeted formally as he handed a large mug of coffee over and waved a hand to the man at his side. “This is Charles Leclerc.”

You took a big gulp of the hot drink, burning your tongue without care, and willed the caffeine to work its magic quicker as you stifled a yawn. “I don’t think he needs an introduction, boss, everyone knows who he is. But, I don’t do babysitting, that’s rookie work.”

“He doesn’t need protection.”

You turned your attention to the Ferrari driver and noticed all the small details, from the way his shoulders hunched in on themselves to how his eyes darted around the room. Something had rattled his confidence and trust and you felt sorry for the man. “What can I do for you, Signore Leclerc?”

He cleared his throat and looked at his shoes with a hint of embarrassment colouring his cheeks. “My watch was stolen.”

“Your watch?” you asked slowly as you glared at the Chief, all sympathy gone in an instant. “I was called in because of a stolen watch.”

Your boss sent you a warning look and you sighed as you swiped the manila folder from his waiting hands before turning and sauntering off to your office. “Follow me.”

You didn’t look back to confirm he was following since the cheap linoleum floor made it impossible for anyone to walk quietly and you held your door open, closing it behind him as you pointed to the cushioned chair opposite your desk. You dropped down into the chair without spilling the coffee and moved enough papers around to find space for the cup to sit while you picked up a new report that had been deposited on your desk since you left last night.

“Are you going to take my statement?” Charles asked quietly, breaking the silence that had filled the last ten minutes.

The new information you were reading didn’t serve to help your case as much as you wished it did and it was hard to keep the bitterness of that knowledge from leaking into your tone. “I have everything I need.”

“I haven’t told you anything.”

“You don’t need to,” you said looking up from the photo you had been scanning. You closed the folder and crossed your arms as you rocked back in your squeaky chair. “You were targeted by adept thieves, two at least, near la Darsena di Viareggio while you were signing autographs, given the ink stains on your fingers. The watch is worth at least 250k, which they knew since they neglected to take your wallet from your back pocket or the, what is that Cartier?, diamond necklace you have tucked under your shirt.”

“APM…” he corrected with his mouth agape. “How did you know that? I didn’t even get to explain that to the Chief.”

“There is a strip of green confetti on the sole of your shoe and last night was the celebration of the croce verde services. Then, there is the fact you were at the Red Corsair - their bouncers use ultra-violet stamps. I can see the reflection of it on your hand. Both point to la Darsena di Viareggio. Chief wouldn’t wake me for anything less than grand larceny and the rocks on that chain around your neck would have been easier to take, same with your wallet.” You grabbed a pen and spun your chair around to see the sleeping city out of your window and longed to go back to sleep too. Turning back, you tapped the pen against your lip and tilted your head inquisitively. “So tell me, Signore Leclerc, what can you add that I have missed?”

“Are you always this rude?” he asked, his eyes looking to the door like he was wishing someone would come and rescue him.

“No,” you said as you returned to the photo and lifted it up to the lamp on your desk to get a better look, “but I am tired and I have far more important things to focus on than a spoiled rich kid whose watch costs more than my apartment.”

Charles pushed himself up from the chair and you glanced up as he spoke. “I see. I’ll let you get back to your evening then.”

You frowned as his brows pinched a little in recognition and you moved the photo to see his eyes following it. “You know this man,” you surmised as you stabbed your finger at the pixelated face.

Charles leaned closer and shook his head. “I don’t know him, but I have seen him before, in Monaco.”

“Sit,” you said as you snapped your fingers and pointed to the chair. “Where does he go, how often, who does he speak to? Tell me everything.” The desk vibrated as your knee bounced excitedly beneath it and you grabbed a notepad, flipping to the blank page.

“Are you still going to look for my watch?” Charles asked as he crossed his legs and sat back with a small smirk.

“I have been looking for this man for ten years, but every time I get close to the cockroach he goes into hiding.” You opened another folder on your desk and grabbed the stack of portraits, tossing each one down on the desk. “Clarice, Shannon, Dakota, Brenna, Aliah…the list goes on. All missing on a night out along the coast, from Livorno to Sanremo. They had all just turned eighteen and wanted to have fun until they met him.”

“No offence but you don’t look old enough to have been policing for ten years.”

“I never said I was.” You stared at the portrait still in your hand and gently traced the smile that graced her lips before sliding it across the desk. “Her name was Kayla. She wanted to have a quiet night in but I begged her to go out for a few drinks. Her mother still calls me for updates and you know what I have to tell her?”

Charles swallowed as he shook his head.

“That I am too busy tracking down pickpockets because a rich boy got robbed. I have to tell her that her daughter's life, my best friend's life, has been calculated by the department and it is worth less than a 250k watch - along with the 16 other missing girls linked to this trafficker.” You grabbed your cell phone and found Mrs Ricci’s number before offering the device to Charles. “Do you still want me to look for your watch? If so, would you like to make the call and tell her yourself?”

Charles shook his head and turned the ring around his index finger, a nervous habit that you had quickly noticed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“Don’t apologise, just tell me everything you know about this bastard.”

The dive bar was thick with cigarette smoke and the haze only added to the sleazy vibe that it was renowned for. Nodding to the bouncer as he let you pass, you snaked your way through the crowd of delinquents and criminals that frequented the place to the bartender.

“You’re not meant to be here, not tonight,” he growled as he looked around the busy room.

“Yeah, well, it’s not exactly my idea of fun,” you scoffed as you accepted the bottle of beer he placed in front of you, “but it beats bringing the whole force down here, don’t you think?”

“Just don’t break the pool sticks again, they are new.”

You saluted him with the bottle and made your way to the doors that led to the back rooms that very few people outside of the family were given access to. You hated this side of the job, balancing on the knife edge that was morally grey, but sometimes a little oversight on a report may be in your favour at a later date. You hoped that was going to be the case this time.

This bouncer was unlike the one at the front door and he had no qualm about you seeing the revolver on his hip when he lifted his hand to rap on the door. It cracked open an inch, a thick chain glinting in the fluorescent light, and the bouncer’s whisper of warning carried along to you, “ghisa in casa.”

The door closed and you had no doubt the men on the other side were quickly hiding whatever illegal items they were inspecting before the chain rattled off and the door opened.

“Ghisa, we weren’t expecting another visit so soon,” Vincenzo greeted, as he plucked a fat cigar from his lips.

“I’m here to call in a debt,” you said as you stepped inside and rolled your eyes at the careless job they had made of hiding half a dozen guns.

“A debt?” he chuckled. “I didn’t know we had a debt, but I can do you a favour.”

“Cut the bullshit.” You pointed to a roof tile that wasn’t quite back in place. “I don’t need a warrant to search if I have probable cause, wanna call my bluff?”

“It’s always a pleasure to deal with you,” he grumbled and took a seat, pointing to a seat that was quickly vacated.

“A necessary evil, unfortunately.” You sat down with your beer and nudged the overflowing ashtray further away as you cut to the chase. “Richard Mille-”

Vincenzo huffed and interrupted you with a gruff, “never heard of him.”

“Funny, it’s a watch. A very expensive one too. Now, I know pickpocketing isn’t your MO but I figure scum knows scum.” You took a swig of the beer and he digested the words.

“So, my men get this watch for you and then you owe us.”

You nearly spat the mouthful of beer as your laughter filled the room. “Giacomo was there for his daughter’s birth as a free man, now he gets to see her grow. One word from me and that could have weekly visits for the next seven years.”

“He might be wishing for that now,” Vincenzo joked, earning a round of chuckles from the other men. “His wife is a bitch at the best of times but without sleep and having a newborn, prison doesn’t seem so bad.”

“I can make it happen,” you offered with a smirk. “So?”

Vincenzo cast his eyes around his men and nodded with a wave of his hand. “Go. Start with the whores, see if anyone’s come into money or wearing the Leclerc watch.” Your eyebrow curled up and he returned the look. “What? I see the news now and again. Forza Ferrari.”

“Didn’t pick you for a racing fan,” you admitted as you pursed your lips. “I figured you stuck to sports you could fix.”

His face split in a wry grin, cigar hanging from the corner. “Who said it wasn’t?”

The country liked to put their faith in God but you found the devil was always better at getting results and Vincenzo pulled through not even a day later when a small mysterious box landed on your desk. You debated calling security but figured a bomb would have been bigger as you pulled open the bow and found the Richard Mille watch nestled on top of a note. Curiously, you picked up the watch to get the note and gagged as you found a finger underneath.

“Fucking hell,” you muttered with a shaky breath as you turned the paper over and read the promise. Slippery fingers no more, V.

It wasn’t a pleasant task to do but you wrapped the finger up in tissues and buried it at the bottom of the bin of confidential paperwork to be incinerated before pocketing the watch. You felt the weight of it the entire walk to your car where you made a phone call you didn’t want to be overheard.

Chief Conti didn’t question your sudden request for leave and you were grateful for it as you stuffed some clothes into a duffle bag and rushed down the stairs as your ride arrived. The moment the sleek black car pulled in you wanted to slap yourself. You didn’t think you really needed to tell him to be inconspicuous but obviously that was an oversight on your part as the Ferrari came to a stop.

“You stick out like a nun in a whorehouse.”

“Hello to you too, how have you been? I’ve been better, thank you,” he muttered as you slid into the passenger seat and dumped the bag at your feet.

“Yeah, yeah, pleasantries aside - what the fuck are you driving?”

“My car. How else are we getting to Monaco?”

You looked out the window at the standard black sedan you were given by the department, the police lights not as noticeable as a police car but also not well hidden. “This is going to be a long drive,” you muttered under your breath as he started to pull out of the street.

“Not as long as it would be in your car,” he joked but his smile disappeared when he looked across and saw your lack of amusement. “Oh, come on, lighten up.”

“I’m a little stressed alright, I need this to work.” You sighed and watched the city pass in a blur as you twisted the friendship bracelet on your wrist. “I need this to work.”

“You want to know what I do when I’m stressed?”

You wrinkled your nose at the question and cast your eyes over his body. “You’re a man, so I’m sure I can guess.”

His laugh filled the car as he shook his head and reached for the stereo. “Music, it soothes the soul.”

“How old are you again?” you asked, the words dripping with mockery.

“Did you always want to be a cop?” His curiosity had you sit a little straighter and you dared him to continue with the lifting of an eyebrow. “Most I have met are a little more…empathetic, nice?”

“I can be nice,” you huffed as you crossed your arms. Granted it wasn’t your strongest trait, it might have been if your life didn’t come to a screaming halt one night. Now your entire future was fixed on solving this one case, maybe then your conscience could give you a break.

“A pâtissière,” you broke the silence and Charles glanced across with a look of confusion. “I was training to be a pastry chef.”

“That…wasn’t anything close to what I was expecting.”

“I quit and joined the academy when the case went cold. I wasn’t going to let Kayla be another unsolved file in a box on a dusty shelf in the basement. She deserves better than that. They all do.”

Charles’ knuckles tightened around the wheel until they turned white and you watched the muscle in his jaw clench as he turned to look at you. He may have been dubious about your plan before but now he had the same determination as you did. “We’ll catch him.”

Charles' apartment was exactly what you had imagined it would be. White walls, light furnishings, framed race tracks in lieu of artwork and memorabilia lining the shelves. The only surprise was an upright piano against the living room wall, though on second reflection it wasn’t all that surprising. The long drive had been filled with an eclectic range of music, including classical pieces.

Taking a seat on his couch while you paced the room, he leaned forward and began playing with the rings on his fingers. “Okay, what do you need me to do?”

“First of all, stop that,” you said pointing to his fingers. “If you are nervous he will pick up on it. You need to look confident.”

Charles rolled his eyes and sat back in the chair, draping an arm along the back as he crossed one leg over the other. “I can be confident.”

You nodded at the change, a little impressed by how naturally it had come for him. “Play pretend a lot?”

One side of his mouth tipped up in a cocky smirk and even his eyes seemed to darken as they followed you across the room but just as suddenly as the act was switched on, he returned to his comfort of twirling his rings. “Enough to know I can do this.”

It was a little disconcerting how convincing he could be but you didn’t have the time to read too much into the problems the driver was going through internally. Maybe at another point in time you would have asked why he faked his confidence so much but that wasn’t your priority now. “Good. I’m counting on it.”

The items in the bag you had packed weren’t strictly legal since the department didn’t know you had taken them from the station but you were beyond caring. You were so close to catching the cockroach that there was nothing going to stop you.

“Shirt off,” you said as you tipped the bag upside down on Charles’ coffee table.

Charles frowned in confusion as he looked at all the cords and equipment. “Why?”

“I’m putting a wire on you, so strip.”

He stood up and pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it onto the couch where he had sat. It was impossible not to appreciate the sight before you tore your eyes away and returned to untangling the electronics that had been packed in a rush. He was just another informant you were prepping for the job, being fit and handsome didn’t change that.

Charles jumped a little as you ran the cord down his sternum and goosebump began to prickle across his tanned skin. “You couldn’t have warmed your hands up first, could you?”

You made a show of rubbing your hands together before continuing. “Don’t you take ice baths?”

“Don’t you have a bedside manor?”

“Sure, when the guy is in my bed.” You laughed as his eyebrows rose in response. “What? Surprised a cop can get laid or just me?”

“No, no, nothing like that, you are very good looking, I just…I’m used to women being more reserved. It surprises me to hear you talk like that.”

“The station is 95% men,” you explained as you tore a piece of tape off and stuck the wire to his chest. “If I want to fit in I have to be just another one of the boys, and they love to talk about sex. Turn around.”

Your eyes traced the straps of muscle that ran down his back to a point at the base of his spine where two dimples sat above the jeans that hung low on his hips. There had to have been dozens of people you had prepared for undercover work but none had been a canvas as perfect as this. Biting off a larger piece of tape, you secured the small battery pack and recording device to his lower back before clearing your throat.

“Where’s your closet?”

Charles turned back to face you and you hoped he didn’t notice any change in you as you avoided his inquisitive eyes. “Down the hall, but I think I can manage getting dressed on my own.”

“Congratulations, you’re a big boy,” you muttered as you rolled your eyes. “I’m more worried about the wire showing through. Let’s go.”

He led the way through his home and into his bedroom, the bed made with a haphazard attempt to just toss the blankets down that left the corners untucked and crinkles rippling across the top. His eyes flickered around the room before his foot slyly kicked a pair of boxers under his bed and you laughed at the attempt.

“Don’t worry, I’m not your mother,” you teased before pointing to the bedside table. “If I was, I would totally shame you about the tissues and moisturiser over there.”

“I wasn’t expecting to bring anyone home,” he muttered as he opened the drawer and shoved them in before slamming it closed, making the lamp nearly fall over.

“Rich, good looking guy - figured you always had the place ready to bring a hookup back.”

“Well, you thought wrong,” he said a little bitterly as he picked up some pairless socks and tossed them in a hamper. “One night stands aren’t my thing. I prefer to have a connection with someone if I’m going to let them come into my home.”

“Connections.” You wrinkled your nose at the sentiment and started opening his drawers in search of clothing that wouldn’t interrupt the sound feed. “How’s that working out for you?”

“Been better,” he admitted, taking a seat at the end of his bed and catching the white tank top you tossed at him. “But I haven’t given up.”

“Hopeless romantic, I should have known from the sad songs you played so much.”

Charles stood up and started to pull the singlet over his head as he spoke, “It has to be better than the bitter spinster act.”

“Who said it was an act?” You caught the hem and carefully eased it over the microphone so it didn’t tug off the tape and found Charles watching you intently. Ever the perfectionist, you ran your palms down the material to erase the creases and bumps that may have given away what was hidden underneath. “I see the worst humanity has to offer every day. I see what love does to people.”

You turned away from the pity in his green eyes and walked into his wardrobe, skimming your fingers over the dress shirts that hung neatly on the racks. “I see what people do to the ones they supposedly love,” you murmured as you selected a crisp white linen shirt and held it up to his chest when you saw he had followed you into the narrow space. “I’d rather be alone.”

“That isn’t the only option,” Charles said as he took the shirt and reached past you to return the empty coat hanger, his body coming close enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin. “You could find someone who would cherish you for the rest of your life.”

“It’s a nice idea,” you smirked up at him, “for a five year old. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage. I remember the nursery rhyme.”

Shaking his head, he gave up on arguing as he swung the shirt over his back and began buttoning it up while you moved onto the line of tailored trousers, then the ties. “Can you do this yourself?” you asked as you selected a rich sapphire tie that matched the pants you held. “Or do you normally have an assistant.”

Charles swiped the tie from your hand as you bit your lip to stifle the laugh and you watched his fingers thread the tie around his collar. He gave a satisfied smirk as he finished the basic knot but the smile fell at your unimpressed stare. “What? It’s perfect.”

“If you’re a 50 year old man,” you scoffed as you untied in and started over. “I’m thinking a Trinity knot will suit you better anyway, given the size of your neck.”

“Do you get off on insulting people or just me?”

“You have a thick neck, that is a fact that I’m sure saves your life given your profession. It is not an insult,” you stated plainly. “Would Usain Bolt be offended if I said he had big calves?”

“You basically called me a 50 year old man,” he huffed as you tightened the knot around his neck and pulled the collar down over it.

“No, I said the Windsor knot is perfect for a 50 year old man.” You secured the tie with a gold pin and patted his chest with a nod before you grabbed his shoulders and turned him to the full length mirror. “Looks good,” you said as you peeked around his body to see the reflection. “You’re on your own with the trousers. I believe you can manage that: zip up, belt on, done.”

Charles rolled his eyes but a small smile played at his lips as he finally stopped seeing everything you said as an insult. “Thanks for the faith, I hope it isn’t misplaced.”

“It must feel quite strange to have a voice in your head,” you whispered as you watched Charles arrive at the exclusive restaurant where you were already seated.

“Not really, this part actually feels familiar,” he replied quietly.

“That’s good, I won’t have to worry about you touching it then.” The earpieces only had a short range but you planned to stay close enough that he wouldn’t be alone while he attended the soiree in the private room above. “What is Couilles De Mouton?”

“Mutton testicles,” Charles answered with amusement thick in his tone. “A delicacy, you should try it.”

“I don’t understand how a country with such exquisite desserts can have such disgusting mains. Who saw a sheep’s testical and thought, you know what? I bet that tastes good. It’s sick.”

“Charles, good to see you again.”

You could barely breathe as you heard his voice for the first time in almost ten years. You had memorised that sound in case you ever heard it again but imagining and hearing it were vastly different as your heart began to thump wildly in your chest.

“Are you alright, my friend?” Ferdinand asked and you started to rise from the table as you feared Charles had frozen up.

“Charles?”

“Sorry, I was distracted by all the beautiful women here,” Charles answered, though you weren’t sure who it was aimed at.

You heard the quiet slap and rub of material like Ferdinand had clapped Charles on the back. “You have a good eye, they are indeed beautiful. Come, I’ll make some introductions while we eat.”

“No, no that won’t be necessary,” Charles chuckled nervously and this time you did leave the table only to stumble as you heard his smooth lie. “I am actually in a relationship.”

“I won’t judge. What’s a little secret between friends?”

Your finger stabbed the elevator button over and over as time seemed to drag and Charles' answers grew weaker and weaker as he struggled with the discomfort he was facing. He had never noticed how the man he thought was just another rich part time resident of Monaco, wanting the perks of the tax haven, was always surrounded by young women. He never noticed that upon closer inspection they all held a vacant stare in their dull eyes though their smiles were permanent and bright.

“There you are, honey,” you greeted as you placed a hand on Charles’ back and rubbed it softly, slow circles to calm his racing heart. “I was looking for you everywhere.”

“Who is this?” Ferdinand asked with a smile that made you shiver. Those pearly white teeth were akin to a shark’s, ready to sink into your flesh.

“My girlfriend,” Charles said as he curled his arm around your waist and pulled you closer while you scanned the dozens of pretty faces before landing on the one that mattered most. Your throat constricted at the almost emaciated frame and how she would’ve hated wearing the cut out dress that hung off her once-enviable skeletal figure. “Amour?”

“Kayla…” you whispered as you took a half step towards her before a hand caught your shoulder, squeezing tight enough that the pain broke through the daze you were in.

“You look familiar, have we met?” Ferdinand asked as his nails dug into your skin. You didn’t even think as your hand slipped between the slit in your dress to grab your handgun from the thigh holster.

“Yeah, when you made the biggest mistake of your life,” you spat as you drew the weapon and aimed it at the centre of his chest. “You’ve pissed off a lot of people, Ferdinand. Even the Cosa Nostra doesn’t lower themselves to sex trafficking and they are very keen to have a little talk with you when we get back to Vaireggio.”

You waved the gun towards the elevator as some guests noticed the guns and screams erupted. “Let’s go, now.”

“Aren’t you going to arrest him?” Charles asked as he took a step back, the movement catching the others around your periphery. Ferdinand didn’t appear worried because he had more than enough security to stop you from leaving with him.

“You’re just a cop,” Ferdinand laughed and Charles winced as he realised his mistake. “I bet you don’t even know anyone in the Cosa Nostra.”

Your lips curled into a dark smile that made him hesitate. “I have made friends far and wide to find you, some high,” you nodded your head to Charles, “and some low.”

“Friends are just weaknesses to exploit.” Ferdinand thought for a moment before flicking his hand with a signal. “I’ll call your bluff.”

A glint of metal beside Charles had you throwing your arm out and knocking him to the ground before the gunshot rang out. In all the movies you had seen, none of them ever truly captured the sound of a gunshot. The initial explosion of the firing pin hitting the bullet was deafening in a confined space and dozens of people fell to the ground clutching their ringing ears.

For you, it was painless.

Numb.

Silent.

You felt your heart beating. The pulse of it throbbed in your brain and heat spread along your arm with each lub-dub until the pain became white hot fire licking your skin and your fingers came away wet and red.

Time had warped in the second that the bullet had fired, slowing down enough you were certain you would be able to see a hummingbird's wing beat if one were to pass by. You saw the individual specks of dust dancing in the rays of light before the sun dipped beneath the horizon. You saw the doors exploding into shards of wood as blackclad police infiltrated the private room like an arm of death.

“Chief?” Your vision started to swim and you were sure his presence was merely a mirage as he rushed in behind the Armed Offenders Squad. A pair of arms caught you as you stumbled back and you found tears in the green eyes that appeared above you. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” Charles said with a shaky voice as he pressed his palms to your shoulder, your blood staining his skin. “Thanks to you.”

“Then why are you crying?”

Charles laughed but it broke with the tears that leaked down his cheeks. “So you have something to make fun of me about later.”

You hated how he disappeared from your view but medics had arrived with Chief Conti and Charles backed away to let them through.

“Hey, Chief,” you greeted with a groan as the initial shock wore away and even more pain rushed in. “You stalking me now?”

“You haven’t taken a single day of leave in all the years I’ve been working with you. I knew something was up, and this old dog was right.” Chief watched as Ferdinand, and the armed men linked to him, were led out of the building in handcuffs while more medics arrived to check the women he had brought, along with the innocent guests like Charles who were in a state of shock. “Is that her?”

Every little movement sent waves of pain across your body but you followed his line of sight to Kayla where she was wrapped under a thermal blanket looking dazed and nodded.

“I’ll ride to the hospital with her,” Chief promised as he looked at the reason why his best detective had ever joined the force. She was the reason so many young women were going to go home where they belong. “I’ll check in on you soon.”

“Thank you, Chief. Shit,” you swore as you remembered the promise you had made to Kayla’s mother. “I have a phone call to make.”

Charles was already there, reaching for your handbag that had fallen to the floor as the medics packed the gunshot wound and lifted you onto the stretcher. “I’ll call her mum,” he promised as he walked by your side, translating what the medics were saying along the way. He looked a little ashen as he listened and he leaned against the elevator wall as it descended to where the ambulances waited. “The bullet is still inside there so you need surgery.”

“Oh, that’s why it hurts.”

“No, it hurts because you took a bullet meant for me.” Charles pushed off the wall and swayed a little before following the stretcher to the ambulance and climbing into the back with you.

You hissed at the sudden flash of pain that sent stars dancing around your vision as the van rattled to life. “I think, ow fuck, any bullet would hurt, to be honest.”

“Is there anyone I can call for you?” he asked as he sat where he was directed and took your hand in his, the blood on his palms sticky to the touch. “Your parents?”

“No, it will just freak them out.” A tube of gas was passed over and you shoved it between your lips to inhale the pain relief. “This isn’t working.”

“Keep breathing,” Charles murmured and you laughed around the tube after inhaling another deep lungful of the gas.

“I wasn’t planning on stopping, thanks.”

Charles rolled his eyes and dropped his forehead to your joined hands. “I’m glad you can joke at a time like this.”

“If I don’t laugh I will cry and I’m an ugly crier, like really ugly.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Charles whispered too quietly to hear, except you had the earpiece still firmly plugged in your air and it picked up the whispered words. “You’re beautiful.”

“You’re pretty alright yourself,” you whispered back, his head shooting up as he heard you loud and clear. You raised a shaking hand to your bag and pointed to it. “I got you a present.”

“Me?” You rolled your eyes and nodded to answer his question before he opened your bag and spotted the little box. He tugged the little bow open and lifted the lid, a loud laugh erupting as he saw the gift. “Thank you, I needed a new watch,” he said as he leaned in and kissed your cheek.

You hadn’t been able to resist buying the ferrari-red Spiderman watch from the corner shop on the walk to the restaurant but you weren’t sure the children’s sized band would fit around his wrist as he tried it on.

“You’re welcome,” you chuckled as you painfully opened the front zip on your bag and held it open so he could see what was inside. “But you might like that one more.”

“What? How did you…” Charles was gobsmacked as he reached for his Richard Mille watch and slipped it on next to the cheap plastic one.

“Called in a debt,” you said with a yawn as the pain faded away and you closed your eyes as the swaying of the van made you nauseous, “it’s no biggie.”

You were almost certain you felt a hand stroking your cheek but almost everything was going numb. “Why don’t I believe that?”

Your head was starting to spin from the laughing gas and you were incredibly sleepy all of a sudden, with all thought and reason slipping from your mind. “Because you can be pretty smart…and pretty…annoyingly pretty…that face…hidden by a helmet…unfair.”

Three Months Later - Viareggio The double shot of espresso warmed your fingers as you sat on the terraced rooftop along the waterfront and watched the seagulls gliding on the wind above the yachts. The chair beside you was quickly occupied and Charles apologised for being almost late as he placed a kiss on your cheek.

“I ordered for you,” you said after spotting the waitress arriving with his macchiato- since it wasn’t race week he could enjoy the extra calories. “I also said you would pay, since, you know, I took a bullet for you and got fired for it.”

“Technically, you got fired for stealing surveillance equipment,” he recalled as he pulled his wallet out and placed a few notes on the bill holder.

You waved a careless hand. “Let’s not argue semantics, it’s too early in the morning.”

He chuckled as he took your hand and laced his fingers with yours. “You do realise bakers start before dawn?”

“I’m used to working weird hours.” A small frown crept onto your forehead as you tried to remember the long shifts but they seemed like a lifetime ago.

Charles’ thumb caressed your hand and it pulled you away from the memories that felt like an oil slick on your brain. “Do you miss it?”

“No, it was never my dream - just a necessity,” you answered slowly as you tasted the truth on your tongue. “I’m excited to start training again, it’s like I can finally start living again instead of surviving. Chasing every lead, the highs and lows when they went cold, I don’t miss that at all.”

“How is Kayla doing?”

You swirled the espresso around the small cup, watching the thick golden crema coat the walls as you shook your head. You visited her every week but progress was slow as her body weaned off the drugs Ferdinand had used to keep her and the others docile. “Some days are better than others.”

“She’ll get there, amour,” Charles promised as he lifted your hand to his lips. “She has the most supportive friend who never gave up on her, and never will, right?”

“Right,” you nodded as he lightened the mood as he often did when he came to visit between the trips to Maranello for work. “Can you stay the night?”

Charles chewed on his lip that threatened to curl up in amusement. “I don’t know. I’m a spoiled rich kid whose watch costs more than your apartment. That would damage my reputation.”

You chuffed a laugh as you slapped his arm but the range of movement tweaked the bone that wasn’t completely healed and you froze at the sudden pain. Concern instantly erased the amusement and Charles helped ease your arm back down as his brows furrowed, guilt in those green eyes. “It isn’t getting any better, is it?”

“You worry too much,” you said as you reached out and brushed away the frown lines from his forehead before cupping his cheek. “I’ll be fine, the physio seems to be helping but I might never have full rotation again.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, leaning his face into the warmth of your palm.

“I’m not, I’d do it again in a heartbeat. You made a cute French maid.”

“Monégasque,” he corrected with a smile. “I’ll do a lot of things for you, but I’m not going to wear a little maids outfit.”

“That’s a shame,” you laughed. “I arrested a man who sold photos like that on the black market, made a fortune.”

Charles’ nose wrinkled at the idea over the rim of his mug and he almost choked on the mouthful before he swallowed it. “Always good to have a backup plan if my racing career ends earlier than expected.”

“Just skip modelling and go straight to OnlyFans. Solid business plan, babe.”

“No, I know what I’d do,” he said as he cast his eyes over the busy beach below. “I’d invest in a little coffee shop, one that has a reputation for the best pastries in town.”

You smiled at the idea and played along with his hypothetical plan. “You know, all the best coffee shops have an old piano for anyone to play.”

“Of course, and ours would too. Then, at the end of the night I’ll play it for you while you close the shop. I would offer to close it for you so you could get off your feet, but it has to be perfect and you are bossy.”

“You’ve really thought this all out,” you laughed as he was absolutely correct.

“I’m always thinking about you. The long nights without you drive me crazy otherwise.”

You were about to correct him on how he spent his nights without you, acts involving lotion and tissues, but there was a growing audience who had noticed where Charles was.

“Time to go undercover,” he said as he grabbed his sunglasses from the V of his shirt and he placed them onto his face.

“You are never going undercover again,” you scoffed at his charming attempt. “Last time was a nightmare and now I actually care about you.”

“You cared about me then too, especially when you called me pretty,” he said with a lopsided grin. “We had a connection, don’t deny it.”

“That was clearly the drugs talking.” He laughed at the lie and kissed your hand as he pinned you with those green eyes that you saw whenever you closed yours. “Fine, I thought you were hot as fuck. Happy?”

“Very much.” His laugh warmed your temple before he kissed it and you started to walk faster at his sweet whisper in your ear as he promised you the night. “I’ll be even happier when I get you home.”

“Me too,” you smirked as you bit your lip just thinking about getting him out of the clothes he wore. “Then you can show me this ‘connection’ you speak of.”

His smile was blindingly bright as he waved to a few fans, but his hand tightened in your grasp. “It goes very deep.”

“The deeper the better.”

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binniebakery · 10 months ago

Text

lights off

College AU Bestfriend!Beomgyu x Gn!Reader .. not exactly fluff! kinda suggestive? ♡ Warnings: thunder? rain? ig being in the dark? my first time writing kissing .. my first time actually writing ANYTHING so it might be bad im so sorry guys ♡ A/N: this is my first little fic (if you could call it that)! i literally hate it but i think i got the point across LOLL regardless i hope someone will enjoy please lmk what you think <3 lowercase intended + not proofread ~

7:32 pm. sighing softly, you placed your phone that was softly playing your favorite tunes back down on the small table over your lap. you tapped your pencil on the table in frustration as you once again for the fifth time readjusted your legs on the bed of your best friend's bedroom. time was going by excruciatingly slow and it didnt help that this math problem was taking you a million years to solve. the sun had already set outside and heading back to your dorm seemed less favorable by the minute. hearing a soft shuffle from the other side of the room you looked up at your best friend. rain began to patter outside. looks like you'll be staying for longer than you intended. beomgyu, who had his deep-colored headphones on was moving his head to the music as he wrote down notes from his study guide. his hair softly wrapped around his features most attractively. you began to mentally trace the lines of his nose, his eyes… his lips.. the dim lighting of the room adding more charm to his aura. "y/n..? are you okay? i could feel you burning holes into my head." beomgyu said as he shook off his headphones to fully put his attention was on you. snapped out of your daze, you mentally kicked yourself as you felt embarrassment creep onto your cheeks. how long had you been staring at him for..? "sorry gyu. if i was staring i didnt mean to" you softly laughed, trying to seem nonchalant and cool about the situation. beomgyu, seeing your embarrassment, chuckled at your reaction. "youre okay, i know you look at me because im cute" he grinned and you rolled your eyes. "oh shut up! you know i was daydreaming. i cant focus on this assignment anyways, its too hard. i think im gonna just finish it tomorrow." you smiled as you threw a pillow at him. he was always cheeky when he had the opportunity. anything to see you react. "daydreaming? so you do think im cute?" he grinned wider after recovering from your pillow attack. you huffed and placed the table that was on your lap onto the ground. "you know youre so-.. ugh and what if i do think you're cute?! what would you even do about it, huh?" you retaliated as you sat on the edge of his bed, now fully facing him. you faked a pout as you were feeling a bit bolder than usual today. your homework giving you enough pent-up rage to have the energy to give in to his bickering.

"okay well i dont know how much truth there is to that but if you really meant that id probably kiss you." your eyes widened at his response. you see beomgyu's face turn into an unreadable expression. he hadnt realized you were only half joking and fully meant the compliment, but it was too late and by the time he caught wind that you were actually flustered he felt his stomach flip. even he was shocked by his own words. he slipped. had he said too much? after a few seconds of silence that felt like minutes. the rain outside seemed to get louder. his eyes finally met yours and you looked away. you felt your heart pounding at the thought of you saying too much. both of you overthinking the situation and awkwardness that you both never have had before taking place. you and beomgyu have never had an awkward moment like this. normally you both laugh things off but this time felt different. "you trust me right?" his voice sounded sincere. this tone was rare for you to hear from him but you knew immediately he was being genuine with his question. "h- huh? yeah of course.. why?" you responded. "okay well.." you noticed beomgyu was now fiddling with his headphones, it seemed like he was turning all the gears in his head to get out what he wanted to say. "y/n.. theres a chance you may have not been telling the truth but if you were- look regardless if you meant it, i meant what i said." you could feel your stomach turning. he hardly flirted with you but when he did it always felt different from his usual teasing. you never said anything though, in fear of ruining your friendship. yet you always thought about what it would be like if he also returned the feelings you felt.

the room's atmosphere seemed to change. suddenly you were both hyper-aware of his neon led light being the only source of light aside from his computer. your playlist had stopped and the silence felt unbearable. in one swift move, he stood up, and turned off the led light on his wall.

the room was a lot darker now, his computer screen's light being the only way of telling you what he was going to do next. you watched as he plopped down next to you. he was so close that you could see the slight tinge of pink on his ears. your senses began to be filled with the light scent of his cologne. "i.. look- the only way i can say or do this is if the lights are off- im not trying to be weird its just you make me so nervous.. i cant look at you." he mumbled as he looked at your hands resting on your lap. it was so dark and both your hearts were racing. "gyu.. " was all you could muster with his hands now softly on yours.

"can i…" beomgyu began as he leaned in closer, only centimeters away from your face. his eyes staring intently into yours. he had this look of pure admiration, nervousness and love. it was all too surreal. realizing what he was asking, you silently nodded as you stared at his lips. he pressed his forehead on yours, the thick tension in the air causing your body to tingle in anticipation. as you felt his hair softly tickle your features from him leaning in, your lips connected. he kissed you oh so softly as he held your cheek gently. your hands, as if moving on their own, were softly placed on his arms. his lips softly moving along your own. he was patient. it felt as if he was waiting for you to respond, unsure if what he was doing was okay with you. you moved your head to the side slightly to deepen the kiss, causing him to sigh. it was all he needed to know you felt the same. his hands moved to your waist as you settled your fingers into his long hair. softly pushing him towards you to intensify the kiss. all that could be heard was the rain outside aside from the soft exchange of sighs and hands roaming. "ive liked you for so long.. you have no idea.." he began between kisses. it was all passionate, slow, and tender as if he was handling you like glass. his hands pulled your waist impossibly closer to his. he separated first, leaving you craving for more. "trust me, i liked you so much i was so scared you didnt feel the same way despite you teasing me the way you did." you chuckled as you pecked his cheek. "you drive me insane.." he softly spoke. "y/n, every time i tried to say something.. my brain just went to mush.. its so bad i swear. i could only be this confident with the lights off.." beomgyu laughed as his eyes began to trail your facial features. he was admiring every curve and feature, and at that point, both your faces were impossibly red. "gyu.. can you just.. kiss me again..?" your voice came out hardly a whisper. "i like you so much i feel like im going insane from the way you just confessed." he smiled fondly at your words and nodded, leaning in once again. as soon as your lips touched you could both practically feel the electricity pouring through your bodies. as if on cue, thunder struck the moment you connected again. your arms wrapped impossibly tight around him, slightly tugging and playing with his hair. his arms remained at your waist, slightly circling over the shirt you wore. you could feel the warmth of his fingers through the fabric.

his tongue slightly swiped along your lips for permission, and you parted your lips in response. having his tongue explore your mouth had your brain going numb. time felt like it had stopped, with just the rain as your only witness to the quiet whispers and confessions that only you two could hear. when you both finally were running out of breath, you separated with beomgyu looking into your eyes. you stared back, lips equally as glossy as his. "are you.. going back to your dorm yet?" thunder struck once again, as if responding to his question. you smiled. "its raining a little too hard dont you think?" beomgyu chuckled, realizing how silly his question was. "yeah. youre right, i think you should stay." you bit your lip as you pulled off each other, both of you immediately missing the warmth. beomgyu shook his head fixing his now fluffed hair thanks to you as he ran his fingers through. he then stood up to turn the led light he had turned off previously back on. "so.. how about we watch a movie?" he spoke as the light clicked. you could almost burst into laughter from the question given the events that just happened a minute prior. give it to choi beomgyu, your best friend, to turn a situation less awkward by simply being his charismatic self. the personality you fell for since day one of knowing him.

"sure gyu, but.." you trailed off, shy about what you were about to say next. honestly, could this get any more awkward? "yeah?" he turned to you and tilted his head in that attractive way he does. "leave the lights off." you looked at him with a shy smile. he flushed at your words. and for the last time again, lightning struck. "yeah.. lights off" he replied, led light clicking once again.

#tomorrow x together #txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #txt scenarios #txt imagines #beomgyu x y/n #BakeryTreat♡

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mysaintkitten · 1 year ago

Note

Choking Cillian Murphy 😩

(He's still dominating 😏)

Between Shoots | Cillian Murphy x fem!reader

prompt: you and cillian have a bit of fun in his trailer (NSFW!! NO MINORS!! + in this fic cillian is single and it does not reflect him as an actual person, it’s all for the sake of the fic)

WARNINGS: reader is implied to be an actress, unprotected sex (p in v), choking, implied age gap (everyone’s legal), brief use of the term “little girl”, slight dumbification (my weakness im sorry), slight praise/degradation, creampie

word count: 1.5k

cillian was meant to be your costar. that’s all. you had to work with him on a few scenes, but you had no idea that you’d end up in his trailer riding him.

“that’s it, god, gripping me so nicely.” cillian moans into your ear, smacking you harshly on the ass.

you hide your face in his neck and whimper, riding him at a rough and desperate pace.

his hands move from your ass to your hips, keeping you in place as he pounds up unto you, making you mewl loudly.

“how’s it feel, sweetheart?” he groans, his voice low but sweet, it almost felt taunting. he knows how good it feels, he knows you’re speechless from his thrusts, he just wants to hear you struggle.

“i-its, ah!” you stammer, digging your nails into cillian’s shoulder, “good-d, hmm, ‘s good ..”

you hear him chuckle breathily, “i know, can feel you dripping down my cock, darling. that cunt of yours is gonna ruin this sofa.”

he wasn’t lying. your slick had coated his cock, spilled onto his balls, and formed a small damp patch between his legs. you knew you weren’t going to be drying up anytime soon, so you feel a small wave of humiliation.

“sorry .. m sorry ..” you whimper, “been so l-long since .. since i felt this g-good ..”

he slows his pounding, slowly rocking your hips to allow you to resume riding him, you quickly pick up on his hints and he clicks his tongue,

“aw, such a sweet girl. it’s alright, doll. you know how you can make it up to me?”

cillian really didn’t mind that your arousal spilled onto the sofa, he had the money to get it deep cleaned. he could buy a brand new sofa if he wanted to, but he had something else in mind.

“hm?” you whine from inside his neck

“look at me, or i won’t let you come.” he purrs, you pull your head out from his neck to stare into his icy blue eyes.

his eyes scan you, as he brushes some stray hairs from out of your face, “pretty girl, if you want to make it up to me, you can choke me.” he hums, running his thumb along your cheek and bottom lip.

your hips movements slowly come to a stop as you catch your breath, “you want me to .. what?” you question

“no, no,” cillian tuts, “i didn’t tell you to stop.”

you pick up your hip movements again, whimpering quietly at the delicious fullness he was providing you with.

“choke me.” he raises his brows at you. you’re still a bit confused, despite him being very clear on what he wants.

“cillian, i-“ you start, before he sighs, “sweetheart, have you been fucked stupid already? what’s so hard to get?”

you whimper at his sudden change in tone, but you kind of enjoy the degrading nature of his words. in all honesty, his cock was making your mind a bit laggy.

“i’ve just .. never done it before ..” you mumble, feeling your cheeks burn a bit more than they already were.

“do i need to show you, baby? dumb it down for you to understand?” his voice lingering with feigned pity, as if his words itself didn’t make that apparent enough. you can’t respond, every nerve ending on your body felt sensitive and overwhelmed. having to ride him while listening to his degrading words and requests was becoming embarrassingly difficult for you.

he smacks your ass again to get your attention, “watch.”

you whine loudly at the strike, bringing your focus back to him.

“i’m going to make this really simple for you, sweetheart,” he hums, “place your hand here,” he brings your hand from his shoulder to his neck, “now, grip the sides, and ride me. easy enough, darling?”

you nod and grip his neck, continuing to ride him.

a fucked out grin spreads across his lips, “that’s it, good little girl,” he praises, “such a good listener.”

you blush at cillian’s approval, your thighs shaking from being sore and from your approaching orgasm.

you continue to choke him and whine, watching how his eyes switch from your face to down to your pussy, seeing himself disappear inside of you. his eyes are half-lidded as they make their way back up to your face slowly, “prettiest cunt i’ve ever seen ..” he moans, placing both of his hands into your ass to grip the flesh.

“cillian ..” you whine, your thighs are vigorously shaking at this point, “keep your hand on m’neck, baby ..” he groans before thrusting up into you again while holding you in place.

his harsh thrusts allow you to not only feel your arousal dripping around him, but you hear how wet you are, he chuckles lowly.

“hear that, hm?” cillian purrs, “hear how messy that pussy is?”

despite your hand being on his neck, continuing to choke him, he’s still dominant. you never knew how much you’d enjoy this combination.

“y-yes, mmh, ye-s!” you whine, unconsciously gripping his neck harder as you try and find some grounding during his pounding.

he moans and this thrust start to become more jagged, “good, gonna come in this pretty little cunt.”

in the moment, you had completely forgotten that he wasn’t wearing a condom. your mind too fixated on pleasing cillian while simultaneously being extremely pleased by him, it must’ve just slipped your mind.

so, you beg. you beg for him to come inside you, not worrying about the potential consequences.

“yes, please, pl-ease!” you cry, “come-e inside me, clai-m me!”, your desperation is pathetic, but it fuels cillian like nothing else.

“yeah? want me to claim this pussy? come by and ruin it whenever i like?” he growls, his mind becoming fuzzy from the lack of blood flow and the intoxicating grip of your cunt.

you whine at the thought, the idea of being a little fuck toy for cillian. his own personal fleshlight to use whenever he needed a warm and wet hole.

“yes! god, yes!” you moan loudly, anyone passing by his trailer would’ve heard. but you didn’t care, and cillian certianly didn’t care either.

your orgasm sneaks closer and closer, your pussy involuntarily clenching around him irregularly, he’s pushed over the edge, breathing heavily and groaning loudly as he shoots his hot load inside of you.

when you realize he’s come, you shakily remove your hand from his neck.

you huff and remain on his lap with his cock still inside you, running your hands along his pecs.

he brings his wrist up to his forehead and swipes some sweat off, “did y’come?” he breathes,

you shake your head no, “it’s okay, though, i can get my-“ before you can finish he’s snuck his fingers down between your legs, rubbing your neglected clit.

you whimper and clench around him again, the overstimulation making him growl.

you were already so so close, it won’t take much to make you come at this point.

“did so good .. sweet little girl, even sweeter cunt ..” he hums, smiling weakly at you while his free hand runs along your waist and thighs, rubbing your body in a calming manner.

“cillian .. cillian i’m close-“ you whimper, screwing your eyes shut as your body begins to twitch from his touches.

“i can feel it, darling, come for me.” he responds, and after a few more rubs you’re coming on his cock, covering your mouth to try and stifle the loud moans you knew would be escaping your lips.

although he wishes he could’ve heard you shout as you came, he knows it was probably the better bet to keep you quiet. people had certainly heard you two, maybe nows the time to have the slightest bit of decency.

he allows you to ride your orgasm out on his cock, gritting his teeth through the sensitivity.

once you’re done, he pats your thigh, “off, sweetheart, i’d love to keep this going, but i’m too sensitive and we’ve got another scene to shoot.”

you scoot off his lap and you’re brought back to reality. you just slept with your costar, who you’re going to have to continue to film with as if nothing happened.

he stands up and grabs a damp face cloth to clean himself off with, handing you a separate cloth to do the same.

as cillian stands there, sliding on a clean pair of boxers, you look down at the sofa beneath you and feel yourself blush at the undeniable wet stain you’ve left.

“want fresh panties?” he asks, tugging his jeans back up.

your eyes shoot back up to him, prior to the sex cillian had done an extensive amount of foreplay. you had only a skirt on, so a thin layer of fabric separated your warm core and his touches. you were soaking through your panties before he gave in and finally fucked you, so you reply “yes, please.”

he searches around the trailer briefly before clicking his tongue, “sorry, love. i haven’t gotten any. guess you’re gonna have to go without.”

your eyes go wide, “i can’t! i have to wear a skirt, cillian!”

he just grins while slipping your old panties into his bag, “you’re shooting with me, it’s nothing i haven’t already seen.”

your thighs clench at his words,

“maybe i’ll even get a glance of my come spilling out of you,” he coos, “do you think you’re professional enough to continue acting while you feel my seed dripping out of you?”

—

happy halloween (eve) to y’all who celebrate hehe !!

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x fem!reader #hope y’all like this #:)#request

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unreliablesnake · 1 year ago

Text

Bliss (Ghost x f!reader)

Summary: Ghost gives in to his feelings, putting the fact he's above you in the ranks aside, and meets you after your latest mission.

Note: Part 2 of this, but it can be read as a stand-alone. / Here's the happy ending, I hope you'll like it. / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button.

Warning: SMUT, MINORS DNI! Afab!reader. Fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v.

A little voice in the back of his mind kept telling Ghost to break down his walls. Let’s not worry about ranks, let’s not worry about consequences. Keep it a secret, make it some fun sneaking game just for the two of you.

To his disappointment, you kept your distance after that night. Not like he could blame you after he made it clear there could be nothing between you. While he stood next to Price in the briefing room, you looked at him every once in a while, your eyes showing the kind of sadness that made it hard for him to focus. He wished he could hug you, tell you he was sorry and he made a grave mistake by pushing you away.

Because as the days passed, he became more and more sure that he should give in to his needs. He wanted to be with you, but strictly outside of work. This way he could keep a little distance, he could sell himself the idea of breaking the rules.

Soap noticed that something had changed between the two of you, but he only dropped half a sentence before changing his mind. He knew better than to dig into his superior's private life. Whether he had asked you or not, Ghost didn't know. But for his own sanity, he assumed he did not.

The night before they could finally go home, he was scrolling your Instagram profile while lying on his bed, smiling to himself every time he saw a picture of you. It was rare, mostly found among the photos you were tagged in, but he was grateful for each and every one of them.

Suddenly he felt the mattress shift as someone sat down on its edge. He turned off the phone's screen and put it down next to his head to see who it was. When his eyes landed in you, he felt a wave of guilt passing through his body.

"Why are you torturing yourself?" you asked kindly as you reached out to place a hand on his chest.

His skin burned where you touched him, making it really hard to resist the urge to put his hands on top of yours. "What are you talking about?"

You let out a sigh at this. "You liked those photos by accident, I guess. Ghost, you said we can't be together, yet you keep looking at my photos. I'm gonna ask you again. Why are you torturing yourself?"

As he propped on his elbows, Ghost thought about the answer. "I don't want to be away from you," he admitted so honestly that he surprised himself. Well, based on the look on your face, there was no turning back now. "I know I said we can't be together, but I can't stop thinking about you, no matter how hard I try. Why are you like this, huh? Why are you so irresistible?" he asked, his question nothing more but a barely audible whisper.

With a smile, you leaned closer and slowly moved your hand up to his neck, your fingers brushing the hem of his balaclava. "Meet me after the mission," you told him quietly, your voice carrying the sort of authority that made it impossible to say no to you.

Ghost knew he was at your mercy, there was no way he could say no to that. He wasn't strong enough. So he took your hand in his and moved closer to give you a kiss through the fabric of his mask, savoring the feeling just in case this was the first and last time he could do it.

"Come on, I know you want to meet me," you tried kindly, your eyes locked with his as you waited for his response.

"Fuck, love, how could I say no to that?" the lieutenant breathed against your lips.

And he sent you a DM to discuss the details, making sure to keep the conversation online so the others wouldn't know about it. He didn't want conflict. He didn't want tension. The tension between the two of you was more than enough on his plate.

Three days later he was standing in front of your door, this time without his usual mask, his hand raised to knock. But he hesitated, he wasn't so sure anymore about this date. No, he could do it. He shouldn't be that–

"So you're just gonna stand here without letting me know you're here?" he heard your voice all of a sudden.

When he looked up, he noticed you standing in the now open door, your arm resting against the doorframe. You looked so happy and relaxed, the total opposite of what he usually saw during missions. With your trendy clothes and light makeup, he felt like kissing you on those cherry red lips.

"God, why are you like this?" he asked from no one in particular before acting on his instincts and pulling you into a kiss.

You giggled against his lips as you pulled him inside by the front of his shirt. "And you're really handsome. Have you been told that?" you inquired with a wide grin when he kicked in the door and pushed your back against it.

He gently bit on your lower lip, happy to hear a satisfied moan escape you. "We're not gonna leave for dinner, are we?"

You shook your head in response, letting him know that he was free to do whatever he wanted. And Ghost didn't need you to repeat yourself, he took the lead without hesitation, his hands moving to remove your clothes with precise and calculated moves.

Ghost's hands roamed your body as if he was trying to memorize every inch and every curve, turning it into a core memory along with everything you were about to do tonight. Because he was sure this would be a night to remember, he could feel that what you had there was truly magical.

"I want to taste you," he mumbled against your neck, enjoying the way you pushed your body against his upon hearing his request.

You gave him the directions to your bedroom, moving in perfect sync with him until the point he picked you up and gently laid you down. Ghost kneeled down next to the bed then wrapped his muscular arms around your thighs to pull you closer to his mouth.

"Prop on your elbows, sweetheart, I want to see your beautiful eyes," he ordered you sternly, making you do as he said while his tongue ran along your already wet cunt. "Look at you. I barely did anything and you're already having trouble focusing on me."

While Ghost laughed at this, you couldn't mirror his reaction. Your thoughts were somewhere else, somewhere much higher, but he didn't mind as long as your eyes were on him. He gently sucked on your clit, the mewl leaving your swollen lips sounding like music to his ears.

It wasn't a race, but he wanted to win, and winning meant drawing an orgasm out of you as fast as he could. He wanted to see how badly you wanted him, how your body reacted to his touch, and so when you tried pressing your thighs together only from feeling his tongue exploring your pussy, he pushed them wider apart, not giving you the chance to stop him.

Your eyes were hazy when he looked into them again, which drew a satisfied smirk on his shiny lips. He let go of one of your thighs and gently dipped a finger into your needy hole, slowly pumping as he returned to your puffy clit, sucking on it as if he was having his last dinner in this world.

You threw your head back in pleasure when he pushed another finger inside you, whispering his name over and over again, begging him to keep going, to make you come. "Simon, please, I can't," you whined between your moans, your hands twisting the sheets.

Ghost let out a deep growl as he put his other hand on your stomach to keep you in place. "Come on, love, come for me," he said, his eyes fixed on you, looking for the eye contact that could hopefully push you over the edge.

And the moment you looked into his amber eyes, your body began to shake, meaningless words leaving those perfect lips like a prayer as you finally reached your first high. He lapped up every drop of your flowing juices, just like he was a man starved, and he couldn't stop smiling while he watched your body slowly relax again.

He licked his fingers clean before pressing one more kiss on your cunt and getting rid of his own clothes. He signaled you to move on the bed, and you crawled up to the headboard, your hand reached out to invite him closer, legs wider apart to give him enough space. He gave you a sloppy kiss, simply loving the way his cock teased your entrance.

"Mind if I don't use a condom? I wanna feel you, baby," he asked between kisses.

You were probably still too lost in the sensation your orgasm left behind to think straight, so you agreed, and he was bad enough not to care about whether or not it was the right decision to make. He wanted it too badly to play nice this time. And if it came down to it, there was always a morning after pill to solve the problem.

So he pushed the tip in, teasing you just enough to earn your whispered pleas for more, begging him to finally fill your needy cunt. But for now he enjoyed this little game of his, only giving you the tip before pulling out, slowly turning you into a desperate mess.

"Si, please," you begged again as you reached up to grab his bicep.

"You want me to fuck you this badly?" he asked with a smirk, then leaned down to give you a soft kiss.

You returned it, hungrily devouring him while moving your hips in a futile attempt to get him to finally make a move. Ghost thought for a second, wondering if he should stop being cruel and just give you what you wanted so badly. Seeing the look in your beautiful eyes, he let out a sigh and decided not to tease you any longer.

At first he went slow, pushing his cock into your cunt slowly, giving you the time to get used to his size. Your tight pussy felt like heaven, and he didn't think he could last long if you didn't relax soon. "Love, try to relax," he told you quietly, pushing a strand of hair out of your face.

"It's hard to relax when you're filling me up so well," you whined before pulling his head down into another kiss.

He began to move his hips in a steady rhythm, feeling ecstatic from hearing your sweet mewls and moans, feeling you press your body close to his as you arched your back from pleasure. He felt your cunt clench around his cock, keeping him deep between your velvety walls, and sending him closer to the edge.

He sped up, going a little harder maybe, but not hard enough to hurt you. He paid attention to your reactions, making sure you enjoyed every second of your time together. When your breathing and the noises you made changed, he knew it wouldn't take much for you to have your next orgasm.

So he reached down to rub your clit with his thumb, earning a pathetic whine from you in return, but he didn't stop, it only made him more determined to give you what you deserved. "Come on, baby, I know you're close," he told you before kissing your neck.

And soon enough you finally came around his cock, causing him to reach his high as well not long after that, but he was still focused, he still wanted to fuck you through it. You were overstimulated, completely lost in the sensation, and he simply couldn't get enough of this sight.

He raised his body to kneel between your legs after he pulled out, pushing his leaking cum back into your cunt as he proudly smiled to himself. There you were, a broken mess despite him not even going that hard on you. This was intimate and caring sex, not the rough stress relief he usually experienced with other women.

You were special, the light in his dark life, and the more he thought about it, the more sure he became that he didn't want to let you go. He crawled back next to you, pulling you against his chest before placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Mind if I stick around for a few more days? I could use more of your perfect little pussy," he suggested cheekily.

You let out a quiet chuckle before giving him a soft kiss. "I wanted to ask you to stay, so we were thinking the same thing."

Ghost wasn't used to this, but he loved this feeling. He loved how calm and happy he was around you, how easily you could make him forget about his crappy life.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #mw2 #modern warfare #call of duty #smut

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moonyswritinq · 2 years ago

Text

conflicted bodies — sherlock holmes x male reader

❝ CONFLICTED BODIES ❞ — PART ⅠⅠ

PART Ⅰ — ❝ conflicted feelings ❞

SYNOPSIS ➢ After a drunken night of revealing one's feelings, Sherlock cannot go back on his words however much he'd like to. When you turn up to his flat, in need of his help, Sherlock is forced to face the consequences. However, the consequences aren't all that bad when it might lead to another night spent together.

PAIRING ➢ top!sherlock holmes x bottom!male reader

CONTENT WARNING ➢ 18+ SMUT, switch/dom!Sherlock, switch/sub!reader, edging, teasing, restraints, orgasm denial, fingering, p in a, handjob, rivals to lovers, mentions of alcohol & drinking, physical affection, romantic affection, cursing, slight gore and blood, mentions of needles and stitches, slight fluff at the end

WORD COUNT ➢ 5.3 k

AUTHORS NOTE ➢ this is my first and last time writing smut, cause i hate writing it. i’m sorry if it sucks, but at least it’s something? enjoy, you horny Sherlock whores! this is the last part.

MASTERLIST

non-male and minors DO NOT INTERACT !

Sherlock was pacing again.

He walked back and forth. Thinking. Contemplating. Deducing.

His eyes jumped between the clues hung up on his wall to the papers scattered across the floors. He tried to piece it together, to connect the dots. But… It just didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. Who could be behind it all? Who could continue to effortlessly outwit him like this? He was convinced there were a simple answer to it all; an answer that laid right beneath his nose.

A forgotten cup of tea stood on a table close to him, its steam already gone cold. Beside it, was the sofa. His eyes jumped to it, immediately averting when his thoughts rushed to you. To the way you had felt in his arms. To the way you had kissed him. You were so soft and so warm against his skin. Warmth had pooled in the pit of his stomach.

He ignored the way his heart seemed to skip a beat, instead returning his focus to the case at hand. It had plagued him for quite some time, and he was no closer to solving it than before. It was the whole reason he had gone out to drink last night, at all. He just wanted one night of not having to think constantly. And ironically, it was what caused his thoughts to now be messier than ever before.

The memory of you was so fresh in his mind, still; he had to shut his eyes and rubbed them with the soles of his hands. No matter how hard he tried, he could not get you out of his thoughts. And it wasn’t exactly pure thoughts, per se, either. Every time he remembered how your hands had felt against his skin, he felt warmth pool in the bottom of his stomach and cheeks began to burn.

Why?

That was the big question, wasn’t it?

Why?

He had loathed you for all of his career. It wasn’t exactly because he disliked you as a person, no. You were clever, funny, and, he could admit it, handsome. You were also very skilled at your job, something he often admired. It was just…

Sherlock sighed at the thought.

You were too good. Too clever, at times. You were a competitor to him. A rival. He saw you as someone he had to be better than, someone to beat.

Sherlock stopped his pacing, gazing out the window, the low afternoon sun shining in.

However, he supposed that his competitiveness stemmed from that he admired some part of you. Your cleverness. Your humour. Your handsomeness.

His drunken self maybe hadn’t been so far off from the truth, after all.

“Fuck.”

The second the word was uttered a noise rang throughout the flat, haunting his ears with it’s sound. The ring clock. Sherlock’s eyes turned to the direction of the door, waving it off without a second thought. Probably Lestrade or Mrs Hudson waiting to disturb him with something useless.

He didn’t have time for this!

Whoever it was had now turned to knocking on the door, forceful enough to make it rattle in its hinges. The sound made Sherlock stop in his tracks. Whoever stood on the other side of the door was adamant on disturbing him, and therefore, annoying him. With a defeated sigh he walked over to it and threw it open, fully prepared to berate whoever stood before him. What he wasn’t prepared for, however, was the sight of you.

Your tired form rested against the doorframe, barely being able to hold it up. Dark splattering of blood spread across your face, as well as reaching from your hands up to your arms. Sherlock’s gaze raked over your body, noticing the dark pool on your abdomen, to where your hand was pressed in a futile attempt to stop the flow. You could feel the stabbing pain of your wound slowly fading into a faint throb. The lids of your eyes threatened to droop closed from exhaustion and you had to force your gaze into meeting Sherlock’s.

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

Sherlock considered you, mind still occupied of the night before. Ultimately, he stepped aside to let you in, his gaze softening. At your wavering step he instinctively reached out, hands steadying you against him. It was his turn to support you into his flat, mindful of not putting pressure on your injury. The flat was as messy as you had left it that morning, if not more so. Sherlock helped you lower into the same sofa you had spent the night on, and you couldn’t keep the thoughts of the feel of him against you from invading your mind.

You groaned, leaning back against the soft cushions, still keeping pressure against your wound. Sherlock dared lift your shirt, peering at the dark red glistening in the golden candlelight.

“What happened?” he asked.

“What does it look like, detective?” You sucked in a breath.

His unamused glare pinned you to the spot. “It looks like you’ve been a fool.”

You rolled your eyes. “I got stabbed, genius. And now I’m bleeding. Need I explain further for you?”

Sherlock stood up without another word and made his way towards the kitchen with hurried steps. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting your head fall back against the cushions. Sherlock was right. You had acted foolishly and irrationally — probably because your mind was still fully occupied by last night’s events — which had led to your injury. And now you had turned up at the last place you wanted to be found at. Despite your better judgment, Sherlock had been the first person to come to mind.

He came back to your spot on the sofa with medical supplies in hand, and a bottle of whiskey. You were mildly surprised he actually possessed those things in his flat, but you guessed looks could be deceiving. With a careful hand, he lifted the ends of your shirt and fully exposed your flush skin to his eyes, and gave him access to the bleeding wound. Sherlock began to wash the area with a clean washcloth and water, and then with rubbing alcohol. You winced at the stinging sensation it caused you, and he poured some whiskey into a glass, handing it over to you with a curt nod.

“Cheers,” you said, downing the thing in one swipe. The alcohol burned in your throat, but numbed the pain a tad.

Sherlock pinned you with his observative gaze, letting the washcloth soak in a bowl of now bloody water.

“Good news, it wasn’t a very deep stab wound and you’ll recover quickly.”

“Reckoned as much,” you nodded.

“You’ll still need stitches.”

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

You glanced at your abdomen, before shifting to the needles beside Sherlock. You cocked your head, extending a hand with the palm up. Sherlock removed them from out of your reach, settling you with a glare. You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“Can you even stitch wounds back together?” you asked.

Sherlock started prepping the needle, hands as steady as ever. “As a matter of fact, I can. And I reckon I could do a better job than you could ever do in a state such as this.”

You rolled your eyes again, but let him have access to your abdomen. Sherlock leaned closer, needle in hand, and his observative eyes jumped over your face as his fingers danced across the skin of your stomach. It made shivers crawl up your spine and you had to fight against your own mind to not think of how good that felt. You could still feel the remembrance of his touches the previous night and it was strange to now be pinned underneath his gaze in such a vulnerable state.

With a sharp pain that made your face contort into a wince, Sherlock started sewing your wound together. His eyes kept jumping between his work and your face, watchful of every change in your features. When he noticed no danger, his whole focus turned to stitching the wound. You took the opportunity to watch him, eyes glazing over every detail of his face. The nearby candlelight highlighted his sharp features, and maybe it was the loss of blood, but it presented him in an almost ethereal way. His hair was in better kept curls than how he had woken up that morning, and it fell perfectly to frame his face. You could only imagine how you looked in contrast to him: your disheveled hair, the bruises already forming on your skin, the blood splattered across your whole body, and your dirty clothes. Despite yourself, you felt the urge to reach out to him; to caress his chin and jaw; to trace the lines of his mouth and lips, wanting to drag him closer.

“It’s considered rude to stare.”

“A lot of things are considered rude, but that doesn’t stop you from doing them,” you said, but averted your eyes.

Sherlock blew out a breath in answer, choosing not to reply to your bait. His eyes flitted up to your face, before his hands stilled, removing them from you. You glanced at the wound, seeing rows of perfect stitching sitting securely in your skin. He took hold of a bandage and rolled it over your whole abdomen, securing the wound against further strain and harm. You nodded to him as thanks, hoisting yourself further on the cushions. A surge of pain shot from the wound and you winced, feeling the dried blood against your face.

“Are you in danger?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Not anymore.”

Sherlock’s unyielding gaze stayed on yours, trying to coax an explanation out of you. When your eyes strayed across the flat and avoided his glare, he finally cleared his throat.

“Will you tell me what’s going on?” He didn’t quite manage to keep the sharpness out of his voice.

You turned your face to his, letting your gaze meet his. Sherlock’s eyes were hard in their stare, and his mouth set in a straight line. Sherlock’s leg kept jumping up and down, and his hands twisting with anxiety. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he was nervous. Why?

You shook off the thought, taking a deep breath.

“You’re the first one I thought of, Sherlock.”

A frown formed on his face. “What?”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. Did you really have to spell it out for him? He was a detective, for God’s sake.

“I got injured, and I immediately thought of you.”

You could see the moment he understood. The way his eyes widened, frown fading into raised eyebrows, mouth gaping, and leg stopped jumping. Despite your better judgement, you considered him safe, someone you could trust. And you hated your body for relaxing in his presence, your heart for beating so fast.

This was the moment you had been dreading. He would cast you out, shouting and swear words following your steps. He would never want to see you again, never to be near you again, even if it were only to taunt you. All you had built the previous night would come crashing down in a vicious mess as you desperately tried to crawl your way out of it.

When you realised he still hadn’t uttered a word you dared meet his eye. They were deep pools of emotion, swirling with their usual secrets. There was something else there, too. A softness that had never been there before. It was possible you had just never noticed it before, though.

He closed his eyes as a hand dragged across his face. When he met your gaze he released a breath and said, “Fuck it.”

Before you could gather your bearings, Sherlock’s lips met yours.

In less than twenty-four hours, Sherlock had kissed you twice. In less than twenty-four hours, he had caused you to question everything you knew about yourself and the man across from you. Sherlock brought forth feelings you didn’t know you had, and was an expert in making you show them.

The sudden kiss made a moan escape your lips, muffled by his soft lips. They felt the same as you had remembered them yesterday, but this time you could feel the emotions behind the kiss. It was like Sherlock wanted to convey all he wanted to tell you with a press of his lips. You wouldn’t let him. You demanded more.

You pulled away from him, falling back onto the sofa. His brows furrowed and eyes widened. He began to throw out a desperate explanation, his words a tangled mess. His voice died to nothing when your hand landed against his cheek, bringing his attention to your touch.

“Sherlock.”

His eyes met yours at the sound of his name, almost afraid to do so. “Yes?”

“Are you going to throw me out again?”

Sherlock winced as if the words had physically struck him. The morning was all too fresh in his mind, as hard as he had tried to forget it. All day, he had bargained with himself, trying to justify what he was feeling. However much Sherlock tried to convince himself, it was pointless. He admired all of you. He fancied you.

“I won’t throw you out again.”

“You didn’t show any signs of throwing me out last night, either. And yet…” you trailed off, letting him finish the sentence himself.

He swallowed hard, lowering his gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“What was that?”

He settled you with a hard glare. You could barely take him seriously, though. His chest was rising and falling rapidly with his breaths, and pupils were blown wide. He wasn’t drunk this time, but it might be the next best thing. Drunk off of me, you mused.

Sherlock opened his mouth, but no words came out. Instead he turned to the side, pressing his lips against your palm. You could feel his breath tickle the skin, the sensation sending shivers down your arm, allowing heat to rise to your ears. Such a simple gesture and it still managed to make you flustered.

“I was afraid,” he said.

A laugh almost escaped your lips. “The great Sherlock Holmes, afraid of me?”

His eyes were steady, humour gone from his voice when he spoke, “Yes. Afraid to confront my feelings for you. Feelings,” he rushed out to say, “that I very much have.”

“That’s all I needed to hear.”

You tugged his face forward, crashing your lips together. His tongue danced against your own, fighting for control. Not again, you thought. Carefully, you bit down on his lip, drawing a groan from his chest. He leant closer, encasing you between his arms as he lowered himself.

Sherlock’s hand pressed against your chest, making you sink further into the cushions. He pulled away, ever so slightly, to allow room for breathing. His lips brushed yours, barely touching, and you felt his breath fan across them, prickling your skin. Heat pooled in the pit of your stomach as his hand ventured lower, tugging at the ends of your shirt.

The fingers that had earlier stitched your skin together now danced across it, tentative, and made shivers spread through your spine. With a frustrated sigh, you took ahold of his waist, digging your nails into the skin there. He moaned into your mouth, eyes fluttering closed.

“Wait,” he whispered.

You hesitated, scanning his face for any signs of regret. Instead, his fingers brushed against your bandaged side, his eyes flitting between it and your face.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

You huffed out a laugh. So that was what all the fuss was about.

“I think that ship has already sailed.”

Sherlock’s gaze stayed on yours, still serious. But you couldn’t ignore the way his eyes kept jumping to your lips, his pupils blown wide, and breath ragged. He looked almost as intoxicated as you felt.

You settled his worries by pushing his hand further down, closer to your abdomen. You could feel the strain of your pants, pressing against a too sensitive area, waiting to be released. Sherlock’s breath hitched as he felt the bulge, before pressing firmer against it. You had to fight a moan.

“I have suffered worse,” you rasped, “Like your attitude.”

Sherlock only huffed a breath before crashing your lips together. It was frustration, a clashing of teeth, and a pulling on lips that made you submit to him with a moan. There was that fiery passion that made you weak in the knees. It was alarming how eager you were for him to take control over you.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom, hm?”

His low murmur reverberated through your joined limbs. You nodded with a jerk of your head. He pulled you to your feet by your hand, pressing you closer by your waist. The journey to Sherlock’s bedroom was a short one, but a difficult one as neither of you could keep your hands to yourself for very long. His tongue pressed against yours, as his hands travelled over your skin.

Sherlock removed your shirt, throwing it on the floor. You huffed, sending him the best glare you could muster at a moment like this.

“What?”

“It’ll get dirty.”

“I don’t have such a dirty floor.”

You meaningfully eyed the shirt laying against the mess of other countless items of clothing. To be truthful, you couldn’t care less about a dirty shirt when Sherlock was looking at you with those eyes. It only managed to rile him up, bring that flare you adored so much. Nonetheless, Sherlock rolled his eyes and brought you closer by your neck, pressing his lips to your jaw. Then to your throat. Then across your collarbone.

Gods knew he felt glorious against you, almost making you delirious with every touch of his lips. You couldn’t admit it to Sherlock, though. His ego would never recover.

He came back up to your face for air, breath fanning over your lips. Carefully, he pushed you against the bed so you laid against it, gazing up at him. His hair was dishevelled, eyes heavy lidded with dark pupils blown wide. He stretched to take off his own shirt and undid his belt, throwing it across the bed. He crawled against you, skin meeting skin. Sherlock’s warm breath prickled yours as he brought his face closers to yours. He looked divine, and felt it, too. His arms held himself up so he hovered over you, his muscles clearly defined in the streetlight coming from the window.

“My Gods,” he rasped.

You let out a chuckle against his lips. “I’m not faithful, but I was thinking the exact same thing.”

Again, Sherlock’s lips closed over yours. You couldn’t notice anything further than the feel of his mouth, his warm skin flush against yours, and the locks of his hair prickling your face. You could only imagine how he looked right now, so you did the next best thing and travelled your hands to his head. Sherlock’s hair was soft against your fingers, grabbing hold of it and eliciting a deep moan from his chest.

You grinned, yanking his head back. Sherlock gasped against your lips, before smiling down at you. Of course the bastard would be into harsher play. And you would be lying if you said you weren't also into it.

He kissed you again, letting his hand trail the side of your stomach, inching closer to the band of your trousers. You felt yourself getting impatient by the featherlight touches, yearning for him to touch you properly. Sherlock knew it, too, by the way his hand hovered over the visible pressure in your trousers. Instead of indulging you, he dropped his hand to let his fingers graze up and down the inside of your leg. It only added to your discomfort and you bucked impatiently.

Immediately, a sharp pain shot through your body, making you wince. The wound was too recent for you to move much. Sherlock noticed, stilling instantly. His eyes jumped between your face and your bandages.

“Are you sure you’re okay for this?” he asked.

You rolled your eyes, drawing his lips to yours again. And again, you tried to move your hips for any sort of friction. Sherlock pulled away, sending you a stern glare.

“You have to keep still or you’ll wound yourself even worse.”

“Then stop being a tease and touch me.”

Sherlock considered you before smirking. “I’m not sure I can refrain from that.”

Without any hesitation, he took hold of your wrists and pinned your hands above you. Your eyes widened, feeling the tight grip of his fingers that wouldn’t allow you to move your arms. He glanced around, before reaching over you and tying something over your wrists. You tilted your head, seeing his belt holding your hands together to the bed frame. Tentatively, you pulled on it, feeling the leather dig into your skin. Sherlock’s hands grazed yours as he met your shocked gaze.

“You’re serious?” you asked.

He cocked his head, giving you a meaningful glare.

“It wont’t keep me from moving my hips, y’know?”

Sherlock smiled. “No, but it might teach you to stay still.”

His hands kept travelling south, making their way to your jaw and lifting it closer to him. You were rendered defenceless, your only option to meet the touch of his lips. You felt the flutter of your stomach, fully realising the control he now had over you. It was incredible.

As if he could read your thoughts, Sherlock’s lips curled into a mischievous smile, and you could feel the warmth of his fingers close over the skin of your throat. There wasn’t any pressure, but just the feel of it brought shivers up your spine and the strain of your trousers became impossibly tighter. You gave Sherlock a meaningful stare, cocking your head.

Sherlock shook his head, chuckling. “Let’s take these off, huh?”

Finally he allowed his hands to fall to your trousers, unbuckling them and dragging them down your legs. You lifted your hips for him, allowing him to take off your underwear, as well. The relief was immediate and you gasped at the colder air around your skin. You were now completely naked, wholly at Sherlock’s mercy, and the thought seemed to thrill him by the way his mouth hung open. His eyes jumped all over you, speechless, not seeming to be able to get enough of the sight. You smiled with smug pleasure.

Quickly, Sherlock removed his own trousers, hurrying to get closer to you again. He was more careful with his touches, allowing the feel of his skin warm yours and send your mind spiralling. Not in a million years could you have predicted to find yourself where you were right now — who you were with, and who was currently grinding his hips against your unclothed ones. The feeling made you see stars, so desperate for release.

Sherlock’s lips met yours, drawing your focus to how you couldn’t bring your hands to draw them through his hair. The thought frustrated you and you groaned into the kiss. Sherlock’s hand lowered, closing over your dick. You let out a gasp, tugging at the restraints. Sherlock’s lips danced against yours as his hand tugged, spreading the precum over your dick.

It was all you could do to not cry out in relief. Finally feeling some friction made you moan, pressing against Sherlock’s lips even harder in appreciation. He smiled into the kiss, allowing his thumb to press against your tip. You could feel the pressure in your stomach building, making you impatient and wanting.

Just then, Sherlock drew away his hand, leaving you wanting for more. You bit his lip in retaliation, letting him feel every part of your frustration. He sighed, lowering his hand to your bottom, the pad of his finger probing at your ass. He entered one finger, carefully feeling you out. He watched your face for any reaction and you closed your eyes, sighing.

Sherlock entered one, and then two, more fingers into. It felt amazing when he started stretching you out, carefully curling his fingers. His lips met yours, swallowing any sounds and moans you let out. It allowed you to just bask in the feeling of him. Every shift of his muscles, breath of his chest, and moving of his hips made you want to embrace the man. But you couldn’t, due to the cursed restraints. Still, that didn’t keep you from trying and from moving your knee to graze his growing arousal.

Sherlock moaned with you, pressing against somewhere sensitive inside you. Again, you could feel your orgasm coming, dick twitching, clenching around his fingers and biting Sherlock’s bottom lip. Your hips lifted against them, shooting pain through your body again. You cringed, but pairing it with the pleasure Sherlock’s fingers were doing made you moan. Soft words of praising or pleading left your tongue, the meaning of them so slurred to the point not even you could make out. You wanted him impossibly closer.

You groaned when Sherlock, once again, drew away. You were getting real tired of his behaviour. The man finally got you into bed, and you were starting to think he wanted to get you out if it. Sherlock was playing a dangerous game with you, and you swore to get him back on it.

“Please,” you whispered.

You didn’t care about your pride at this point, just that you would get what you wanted. The only thing you could think about was the absence of his touch. Sherlock seemed to realise what he was doing, a cheeky smirk forming on his lips.

“Please what?” came his coy reply.

“Please fuck me or I swear I’m going to punch you in your smug face.”

His eyebrows raised. “You can’t punch me.”

You glanced up at your restraints and then down at where his hands rested beside your legs. A smile tugged at your lips. “I could kick you.”

Sherlock breath fanned over your face, his lips grazing yours before pulling into a lazy smile. “Then I better give you what I want.”

He sat up to pull of his underwear, drawing your eyes to every detail of him. He was breathing heavily, his muscles pulled taut and hair in a dishevelled mess. Sherlock sank back close to you, embracing you closely. The warmth of his skin spread to yours, creating a sheen layer of sweat between you. You were way too aware of every part of you touching, every sensation turned tenfold.

Carefully, Sherlock hovered over you, his elbows holding himself up as he guided his hips to yours. You could feel the long awaited moment of his cock probing at your entrance, careful as he watched your face. You nodded, smiling.

Sherlock sighed as he sunk into you, letting his head fall into the crook of your neck. You moaned at the feel of stretching you out, trying to move him closer. Your hands were still restrained, but you could roll your hips into some resemblance of friction. Sherlock kissed your jaw, trailing his lips across your neck. It was messy but so full of passion you couldn’t seem to care.

“Please,” you muttered again.

Sherlock’s head lifted from your neck, tilting to look you in the eye. “You’re already getting what you want, what is it now?”

You tugged at the restrains, yearning to be able to run your hands over his back. “Just let me touch you.”

“You gonna stay still?”

“Can’t promise anything,” you smiled.

He glanced up at your wrists, before leaning over to set them free. The second you could move, your hands shot to take hold of his jaw, drawing his face to meet yours. The warmth of his skin was finally under your touch. You couldn’t help but to pull him closer, settling him even deeper inside you, and drawing a moan out of his chest. The sound made you crazy, bringing your arms around his shoulders, the defined muscles feeling glorious beneath your fingers.

As Sherlock continuously pulled in and out of you, hitting that sensitive spot deep inside you, your nails raked over his warm skin. You were sure deep marks were left behind, but you weren’t sure if Sherlock was just ignoring the pain, or enjoying it. By the way his face turned to mark your neck with moans leaving his tongue in mutterings, you suspected the latter was true.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it either, the mixing of pain and pleasure. Your wound was still sore, and every grind of Sherlock’s hips reminded you of some sort of phantom of that pain. It left your mouth agape, left to just keep still underneath Sherlock, every touch of his lips sending goosebumps over your skin, and every sting of your wound adding to the surreal feeling.

For a third time this night, you felt yourself getting close, clinging to every movement of his hips, feeling the shift of his muscles as he held himself up. You muttered so, kissing the shell of his ear. Sherlock sped up, hitting your prostate even harder and faster, chasing his own release to match yours. The pain and pleasure became too much for you and your dick twitched in anticipation.

He dipped down to connect your lips, before drawing a deep moan from your chest as you climaxed, clenching his dick in the process. Sherlock almost fell against you in the relief of the feeling but caught himself as to not burden your wound, and stayed still as his own orgasm powered through.

Only when both your heartbeats had slowed and your breathing returned to normal did Sherlock meet your eye, kissing you slowly as he pulled out, the sensation feeling like too much for your oversensitive body. Every little movement was too much, and now that the pleasure had begun to subside the pain in your stomach was more prominent than ever.

Sherlock’s fingers trailed along your body, carefully bringing your mind back to him, to your body, and all the places you were touching. It was grounding your mind, allowing you to fully relax. He touched your bandages with a tender hand, trying to feel for any faults.

“You’re still good.”

“No thanks to you,” came your witty answer.

Sherlock sent you a deadened glare, trying not to quick back a no-doubt clever reply. Instead, he moved away, making you shiver in the cold air, and returned with a fresh rag to wipe down the sweat and fluids between the both of you. You accepted it gratefully, sitting up against the bedpost when finished. Sherlock’s hands surrounded your shoulders to steady you, still a careful air around him.

You brought his lips to yours in a sudden kiss, allowing him to relax. “I’m good, Sherlock. Don’t worry.”

He forced himself to take a deep breath and to sit down beside you, pulling the covers over your shoulders. You watched him with an amused glint.

“What?” he asked.

You shrugged your shoulders before smiling. “Nothing. Just not used to seeing you this nervous.”

“I’m always nervous around you.”

Sherlock met your eye with the most sincere expression you’ve seen on him. An eyebrow raised in his direction.

“You sure have a peculiar way of showing it. Throwing me out and tying me up—”

Sherlock huffed and scooted down to lay down against the bed, avoiding your amused gaze. “Will you ever let that go?”

You bent down to lay against him, your head by his shoulder, your breath fanning against his ear. “I don’t think so.”

Sherlock turned his head so that his lips grazed yours. “Careful, or I’ll have to tie you up again.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that,” you whispered, pressing your mouth to his in a deep kiss. “Maybe next time you’ll be the one tied up.”

Fuck, Sherlock thought. There was no way in bloody hell he could ever go back to being just colleagues again, not after having known you so close to him. It was done. He was falling for you, and you both knew it.

1K notes · View notes

gojoath · 7 months ago

Text

ಣ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ YOU SAID FOREVER, OKKOTSU YŪTA

yūta’s never been one to back down easily. especially not after you told him you’d be together forever. soulmates. you can’t expect him to just let you go.

summary. fem reader. yandere yūta. ex-boyfriend yūta. obsession. manipulation. stalking. yandere themes. dubcon. exhibitonism. dry humping / grinding. breath play - he puts his hand over your mouth. alcohol mention. previous fwb mention (not yūta). aged up characters. wc, 4.9k.

note. repost, the first yandere yūta fic i posted :)

this was not your preferred way to get over a failed relationship.

you grumble to yourself as you rest in the kitchen of the party your friend maki dragged you to— you know she meant well, opting to get you out of the house rather than letting you sit alone feeling sorry for yourself. but honestly, at this point you don’t know what you’d prefer.

the atmosphere in here is buzzing, full of intoxicated bodies with red plastic cups in their hands and loud music blasting through the halls of the house. the liquid in your own cup is a little questionably coloured— something maki had mixed, although bartending was never her strong suit— but you still grit your teeth before bringing it up to your lips and knocking it back anyway.

the concoction hits your taste buds immediately and you try not to gag as you swallow it quickly— feeling the burn set fire to your throat. you cringe at the drink, but honestly you need to loosen up somehow.

it’s not that you were heartbroken over your situationship, he had simply been something to pass the time. he was handsome enough, a good fuck and a decent guy— he helped you forget, which was really the main focus and reason behind spending so much time in his presence. but you still think it’s annoying that he just disappeared without a trace, not even shooting a quick text like hey, thanks for sucking my dick so many times, it’s been fun.

you find yourself rolling your eyes again, before you’re pulling your phone out of your back pocket to check the notifications, huffing when it comes up empty apart from a few instagram story updates and spam emails.

now you’re alone, you’re only stuck with the memories you try hard to swallow down, they still sting a little— ache across your chest and you find yourself shaking your head side to side like it’ll rid you of them, even just for a few hours.

“hey, quit feeling sorry for yourself! you gonna mope around all night?” you’re thankfully snapped from your own thoughts when maki wraps her arm around your shoulder, letting a fair amount of her weight lean on top of you until you’re both stumbling slightly. but she manages to steady you as she sends you a frown.

“i am not moping.”

“you’re totally moping.” your bestfriend sighs before she takes another swig of the drink that’s currently swaying a little too much in her other hand, and you’re glad that she’s atleast strong enough to keep you both upright despite being the one about to take you down.

“loosen up a bit, relax~ he’s just a guy.” she tries again, but you can’t help the way your body seems to stiffen with her statement, she feels it too,

“it’s not about the guy.” but still you’re quick to reply, brushing it off as you let your eyes roll slowly over the crowd of people shoved around the kitchen island. a lot of them pre-occupying themselves with different things such as raiding the fridge, setting up beer pong and—

“it’s not about that guy, but it’s about a guy.” maki’s words are matter a fact and you know she’s right despite the way you wish she wasn’t. it’s not about your failed situationship but the one that came before that, the one you’re trying to forget. you shoot your bestfriend a glare, and she pulls her arm back from its place over you before she’s squeezing at your shoulder, sending you a reassuring grin as she backs off.

“gotcha, let me grab you another drink. stay put.” she knows you better than anyone.

it only takes a few minutes before you begin to finally feel the affects of your last drink, you’re not quite where you want to be yet but you feel a little hazy— a little softer as you let yourself float around the room in your own blissful trance.

although you can’t help but feel like someone’s eyes are on you, feeling goosebumps burst along your skin every so often— like when you almost bump into someone or you’re helped by a stranger when you stumble. their hands will be on your skin to steady you but your gut is screaming for you to look over your shoulder, but there’s never anyone there when you do— not paying enough attention to you atleast.

maybe the alcohol is just making you paranoid.

you find yourself fading in and out of conversations, not really absorbing any information as you sway from your place between panda and inumaki. they’re talking about something you can barely make out, a little too enthusiastically as your eyes scan the room again— wondering where the hell maki is with your other drink.

inumaki moves slightly, waving at someone from across the room and you can’t help the way your gaze follows the movement— blinking slowly until you feel something twist in your gut. you catch a glance at a familiar looking figure, hair pushed back into a relaxed sort of style and a gaze that feels like it cuts through you.

it can’t be, right?

you don’t cast it a second glance to check when it makes you stumble back, because you already find yourself pushing your way out of the room as it suddenly becomes a little harder to breathe.

it’s warm and stuffy, sweaty bodies cramped together in the hallway but you’re drowsy and most likely hallucinatingat this point, atleast that’s what you’ve convinced yourself as you round the corner. you’d make your way to the bathroom, but when you see a considerable amount of people already queued up and looking like they’ve been waiting too long already, you opt to push your way into the backyard instead.

you're thankful for the decision, when you finally push your way into the dimly lit garden— sighing when you feel the cool air roll over your shoulders in waves and it has you taking in a deep inhale.

it’s quieter out here, the music is more of a faint sound that only fades even more as you take a few steps deeper onto the grass— letting yourself bask in the glow from the moon and the fresh air. the backyard wasn’t big, it was only littered with a few plant pots and a single bench— there was a corner to the side that led to the gate and the back entrance to the house, and plot of grass in the middle.

but it was small enough for people to very rarely want to come out here, especially at a party and you’re pretty sure the smokers have opted for out the front when you hear the faint chatter of voices over the fence.

you like this though. another slow breeze pushes through you and despite the haze of your mind, you let your head fall back as you sway with it, letting your eyes rest closed. you almost forget about the whole reason you were seeking the outdoors in the first place,

almost, because it’s only a few beats later when your peaceful alone time is interrupted by the soft sound of the back door closing behind you. your eyes are suddenly wide open despite the way you don’t dare to look behind you just yet.

you find yourself listening, intently— hoping that maybe it was just that same breeze that was to blame for it. maybe some drunk party-goer stumbled into it and didn’t realise you were out here, it was dark after all. yeah, you were just being paranoid. so you let yourself exhale the breath you didn’t even realise you were holding before you perk up and go to turn again.

“you’ve been avoiding me.” the words are low, but they take a soft sort of lull that makes your movements halt mid turn. your eyes are wide and something familiar to a shiver seems to race it’s way down your spine before you’re easing your head in the direction of the sound.

“you know why that is, okkotsu.” your words come out a little harsher than you intend them to, and you watch the way your ex boyfriend picks up on that too as he shuffles on his feet. his brows furrow and he bites on the inside of his cheek as he looks away from your gaze.

okkotsu yuuta was your ex boyfriend and the reason you were even in that stupid situationship in the first place. he was overbearing and protective, to the point where you couldn’t even go on a study date with a classmate without him bumping into your boyfriend in the library and suddenly they’re requesting a new project partner. everyplace you ever went to without him, he always seemed to end up there anyway.

although if you asked him, he would deny that you guys were broken up in the first place. he would always rather say that you just needed some space, you just needed a little time to relax but you’ll come back to him because you said you were soulmates afterall. why wouldn’t you?

which is why, yes you’d been trying to avoid yuuta— tryingbecause he always still managed to find his way to every, single party you attended anyway, insisting that he was there for you, because he’s your date. you’d been avoiding this confrontation since the last one, and the one before that. you’d changed your phone number, but he knew your schedule, he knew the places you visited on your days off and the places he could find you because he knew you.

“baby, please don’t call me that.” his voice is tender as he takes a careful step into your space but he stops immediately when you meet him with a step back.

“i thought you’d be happy to see me. i’m here for you.” yuuta speaks again but he emphasises the way he says it’s all for you. like you’re making him act this way, it’s yourfault. you take another step away from him as you frown, opting to walk around the side of the house as you head towards the gate— you weren’t doing this right now. not tonight when you don’t have a clear mind.

you hear him call out a don’t leave as you retreat away from him, but it was always unnerving how quickly he seemed to move— feeling his hand wrap tightly around your wrist before your back is almost slammed against the brick wall of the house and he’s looming over you.

you hiss at the slight, sharp sting of pain you feel up your body at the impact and you hear yuuta gasp at the sound before his hands are reaching over you with a “sorry. i didn’t want you to leave me again.” but you’re quick to slap away his other hand when it reaches for your face aswell, earning you a pitiful, puppy eyed look.

“i’m not doing this tonight.” you try to argue, trying to shake his grip off your wrist but it’s tight, and you feel suddenly too warm underneath his stare as his lidded gaze crawls over your features. he leans into you, his free arm that’s now just resting in the air between you opting to rest against the wall instead as he keeps you caged beneath him. he’s close enough for you to smell the faint, familiar scent of his cologne.

“is it because of that guy?” yuuta asks, softly, like he’s sympathising with you— like it’s a touchy topic that he doesn’t want to bring up but it’s a question that fills you with unease when you finally find it in yourself to lift your eyes to meet his.

“what?” your words come out slowly, hesitantly and the dark haired male over you looks away as your gaze narrows, “how do you know about that?”

“hey, it’s fine. i don’t blame you.” a soft reply, like a lover consoling another— like he’s about to wrap you in his embrace and keep you there, but the smile he’s wearing is a little too happy for the subject. his eyes close with the close lipped grin as his hand squeezes around your wrist. like a reassurance— a reminder that he’s got you there. you can’t go anywhere else.

“you’re safe now. i got rid of him, we can be together again.” yuuta hums, like he’s being careful with his words— although he can still hear the way your breathing picks up. maybe if he leaned in a little closer he’d be able to hear your heartbeat, he wonders if it beats for only him. would you let him have it if he asked? he lets his hand against the wall fall slightly, resting on your arm as he strokes at the skin but the stare you’re giving him now is cold as he tries to soothe you with his touch.

“it was you?” your words are deliberately harsher now, sharper as you try to pull yourself from his touch but despite his appearance he was stronger than you’d expect. he doesn’t have any trouble holding you there as he tries to shush you, casting a few quick looks over to the gate to make sure you’ve not caught the attention of the people on the other end. it’s quieter now than it was when you first came out.

“he was in the way of our love.” this was okkotsu yuuta. he still remembers how upset he felt seeing you with that other guy, laughing and smiling so prettily when it’s only supposed to be for him. it was your fault. it wasn’t hard, he didn’t have to hurt him too much before he decided to give you up— to give you back, you deserve someone better than that. someone who would give up his life to keep you, and you have him for that already. you don’t need anyoneelse.

although he still had to teach him the consequences of touching what’s his. he’d do it as many times as he had to. they don’t stand a chance against him.

“i’m all yours remember. all of me. that means you belong to me too, doesn’t it? we’ll be together forever.” it’s unnerving how honest yuuta’s words sound, there’s no waver to them and his dark, lidded gaze is sharp as it holds yours. “you promised.” he brings your hand up to his cheek as he presses your fingertips into his skin, leaning into the touch but your fingers don’t stroke softly like they usually do. they’re rigged, stiff while your hand falls limp in his hold. you stare at him, and it makes him shift uncomfortably opposite you as he takes a loud swallow.

you can’t deny you feel scared, bile turning in your gut as you begin to blink a little more with your exhales but he picks up on that.

“i missed you.” yuuta tries again as his hands squeeze at your skin— his fingers around your wrist loosen slightly, but only so he can try to intertwine them with your own. he presses his chest into yours, pushing you harder against the brick behind you and you try to push yourself back against him as you huff.

“yuuta, stop it! are you crazy?” you try to argue because you’re mad at him, try to push against his chest but you can already feel the way his lips are grazing along your jawline, nibbling at the skin. his fingertips cold as they push underneath the hem of your shirt to touch your bare skin.

“sorry, it’s been so.. so long.” you shudder as yuuta breathes his words along the nerves in your neck next, fidgeting beneath him as he knocks your legs apart with one of his— pressing his hips into the space that’s left behind after, before they’re grinding into yours.

you’re breathing deep but yuuta’s panting into you like a dog as he ruts you into the brick behind you, it almost hurts with how it grazes along the bare skin he reveals. his hands are everywhere and you feel too hot for your skin, feeling the same bile rise in your throat as your eyes squeeze closed.

“please.” he gasps again, but the soft, pathetic little plea is cut off by the slam of the back door as you watch it illuminate the light around the corner. you feel the tension in your shoulders relax as you hear maki call for you, seeing what you would assume is her shadow fall out of the doorway a few moments later. it’s almost too eager, the way your arm shakes free to reach out, just as your mouth drops open to call back.

but just as your lips part, you feel the hard press of yuuta’s palm across your mouth— so fast and precise it almost knocks the air out of you as your head whips towards him.

“please. don’t.” he grits and you’re pretty sure if his hips weren’t pressing you into the wall right now your legs would’ve buckled entirely with the way they’re trembling. there was a few instances where he got like this, it was like a switch flipped and some dark aura that he kept wrapped away inside of him pushed its way to the surface. his lidded gaze feels like it cuts through you and you can barely breathe with how tight his grip on your mouth is as the veins in his hands bulge.

you feel yuuta press into you again, and you can feel how hard he is through the fabric of his slacks— accompanied by the flush of his cheeks as he suddenly avoids your gaze. he trembles over you, quietly grazing the blunt head of his cock between your legs but your eyes are still on the shadow of your bestfriend as she calls out another time.

your fingertips tremble as they reach out but your ex-boyfriend is quick to take them back in his own before you let them drop by your side again. your vision blurs with tears as you hear maki spit out a slurred curse before stomping back into the house, slamming the door closed just as loudly again before you’re wrapped back up in the shadows like you were before.

you feel lightheaded as yuuta’s fingers dip almost painfully into your skin, accompanied by the way you’re only left to breathe out of your nose right now because his palm is still tight over your lips. you try to speak, but it’s lost behind his grip and he’s so flushed and needy, he can barely hear you as he rolls his hips into yours once more— pulling a soft, dreamy whine from his lips that you cant deny makes something twist in your gut.

“i’m.. im sorry, ive just missed you.” he shivers over you as his thighs tremble at the feeling of your hips sliding along his. the look he gives you is lidded and dazed, clouded with lust as he pulls your hips up towards him, and you can’t help the whimper that would slip from your lips as he angles himself against your clit. you’re suddenly thankful that the sound goes lost behind his palm instead.

it’s insane the way yuuta moves you, dragging you along his own body as he takes control of you— making your body clap almost painfully against the wall behind you both. but you can’t deny how pretty he looks with his lower lip sucked between his teeth, his dark bangs falling slightly over his gaze as he blinks up at you.

his movements are messy and eager, like he’s trying to prove how much he’s missed you— how much he’s lovesyou in his movements. like all of those threats were acceptable, he really was just looking out for you and with every graze of his shaft along your clothed clit you consider forgetting about them entirely.

you did love him afterall, the chemistry was there— it’s evident in the way the feeling of yuuta’s body against yours is making the space where you both take a breath spin. maybe that’s why you’d been avoiding him, because you know you’d go crawling back as soon as you felt his touch, as soon as you heard his soft pants fall from his lips. that’s the reason, right?

your mind and willpower melting away with every quick shockwave of pleasure his thrusts send through you.

“shhhh, i know what you need. i always do, i’ve got you.” his lips trail spit along your cheeks as he drools against you, whimpering against your skin and it’s almost instinct the way your arms finally relax— instead easing their way to his chest to twist at the fabric of his shirt.

yuuta gives you a look as he inspects you, slowing down his needy grinds to a slow, seamless crawl— like he’s making sure you’re not trying to trick him before he finally releases his palm from your mouth. your lips part as you take a much needed breath, but your gaze is lidded and blown when it meets his, and suddenly his palms are resting on your cheeks as he pulls you in for a kiss.

“b-baby,” he gasps as he grabs at you, tongue pressing past the seal of your lips to graze against your own— messy and lewd, like a sweet little welcome home as his hips ruthlessly rut into yours. the push of your mouth makes him whine, his palms clammy against your skin as he drinks up every sinful swirl of your hips you offer him.

you’ve become so lost in your pleasure, your fingers move to twist in his hair and you feel yuuta moan softly at the sting before his jaw tightens. his hips continuing to move in sync with yours as a low, slurred praise pours from his lips like honey. he feels so lost in the familiar, silky grind of your clothed pussy. “feel—feels so good.”

“all mine.” follows after before he curses under his breath and you can barely hear him with the ringing in your ears. he’s rutting into you almost too desperately, you can almost feel every detail of his cock through the thin fabric separating you both as he mumbles messily against your lips, insanity intertwining with his lust. “you belong to me.”

“yuuta~ah!” you moan, so prettily that it makes yuuta’s pace stutter before he’s grabbing at your thigh to hike it up higher, to perfect the angle so you can feel him rub right between your clothed folds. he can almost feel you, his mind swirling with the thought of finally sinking into your warm pussy again— finally claiming back what’s his after you kept it from him for so long.

“i love you.” his mind and senses blur as he pushes love confessions between your lips, promises and threats that go unheard as you lose yourself in the pleasure between your thighs. “don’t leave me again. i won’t let you.” he gasps again, and you know he’s close when he pulls away to nuzzle into the crook of your neck.

the press of your panties against you feels damp and if it wasn’t for yuuta holding you upright you’d have collapsed entirely as you hold onto him for stability. your breathing is ragged but you’re just as fucked out as he is, trying to meet each of his needy thrusts with mindless little humps of your own as you both near your orgasms.

“t-tell me, please.” your ex boyfriend trembles as your body claps against his, desperate hands clawing at your bare skin as you feel the shaft of his cock throb against you— begging just as much as he is with every breathless plea he buries into your throat. “please, i need it. i’m gonna—“

“i love you, yuuta.” you moan, it’s whispery and choked off just as he angles his hips exactly where you need him too, and it’s enough to have yuuta curling over you as the words ring true in his ears. it’s instantaneous the way his orgasm feels like it rips through him, his hips jerking and twitching into you as he babbles out slurred and whimpered thank yous, and his fingernails dig so tight into your skin you’re sure they’ll bruise.

he continues to roll his hips into yours, prolonging his blissful state because you’re whimpering his name, grabbing at him as you chase your own high— grinding into the mess he’s made in his pants and it only takes a few more presses onto your puffy clit before you’re going rigid.

your lips part, but yuuta’s quick to meet them with his own as he swallows up your moans— keeping them for himself as he holds you steady through your orgasm. your high hits you so hard and good your toes almost ache with how tight they curl, insides begging to be filled as you pull at the man infront of you’s dark roots and he whines into your mouth.

it’s greedy, the way you both ride out your highs until you’re a mess of limbs and agonised moans. your kiss is prolonged until it’s lewd and messy, pulling away with a string of drool despite the way your still ex boyfriends grip is as tight on you as it was when you started. he won’t let you get away from him again.

although with your dwindling pleasure and lust, you realise the weight of what you just did when you feel yuuta’s eyes on you— gazing down at you all fatuous and adoring. you clear your throat slightly as you try to move, feeling the ache in your spine from where you’ve been pressed against the hard surface but he’s quick to let his hands graze up the skin— smoothing out the area like it’ll help at all.

although the touch makes you shudder more than anything.

“i have to go change. let’s go.” yuuta mumbles softly before his hand is intertwining with yours again, and you’re so aware of how tight his hold on you is that you know you’d have no chance to shrug him off. your lips part again, like you’re going to object and he looks at you— something a little dark twisting in his expression and it’s enough for you to suddenly forget how to speak.

another beat and he leans into press a kiss to your forehead, a whisper of a smile on his features before he’s pressing another to your lips after and sending you a soft, kind smile.

“i won’t let you leave me again.” and the confession makes your body betray you— maybe as a means of survival as you take a step in his direction on shaky legs to follow behind him,

“okay.”

love was like a curse afterall.

#cw yandere #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #okkotsu yuta smut #okkotsu yuuta smut #okkotsu yuta x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk smut #jjk x reader #okkotsu yuta x you #yuuta smut #yuuta x reader #cw dubcon

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 17 days ago

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Immured

Nathan Bateman x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Kinktober 2023 Masterlist • Day 25: Orgasm Denial

Summary: Nathan has made something.

A/N: This was meant to be for kinktober 2023 (I'm so sorry). A huge shout out to @midgardian-witch and their amazing series Nathan Bateman Is A Brat that haunts me at all times.

Warnings: cock cage, p in v sex, neck squeezing (Nathan's neck), some sub/dom dynamics, a little blood (bitten lip), not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 493

You moan deeply as Nathan bucks into you, your legs around his waist as he rolls his hips. He’s practically got every single spot inside you memorised by now, knows exactly how to make you fall apart in seconds.

He groans deeply, biting his lip, tears in his eyes. His cock burns. Fucking throbs as it tries to swell and harden against the metal of the cage. The sensation makes him lightheaded.

“You okay?” You manage to get out, stroking his beard. You do your best to focus on him, to not fall into that quickly building pleasure.

He nods rapidly. “So fucking okay. Want to make you come.”

He’d build the cage himself, fitted it inside the silicon cock he’d printed and attached it to the custom made strap. This way he could fuck you with technically another cock.

You shiver under him, your pussy fluttering against the silicon. He watches your expression intently, he can almost feel how you're squeezing him, how your body is hurtling towards its release all because of him. If he focuses hard enough he can feel it, makes himself experience the ghost of sensation.

“Like this better than my cock, hmm? It is better isn’t it?” He groans, needing you to degrade him just a little bit.

You whine, slipping your hand down to his throat and he gasps eagerly. You don’t squeeze, just rest your fingers there, feeling the rapid race of his heartbeat. But the hint of your control is all he needs.

“It is better.” You swallow, so close to becoming a cock dumb mess beneath him.

And his eyes roll back. “Fuck.” He pants, pistoning his hips. “Please, tell me that again, please.”

“It’s better, so much better than your real cock. Makes me want to come, won’t have to fake an orgasm this time.”

He sobs, his cock begging to be freed, straining against the confines, and it’s all so delicious. “Fuck, thank you, thank you.”

He gasps, pleasure boiling under his skin. And part of him wonders if he might actually come like this?

“Nathan,” You gasp, squeezing his neck ever so as you whine and shiver pleasure spinning and twisting deep in your stomach.

“Oh god, please.” He whines, his hips pistoling under their own will as you come hard.

You tense, shaking and he swears this time he really can feel you squeezing him even with all the layers and metal casing separating his real cock from your walls.

Your fingers flex around his throat, digging in and he bites his lip, blood screaming with the temptation of sweet pleasure that simply won’t boil over.

Your grip loosens as you recover, breathing deeply and Nathan slows his hips.

You press your thumb against his bottom lip, easing it from between his teeth and he tastes iron.

“Silly thing.” You mutter and he shudders, quickly leaning down to lick into your mouth and smear his blood on your tongue.

Thank you for reading!

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lwyikas · 25 days ago

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The Story Of Us ft Kuroo Tetsurou

w:thank you to anon who requested this!

"Since a twist of fate, 'cause we're going down and the story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now"

You watch ceiling while lying in your bed

When was line of friendship between you and him so blurred? Was it when he start to hug you longer than usual? when he walks your house every day without exception? When he dance all night with you at your birthday party? What happened yesterday was a breaking point.

You two on you way to home after school, after his training over. While you tell him something with exaggerated hand gestures, something falls on your hand from the air. Ew,you hate birds, it’s disgusting.

He helps you while trying to get a napkin from your bag, he holds your phone and jacket on his arm. You are not aware of his eyes glaming at you.While you are angrily cleaning the shit in your hand, sun’s lights reveal their brightness to your face in exactly most wonderful way. He is watching you with small smile. God, you are divine.

His heartbeat gets faster, it’s getting hard to think

When he tilts his head, you two come face to face.

Your heartbeat gets faster too

You both didn’t dare to move, but what happened Tetsurou looked at you as if he was reading your soul with his charming eyes and brought his face that close to you? Why was his warm breath so close to you?

When you remembered that, you felt a slight chill from your spinal cord to your neck.

You were dizzy or you were have fever? You weren’t sure. He wasn’t either. He could kiss you if he bowed his head a little. He seemed to expect a permisson from you. He was hesitant. Would he kiss you?He will,he will he’s closing his eyes ,he’s getting clo-

“Bzzzzzz”

Suddenly, magic broke with phone ring, stars in his eyes was lifted and its real world again. After saying wait quietly, he picked up his phone. Who was it? Did they have to call him now? And why does this concern you, you would never have wondered about these things 2 months ago.

He comes back after call ends He scratches his neck but doesn’t know what to say. This is weird, very confused, but it felt so right to him at the moment.

“It was my dad, said he will come home late today”

“do you want to come us for dinner? Mom would be very happy” yes, she appreciates him very much, she would always comfortable when he was with you. She is aware that he is protective of you.

“I need to rest directly, i’m hell tired, but thanks, another time” yes, he is very tired, but he still wants to talk about “almost kissing” thing just happened, but he is afraid. Were you attitudeful? Should he apologize? He didn’t get anything from your expression.

When you two approached your house, he couldn’t resist. “I’m sorry”

“About?”

“You know what about , it was a mistake, i’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable”.Mistake?,your heart ached. You did feel like a fool.

Oh, a simple complication

Miscommunications lead to fall out

“you‘re being selfish” you shout with anger.Nerve in your voice causes him to raise his eyebrow.”You just can’t focus on what you want at that moment and do it.”

“Me selfish? I don’t have magic genie, i can’t understand what your thoughts in advance,”.

“You have to think before you do something, i have feelings too.”

“But my feelings never matter to you, do they?” His tone raises, he doesn’t like where this going.

“Seriously,a mistake?” Your eyes burn from tears. You turn around so he can’t see your face.

“Look, i didn’t mean that, you know that too!” He should improve his communication skills, he can’t pick up and organize sentences he has in his head. He still doesn’t risk confessing you his feelings completely, so you’re too special to even risk losing.

So many things that I wish you knew

So many walls up, I can't break through

“I don’t know any shit” you leave him there and get in house. He just looks behind you. Then he aggressively kicks a stone on road and curses himself.

Now I'm standing alone in a crowded room And we're not speaking

There some kind of semester activities in school garden. It’s quite crowded, but you’re sitting alone with a bitch face that has passed into a corner.Tetsurou sitting a few seats away,scrolling down his phone. You haven’t talked him since yesterday.

and I'm dying to know Is it killing you like it's killing me? Yeah I don't know what to say

he sees you nervously pulling at your clothes and trying to look busy and he is doing his best to avoid you.He may have chosen his words wrong, but he thinks you’re exaggerating and his pride won’t allow him to fix things, for now.

But you held your pride like you should've held me

You are determined not to talk him even when you feel weight of his piercing gaze on you. This silence is disturbing, but he started it, you don’t want to embarrass yourself.

Why are we pretending this is nothing?

I'd tell you I miss you, but I don't know how,

I never heard silence quite this loud

When another guy from your class shouts to you for look at a science stand related to plants, you accept because you are very bored. He continues to look behind you with only frowned eyebrows.

Fuck pride

This is looking like a contest of who can act like they care less but I liked it better when you were on my side

After school, you see him in corner of street while walking home alone. He was looking at leaning place against the wall. He straightened up when you showed in his view and was about to say something when you pass in front of him without caring.He calls out “hey wait, we should talk”

"You shouldn’t talk to me, you can make other mistakes sir”

“You pull what i said in wrong place,there’s many things you don’t know”

“Tell me then” you fold your arms nervously. Your reactions are exaggerated but you are impatient.

“length of foot is equal to the forearm”

"Really?"

“I read it is valid for 90% of world’s population”

You are trying to hold your smile“this information will very useful, be serious now”

He sighs. Now or never

“I love you” he said bravely. He can’t believe himself, he succeeded, wow world didn’t explode.

“I love you too?” You answered with confusion

“No,dumbass, not like that, not as a friend”

Your hands starts tremble with excitement, you’ve always dreamed of this, but you still can’t silence your thoughts

What if it doesn’t work? Then you will lose both;your love and your best friend. You can’t handle it. Maybe it’s the right thing to live your feelings inside your head?

That special place Tetsuro have in your life is something can’t compare to anything and its enough to make you think about every small detail about him down to every subtle detail.

When he sees your red face and trembling hands, he panics too. Come on girl say something. He makes you sit on a bench and crouchs front of you.

“look we can pretend i never confessed if u want-“

“Absolutely no!You can’t take it just back”

“Listen, i really like you, no, even more than like, but i will never force you, you have all tim-“

“ I feel same”

He looks you in shock but in seconds he starts to smile, his massive hands caressing your cheeks. “But i have hesitations”

“What hesitations?We can overcome these together”

“So were friends and what if we become distant? i don’t want to ruin everything and-“ your tone getting lower. “I don’t want to lose you”

“Don’t think this as losing,it like more evolving.You’re not losing your best friend,you’re just getting something extra,there’s no way you can lose me, you have to put up with me forever”you giggle and he kisses edge of your lips.

“You can never imagine how long i’ve been dreaming of this”

Maybe the story of us isn’t that tragic at all

#kuroo fluff #kuroo x reader #haikyuu drabbles #hq x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu #kuroo x you #kuroo angst #iwaizumi x reader #oikawa x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #hq x you #iwaizumi fluff #kenma x reader #kozume kenma

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themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 13 days ago

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Obsidian Salt III

Summary: Demon!Rhys' plan for the Solstice comes to a head

Content Warnings: Dark!Rhys, Mental Manipulation, DubCon, Slight NSFW; a dash of slut-shaming/body issues; mentions of blood and burns, nothing super graphic.

Part One / Part Two

-------

There is only one thing I can be absolutely certain of: I have no control of my body. Flames dance from my fingers, the color and shape of them wrong. It’s not the orange and yellow hues it should be, but shades of blue and purple that don’t burn, no matter how much pours from my fingers. My skin doesn’t blister. The heat doesn’t touch me. Stranger still, I can’t feel the pull in my chest that tells me I’m using too much energy, even though I should. The words on my lips are a spell in a language I know I don’t speak, but they flow off my tongue as if it is all I have ever known.

Worse still, I can’t remember what it is exactly that I do and don’t know. There is only this thick darkness in my skull and the flames that glitter around my fingers like tiny Sprites. There is nothing before this, and nothing ahead of this. Only now, watching the pile of tomes and old books burn on the charred forest floor. A blood moon rises swiftly ahead of us.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, Witchling?” My companion’s voice is a lover’s purr, rich and silky next to my ear as he watches from over my shoulder. I can’t remember where or when I met him. All I know is that I want more of his approval. I think I might do anything for it as his hands settle on my hips. My head feels strangely empty of everything except him and the strange fog, but I don’t entirely mind the quiet, as long as I get the reward of his lips and body against my own.

“Mhm,” I hum, leaning back against the firm planes of him.

His hands slide under my shirt and skim higher, his claw tipped hands drifting with enough pressure to make me shiver without drawing blood. “We’re almost free of them.”

I take my lower lip between my teeth and bite down against the whimper threatening to slip out of me as his hands come up to cup my breasts. My body is not my own because it’s his. I crave every bit of affection he’ll give me, every touch and kiss and whisper of breath against my flushed skin feels like a gift.

“Why start by burning books?” I ask, trying not to sound so needy by moaning like I want to when he gives my nipple a harsh tug. My body betrays me in the end, chest arching into his touch, practically begging for more.

“No spells to counter us,” he replies. I know he can feel my desperation, know he’s egging it on by rocking the hard length of his erection into the supple flesh of my ass, but his hands slide back down my body, robbing me of the pleasure I so furiously crave.

His hands stop at my hips, claws dipping into my skin as he holds me in place. “Not yet, Little Witch. You’ll have your fun once we’re done here.”

I tilt my head back against his shoulder, pouting, hoping he might change his mind as I rock my ass back into him.

One of his hands leaves my hip to grab me firmly by the throat. “Don’t be greedy. You’ll take what I give you, when I decide to give it to you.”

My body freezes, held by some invisible grip even as he releases me. The loss of contact makes panic swell in my chest. “I’m sorry! I’ll focus.”

The hard lines of his face, distorted in the firelight, soften just a bit. “Good girl.”

The panic settles in my chest as the invisible grip on my body falls away. That’s better, even if he doesn’t put his hands on me again as he motions me away from the dying embers of our book pyre. At least I have him close.

Rhys walks with his hands in his pockets now, wings tucked tight behind him. His gate is unhurried, as we stride through the quiet woods, the blood moon lighting the way. I think its arrival might be important, but I have no memories of why.

“The witches will be gathering soon,” he says. “They’re expecting you.”

Violet eyes glance over my attire and he adds, “You’ll need to change.”

I don’t question him as he steps onto a well worn trail and follows it all the way to a house. My house. The memory of it comes back into focus as if it had been lifted out of a fog, though it looks strange to me now. The runes along the foundation look like they were made by children, the wards they cast are flimsy at best. Strange, I’d always thought they were the best in the neighborhood.

“You see them as I see them,” he explains as he lifts a clawed hand and tears right through the glittering ward. “Key is in your pocket.”

Right. I slide my hand into the pocket of my jeans and find the key along with a couple crushed pieces of dried rosemary. What the hell was I doing with it?

I slide the key into the lock and step into the dark house. It’s utterly silent, all the lights off. When I reach for the light switch, Rhys bats my hand away. “The neighbors don’t need to know we’re here.”

I somehow know my way around in the dark, even as the memory slowly returns, slipping out from the fog like a frightened prey animal. My room is the smallest, crammed into the attic, my footsteps echo on the stairs as we walk, but Rhys makes no sound. If anyone was in the house they would have assumed I was alone. Every once in a while I have to glance back over my shoulder to make sure he’s still there.

He only lets me turn the lights on in my cramped bedroom once he’s sure there are no windows to give us away. The sight of him having to duck to not slam his head against the slanted roof is amusing enough to make the risk worth it. He settles himself on my bed after a moment of knocking things around with his wings, long legs folded beneath him on my worn quilt, a frown crossing his handsome features.

“I’ve seen prison cells with more space,” he huffs.

I go to the wardrobe jammed in the corner, the old oak doors hanging on by a single, rusted hinge that squeaks when it opens. I wince as I start pushing old sweaters and jackets around, unsure of what I’m looking for. “What’s the dress code for this?”

The apex talon on his left wing scrapes against the wall, slashing through the worn wallpaper, and he huffs as he wraps the leathery membrane around himself like a cocoon. “Fucking witches. All so godsdamn small!”

Once he’s sure he’s not going to wreck anymore of the decor, he turns his attention back to me and I feel heat rush through me once more as those violet eyes roam over my body. “You’ll look good in black.”

A blush works its way up my cheeks as I start pushing pastel sweaters and multicolored t-shirts out of my way, looking for anything black. There’s a small, lacey thing tucked in the back and I have a distinct memory of someone telling me not to wear that to some function or another but the details or fuzzy. All I know is that someone, somewhere, made me feel small the last time I’d worn it. And I will never let anyone make me feel like that again.

I pull it out of the wardrobe and hold it out for Rhys to see. Something about him heightens all my worst emotions. My anger feels tenfold. My insecurities have tripled. I need him to quiet one and use the other, that much I do know.

His fangs glint in the witchlights the bob from the ceiling as he takes it in. “Certainly not the attire of a virgin sacrifice.”

A shadow from within the fog lets me see my grandmother’s threat from yesterday and I ball the dress in my hands up in my fists. “I’m no one’s sacrifice!” There’s something… different in my voice, and whatever it is makes the witchlights shutter.

Rhys only grins triumphantly at the sight. “That’s my girl.”

I take a shuddering breath to calm the pulsing of something I feel in my veins, something I can’t identify, something I don’t remember possessing before. Something that belongs to Rhys just as much as I do. It starts with a buzzing feeling in my spine, where his sigil sits.

“I’m going to go change.” A tendril of shadow snakes out from underneath his wings and snags me by the wrist, pulling me towards where he sits on the bed before I can even take a step towards the door.

“Why so shy?” He teases, wings unfolding enough for him to reach out a clawed hand and brush it against the buttons on my jeans. “What are you afraid I’ll see?”

I shiver at the contact, my legs moving on their own accord until my knees bump against the bed frame. He has such complete control over me, I don’t know if he even knows it. “I’m not afraid of anything!” I try to protest but my voice shakes when I speak.

He grins as his claws retract to let him pop the buttons open, large hands slowly pushing the loose fabric down my hips. It is an effort to stand still, to not climb into his lap and straddle him right here in my ratty bedroom.

Once the fabric is past my thighs my jeans fall to the floor in a pool around my ankles on their own accord, his callused hands now stroking up my exposed flesh to reach for the hem of my sweater. I am no blushing virgin, but I have never been this aroused by a simple action before either. I find myself biting my lip as I watch the way his hands move over my body. I’m scared if I move too fast or make too much noise he’ll stop, just like he did earlier, leaving me empty and cold in the loss of his touch.

He leans forward on his knees, wings parting just enough to let him lean forward without batting into the walls, to brush his lips over my stomach as he removes the sweater inch by inch. Every second passes by like an hour, his kisses slow and unhurried as if we have all the time in the world.

I squeeze my eyes shut as his lips ghost over my ribs, nose brushing up against the band of my bra. His lips are so plush and warm, I can’t help but wonder what they would feel like wrapped around my nipple. The thought makes heat pool between my legs and I instinctively clench my thighs together, looking for some form of friction to take the edge off.

He nips teasingly at the valley between my breasts, but leaves my bra in place as he finally pushes the sweater over my head and onto the floor. “Aren’t you pretty,” he purrs.

I can’t stop myself from leaning forward, one hand braced on his muscular shoulder to keep myself from falling directly into his lap. I need to kiss him. I need to have his lips back on mine.

He chuckles wickedly as he stops me with a hand on my throat, squeezing just enough to halt my movements. “What did we talk about earlier, hm?”

“Please, Rhys,” I whimper.

“After we’re done,” he promises, unbothered by the effect he has on me, knowing I’m so totally at his mercy and desperate for any attention. I think he likes keeping me here. Likes knowing he can dangle pleasure within reach and then rip it away from me before I can truly have a taste. It might be the most effective way to keep me from looking into what we’re doing and I am a fool who keeps falling for it, but anytime I start to question why I allow it, the fog returns in my head and all the questions disappear in a rush. Just as they do now.

My eyes feel heavy and my head empty as I nod, the movements of my body foreign, like a puppet being jerked around on a string.

He pulls the dress over my head with the same slow, teasing pace as he’d taken off my clothes, and it only makes the heat beneath my skin all the worse. The dress halts on my upper thighs, just long enough to cover all the important bits, and his hands linger on the hem, fingers tracing strange shapes on the inside of my thighs.

I might be desperate enough to try begging one more time, were it not for the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Rhys dissolves into shadow and smoke and dives underneath the bed as the door opens and my Mother strides in, broom still in hand from the flight over.

“What are you wearing?” She says in greeting.

That pulse of anger that had made the lights flicker returns and she glances at it with one, manicured brow raised in surprise.

“I thought it looked nice-”

“You look like a whore,” she returns, hands smoothing over the green cloak dusting her shoulders. If she cares about the new display of power, she doesn’t mention it. Probably thinks it's a fluke. Or perhaps an errant flair of her own magic, she certainly has enough to spare. “Change before you head out. I’m sure your performance tonight will be embarrassing enough as it is without you being seen by everyone in that awful outfit.”

My cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“You told me you were going on a diet,” she continues to chastise. “That dress certainly proves that a lie.”

I run a hand over my stomach self-consciously, but I can’t think through the fog to find an argument.

“Honestly, Y/N, is all this a joke to you?”

“No!” I protest but she cuts me off.

“You certainly could have fooled me! Our family name is on the line here, you understand the reputation you have to uphold, don’t you?”

“Yes, Mother,” I try again, but she continues on like I hadn’t.

“Our family holds the front line against both the human world and the demon one. Do you know how much work that takes, to keep the demons leashed to their dimension and keep those stupid humans in the dark? Do you have any idea the sacrifices we’ve all had to make? The work we’ve all put in?”

“Yes-”

“Do you know how many Sisters I have lost? How many I had to decide to sacrifice to preserve our coven’s strength?”

“I understand-”

“To show weakness is to invite our destruction. This peace you have gotten to grow up in has come at a terrible price. It is not a game.”

“I know-”

“No, you don’t!” She hisses. “Because if you did, then you would have taken your lessons seriously. You would have studied harder. You wouldn’t be an example of weakness today.”

My hands are clenched so hard at my sides my fingernails have left indents in my palms. “I will not disappoint you tonight, Mother.”

“You only have one shot to prove yourself, because if the Salem girl beats you, you’re the sacrifice, you understand that don’t you?”

Rhys’s sigil on my back burns. “I know. She won’t beat me. I’ve been practicing.”

She frowns as she shifts her broom to her other hand. “I wish I believed you.”

She might as well have hit me.

“I have to hunt tonight, there are too many humans on the border.”

And as powerful and proud as my Mother is, she can’t stand there and watch me make a fool of myself. As always, the Coven provides a perfect excuse for her to not be around while I “disgrace the family name” and “make her wish I was never born”. The instances in which she said those very words flood my mind at a feverish pace, spinning round and round like a whirlwind movie performance. The burning at my back spreads all the way to my fingertips and I swear I feel the flicker of a flame between my clenched fists again.

“Do you really think so little of me?” I ask, my voice a lot smaller than I mean it to be.

“I stopped expecting big things from you a long time ago,” she retorts, straightening her cloak again. If she feels any remorse for the words or concern for my wellbeing, she doesn’t show it. I am as expendable as any other witch in the Coven, maybe more since she thinks so little of me. “Just try not to die tonight, ok?”

“I won’t be dying tonight,” I say through my teeth.

She nods, turns towards the stairs, then glances back one last time over her shoulder. “Change before you go.” Those are her parting words for my impending doom?

The door shuts behind her and I lash out and slam my fist into the wall in frustration; the first movement of my body all day that has felt distinctly mine and not so terrible intertwined with Rhys.. The wood groans under my burning knuckles, but worse still, the fading wall paper smolders, the edges burning and crinkling, the smell of melting glue filling the air. I glance down at my hands long enough to see a flicker of those blue flame disappear between my knuckles through the tears brimming my eyes.

Rhys materializes from under the bed, looking annoyed that he can’t stretch out his wings. “That was harsh, even for a Witch.”

I stretch out my hands, palms splayed, no more flames to be seen, even if the wallpaper still smolders. “Is this from you?”

“It’s the amplification of what’s already inside you,” he says.

My Mother’s words still ring in my ears. “There’s nothing inside me.”

He reaches out a hand and tilts my head up to look at him. “We both know that’s not true, Darling.”

I wish I could remember how he came to me; remember which god I needed to thank for bringing him to me. No one understands me like he does. He makes me feel seen, like I’m not entirely a burden. The fleeting moment of control I had over my body disappears, dispelled by this new touch of his hands against my face.

He wipes the tears that slip down my cheeks with his thumbs. “Ready to show them exactly what you are, Little Witch?”

I’m not going to change the dress. And I’m not going to die today either. “Yes.”

He grins wickedly, eyes going all black again. “Then let’s give them a Solstice no one will ever forget.”

Those words are the last thing I remember before the fog takes me completely. There is only darkness and shadow, floating and swirling so intensely around me that I lose sight of everything. I am not a person, I am a thought, tossed around in the dark. Dully, I am aware of sounds. Of a flash of heat on my skin. Of the distant sound of screaming. Terror becomes a companion, but it is never an emotion that comes from me, only something that walks alongside me in the dark. Through it all, there is never a moment that I am not aware of him. His being is as intertwined in the darkness as I am, I think he might very well have been its creator as well as its caretaker. Even here, the brush of him is enough to keep me from thinking too hard about it. The darkness is good and soothing and nothing to fear, no matter what sounds come from outside it.

When he finally sets me free from the darkness, it is in a world once again on fire. What looks like a celebratory parade now lays in cinders, the charred remains of a skeletal figure clutching the melted wheel on the front. The air is heavy with ash, the wind blowing embers across the blood red sky.

There is more screaming. Underneath what once might have been a floral arch, twisted in the burning ribbons are people… no witches, fighting for an escape that doesn’t come as the winged death god that has followed me all day stalks towards them with his claws out, chuckling at their plight.

Something in me recoils, fights against the invisible hands that hold me, just enough to let out a scream of horror as the witches meet a bloody end, the gore splattering across Rhys’s wings. He turns to look at me then, grinning wickedly, no violet in his eyes to be seen, only endless black pits.

The shadow in my skull parts just enough to remind me what he really is: Demon. Prince of Hel.

My hands shake at my sides. My back aches and burns like someone had tried to set me on fire, but I am wholly unscathed compared to the carnage and destruction around me.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

But the fog in my head closes in tighter, sharper now, like talons digging into my skull. I scream as I fall to my knees, but the hands that hold me won’t let me reach for my head. Blue flames still dance from my fingertips, flames I don’t remember unleashing.

“What?” Each word is a battle to get out. “What did I do?”

The blood on his hands is cold as ice as he brushes a hand over my cheek. “What you were meant to do, Little Witch. What they were always scared you could do. Don’t you see? You’re free!”

Free? Whatever the Solstice celebration was supposed to be is irrelevant now, there is only death and fire and it’s all at my hand. The moment guilt starts to creep in, the fog rips it away from me, replaces it with that same need to please him.

“You freed me?”

Invisible hands help me stand again. He braces a hand on my hip to steady me as he brushes his lips over my forehead. The fires seem irrelevant like this. “They’ll never hurt you again. They’ll never hurt us again.”

I can’t remember what he was saving me from. Before I can ask the question, a false sense of gratitude worms its way into my chest. Another gift from him. The more gifts he gives me, the more hollow and cold I feel my insides becoming. My head doesn’t know reality from the world he creates inside my mind, but my heart is another matter. There is something very, very wrong with him. With me. But I am not strong enough to fight it. The sigil at my back burns when I try.

“What now?”

Plush lips brush against mine. My body moves for me, chasing the heat of him. Chasing the blissful pleasure of emptiness that comes when he touches me. His wants are mirrored through me somehow.

“What would you like now, My Little Witch? The rest of the Coven? A throne perhaps? There is nothing in your way. I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

I don’t know that I want anything. Nothing feels real. Nothing but him.

“Want you,” I say, voice a little breathless, as if conjuring up anything of myself from within the fog is a tremendous effort. It certainly feels like it. I don’t know if that’s another gift from him or not. Everything is becoming so very muddled again.

The demon grins as he asks, “And then?”

Images swirl around my head. Each carefully planted by those invisible hands. I am powerless to resist their influence. “No more witches.”

“I couldn’t think of anything better, Darling.”

-----

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