#and if you can give an explanation on why they count in that list then all the better

[boss-the-goofball]

The Lorch 50 Villains Challenge!

Fuck it, I think this 50 Villain thing should be turned into a challenge.

I'm calling it "The Lorch 50 Villains Challenge!" where you have to name at least 50 villains who have a good point, but we'll actually give a definition for what counts as a villain with a good point and not use Lorch's three point margin.

Lorch's Margin/Criteria and what's wrong with it: 1. Have a point (Alright, that isn't the criteria we're looking for in the list. Any villain can or cannot have a point, but the point in question has to be Good) 2. Successfully avoid the issue of "Why are they a Villain?" (From a Meta perspective, it's because the writer wanted to have a Villain in their story that can challenge the Hero/Protagonist. 99% of the time the Villain is an Antagonist, but not all Antagonists are Villains. If the story clearly paints the character in question is a Villain, then that character is a Villain no matter what their motivations or end goal is. It's like trying to say a character like MCU Thanos is not a Villain) 3. Are Good (Subjective, not a valid criteria)

So instead we will be working with this criteria

The Villain has to have intentions that could be seen as Good from the viewpoint of an average person, but the way they go about achieving that end goal is what makes them a Villain.

Name 50 or more Villains who fall under that criteria and you have completed "The Lorch 50 Villains Challenge!"

I will give one example for if I were to do this list

Light Yagami - His ultimate goal at the beginning was to reduce crime. That is a fairly noble goal and can be seen as an overall good thing. But his methods of attaining that goal, using the Death Note to mass execute all criminals no matter what crime they commit, is not a good thing and what makes him a Villain. He views himself as the Judge, Jury, and Executioner and gives insight into how, despite breaking the law, the criminals are still human and we should value human life at the end of the day. And if those criminals were already on death row, then it should be left to the justice system that was put in place to make sure that the people are sentenced in accordance to whatever crime they commit. (Should one person decide execution for both a petty thief and a pedophile, thus making their crimes equivalent?)

[p0orbaby]

Forty Winks Would Be Just Priceless

summary: your kid only sleeps when being driven, the diva that she is

warnings: none !

a/n: if someone could drive me around to get to sleep that would be great

word count: 1.7k

-

It’s 2:47 a.m., and you’re sitting in the passenger seat of a car that you didn’t even know Leah could operate at this level of exhaustion. You’re wondering if she’s siphoning energy directly from the Devil, because that’s the only explanation. The car smells like a combination of McDonald’s fries, stale coffee, and something unidentifiable that you’re hoping isn’t some sort of roadkill under the bonnet. Your wife is behind the wheel, white-knuckling it like she’s doing 90 on the M25. In reality, she’s going 15 miles per hour around your parish.

Again.

“Is this the fifth lap or the sixth?” you ask. You’ve lost count. Somewhere around lap three, you started dissociating. The glow of the streetlights is the only indication you’re still on Earth.

“Does it matter?” Leah responds, glancing over at you with an arched eyebrow that you recognise as the look she gives opponents who try to muscle her off the ball. Leah has three moods: sweet, commanding, and “I could end you without lifting a finger.” You’re currently dealing with the third. The funny part is, she’s only this intimidating when she’s wearing a hoodie over her messy hair, dark circles framing her bloodshot eyes, which she insists is the result of “just a little” caffeine.

You eye her warily. “Maybe not,” you admit, slumping lower into the seat. You glance over your shoulder into the backseat, where Eden, your two-year-old sleep terrorist, has finally succumbed to the soothing vibrations of the Mercedes. Eden’s head is lolling to one side, mouth slightly open, and you’re just about convinced she’s auditioning to be the next exorcism case.

Leah’s been driving for about an hour now. You’re on your third consecutive night of the same routine: dinnertime is war, bath time is a ceasefire, and bedtime is a full-blown, special-ops mission with all the difficulty of invading a heavily guarded country. Eden has the upper hand. Eden is always ten steps ahead. And the only way to win is to retreat—to the car.

“I feel like we should get a second car,” you suggest, half-serious. “One specifically for these midnight missions. Maybe something with better fuel efficiency”

Leah gives you a side-eye that says, “You’re joking, right?” But you can tell she’s considering it. “Or we could teach her to fall asleep like a normal child. In her bed. At bedtime”

You snort. “Teach her? Are we raising a human or a feral cat?”

Leah doesn’t even have to respond to that. Eden is a force of nature. You’re just two unfortunate souls caught in her tiny hurricane.

“And what do we do when she grows out of this?” Leah asks, but it’s more like she’s thinking out loud. “Do we drive her to school every day just to get her to wake up?”

“Let’s just worry about surviving the next hour,” you say, looking at the clock. You remember reading somewhere that car exhaust fumes can lull a person to sleep. You briefly wonder if that’s what’s happening to you right now.

Leah clicks her tongue in thought, turning onto the next street, where a dog that clearly suffers from some kind of psychological trauma is barking at nothing. “When I was little,” she begins, “my mum would drive me around to get me to sleep, but we lived in the countryside. There were no barking dogs, just the occasional sheep”

“Well, that’s why you turned out so well-adjusted,” you remark dryly. “If Eden grows up thinking the only way to fall asleep is to go for a drive, she’s going to need therapy. Which we can’t afford, by the way, because we’ll be spending all our money on petrol”

Leah chuckles, but it’s the kind of laugh that’s a little too high-pitched to be real. “We’ll add it to the list of things she’ll blame us for when she’s older. Right next to ‘Mum used to make me eat vegetables’ and ‘Mama never let me play with knives’”

Eden lets out a little snore, and you both freeze, staring at the rearview mirror. Leah’s foot hovers over the brake pedal as if any sudden movement might wake the tiny monster in the back. You can practically hear both of you holding your breath, waiting for the inevitable cry of protest that’s sure to come the second the car stops moving.

But it doesn’t come. Instead, Eden’s snore deepens, becoming the kind of sleep sounds that suggest she’s off in dreamland, probably riding unicorns or setting fire to imaginary villages.

You relax a fraction, and so does Leah, though she’s still gripping the wheel like it’s her last lifeline. You wonder if she’s ever used this level of concentration on the pitch. You’ve never seen her miss a tackle, but this is an entirely different ball game.

“So, when do we stop?” Leah whispers. You can hear the exhaustion in her voice now, thick and sludgy like she’s been awake for a week.

You consider this. “We could keep driving until sunrise. Then she’ll wake up with the sun and think it’s a new day. Maybe it’ll reset her sleep schedule”

“Or we’ll just be perpetually exhausted and still sleep-deprived, except now we’ve got morning traffic to deal with,” Leah counters. “You know, if we were living in a different era, this could be considered some form of witchcraft. Driving around in circles at night to get a child to sleep. Someone would’ve burned us at the stake by now”

“Wouldn’t that be a relief,” you mutter, then immediately regret it, because even though you’re joking, you’re too tired to be sure.

Leah sighs. “I love her. I really do. But sometimes I wonder if we’re the ones being trained here”

“There’s no wonder about it,” you reply, deadpan. “We’re definitely the ones being trained. She’s got us figured out. We’re puppets. Eden pulls the strings, and we drive”

Leah smiles at that, though it’s more of a grimace of acknowledgment. “You know, when I said I’d do anything for her, I didn’t realise it included nighttime rally racing in a residential neighborhood”

“Should’ve read the fine print,” you say, then yawn so hard it hurts. “But hey, at least we’re doing this together, right? Quality time”

Leah glances over at you, and this time, her smile is real. It’s small, but it’s there, and it makes you feel a little less like a zombie. “Yeah,” she agrees softly. “I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else”

You reach over and squeeze her hand, and for a moment, there’s peace. Not the kind of peace you’ll ever find in a parenting book or one of those sanctimonious mommy blogs, but the kind that exists in the trenches, where you and Leah are currently wading through knee-deep toddler warfare.

As you turn onto yet another street that looks identical to the last, you finally admit defeat. “Let’s call it,” you say. “She’s out. If we keep going, we’re going to end up in Scotland”

“Good idea,” Leah says, already beginning the slow process of easing off the gas and pulling into your driveway. She parks with the kind of precision that makes you think she missed her calling as a getaway driver.

You both sit there for a minute, basking in the silence that only comes when your child is finally, blessedly asleep. You’re in no rush to move, because you know the second you do, Eden will sense it and all this work will be undone in a matter of seconds.

But Leah is braver than you. She quietly turns off the engine, unbuckles her seatbelt, and with the precision of a bomb squad technician, she turns to the backseat. You watch as she gingerly unbuckles Eden, cradling her like she’s made of porcelain.

And somehow, miraculously, Eden stays asleep. Leah manages to get out of the car, Eden still snoozing in her arms, and you’re right behind her, ready to perform the hand-off should things go south.

The two of you tiptoe through the house like burglars, careful to avoid every creaky floorboard. You’re halfway to Eden’s room when she stirs, and you both freeze in place like deer caught in headlights. But then she just shifts in Leah’s arms, sighs deeply, and snuggles closer into her mother’s shoulder.

You finally reach the cot, and Leah lowers her in with the gentleness of a saint. The transfer is seamless. Eden doesn’t even flinch.

The second the cot rail is up, you and Leah back out of the room like you’ve just completed a high-stakes mission, which you basically have. The door closes with a soft click, and you both stand there, wide-eyed, disbelieving.

“She’s asleep,” Leah whispers, like she doesn’t dare believe it.

“She’s asleep,” you echo, equally stunned.

And then, without warning, Leah lets out a sound that you can only describe as a half-crazed giggle. It’s infectious, and you start laughing too, because it’s either that or you’re going to cry, and honestly, you’ve done enough of that in the last few days.

“We did it,” you say between breaths, leaning against the wall for support. “We actually did it”

Leah pulls you into a hug, and it’s warm and comforting, and it feels like a reward for all the hell you’ve been through tonight. “We make a good team,” she murmurs into your hair.

“The best,” you agree, letting yourself relax into her embrace.

But as you’re standing there, holding each other in the hallway like the survivours you are, you both hear it: the unmistakable sound of Eden stirring, a tiny whimper that promises to turn into a full-blown cry in about three seconds.

You look at each other in horror, and without a word, Leah grabs the car keys.

“You can drive,” she says, already heading back towards the front door.

You don’t even argue. Instead, you grab your the keys from her, knowing full well that this battle isn’t over yet.

And as you both head back to the car for yet another sleepless night, you can’t help but think that one day, years from now, you’ll look back on these nights with some kind of twisted fondness.

But for now, all you can do is keep driving.

[minisugakoobies]

Whipped | KMG

Pairing: Mingyu x GNReader (no agab)

Genre: fluff, idiots to lovers, slightly crack-ish, non-idol!AU

Rating: T

Warnings: Mingyu's a stubborn idiot, but he's also the softest human alive, Minghao's kind of a jerk tbh, use of they/them pronouns for reader, this is honestly just fluffy nonsense meant to give you warm fuzzies

Word Count: 3.9k

Disclaimers: Obviously I don’t own SVT - they just inspire me

Summary: No matter what his friends say, Mingyu is definitely, absolutely, one hundred percent not whipped for you.

A/N: Yep, another Mingyu fic. I can't help it. 🤷‍♀️

Unbeta’d as usual. If you liked this, please let me know! I’d love to hear what you think (but please be kind I’m fragile 🥺) 💕

SVT Masterlist 💜 Main Masterlist

Kim Mingyu is not whipped.

This is what he forcefully reminds himself when you walk into Minghao’s party, looking sweeter than a spring day, a phrase which if he’s being honest is maybe a little more poetic than he’d normally use. That’s okay. He can be a little dramatic if he wants. Why not? Seokmin does it all the time and no one bats an eye.

In any case. Mingyu is not whipped.

That’s why he turns his head, pretending he doesn’t see you dazzle everyone around you with your beautiful smile. While he’s pretending, he also acts like he can’t feel his own lips tug upwards at the soft chime of your laughter, a Pavlovian response to your happiness. No, his smile is unrelated to whatever you’re doing. He’s just in a good mood, one that didn’t suddenly ascend to the heavens when you entered the room.

Mingyu’s not whipped.

He sinks further into the couch where he’s sitting, a little off to the side of where Minghao, Jeonghan, and Seokmin are talking. Theoretically, he’s part of the conversation, adding the occasional hum or laugh, but he’s really not contributing much of anything. He’s too busy thinking about you. Not like that. 

(But not not like that, either.) 

In any case, Mingyu remains firmly unwhipped - solid, unshaken, definitely not falling apart over you. He’ll be absolutely fine, as long as you stay on the other side of the room, where your charms can’t reach him. Except that he can’t stop watching you, and now you’re looking at him, and even though he averts his eyes, it’s too late. He can sense you walking towards him, his heartbeat increasing with every step you take.

Not. Whipped. 

“Hey there, stranger.” 

Instinctively, at the sound of your voice, he glances up at you, like a flower tilting its face towards your light. He nods at your greeting, mumbling a hello of his own. The others sitting around him all greet you as well, but you merely nod in reply, your full attention on Mingyu. 

“Do you wanna tell me why you’ve been avoiding me?”

If Mingyu had a list of things he loved about you, which he does not, being straightforward would be near the top. Of this totally fictional list that does not exist. He admires it, actually, the way you have no patience for dishonesty or deception.

Even though your question is blunt, your smile remains soft as you wait for his response, and Mingyu rethinks his ranking. Item number one on that imaginary list - the way you smile, at him, specifically. It’s so warm, like being hugged by the rays of the sun itself. It makes him happier than he ever thought possible. He wants to curl up like a cat and bask in the feeling. If he’s not careful, he might start purring right now.

He’s totally super normal about you.

“Me?” he asks, stalling for time, praying that a somewhat reasonable explanation falls into his lap in the meantime. He’s only a fair-to-moderate bullshitter, so his hopes are low. He can feel the others staring at the two of you, very obviously listening, because no one in your friend group seems to respect boundaries. It’s not helping. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” you chirp back, and he does, he knows exactly what you mean, just like you know exactly what he’s doing. “You’ve been ignoring my texts. What’s going on?”

What’s going on is that Mingyu is not whipped, even if it feels like his insides are turning to melty goo beneath your inquisitive gaze. 

“I’m not ignoring you. I’ve just been busy,” he shoots, aiming for breezy and landing just shy of nonchalant. 

“Busy doing what?” 

“You know. Stuff.” Oh god, he really sucks at this. “And things.” Jesus Christ.

You fold your arms, and Mingyu thinks it’s cute the way you’re squinting at him, one eye closed as you assess his response. Unbearably cute, actually, and getting worse the longer it goes on.

“Yeahhhh, that’s not good enough,” you inform him, and with one hand on his arm (Mingyu ignores the electric current that lights up his nervous system when you touch him. It’s just static and definitely not anything else), you pull him to his feet and lead him out of Minghao’s apartment and into the empty hallway. He follows, not because he’d follow you anywhere, but because he’s curious.

Once the door is closed behind you, you turn to him, a serious expression on your face. “Gyu. Be honest with me.” Always, he thinks reflexively. “This is about what those guys said the other night, isn’t it?” 

Of course you know exactly what it is that has his head spinning right now. The two of you have been friends for ages, but Mingyu still can’t get over how easily you always seem to read him. 

A few nights ago, Mingyu and you had been out to dinner with a few others, and it had been like any other time you were hanging out with your friends, lots of laughing and teasing and just being happy dumbasses together. Only on this particular evening, the food had taken a very long time to arrive, but the drinks kept coming in the meanwhile, and you’d gotten a little drunker than usual, and a little clingier, sticking to Mingyu like a magnet.

Not that Mingyu minded having you hanging on his side all night. Nor did he mind keeping a close eye on you, making sure you were drinking your water and eating to help soak up some of the alcohol. None of that bothered him at all - you were his best friend; why wouldn’t he take care of you? Especially when you smiled at him and thanked him for being so sweet, so good to you, over and over.

(He can’t even begin to explain how that made him feel.)

The others noticed. And commented. Mingyu tried to ignore them, but they just wouldn’t shut up. By the time they joked that Mingyu was your trained puppy, suggesting you buy him a pretty collar and a leash to go with it, he’d had enough.

And when he tried to express that, Minghao had shut him down with a scoff, a wave of his hand, and one word. 

“Whipped.” 

Mingyu admits that he’s a lot of things, but he’s not a whipped man. He’s not. He’s not, no matter what the others say. No matter how you’re looking at him right now, concern etched all over your lovely face, lip tucked between your teeth as you wait for his answer. He’s strong. And proud. 

(And maybe a stubborn idiot, but that’s neither here nor there.)

He considers just not responding at all, but he knows how persistent you are, so he settles for a half-shrug. You sigh, leaning back against the wall, arms crossing in front of you. 

“You’re being ridiculous, you know that?” you say softly, shaking your head. “They were joking. They said so! And you know I didn’t take it seriously for a second.” 

“You didn’t hear everything they said!” he protests, crossing his own arms. You’d missed most of the barbs flying his way that night, too busy enjoying yourself. Which weirdly made him happy. He hated the thought of those guys ruining your night. “They said I was your pet!” 

“So? Jeonghan always tells Seokmin he’s got the zoomies when he gets hyper. He knows he’s not actually a dog! It’s just stupid jokes! Our friends are dumb!” you laugh, throwing up your hands. “That’s what we like about them!”

Mingyu can’t help it, he starts to laugh with you, but then he catches himself, shaking his head. “You don’t get it.” 

“Then help me understand.” 

How can he help you understand, when he’s not entirely sure he understands it himself, this storm inside him, clouding his mind? 

“I…” He glances wildly around the hallway, but there’s nothing out here to help him. He can hear the bass from whatever song is playing inside the party, a low, steady thrumming that contrasts the erratic thumping of his heart. “I don’t like being called weak.”

You tilt your head. “Is that what they said?” 

“Yeah. Or I guess… they implied it. When they said I was whipped for you.” He lets out a frustrated sigh, knowing he’s pouting and it doesn’t help his defense, but it’s just his default setting. “But I’m not.” 

Because he’s staring into your eyes as he speaks, he catches it - the quick expression of sorrow that pinches your brow at his explanation - but it’s fleeting, gone in an instant. If he weren’t watching your face so intently, he would’ve missed it. 

“Gyu,” you sigh, the corners of your mouth lifting in what is clearly meant to be a smile, except it doesn’t reach your eyes, and for a moment, the confusing tide of emotions inside him still, and he feels only sadness. That’s not how you smile. “Can you please let it go? Everyone was being an idiot. That’s nothing new! Besides…” You trail off, staring at the floor.

He waits a beat. “Besides what?”

You huff and shrug. “It’s nothing, forget it.” 

The uncertainty in your tone unnerves Mingyu even more than your fake smile. Where’s that directness of yours? 

“No, tell me. Besides what?” 

With a deep breath, you look him straight in the eye. “Besides, I’m not delusional. I know you don’t like me like that. I’m not your type.” 

Your voice grows quieter at the end of your sentence, just as the music coming from the other side of the door fades out, and to Mingyu, the silence only amplifies your words, leaving them ringing loudly in his ears like a sonic boom. You’re not his type?

He blinks rapidly, as if that will somehow help. 

“You - you’re not - “ He pauses, searching fruitlessly for the end of his sentence, but it’s nowhere to be found.

“Right. I’m not.” 

The laugh you let out sounds so fake that he winces, and a terrible realization hits him. You’ve taken his stammering to be a complete thought - a confirmation of what you’d said, that you aren’t someone he’d like like that. Curling in on yourself, arms wrapping around your stomach, you shrink away from him, only a few inches but the distance feels so vast. 

“Let’s just forget about it, okay?” 

Mingyu’s speechless. As his silence grows, so does the space between the two of you, until you’re standing by the door, hand on the knob. He feels like he should be doing something right now, snapping into action of some sort, but his brain is still stuck on your declaration.

“Okay,” he finally croaks, because it’s clear that you’re waiting for him to speak, and he doesn’t know what else to do but agree with you, because you’re usually right and he usually agrees with you. 

“Right,” you say again, but you look slightly unsure, and it rattles Mingyu, making him feel even more unsettled than before. “Okay.” And then you open the door and slip back inside Minghao’s apartment.

Alone in the hallway, Mingyu slumps against the wall. Well. That was a spectacular failure. He’d tried to explain how their comments upset him and all he’d done was upset you. The shift in your demeanor was so obvious to him, a flashing neon sign basically screaming “you fucked up!” in blazing red light. 

He gives himself a minute to try to pull himself together, then he returns to the party. As soon as he’s inside, he scans the room, until he finds you standing in the corner, hanging out with another friend, Chan, talking and laughing like everything is fine. Which, as Mingyu feels deep in the pit of his stomach, he knows it is not. 

His previously vacated spot on the couch remains open, so he slips back into it, ignoring the curious looks of his friends. He doesn’t want to answer any stupid questions right now, doesn’t want to deal with any of their crap while he tries to wrap his head around what just happened in the hallway. 

Naturally, his friends immediately start nosing into his business.

“What was that all about?” Minghao asks, turning to face Mingyu. Seokmin and Jeonghan both twist towards him, eager to hear his answer. 

“What was what about?” Mingyu replies, eyes flitting to you again. Chan must be bringing his A game with his jokes tonight, because you’re giggling Mingyu’s favorite giggle, the one that makes your nose twitch like a little bunny’s. It always makes him swell with pride when he coaxes it out of you with one of his dumb jokes, so seeing it right now and knowing he’s not the cause of it, well, it’s not exactly helping improve his mood.

“What was that dramatic exit?” Minghao gestures towards the door. 

“It was nothing. We were just talking.” Again he looks at you. And again, your attention is focused solely on the man beside you. Mingyu doesn’t understand. Can’t you feel him looking at you? 

“Uh-huh. Sure,” Jeonghan drawls, miming the crack of a whip with his hand. Seokmin and Minghao crack up beside Mingyu, but he doesn’t care. He’s too busy trying to catch your eye. He wants to see you smile at him. Just one smile. That’s all he needs to make him feel better. 

His friends lose interest in teasing him when he doesn’t respond, and the conversation moves on. As does the evening. Mingyu bonds with the couch, not leaving except to grab refills of his drink, but otherwise he’s a fixed point in this party, unlike you, who are constantly moving, floating from friend to friend, spreading joy across the room.

Spreading joy to everyone except him, that is. No matter how much he watches you, your light never shines on him again, not like it did earlier. He knows what this is. You’re the one doing the avoiding now. And oh my god does he hate it. He feels cold and lonely, withering away, dying for your attention. For your affection. Because he needs it to thrive.

Oh. 

Oh wow, he’s stupid. The others are right. 

Kim Mingyu is whipped. 

For you, and you only. 

Like it has been every few minutes since he returned from the hallway, his gaze is drawn back to you, and this time, it’s different. Because the mask you’ve been wearing all night finally slips, and Mingyu sees the wrinkle of your brow, and the slight downturn of your mouth, and he understands. You’re just as miserable as he is.

That absolutely will not do. He needs to fix this right now.

Mingyu rises to his feet again, not even waiting for Minghao to finish the story he’s been telling, not that he’s been listening anyway, and starts walking towards you. When he’s a mere arm’s length away, it occurs to him that he doesn’t have any plan, just an urgent need to make you look happy again. And also pay attention to him, because he needs your attention just like he needs you, so he panics, and grabs your hand. 

You look at him in surprise as his fingers slip between yours.

“Come with me. Please,” he adds, a bit hasty in his anxiousness, already tugging you out of the room and into the hallway. A pair of voices follow you both out, as Minghao and Jeonghan both jeer loudly at the sight of Mingyu dragging you away, but thankfully the door drowns them out, letting only the beat of the music through.   Which would be a good thing, except that now it’s just Mingyu and a very quiet you. With your hand still in his. 

“Is everything o-”

“You are my type.” 

You start speaking at the same time he does, but he’s louder, blurting his entire sentence out before you can finish yours. Your mouth freezes in an ‘o,’ and oh, Mingyu can’t believe what a dumbass he’s been for so long. How did everyone else see it but him? 

“I just. Wanted you to know. That you are the type of person. That I like.” Why can’t. He complete. A whole sentence? “Smart, funny, gorgeous….” 

You glance away from him, suddenly shy at that last word, and it just reinforces Mingyu’s point. 

Unfortunately, it does not make it any easier for him to say what he’s trying to say.

“But you’re not just my type? You’re the person I like. Hao’s right. They’re all right. I am whipped for you.” He frowns. “Damn it, I hate it when Hao’s right.” 

That makes you laugh, a quick “ha!” that makes your eyes light up, and Mingyu finds himself feeling stronger, so he doubles down. Might as well own it. 

“But he did, he got this one right. I’m down bad.” He brings your entwined hands up, clutching them in front of him, maybe pressing his luck a little, maybe laying it on thick, but it’s barely an exaggerated version of the truth if it’s not pure simple fact. 

“‘Gyu,” you groan, rolling your eyes, but there’s a twitch in the corner of your mouth that won’t cease, and it makes his heart sing. “Knock it off. I know what you’re doing.”

“I don’t think you do.” He takes a deep breath and steps forward, backing you into the wall behind you. Your hands are caught between you, and he presses the palm of yours against his chest, wondering if you feel the spike in his heartbeat when you inhale sharply. 

“Maybe you should tell me,” you say, eyes wide but voice calm, and again, he marvels at how you strike straight at the heart of the matter, and he decides he can do the same. 

“I’m telling you that I like you.”

The next few seconds are the longest in Mingyu’s life. Nothing has ever lasted this long in the history of time. Entire civilizations are built and fall within the blink of your eyelashes. You keep looking back and forth between his eyes, and he hopes that you see whatever it is you need to believe him, and tries his best to convey clearly what he feels. Even if he’s having trouble speaking his thoughts, at least his gaze can express it. 

“You like me…” 

He nods. “A lot.” Now that he’s said it out loud, it’s hitting him just how much.  

“You like me…” you start again slowly, frowning slightly, “but you don’t like it when others point that out?” 

“I just - “ Mingyu breaks off, a sharp puff of breath exploding out in frustration. How to explain it? “I didn’t like them saying it the way they did. It… it made me feel like they were calling me weak or something.” Your frown deepens and he stumbles on. “But - but that’s stupid, and I know it’s stupid. And I - I don’t care anymore.” 

He clings to your hands, a lifeboat in a sea of turmoil, the warmth of your fingers locked between his giving him hope that this isn’t going completely downhill, this sudden confession of his. It’d be just like him to ruin this with his impatience. He’s always too eager. 

“So what do you care about?” you ask, gaze burning into his. 

And then there’s you. Always so calm and direct. God, he adores you. 

“You. How you feel.” 

As soon as the words leave his lips, you lower your eyes, in the briefest of glances at his mouth, and Mingyu feels that electric shock again, tingling all the way to his fingertips. He barely breathes as he waits for you to speak.

“If you really are whipped for me,” you finally say, “you should go tell them that.” You jerk your chin in the direction of the door.

If that’s what you want, then that’s what he’ll do. Without a second’s hesitation, Mingyu spins, his hand gripping yours to pull you back into the apartment with him. 

Seokmin gawks openly as Mingyu stomps across the room. Minghao and Jeonghan exchange a glance that last night would’ve set Mingyu spiraling, but now rolls off him like water. Mingyu comes to a stop directly in front of his friends, squaring his shoulders, trying frantically to corral his thoughts into something coherent. 

But before he can open his mouth, Minghao leans forward, placing his chin in his hand. “Shhh, guys, I think the puppy’s going to speak!” 

“Hao, shut the fuck up.” 

Minghao bristles when Mingyu snaps at him. Jeonghan and Seokmin both cackle, but then Mingyu glares at the two of them, and they fall silent. He takes a deep breath. 

“I just wanted you to know that I don’t care what you guys say about me anymore, because I like YN.” 

The words spill out of him so easily, not even the tiniest nudge needed. He glances at you to find you wearing a delighted expression and his heart goes buoyant again. He decides to ride the wave. 

“They’re amazing. I’d do anything to make them smile, so if that makes me whipped, then I guess I’m fucking whipped.” 

He’s facing you now, not caring if the others can see the obvious lovestruck look in his eye as he keeps talking, not to them, but to you. Aware that they’re probably all smirking at one another, because they figured it out before he did, but he doesn’t give a single goddamn. 

“I can’t get enough of their smile. And the way they laugh. I like how sweet they are. How honest.” Mingyu can’t stop talking at this point. It’s all gotta come out. “But never mean about it. Even when it’s something you don’t want to hear. Especially when it’s something you need to hear.” 

Your hand twitches in his with every sentence he states. He squeezes back gently as his statements get louder.

“I’m not kidding when I say I’d do anything to make them smile. I’d walk the ocean floor for them. Climb a volcano and surf the lava down barefoot. Capture a star fr-”

“Oh my god, we get it, you like them!” Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “Enough with the bad poetry.” 

“Also? We know.” Minghao snorts. “No need for the dramatic announcement, it’s not news.” 

Mingyu barely hears him, too lost in the way you’re smiling at him now. Forget his earlier rankings. This smile beats all the others. Shoots directly to the top of the list, which, now that he thinks about it, he kinda wants to write down and give to you, maybe framed. Or maybe he’ll stick it on his fridge - with a heavy magnet, of course, because it’s such a long list.

He completely loses all interest in the rest of the room, even though he’s pretty sure most of the party is staring at the two of you. Instead, he finds himself hanging anxiously on the breath you take, hoping for you to say something, to give him an indication of where things stand between you now. Because he knows you’ll be straightforward and get right to the point, whatever’s on your mind. 

You step closer, close enough for him to feel your soft laugh on his lips as you give him a look that sends his pulse rocketing. You’ve never looked at him like this before.

Forget a list. He’s gonna write a whole book. 

“Come on, whipped boy. Take me home.”

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

© 2024 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my work.

[reyrapidsbutgayer]

Ranking All Elden Ring Bosses by Fuckability

It was only a matter of time until I made a post like this. (And an equally horrible post featuring the DLC bosses.)

In this hypothetical all of the bosses can be reasonably communicated with and are not actively trying to kill you.

Repeat bosses not included, duo bosses counted seperate.

It should also be assumed that all of these bosses have access to their magic/items/resources to benefit them in bed.

Explanation of Grading system:

Ineligible: (Cannot give consent)

These characters are not sentient enough to communicate consent, or are physically incapable of sex.

Unfuckable: (Can give consent, but does not DESERVE sex)

Character sucks so badly that they do not deserve to experience pleasure in any shape or form.

Uninterested: (Can give consent, does not WANT sex)

These character are fully capable of sex but would never participate in sex due to lack of interest or overabundance of moral convictions.

Not worth it: (Can give consent, is terrible in bed)

I mean, you COULD have sex with these characters but why would you?

Acceptable: (Can give consent, would be fine in bed)

These characters are average in bed, nothing crazy or noticeable. Some might end up in this category because they ARE good at sex, but the entire process would be inconvenient or uncomfortable to initiate.

Good Time: (Can give consent, would be great in bed)

These characters are good at sex, give or take a few points depending on their mood or situation.

Knock your socks off: (Can give consent, would be amazing in bed)

These characters excel in giving pleasure and would be well worth the time and effort involved.

Sex God: (Can give consent, would be the best in bed)

These characters would be so good at sex that all other factors are irrelevant. They are serving and we are here for it.

Evil Sex God: (Can give consent, is a terrible person but you’d make an exception.)

These are characters that should fall lower in the rankings, but their sexual prowess supersedes their inherent awfulness to a noteworthy degree.

Full list below the read more. Obviously it's not going to be sfw.

Ineligible: (Cannot give consent)

Dragonkin Soldier:

Mindless beast

Astel, Naturalborn of the Void

Weird rock alien, doesn't/can't understand.

Fia's Champions:

Ghosts, simps.

Regal Ancestor Spirit

Animal

Erdtree Avatar

A plant

Great Wyrm Theodorix

Mindless beast.

Ulcerated Tree Spirit

A plant, no junk

Tibia Mariner:

Skeleton

Red Wolf of the Champion:

Animal.

Full-Grown Fallingstar Beast

Weird rock alien, doesn't/can't understand.

Abductor Virgin

First off, just some snakes in a robot. Second, virgin.

Erdtree Burial Watchdog

Stone gargoyle

Crystalians

Non-organic

Mad Pumpkin Heads

Unable to consent due to madness.

Cemetery Shade

Unable to consent due to mind controlling parasite.

Spirit-Caller Snail

Animal

Runebear

Animal

Miranda the Blighted Bloom

A plant

Guardian Golem

Stone gargoyle

Starscourge Radahn:

Unable to consent due to madness

Unfuckable: (Can give consent, but does not DESERVE sex)

Elden Beast:

Too catholic.

Sir Gideon Ofnir, the All-Knowing:

Dick game weak - unironically posts joker memes.

Omenkiller:

Basically a cop.

Necromancer Garris:

Killed his family, not a good husband.

Royal Revenant:

Won't stop screaming (in an unsexy way)

Godrick the Grafted:

Incel - Also all that murder and torture business but mostly the Incel stuff.

Uninterested: (Can give consent, does not WANT sex)

Valiant Gargoyle:

Could probably have sex if it wanted to, but is kinda going through a lot right now. Ya know, that whole "Is made of several corpses mashed together" thing.

Malenia, Blade of Miquella:

Look, I ALSO wanted her to higher up on this list, but let's be honest here. Her body is rotting and falling apart, she just isn't up for sex in her current form. In her prime? She'd be top of the list. She's the daughter of Marika and Radagon, she'd be playing fuck/marry/kill with every warrior who crossed her path. (in that order)

Death Rite Bird:

I think it might be physically capable of sex, but is too busy burning corpses to bother with stuff like that.

Black Blade Kindred:

Same reason as the Valiant Gargoyle but you might have like 2% more of a chance because they are goth.

Maliketh, the Black Blade:

Would normally be a sex god, but is too religious. Probably took a vow about this sort of thing.

Morgott, the Omen King:

You kidding me? This guy has the same energy as a repressed youth pastor. He's gonna be a virgin till the day he dies. The dude sided with the same religious order that locked him a sewer and tried to kill him. He's not out there getting phone numbers he's too busy praying and judging others for their 'impure thoughts'.

Draconic Tree Sentinel:

Married to his job, also physically chained to his horse. He ain't taking off that armor anytime soon.

Wormface:

Too sad, leave him alone his face is full of worms.

Tree Sentinel:

Same as the Draconic Tree Sentinel but he's a tiny bit more naive so you might have a better chance.

Elder Dragon Greyoll:

Too sleepy, but still kinda a milf.

Grafted Scion:

There might be some genitals in there somewhere but I don't think they know how or even want to use them.

Not worth it: (Can give consent, is terrible in bed)

Esgar, Priest of Blood:

No sense of hygiene, is always covered in blood (in an unsexy way)

Mohg, Lord of Blood:

This loser is dripping with all the least sexy bodily fluids and he has sharp horns sticking out of him. Even if you got him in bed you'd only enjoy like 5% of it. Plus you just know he'd be all needy afterwards and try to get you to join his MLM.

Borealis the Freezing Fog:

Too cold, not a snuggler.

Elemer of the Briar:

The armor stays ON during sex.

Kindred of Rot:

It's like all the worst possible aspects of alien biology, it won't be nearly as fun as you hoped.

Sanguine Noble:

Same as all the other Mohg followers, too sticky and too smelly.

Decaying Ekzykes:

He's sick right now, leave him alone.

Acceptable: (Can give consent, would be fine in bed)

Loretta, Knight of the Haligtree:

I'm sure she'd be a decent lover. Maybe a little overzealous but she'd has good intentions.

Grave Warden Duelist:

I mean these guys are hot and probably fuck like a truck but they are not the most caring lovers, also they are covered in live snakes so there is that.

Night's Cavalry:

If you like goth knights I'm sure they'd be fine.

Alabaster Lord:

Their skin probably feels like stone, but I bet they can pull off all sorts of freaky zero-g sex stuff if you ask them.

Onyx Lord:

Same as the Alabaster Lord but slightly more goth.

Fell Twins:

Once you get past the horns and stuff I bet the Omens are actually pretty good in bed, just watch out.

Demi-Human Queens:

I feel like all Demi-humans are pretty good lovers but their biology probably has some unexpected drawbacks.

Stonedigger Troll:

If you can get past the texture and the size I bet they could be decent in bed.

Flying Dragon Greyll:

A surprisingly unsexy dragon, but a dragon is a dragon and still worth at least a one night stand.

Glintstone Dragon Smarag:

A dragon willing to kill racist magic users, earns them a few extra points.

Beastman of Farum Azula:

On one hand the Beastmen probably have crazy mating skills, but they are also zombies, which detracts some points for all the decay.

Battlemage Hugues:

Contrary to popular belief, Wizards are not very good at sex. They spend all their time studying instead of partying, at least Hugues is willing to get his hands dirty.

Commander O'Neil:

Seems like a decent guy, but probably won't shut up about his time in the military. Also he is infected with scarlet rot so that might be a mood killer.

Bloodhound Knight Darriwil:

The bloodhound knights are probably pretty wild in bed if you can earn their loyalty, but good luck with that.

Adan, Thief of Fire:

The dude committed heresy, that has to earn him some sexy points.

Soldier of Godrick:

He's a good boy, he's doing his job so throw him a bone.

Flying Dragon Agheel:

One of the first dragons you encounter, so he earns some points for style.

Demi-Human Chief:

Same as the queens, but probably a bit rougher in bed.

Good Time: (Can give consent, would be great in bed)

Lichdragon Fortissax:

A much sexier dragon, you know they were hooking up with Godwin. Only loses some points for all the death rot.

Crucible Knight Siluria:

A bit gloomy, but I bet the crucible knights can do all sorts of freaky stuff with their animal body parts.

Mimic Tear:

A slippery liquid shapeshifter, need I say more?

Commander Niall:

A way better guy than O'Niel, plus he just a bit more daddy energy.

Fire Giant:

Once you get past his size, his sadness and the giant fell god of destruction in his chest, I bet he's got something going on.

Ancient Hero of Zamor:

Gives me Hercules/Amazonian vibes, I could be into it.

Cleanrot Knight:

Lesbian activities detected.

Crucible Knight:

These guys have tails, horns, wings and big old throat sacks. Imagine the possibilities.

Glintstone Dragon Adula:

Has a sword. If you hear "Dragon holding a sword" and your pants aren't already off, we can't be friends.

Bols, Carian Knight:

He seems like a good boy.

Scaly Misbegotten:

I feel like the Misbegotten have some really interesting possibilities with their animal biology. I bet they have bonobo type societies and that could be fun.

Leonine Misbegotten:

Same as the other Misbegotten.

Misbegotten Warrior:

Same as the other Misbegotten.

Knock your socks off: (Can give consent, would be amazing in bed)

Crucible Knight Ordovis:

Has all the desirable traits of a Crucible Knight but I also imagine they are super into threesomes.

Perfumer Tricia:

She seems really nice, and would be a super attentive lover. Plus she probably has access to crazy drugs and could hook you up.

Nox Swordstress & Nox Priest:

You just know that the Nox were getting up to crazy hot and crazy unethical experiments in their underground cities. These two probably get up to some wild shit and they are inviting you to join them.

Rennala, Queen of the Full Moon:

As she is now, I bet she'd be too sad to really be in a relationship again. But she kept up with Radagon and you just know she has some tricks up her sleeves that could make you abandon the golden order.

Sex God: (Can give consent, would be the best in bed)

Dragonlord Placidusax:

Has two male heads and three female heads, imagine...

Ancient Dragon Lansseax:

Formed a whole freaky dragon/human cult and you just know they got into some eyes-wide-shut orgies behind those doors.

Godfrey, First Elden Lord (Hoarah Loux):

We all knew he'd be this high on the list. He was just a normal dude but he managed to keep pace with Queen Marika (Who is basically a goddess of fertility) for a good long while. He will fold you in half (on the battlefield and in the bedroom.)

Evil Sex God: (Can give consent, is a terrible person but you’d make an exception.)

Radagon of the Golden Order:

He sucks in all the worst ways, but I mean... You can't NOT. Both Radagon and Marika are the embodiment of evil but they managed to suck and fuck their way across an entire continent for generations. You HAVE to give a try at least once.

Godskin Duo:

Oh my god will it be awful with all those flayed human skins, but you know you are still gonna have to. They can stretch and do all sorts of freaky stuff with their bodies, plus they kill gods and nothing is sexier than heresy.

Vyke, Knight of the Roundtable:

The dude is a mad killer but... he can still probably get it, might as well give it a try.

God-Devouring Serpent / Rykard, Lord of Blasphemy:

Personally I wouldn't, he's a loser and will probably kill you. But he is also a giant snake made up of squirming hands doing all sorts of sexual experiments, I can't blame you if you want to give it a taste.

Black Knife Assassin:

They committed a whole lot of treason but the power of armored lesbians is too hard to resist.

Patches:

If you are already having sex with from software characters, you gotta give Patches at least one attempt. When you wake up he'll have robbed you, but you knew what you were getting into.

[tinydefector]

Transformers reacting to Nipple piercings

Characters: Mtmte Rodimus, ROFB Mirage, TFP Knockout

Warnings: slight nsfw, oral fixation, nipple piercings, hinted smut, piercing care.

If people enjoy this series I might make some others.

Word count 3K

Request and ask open, read pinned post

Masterlist

Rodimus masterlist

Knockout Masterlist

Mirage Masterlist

_______________

Rodimus

They couldn't sit still. The fabric of their shirt continued to rub against their skin in an unpleasant manner, ignoring it was the only option at that moment. They sat on Rodimus' desk helping him with reports. "How's your report going Rodimus?" They ask while trying to get in a more comfortable position.

Rodimus sighed in frustration as he reviewed the long list of maintenance reports in need of sign-off. "Not great," he replied. "There always seems to be more work to do than cycles in a solar cycle. I don't know how Megatron keeps up with it all. or how Ultra Magnus can write so much" He offers a rueful smile. "Thanks for helping me plough through these. It's much more bearable with help and company."

Taking note of the fidgeting, Rodimus asked gently, "Is your plating bothering you? I wish we had better abrasives to smooth the rough spots. Being cooped up inside the Lost Light so much can't be easy on your systems." His optics shone with compassion for his human friend's discomfort.

"It's called a shirt Rods, humans wear them kinda like how you bots have plating over your body, And no the fabric is just irritating my skin today, keeps catching on my piercings" they mumble the last part to themself.

A curious look came over Rodimus's face. "Piercings? What in the Pits are those?" he asked.

"They are little decorative pieces of metal we have put through our skin. Some we wear in our ears, nose, lips, eyebrows, it's a little bit of a painful process but they are pretty" they explained.

Rodimus nodded thoughtfully at further explanation on human piercings. "I can see the appeal of adornments, even if the application sounds rather narely," he said. Furrowing his optics, Rodimus peered more closely at their frame. "Hmm, if they're meant to be visible decorations, then why can't I see any of you now?" he wondered aloud. "Are they retractable like transformation seams? Or is human flesh somehow capable of covering them up? Your species never ceases to perplex me with your biological quirks and tricks."

They laugh loudly before wincing slightly. "They aren't always on display, but no we can't retract them but we can take them out. Mine are just under the shirt is all. And feel rather tender at the moment"

"So they come out, huh?" Rodimus responded thoughtfully. Curiosity piqued, he asked, "Do you have them on you now under the shirt? Can I see? Do they have lights or are they just metal?."

He tilted his head inquisitively. "Fleshly adornments are such an alien concept to me." Pausing, Rodimus added excitedly.

With a small shake of their head in amusement at Rodimus' curiosity they speak again. "Sure I'll let you have a look." They are quick to discard their shirt sitting there so Rodimus can look. Each nipple has a bar though it with a little ball at each end. Rodimus is overly eager to touch and inspect.

Careful with his touches, Rodimus leaned in slowly for a closer look. "Fascinating," he murmured, optics shining with wonder at the novel modifications. Up close, he was even more intrigued by the symmetrical placements and elegant simplicity of the adornments. Softly, as if handling something incredibly fragile, Rodimus raised a finger and ghosted it above one glistening bar, mesmerised by the contrast of cool metal against warm flesh.

Servo hovering, as always mindful of organic delicacy. Rodimus barely grazed the ball end with his fingertip, amazed by its give underneath hard plating. Cybertronian armour was rigid and unyielding; sensitive inner workings always shielded. He had much to learn about life beyond his kind.

a soft gasp leaves their lips as Rodimus' digit graze against their chest. The piercings themselves were still rather tender, but the soft touch of cold metal against them left goose bumps across skin, they relaxed into the touch. Both their works are forgotten.

Rodimus noted the soft intake of air and sensations rendering their plating sensitive. "My apologies, I didn't mean to make it hurt," he said gently. When they relaxed into his feather-light touch, seemingly soothed rather than aggravated, Rodimus felt his curiosity heightening. The smooth textures and varied temperatures called out to his sensor net to further discern material properties through all means available.

Leaning closer still, Rodimus let his optics dim and his glossa slowly extended, barely brushing one adornment in a tactile sampling. Cool and slick, it traced intricate shapes with an elegance beyond his plated appendages alone.

eyes shoot open wide as they feel the cool touch of Rodimus glossa against the flushed skin, biting back a moan at the pleasant sensation. "Having fun?" They asked in a teasing tone, not stopping the bot from exploring, enjoying the feeling of Rodimus' glossa.

"Frag, sorry, curiosity tends to get the better of me," Rodimus replied lightly, though his field betrayed growing enthusiasm.

He held their gaze, optics half-shuttered, as his glossa traced delicate circles, learning every contour. Something in the way pleased noises were stifled stirred Rodimus's core, spurring his exploration ever onward in a dance of discovery.

Soft ex-vents ghosted warmly over newly sensitised skin, it prickles with more goosebumps as the air brushes the areas he had run his glossa across. eliciting subtle tremors that Rodimus felt to his struts.

They gasp and moan softly as Rodimus softly sucks on the tender skin. "Fuck Rodimus feels good" The young human arches into the touch as Rodimus' other servo slowly teases the other nipple.

Tracing lower, Rodimus' glossa circled delicately, tasting the sweet warmth of their skin through every sensor. His free servo rolled the other nub skillfully, marvelling at how small fluctuations elicited outsized effects.

Ventilation hitched as strange new feelings rose in Rodimus's spark. He focused on their pleasure, marvelling at them. slowly they pull Rodimus back, breathing slightly heavy from the experience. "I think that's enough exploring for one day Roddy, we still have reports to finish"

Rodimus loathes having to release the soft nipple from his intake, it makes Rodimus Rodimus rumbled apologetically as duty calls them back to boring reports. Yet parting from sweet flesh proved unexpectedly difficult after such revelation of how it tasted, It's addictive.

"Just a moment more," he pleaded between languid sucks, unable to relinquish the heady sensations. Never had something like this tempted him so much.

Mirage

Mirage had caught a glimpse of the piercings a few times. Mainly when he had been intimate with his lover, the small metal bars thought their nipples had never escaped his processor, But as they sat together a question lingers on mirages mind. What were they? 

"Raj can you grab me a tarp, gonna need it when I do this oil change on This car" they call out. 

 Mirage processes the request, grabs one of the tarps from the storage area and brings it over to where his friend is working on the vehicle. He sets it down nearby so it's ready when needed.  

"Here is the tarp. So..."  he thinks back to the memory files of their intimate moments together  "I have been curious about those things in your chest. On your nipples specifically. What made you decide to get those? Just something you found aesthetically pleasing? Or is there another reason behind it?" 

"My piercings?, I got them as a dare a while back, hurt like a bitch getting them done but I don't really mind them now, until they get stuck on things then they burn, mainly keep them in because I like them" they explain as they move around getting set up to do the oil filter change. Bucket set up under the car. 

 Mirage listens to the explanation with interest, tilting his head slightly as he processes the words. A playful smirk spreads across his faceplates as his friend mentions the piercings occasionally getting stuck on things.  

"Is that so? Well I can understand the appeal of a dare, though personally I think I'm too clever to ever get myself into such a predicament."  He chuckles cockily, exuding an air of lighthearted smugness.  

"As for liking how they look, I have to agree they do add a certain... aesthetic flair"  His optics briefly glance over their body in a subtle once-over before meeting their gaze again with a grin.  

"Just be sure not to let those piercings of yours get snagged on any wiring or plating during that oil change. Wouldn't want anything... sticking unexpectedly."  He waggles his optical ridges suggestively.  

"Let me know if you need an extra set of hands though. Wouldn't want an... accident to occur down there."  Mirage offers his assistance in a playfully teasing tone, enjoying the back-and-forth banter as usual. 

"Raj! Please, I'm working here! Perv" They call out swatting the bots hand away. They focus in on the car they are under. "Can you pass me the 10mm socket wrench" the call out while setting up their small touch to see.

 Mirage chuckles good-naturedly at getting swatted away.  "Ah, you know you love it when I tease,"  he says lightheartedly.  

Making an exaggerated show of pretending to pout with downturned optical ridges and a small smirk, Mirage turns towards the tool cart. "Alright alright, no more distractions while you work." 

He rummages around briefly before producing the requested 10mm socket wrench. Mirage saunters back over and holds it down for his friend, lover? to take it easily.  

 Settling back against the wall again, Mirage watches them get to work on the vehicle, angling his helm thoughtfully.  "You know, you perform repairs so dexterously." He teases 

They work quickly with undoing the oil cap to drain it. But when they lose grip on the small screw they curse. Oil spilling out quicker than expected. "Son of a bitch!" They hiss. Moving quickly after getting oil spilt over them. It makes mirage chuckle in amusement.

 Mirage can't help but chuckle in mild amusement as he watches the spat of unintentional spillage. "Well well, looks like someone needs to tighten their grip,"  he quips lightheartedly, unable to resist the playful jab.  

They roll out from under the car, oil covering them, they grumble trying to get the shocked shirt off before more of it could get on their skin or in their hair. And there they are on display again, those nipple piercings mirage liked so much, oil and grease lingering on the skin

 Mirage's attention is immediately drawn to the piercings on display as his friend struggles to remove their shirt. His engine emits a subtle purr at the tantalising sight, optics roving appreciatively over the grease-stained form before him. 

"Well well, what have we here?"  he speaks in a low, smug tone, cocky attitude radiating off him in waves.  "It seems our little spill has left quite the...messy situation." 

 His gaze subtly lingers on the piercings, glistening with oil, before trailing back up slowly to meet thier eyes. A grin plays across his faceplates, brimming with self-assured confidence.  

"Need a hand cleaning all that grim off? I'd be happy to...lend a digit or two. And perhaps a glossa too, if you'd like - can't have precious jewellery like that staying filthy now, can we?"  

 He steps closer, fuel pump thrumming in approval at the enticing view. Mirage oozes smug charm, revelling in the alluring scenario before him.  "What do you say...care for some assistance?"

"God you're a nuisance " the huff, but let mirage continue with his antics. Mirage lets out a playful chuckle at his friend's exasperated remark.  

"A nuisance, am I? You wound me so."  He clasps a hand dramatically over his spark, optics swirling with mirthful mischief.  

"But you haven't said no yet..."  Mirage points out, emboldened by the lack of outright refusal.  

Stepping closer still so they're mere inches apart, he levels his friend with a gaze of smouldering intent, laughter fading to a flirtatious smirk.  

"Come now, we both know you enjoy my particular brand of...nuisance. And I do so want to help clean you up properly."  His field pulses with suggestive magnetism as nimble digits reach out to gently brush over their exposed skin in a teasing caress. 

"Unless...you'd really rather I leave you to your grimy predicament?"  Mirage whispers huskily. 

"Get me a towel, Raj, then I'll think about it," they state, standing there with a smile as they wait for him to grab a towel.

"As you wish."  Mirage's engine rumbles with delighted intrigue as he accepts the challenge. 

Whirling on his heelstrut with a flourish, Mirage makes his way towards the storage closet at a leisurely stroll. Rummaging briefly, he selects one of the largest, grease towels.

Returning to his still-grease-laden friend, Mirage holds out the towel with an elegant flourish and a sly smirk. "Well? Have I earned the privilege of assisting further?"  he inquires softly, 

"Say the word, and I'll gladly help..."

"Trying to get in my pants again?" They ask teasingly before leaning back into the bot's touch, letting mirage help clean up the mess. Mirage chuckles low in his throat at the playful accusation, a hint of arousal mixing in with their humour.  

"Guilty as charged."  He flashes a roguish grin, azure optics dancing with mischief and desire.  

"Can you blame me, though?" Holding their teasing gaze, Mirage leans in to press a kiss to their cheek, his cooling ex-vents puffing against plating still warm from work. "How could I resist such beauty, even coated in oil?" 

Knockout

Knockout smirked as he leaned against the medical table, crossing his arms over his chassis. "Well, well, well, if it isn't my favourite lovely little human in distress," he purred, his voice dripping with charm. " I'd ask what trouble you have gotten yourself into, but where's the fun in that? I'd much rather tease you a bit first."

He sauntered closer, his optics lingering "Now, how did this happen, darling? Neglecting proper care for these delicate human chest adornments? It's a shame, I happen to rather enjoy your little jewellery pieces" he chuckled, his tone laced with amusement.

They don't look impressed, looking away when knockout asks how it happened. "Went out on a mission ended up in mud and now they hurt '' they hiss under their breath. "Knockout please I just need some help. I'm not embarrassing myself by going to ask ratchet for help!" They hissed.

Knockout raised an optic ridge, slightly taken aback by the lack of enthusiasm from the human. He couldn't resist a chuckle at their stubbornness. "Oh, darling, you wound me," he replied, feigning a hurt expression. "But fear not, for I am here to help. No need to embarrass yourself."

They continue sitting there uncomfortably while knockout moves around grabbing what he needed. Knockout sets up a dish of salty water with a cloth. His optics flickered with focus as he set up the necessary supplies, preparing to tend to the infected piercings. He approached the human with a suave yet professional air, gesturing for them to remove their shirt so he could properly examine and treat the area.

"Now, now, don't be shy," he said smoothly, his voice laced with a hint of playfulness. "We've got to get a good look at those piercings if we want to fix them up, don't we?"

As the human complied, Knockout dipped the cloth into the dish of salty water, ensuring it was properly soaked. With a gentle touch, he began to clean the infected piercings, his movements precise and careful. "Try to relax," he advised with a soft, soothing tone. "I know it stings a bit, but trust me, you'll feel much better once we've taken care of this."

He continued to work, his optics focused on the task at hand, all the while maintaining a charming demeanour. Knockout couldn't help but let a small smile play on his lips as he worked his medic magic, determined to alleviate the human's discomfort and make them forget their initial reservations about seeking his help.

They sit there quietly avoiding knockouts gaze, as the medic continues cleaning the inflamed piercings. Knockout couldn't help but notice the human's avoidance of his gaze, their quietness speaking volumes. He continued to clean the inflamed piercings with utmost care, his touch gentle and precise. As he worked, he couldn't resist a small sigh, his usual charm momentarily fading.

"Look, I know I can come across a bit... overwhelming," he admitted, his voice softening. "But I want you to know that I genuinely care about your well-being. I may be a Decepticon, but that doesn't mean I can't be a good medic, and primus knows im not letting an infection get you my dear"

With a final, gentle touch, Knockout finished cleaning the piercings and set aside the cloth. He reached for the disinfectant and carefully applied it to the affected area, his movements slow and deliberate.

"Just a little more, and then we'll be done," he assured, his voice filled with sincerity. "You'll be feeling better in no time, I promise."

"Thanks and please don't tell everyone, don't need the whole base knowing about this" they state while motioning to the piercings.

Knockout flashed a charming smile as he applied the cream to alleviate the inflammation around the piercings. "Your secret is safe with me, my dear," he assured, his voice filled with sincerity. "As much as I enjoy a bit of gossip, I understand the importance of privacy, especially when it comes to matters like these."

He leaned in closer, his optics gleaming mischievously. "But remember, secrets have their price," he teased playfully. "Perhaps a dance or a playful conversation in the future can serve as payment for my discretion."

Straightening up, Knockout took a step back, admiring his handiwork. "There you go, all taken care of," he said, his tone gentle. "Just remember to keep an eye on them and follow the aftercare instructions I've given you. If there are any issues or if they don't improve, don't hesitate to come see me."

"I will thank you again, and I might give you that dance once they heal, but don't expect anything" they reply while pulling on their shirt again.

Knockout chuckled, his optics gleaming with amusement. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of expecting anything more than a dance, my dear," he replied with a sly smirk. "But who knows? Sometimes, unexpected connections can be quite delightful."

He watched as they pulled on their shirts, "When those piercings have fully healed, you know where to find me," he said, his voice filled with a mix of charm and sincerity. "I'd be more than happy to share a dance with you, no strings attached."

[look-at-the-soul]

Every little thing you do- Part 1

Tommy Shelby x reader

Series Master list

✨So first part is finally here!! Please be aware this part is set to happen in different days therefore you’ll see a little divider in the middle… and also! There’s violence. Please note I’m trying to follow the ideas/education from back in the day so it won’t necessary fit for today’s way of seeing things.

Word count: 2,977

Waving her sister goodbye, Y/N headed outside. But to her surprise she found Scott stopping his vehicle.

“Hello sweetheart.” He greeted her with a quick kiss on her lips, she stepped back immediately in case her mother was watching behind the curtains.

“Scott, I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

“We’ll I lied and said I felt sick to get out earlier.”

This wasn’t something he’d do, but she listened to his explanation.

“I wanted to see you.”

Y/N looked over her shoulder, her parents were strict.

“You know you’re only invited for lunch and tea on Sundays.”

“I know, I know.” He moved back retrieving something from the car. “Got you these.”

“I love them, thank you.” Y/N pressed the bouquet of flowers against her chest, the fresh aroma invading her, a smile growing in her lips.

“Why don’t you go back inside and put them in water? Then meet me at the bakery around the corner.”

“Where are we going?”

Scott gave her a wide smile that took her breath away. “It’s a surprise, you’ll like it.”

Butterflies got spread all over her stomach, the expectation building. She hurried to the unexpected date.

“Listen, I want to apologize for acting shitty the other day.” Scott announced. “Can you forgive me love?”

Y/N nodded eagerly, pleased by his change of heart.

“It’s alright, just be careful next time.” Y/N suggested as he drove.

“Careful?”

“You shouldn’t have talked Tommy that way.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “There you go again, defending him. This why we fight.”

“No, Scott I don’t want a war between you two all the time, he didn’t like the way you talked to me.”

“Why does he always sticks his bloody nose in our business?”

“It’s not like that.”

“He’s always standing in the middle, I’m sick of getting orders from him, he leaves me the worst jobs just to please himself, he’s got people to do those things. I thought they wanted me to do other things, not to clean horses shit.”

“Scott I can’t interfere in your role among the gang, he already has done more than enough.”

“There it is, you’re defending him instead of being on my side…”

Y/N realized how unintentionally she always put Tommy on a pedestal, her boyfriend was right, feeling like he was belittled. She knew Tommy didn’t like him, and there was a possibility that she wasn’t impartial.

“I’ll see what I can do.” She finally gave in, not wanting to spend their time together fighting.

“That’s my girl.” He stopped the car on the sideway and began to shower her face with soft kisses.

”Do you need anything else?” Lizzie walked around the desk, resting against the bookshelf.

“What happened with the contracts you couldn’t find?” Tommy asked leaning back on his chair.

“Arthur took them by mistake.”

“Keep those locked.” He pointed a finger at her.

“Are you going to Karl’s birthday party?” She tried batting her eyelashes at him, but Tommy wasn’t looking at her.

“Yes, in a minute.”

Lizzie looked down at him again, hoping he’d ask her to join him.

“Heard Ada bought a huge cake.”

Tommy took his briefcase and hummed nonchalantly.

“I wrapped you a present for Karl, take it before you leave.”

She didn’t get a response.

Giving up to her wishes to be invited with the Shelby family, Lizzie shook her head. Collecting the remains of her dignity from the floor.

Tommy followed her with his eyes as she stomped her foot on her way out but dismissed it a few seconds later, not understanding her attitude.

The office was quiet when he crossed it, everyone had headed home already and his family were already in Polly’s house.

This was the first time he left considerably early in a long time. The need to release some stress made him reach for a cigarette. He had a dozen of things to do, a trip to London in the upcoming days, visit one of the fabrics… before he realized, Tommy parked outside Polly’s property.

Karl’s celebration was a rare family gathering. For his brothers birthdays they’d usually went to camp close to the river and drink all night. He wasn’t used to paper decorations and chocolate cake.

A small figure crashed against his legs. “Oh oh.”

Looking down, he found one of John’s kids. Was this Kate? Or Barbara?

“Careful.”

“There you are.” John appeared with a sandwich in his hand. “Go with your siblings.” He instructed his daughter.

“John.” Tommy called him mysteriously, with his hand motioning his brother to step closer. “Wipe your fucking mouth, you’ve got chocolate all over it.”

Stepping into the living room, he joined his family.

“Uncle Tommy!” Karl ran towards him with his arms open.

Tommy rubbed the kid’s back and offered him his present. “Happy birthday Karl.”

“Thank you!”

“Looks like you owe me money Pol.” Ada chuckled as she helped her son open his present.

Tommy looked from his sister to his aunt, studying them.

“Damn it. I thought he wasn’t going to show up.”

“So you made a bet?” He asked in disbelief.

He usually wouldn’t. But when it came to his sister, he made an effort.

“Where’s Y/N?” Polly asked with a frown.

“I sent her the invitation, thought you’d arrive together.” Ada explained staring at her brother.

But Tommy shook his head. “No, I haven’t seen or heard from her.”

“Shit! Pol! Help me out here!” John shouted holding his son James in his arms, he was bleeding and crying. “Smashed his fucking head.”

As Ada rushed to get some clean towels, Polly tried to comfort the child.

Stepping away from the chaos, Tommy leaned against a column to think he actually hadn’t seen Y/N in almost a week. A million thoughts filling his mind, trying to find a reason for her to be distant.

He needed to know if she was alright because she had always been close to the family, she was always considered part of it to all their gatherings; she was there for them at Freddy’s funeral, at John’s wedding…

“Now that we’re here all together, I’ve something to say.” Arthur announced stepping on a chair, oblivious that Esme and Polly were taking care of a bleeding child.

As the room went quiet, Arthur announced he and Linda were expecting a baby.

“Congratulations.” Esme managed to blurr through gritted teeth. “Now help me hold James, because I need to rearrange his arm.”

As Arthur walked past Tommy, his brother patted his arm and mumbled a low congratulations.

But the thought of Y/N not being with them, stuck in his head.

Y/N felt like sleeping on the couch. Her feet were swollen, Lady Winchester lost one of her precious earrings and decided to put everyone in the search until they found it under her vanity hours later.

Oddly her family decided to stay up late apparently as she could see the candles still on. But just as she set one foot inside, her mother pushed her abruptly.

“You’re a dishonorable daughter! We gave you everything!” One of her hands intended to land on her cheek but hit her on her ear instead.

“What happened?”

“Y-your aunt says you’re with a child, she saw you this morning and came to ask me.” Y/N’s mother was furious.

A woman came into view, her sister poking her head from the kitchen as her mother pushed her into the room next to it and closed the door. She demanded Y/N to undress and started touching her breasts.

“She’s with a child.” The elder woman confirmed, her hands still on her breasts.

Y/N’s face got paler by the second. Her mother gave the woman money and asked discretion.

A heavy silence filled the room, Y/N could hear a pin drop if someone threw one. Dizziness swept over her as her palms started to sweat.

“Your father will be so disappointed by you.” Her mother sentenced firmly. “You’re a whore, this sin will follow you from now on.”

Blood went to Y/N’s feet and she had to grab the vanity for support.

“You’ll tell Scott tomorrow and get him to ask your father’s permission to marry you before you start showing.” Y/N could hear her mother’s words as if she was underwater.

“I’ll save him the embarrassment, perhaps you can go to your grandmother’s house and hide there…” she was pacing the room as a maniac, Y/N was starting to process everything, she could hardly breathe.

“I didn’t know I could get pregnant without being married.”

Y/N’s mother laughed sarcastically. “It’s too late for that now, you should’ve waited until you got married!”

“You never told me this could happen.” Y/N felt on the edge of tears.

“I educated you with values, God only knows what you learned from that friend of yours.” Her mother mumbled something else Y/N couldn’t understand. Slowly she sat on the carpet, her skirt pooled around her hips and she finally sobbed. When one day Scott touched her breasts and it felt nice, electricity ran through her body. But he stopped right there. Then after taking her to the river, one of his hands sneaked under her skirt and moved her intimate clothes to the side and her body trembled. A week after that, he was about to start a fight with Tommy, for the night when they arrived after visiting Tommy’s new house. So in an attempt to make up for that fight, he took her to the river again and after kissing her, he told her he wanted to do something else. It had been over a month since she stepped in the middle of Tommy and Scott.

Y/N didn’t know she could feel such pleasure until he introduced himself into her body and she exploded of ecstasy. It felt right, he said he loved her and they went back a few days later.

Scott had said this should be between just the two of them, just as their love. But he never told her she could get pregnant.

Worry kept her up all night. She felt sorry for her poor father.

Covering her face with her hands, Y/N felt the tears rolling down her cheeks uncontrollably.

“Scott,” Y/N breathed with relief, all the worry from the past days when she hadn’t been able to reach out soon, forgotten. “I need to talk to you.”

“Y/N… I’ve to rest, haven’t had a decent sleep yet. Can we talk about this another day?” He had been out of the city, busy with God knows what, but this was important for her, for them, for their future.

Y/N studied their surroundings carefully, trying to keep her voice from shaking she placed her hands on his shoulders.

“We’re going to have a child, Scott I’m carrying your baby.” She whispered.

Scott blinked unamused by the news, his nostrils expanding profusely. Y/N wanted to reach out, to throw herself in his arms but as they were outside his house, she had to control herself. Keep her distance with him and behave accordingly.

But when he took a step back, she felt confused.

“I-I’m… this must be a mistake.”

“No, no. There’s a baby growing inside me.” She repeated, keeping her voice down. “We’ll need to figure out about the wedding, it’ll have to be something intimate and soon before it starts showing…”

“I’m not going to marry you.” Scott scoffed. “How can I be sure this child is mine? You could’ve slept with someone else just as you did with me.” He mocked her.

Before she could stop herself, Y/N found her hand flying to his cheek. Her palm tingled after the slap she gave him.

“How could you say something like that?”

“Don’t you ever dare to fucking touch me again!” He snapped. “And as for this little inconvenient… I’m not taking responsibility, you’re on your own.”

He gave her a disgusted look and walked inside his house. Leaving Y/N turned into a crying mess, she was hurt and disappointed by his reaction and terrified of the outcome.

Her mother sent her to talk to Scott to arrange the terms of the wedding and now she just realized he didn’t have her back. But what was worse, he thought she would sleep around like a whore.

Folding her arms, she walked with her head down. Guilt and embarrassment written all over her face. How would she deal with this? How would she tell her mother what Scott just said? She had been so sure she’d be able to hide it from her father by marrying Scott but now she was left in the worst possible way.

She cried uncontrollably feeling defeated, it was now too late to do something, but at the same time she didn’t know how she’d take care and raise a baby by herself.

“Where’s Scott?” Her mother hissed when her daughter appeared in her eyesight.

Y/N couldn’t speak, something heavy made her walk slowly. Her whole world was crashing down and now she’d have to face the consequences.

“He told me he wouldn’t take responsibility for a child who might not be his.” As the words left her mouth, she started crying again.

“Of course he would say that! What did you think Y/N?!” Her mother exploded. “He must think the worst of you now, how easily you have yourself away to him!”

“He told me he loved me!” Managed to shout through her tears and sobs.

Her mother’s hand flew rapidly and hit her hard.

A heavy silence surrounded them. Her cheek was burning from her mother’s slap.

“Leave Y/N!” Her grandmother intervened.

“She deserved that.” Her mother explained, she was beyond angry.

Y/N’s grandmother wrapped an arm around her granddaughter protectively.

“What happened?”

“Tell her, go on… tell your grandmother what you did.”

Y/N kept her head down, she felt like she couldn’t look her grandmother in the eyes. She had failed them terribly, the values and principles they had showed her were thrown through the window.

“No? Well, I’ll tell her myself.” Her mother warned. “Y/N didn’t wait until marriage, she gave herself away like a whore and is now with a child. Couldn’t keep her legs closed.”

“Well we’ll think of something, she won’t start showing right away.”

“There’s nothing to think mother, Scott is out of the picture he didn't accept the responsibility.”

“But he’s as responsible as Y/N.” Her grandmother pointed out thinking this wasn’t fair on Y/N.

“Your granddaughter’s honor is right on the floor, he even suggested the baby isn’t his.”

Y/N saw her mother pacing around the small room, it was making her feel sick.

“And your father arrives tomorrow… should we send her with your sister to Durham?” She pondered the possibilities thinking of her mother’s sibling.

“Absolutely not.” Her grandmother defended.

“Then what? What are we going to do?”

Y/N felt sick and rushed away from them. Her head was pounding, her stomach in a tight knot and her heart shattered into million pieces.

“Ma’am you can’t go in there.” Tommy heard from outside his office, then saw the door swing open.

“Mr. Shelby you’re the only one who can help me.”

Tommy rose to his feet in a second, the worry he found in Y/N’s grandmother raised all the alarms.

“What happened?”

“My son in law is hitting Y/N badly.” Her voice cracked, her hands reached for the sleeve of his suit. “You’ve to help her.”

Tommy took his coat from the rack and rushed to see what was happening.

“John, get Polly and meet me in Y/N’s house.” He demanded.

“I’ll go with them Mr. Shelby.” Y/N’s grandmother expressed, not wanting to make him wait.

Tommy doubted for a second, but with her hand, the elder woman ushered him, so it must be serious. Stepping in Y/N’s house without knocking because he heard her cries and pained screams from outside, but Tommy wasn’t prepared to find what he’d see.

Y/N was in the middle of the living room half her clothes shattered, kneeling on the floor and her upper body leaned over a chair, her back covered by the belt marks and blood.

He felt a rush of anger and disgust through his body. Tommy could practically taste his bile in his mouth, but as Y/N’s father was about to hit her again, he stepped in his way, holding the man’s hand firmly in the air.

“You touch her again, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Stay out of this Shelby, I’m dealing with this whore.”

“Don’t make me repeat myself or you’ll regret it.” Tommy muttered through gritted teeth.

John joined him with a couple of some of their men, they went straight to hold Y/N’s father away from her.

Y/N winced in pain when Tommy tried to help her up.

“This is a family matter!” Y/N’s mother shouted disturbed for the interruption. “You should respect that.”

“Yeah? Just like you’re respecting your daughter?” Tommy snapped, he lost all self control over this injustice.

“She has to deal with the consequences of her acts! Behaved like a whore, gets punished like one.”

Y/N felt her mother’s words like daggers to her heart. She wasn’t sure what felt more hurtful; her father’s hitting her with his belt or her mother’s words.

Tommy felt like throwing up, he apologized when he got Y/N in his arms and she complained from the pain.

“You can’t take her away!” Her mother warned, trying to stop Tommy.

He gave her a warning stare and mumbled; “watch me.”

Part 2

Divider

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[capseycartwright]

just kiss me slowly

tommy does this thing, when he kisses buck. to quote myself, i underestimated your rizz, tommy kinard. the two finger chin pull has been playing on my mind since the episode aired, and this pointless bit of fluff was born. buck and tommy are running circles in my head.

ao3 link

Tommy does this thing, when he kisses Buck. Buck has kissed Tommy enough times in the past couple of weeks to know its a thing, and not just a fluke. He hasn't kissed Tommy enough that he's lost count (27 kisses - he's been counting because it still doesn't feel real, and every time he can add another kiss to the growing list of moments he lets himself linger in as he lies in bed at night, or sits in traffic on the way to work, is another reminder that this is real: that Tommy is real) but he's beginning to learn more about the way Tommy kisses, has begun to map the surface of Tommy's lips with his tongue.

He knows its a thing, is the point.

The first time Tommy had kissed him, he'd tugged Buck closer, two fingers pulling on Buck's chin as he'd pressed that chaste first kiss to Buck's lips. Buck had assumed that had been a heat of the moment sort of thing, Tommy tugging Buck closer so he could get his point across, but then it had happened again.

Tommy had come to pick Buck up, for their date. "Old fashioned," Buck had teased. Tommy had simply rolled his eyes in response, catching Buck's chin between his thumb and forefinger, pressing a brief kiss to Buck's surprised lips. "I didn't want to wait until after dinner to kiss you again," he had said, by way of explanation, and Buck had been in a haze the whole drive to the Italian place Tommy had suggested they grab dinner at. No one - no one had ever kissed him like that, pulling Buck closer with a gentle grasp, as though they didn't want to give him a chance to turn his head away.

Tommy liked to kiss Buck. Buck was learning that too. It was all so new for him, but Tommy was confident, a reassuring presence to - quite literally - lean on as he navigated his newfound bisexuality. Tommy had been thirty-one when he'd come out, he'd explained to Buck - so he understood. Understood why Buck had played their dinner off as a friendly thing, understood why Buck hadn't told Eddie yet, understood why Buck hadn't told anyone, yet, only his sister, and Hen. Understood why Buck was more at ease here, in the warmth of Tommy's apartment, than he was at a bar - for now, at least. Buck wasn't ashamed, he was just learning how to lean into this new part of himself.

Buck couldn't help but flush as he remembered the genuine look of pride on Tommy's face when he'd leaned into the other man's space that afternoon at the farmers market, listening intently as Tommy explained the benefits of using a certain kind of tomato to make pasta sauce - the way his mother had taught him to, growing up in New York. Buck had leaned against Tommy, enjoying the way colour rose in Tommy's cheeks as he'd done so.

He'd earned a reward for it too, Tommy using two gentle fingers to redirect Buck's face toward his own as they'd loaded the groceries in the trunk of Buck's jeep, pressing a brief kiss to Buck's waiting lips.

That was the thing, Tommy did - he touched Buck so gently, always redirecting Buck's mouth to exactly where he wanted it to be, and it made Buck melt right down into his sneakers. He'd - he'd just never had someone kiss him so reverently, before.

"If you think any harder, you'll give yourself a headache," Tommy murmured, glancing up from the sauce he was stirring. This version of Tommy was new to Buck - the version of Tommy in his own apartment, relaxed, shoes kicked off by the door, an unfamiliar jazz album playing over the record player in the living room - because of course Tommy had an actual fucking record player. Buck liked this version of Tommy. He was realising he liked all versions of Tommy, actually.

Buck could tell him. He could tell Tommy that the way he grabbed Buck so gently by the chin so often when he was going in for a kiss made his insides turn to goo. He could tell Tommy how good it felt to have someone want him like that, want to initiate kisses. He could tell Tommy that he had spent years of his life chasing other people's lips, desperate for the affection Tommy was already so freely offering him, a mere three and a half weeks into dating.

He could tell him all that, and Tommy probably wouldn't mind - but Buck wanted to keep the thought to himself, a little while longer. This thing with Tommy was so new, and it was good, but it still felt delicate, and Buck didn't want Tommy to stop the way he kissed Buck.

"I'm admiring you hard at work," Buck tilted his head slightly. It was still strange, to hear himself flirt so openly with another man, but he was getting used to it. He had to, really, when Tommy always responded to his flirting with a delighted grin, or laugh.

Tonight, Buck got both.

"C'mere," Tommy murmured, hand gentle on Buck's face as he caught Buck's chin between his thumb and forefinger, pressing a lingering kiss (28) and then a second (29) to Buck's mouth. "Just wait until you try the sauce. Then you're really going to want to kiss you."

As if Buck didn't spend every second of every day fantasising about kissing Tommy, like he was a horny teenage boy again. "Promises, promises."

Tommy rolled his eyes. "Make yourself useful and set the table," he pretended to order, but he wasn't moving, nose brushing against Buck's. He kissed him again (30) and then kissed the corner of Buck's mouth, right where Buck's grin was splitting his face in two, his delight so overwhelming he couldn't contain it.

Buck leaned into the embrace, cheek scruffy where he pressed it against the palm of Tommy's hand. "I'm glad we're doing this," he admitted. Kissing, dinner - dating. All of the above. Tommy could decide which one Buck had meant.

Tommy's grin was liquid fucking gold. "Me too, Evan."

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

along for the ride

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count:

summary: when joel finds out tommy put out a craigslist ad to get him a date for valentine’s day, he doesn’t expect it to go as well as it does.

author’s note: i finally finished something! was it anything from my extensive wip list? no! don’t think about it too hard! anyways, if you enjoy this fic, please consider giving it a reblog, a comment, or dropping into my ask box 💕

warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors dni), no use of y/n, pre-outbreak!joel miller, no mentions of sarah, little shit!tommy miller, blind date, internet safety whomst, vaginal fingering, oral sex, woman on top, p in v, dirty talk, pet names. let me know if i’ve missed any!

“I have a surprise for you,” Tommy says at dinner. Joel pauses, fork scraping against his plate.

“That can’t be good,” he sighs. “What now?”

“Why do you assume it’s somethin’ bad?”

“Last time you said you had a surprise for me, I had chickens in my backyard.”

Tommy laughs. “It’s nothin’ like that this time.”

“Well, then, spit it out,” Joel demands.

Tommy reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper that he opens on the table, smoothing out the creases before sliding it over to Joel.

“Reservation confirmation?” Joel reads. He recognizes the name of the restaurant, the kind of place where the waiters dress in all black and the menu doesn’t have prices listed beside the items. 

“Yep. I got you your first Valentine’s Day date,” Tommy replies proudly. Joel glares at him.

“What do you mean?”

seeking valentine

36M looking to treat a lady to a date to remember. pic attached. email tmill@aol.com with a pic and bio for consideration.

[img01.jpg]

You’re half a bottle of wine deep when you stumble across the Craigslist ad. When you click on the picture, your interest is further piqued by the handsome man that appears on the screen. He’s standing in front of a black pick up truck dressed in jeans and a t-shirt that stretches across his tan muscles. His brown hair is cut short, just enough length for you to notice that it’s beginning to curl across his forehead and by his neck. His beard frames a bright smile that crinkles the corners of his dark eyes.

Whoever he is, he’s hot. He’d be the perfect way to get over being dumped two weeks ago by your boyfriend of two years.

Your logic was lost somewhere between your second and third glasses of wine, which is why you click on the e-mail address in the ad and start typing. The reply is normal, at first, facts about yourself like your name and age and occupation, but you quickly end up derailing the message with an explanation about why this handsome guy should pick you, making sure to include that you’ve already got a reservation at a popular restaurant for the occasion. The picture you add is a recent photo from a cousin’s wedding that your aunt had e-mailed to you. 

Before you can think better of it, you click send. You take one last look at the man’s photo before shutting your laptop and stumbling off to bed to dream of brown eyes and tan skin.

Joel taps his fingers against the white tablecloth, eyes fixed on the door of the restaurant. This is stupid, he thinks. Why did he agree to this? Why did he let Tommy convince him this was a good idea? He should have just told him no and been done with it but somehow he’s here, sitting at a table for two in a fancy restaurant and feeling like a sore thumb in the only suit he owns. 

He’s lost enough in his thoughts that he doesn’t see you when you first come in, doesn’t realize you’re here until the hostess is walking up with you close behind in a beautiful dress and he suddenly remembers exactly why he agreed to Tommy’s idiot scheme. 

“Joel?” You ask. He stands, nearly knocking the table in his haste to greet you. You lean in for a brief hug and he catches the warm vanilla scent of you before you pull away and smile at him. 

He rounds the table to pull your chair out for you and makes sure you’re settled before returning to his seat. A waiter swoops by to offer the wine menu and explain the pre fixe menu for the evening while he pours two complimentary glasses of champagne into the crystal glasses beside your plates. An awkward silence settles when he leaves, Joel’s leg bouncing anxiously beneath the table as he tries to think of something to say.

“This is weird, right?” You finally say. “This feels weird.”

Joel breathes a sigh of relief. “That’s just what I was thinkin’.”

"Oh, thank god." You take a long sip of your champagne. "I can't believe I actually responded to a Craigslist ad for a date."

"I can't believe my stupid brother came up with this whole thing," Joel replies. "I could'a killed him."

Your eyes go wide. "Wait, your brother made the post? Why?!"

"He seems to think that at thirty-six, I should have had a date for Valentine's Day by now," Joel explains. "Why did you respond to the ad?"

"I had been drinking a lot of wine and having a lot of feelings and the internet was unfortunately not helping the situation."

Joel laughs, tension leaving his shoulders as he does. "We're an interestin' pair, huh?"

"Cheers to that," you reply, lifting your glass for him to tap his against with a gentle clink. 

As the dinner progresses, the conversation starts to flow with surprising ease. No topic goes untouched, from jobs to hobbies to a long list of favorites. When you’ve exhausted those topics, you move on to swapping stories about your friends and families. By the time he finishes paying a hefty check (and declining your offer to split the cost), Joel feels like he’s known you for a lifetime.

"I had a really nice time, Joel.”

"Me, too," he replies. Christ, you're pretty, bright eyed as you look at him with a soft smile. He reaches for your hand, pulling you closer until your chest brushes his and can wrap an arm around your waist. "This okay?"

"Mhm," you hum with a little nod. Joel's gaze drops to your mouth and he finds himself wondering what your pretty lips would feel like as he kissed you. Would he be able to taste that chocolate torte from dessert on your tongue?

“Joel?” You whisper. He didn’t even realize how close he’s gotten, a few scant inches separating you now. “Are you going to kiss me or not?”

He chuckles. “You want me to?”

“Please.”

Joel kisses you, warm lips moving in perfect harmony with yours. It’s chaste, until it’s not. It’s chaste, until his tongue sweeps against your bottom lip and dips inside to tangle with yours. It’s chaste, until his hands are pulling you closer with a tight grip on your hips and—

“Get a room!” 

You break apart, startled by the shout from someone passing by on the sidewalk. You can’t stop the laugh that breaks free, your shoulders shaking with the force of it.

“You wanna get out of here?” Joel asks. “I can walk you to your car.”

“I took a cab, actually.”

Joel smirks. “You want a ride, sweetheart?” 

Your face grows hot from the look in his eyes, the double meaning to his words not lost. He holds a hand out and you slip your palm against his, fingers folding together so that he can lead you to the parking lot down the street from the restaurant.

Joel opens the passenger door of the truck you recognize from the photo in the ad, helping you step up into the cab and going so far as to pull the seatbelt down, reaching across your body to fasten it. He looks up at as he pulls away, hand dragging across your stomach and making you shiver.

He shuts the door and gets in the driver’s seat, pulling out of the parking lot and following your directions toward your apartment. At the first red light, he settles his broad palm on your thigh, just above your knee, giving you a little squeeze. Feeling bold, you spread your legs the tiniest bit and Joel takes the invitation for what it is, sliding his hand higher. 

The light turns green and the sudden movement presses you to the back of the seat, jostles you enough that your legs fall open further. You move to close them, but Joel’s hand moves again, high enough now that if you moved the slightest bit, you could probably get some relief from the ache that’s been building since he kissed you.

His pinky stretches, barely grazing your pussy, but it makes you gasp nonetheless, squirming in your seat from the want. At the next red light, he abandons all pretense, slipping his hand beneath the elastic of your panties and dragging his fingers through the embarrassing amount of wetness that’s already gathered there for him.

“Fuck,” he groans. You turn your head to look at him, his sharp jaw clenched tight as he circles your clit with his index and middle finger. “This wet for me already, baby?”

You moan in response, unable to form words as he touches you, alternating between soft strokes and fast circles over your sensitive clit. Your hips chase his every movement, desperate for relief from the pressure building in your core. 

“Joel,” you whimper, grabbing his forearm, digging your nails into the muscle. Your eyes squeeze shut against the overwhelming sensations.

He turns the truck and hastily throws it in park, pulling his hand from you just as you were cresting that wave. You whine at the loss but he shushes you, undoing your seatbelt and getting out of the truck with a slam of the door. It takes you a second to realize he’s stopped because you’ve reached your apartment complex.

The passenger door opens and Joel is there, gripping the door tightly. “Let’s go.”

You lead him to your door on unsteady legs. He follows you inside your apartment, pressed close to your back while you set your bag on the table by the door. 

“Where’s your room?” He asks, hands already rucking up the fabric of your dress. “I gotta finish what I started.”

You hurry down the hall to your room together and you silently thank your past self for cleaning up before your date. Joel wastes no time reaching for the hem of your dress, tugging it up over your head and tossing it into a heap on the floor.

“Fuck, even prettier than I imagined,” he groans, dropping to his knees. “Soon as you walked in wearin’ that I knew I was a goner.” He eases your panties down your thighs, helps you step out of them without toppling over. “On the bed.”

You obey without hesitation, crawling across your familiar mattress and lying on your back, head on your pile of pillows. Joel removes his suit jacket, eyes dark as his gaze roams across your body and makes your skin prickle under the intensity. His shirt and pants follow in quick succession, leaving him in a pair of boxer briefs that highlight an impressive bulge.

Joel joins you on the bed and you’re hypnotized by the movement of muscle beneath tan skin. He urges your legs apart, calves draped over his broad shoulders to give him room to settle between your thighs. He looks up at you, holding your gaze as he takes his first taste of you with a deep groan you feel through your whole body. 

Your head drops back to your pillow with a shout, legs tensing around Joel’s head. You bury your hands in his hair, holding on tight while he devours you. His tongue circles your clit before dipping down to your dripping center to curl inside of you. A thick finger follows, pressing deep and withdrawing slowly.

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” Joel says. “How’s that feel, huh?”

“So good,” you moan. “More, please, Joel.”

“Since you asked so nicely.”

He eases another finger into you, curling them along your front wall with pointed focus. That knot of release tights again, your muscles growing tense with it the longer he moves with your body. He wraps his lips around your aching clit, alternating between sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth and working it with his tongue until you’re shouting a string of curses and shatter beneath him.

Joel works you through your orgasm until you’re gasping for breath, more puddle than human. He crawls up your body, leaving kisses on what seems like every inch of you as he does and you pull him close when he’s face to face with you, kissing him deeply and chasing the earthy taste of yourself from his mouth.

His hips press against yours, grinding his length against your inner thigh. The kiss turns sloppy, his breath coming in sharp pants and thrusts growing frantic, skin dappled with sweat in the warm air of your room. You tilt your hips, pushing a hand against his shoulder to get him flat on his back with you straddling his waist, stomach flexing beneath you.

He’s deliciously disheveled beneath you with messy hair and kiss swollen lips. His hands find your thighs, sliding upward over your stomach to find your breasts, pinching a nipple between his fingers and making you hiss. Your hips rock over the softness of his belly and you reach behind yourself to palm his cock.

“Look real good like this,” Joel pants, flexing into your touch. 

“Well, you did ask me if I wanted a ride,” you tell him. 

You lean over towards your nightstand, tugging the top drawer open and rummaging around for a condom. Foil packet in hand, you lift off of Joel for a moment to allow him the chance to hastily shove his underwear off before settling back down on top of his thighs and taking his length in your hand with a slow stroke that makes his mouth drop open, cock pulsing against your palm. You lean forward, licking the flushed tip clean of the pre-cum gathered there. 

“You’re killin’ me,” Joel says through gritted teeth. “Wanna feel you, quit teasin’.”

You decide to put you both out of your misery, ripping the condom wrapper and rolling the latex over him. You lift up and he holds his cock steady with a fist around the base as you position yourself over him on your knees and slowly take him into your tight heat, twin moans echoing in the room as you do.

When your hips are flush with his, the wiry curls at the base of his cock grow damp with your arousal as you rock above him, grinding your clit against him and clenching around his length. He holds your hips in a loose grasp, not urging your movements but feeling them as you chase your pleasure. 

“Christ,” Joel moans, head tipped back and eyes squeezed shut. He plants his feet, thrusting up as you grind down and making you gasp. “Ain’t lastin’ much longer, baby.”

You lean forward, changing the angle and allowing him to pound inside of you, his cock pulsing as his release nears. You’re right there with him, the drag of his cock against that sweet spot inside of you making you tip over the edge with a shout muffled into the sweat slick skin of his neck. 

He slams himself deep, cock pulsing as he spends himself into the condom inside of you. You collapse against his chest, the two of you catching your breath in the aftermath. When you roll off of Joel and onto the mattress, he’s quick to pull you back against him, your head resting on his chest.

“That was—“

“Yeah,” you interrupt breathlessly. “It was.”

After a moment, Joel quietly asks, “What now?”

“You can stay…if you want.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, fingertips brushing along your shoulder. “I want that.”

Joel’s phone rings at an ungodly hour the next morning. He struggles to find his discarded pants in the dark but when he finally unearths the obnoxious device, his greeting is a snapped, “What?”

“He lives!” Tommy cheers from the other end. “It was a fifty-fifty chance you were dead or in bed.”

“What do you want, Tommy?”

“Just checkin’ to see how the date went. Must’ve been pretty good, seein’ as how I’m at your house and you’re nowhere to be found.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Fuck off,” he says. He’s about to hang up when he hears Tommy shout, “Wait!”

“What now?” Joel asks.

“Ain’t you gonna thank me?”

Joel snaps the phone shut, tossing it into the piles of clothes and crawling back into bed with you.

Joel Miller masterlist

All masterlists

[ddodol]

tied — j.sc

series ⭑.ᐟ [ kinktober masterlist ] content warning ⭑.ᐟ smut! minors dni!, bf!sungchan, fem!reader, pet names, sungchan is whiny for a second, use of restraints on the wrists, begging, overstimulation, unprotected sex. word count⭑.ᐟ 2k+

you blinked at the huge grin sungchan had on his face, sensing something ominous behind his crescent eyes.

”y/n,” you felt shivers down your spine just from his voice alone, “i got something for you, princess.” you watched as sungchan pulled out a black box with a pretty ribbon on it, tilting your head when he placed it on your lap. he gave you a small nod, motioning for you to open it up.

you ran your hands through the pretty silk ribbon, tangling it through your fingers as you tugged on the tie to open the box. surprisingly, it wasn’t an empty box, though the contents of it was familiar— way too familiar. in fact, you were so sure you had the same exact bag in your closet with the same run-down scratches and damages on certain areas.

”channie, this is just a bag i already own?” he nodded happily, taking your hands in his. sungchan slyly tried making a tight knot around your wrists using the ribbon that you already had wrapped around it. you were quick to react, pulling your hands away defensively.

sungchan laughed, whining when all that he had left on his hand was the ribbon. you furrowed your brows at him, wanting an explanation before you agree to anything. he let out a small sigh, still smiling at you mischievously, “alright, alright. i actually wanted to try something for tonight.”

you nodded slowly, raising a brow as you waited for him to add more details. “and, you know, i wanted to try having your hands tied while we do it,” you blinked as sungchan rambled on, “i considered blindfolds at first but it didn’t have the same thrill as—”

”okay, i get the point but why did you have to bring my old chanel bag out for this?” sungchan just smiled sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders before sitting next to you. minutes ago, you were getting ready to sleep but now you had sungchan running his hands up and down your legs, trying to get you in the mood now that he’s introduced his grand plan.

sungchan jutted his lower lip out, pouting when you stayed silent. “fine,” sungchan’s face visibly beamed up at your agreement, making you giggle a bit, “but i wanna try it on you first. i need to know if it hurts.” he nodded obediently, giving you his hands without hesitation.

you just wanted to have him tied up, in all honesty. sungchan’s been terrorizing your bedroom dynamic too much lately, always leaving you completely exhausted and sore by the time you two were done.

you tried your best to make sure that sungchan wasn’t getting out of the knot you made, wrapping it thrice until the ribbon was short enough for one final knot. sungchan tilted his head, finally sensing that something was off when you got up to slip your shorts down.

“oh, i see how it is.”

you laughed when he poked his tongue through his cheek, watching as you sat on his lap. “you can tell me if you liked it and then we can try it on me after, yeah?” you purred, grinning when sungchan nodded with a docile smile on his face. he was so easy to please and you found it amusing.

”what’s first on the list, princess?” sungchan asked teasingly, snaking his tied hands up your shirt. you swatted his hands away, frowning adorably as you got up once again.

“should i clarify that you can’t touch me?” it was sungchan’s turn to frown, unhappy with the new rule you just set.

”just moan and let me do all the work, baby,” you chuckled as soon as the words escaped your lips, copying what sungchan usually tells you. he laughs along, watching intently when you ran your hands through his crotch. sungchan bit his lip, cock already twitching under your teasing touch.

you smiled widely, pulling his sweatpants down, cock springing up so enthusiastically. you laughed at how eager sungchan was, wrapping your hands around his cock to play with his leaking precum. sungchan sighed softly, tongue darting out as you pumped his cock up and down.

sungchan wanted to hold your waist so badly, balling his fists against his stomach while he just watched you, veins on his hands popping up from how hard he was holding back. “aw, wanna touch me, channie?” you cooed, hovering above his tip. your thighs trembled when you sunk down his cock, overwhelmed with how stretched you were feeling.

”fuck, sungchan,” you breathed out, moaning even louder as you took him all inside, walls fluttering as you prettily sat on his cock. sungchan threw his head back, sighing shakily. “i know i said you can’t touch me but you can still speak to me, baby,” you murmured.

he stubbornly kept his mouth shut, pouting childishly as he stared at you. “channie, don’t make this harder for the both of us.”

sungchan scoffed, narrowing his eyes at you, “if you think i’ll give in because you’re mirroring the things i usually say then you’re so wrong.”

you couldn’t help but giggle at his childish grumbles, leaning in to graze your lips against his. sungchan let out a shaky groan, frowning as he gripped on your waist, desperately pulling you in for a kiss. you smiled teasingly, starting to bounce on his cock.

your pace was excruciatingly slow, watching as sungchan struggled to keep his hands to himself. he threw his head back, mumbling curses to himself as he closed his eyes shut.

”baby, please,” sungchan whines, breathing heavily as he looked at you. his cock kept throbbing against your walls, accompanied with his increasingly loud whines. he began to jerk his hips up, desperate for more stimulation.

you giggled, biting your lower lip as you leaned back, rolling your hips on top of his. sungchan groaned, frowning deeply as he watched you bounce, eyes stuck on the way your body moved.

”y/n, i’m being serious,” sungchan let out a soft whimper, his cock throbbing pathetically deep inside you. “y/n, baby, don’t tease me like this,” you licked your lips, enjoying how whiny sungchan was getting.

you inspected his features under your dimly lit bedroom, his cheeks were flushed and his plump lips were getting swollen, quivering from desperation. seeing him writhe under your mercy like this, you couldn’t help but feel even more mischievous.

”it’s okay, baby, just admit you like this,” you teased, “maybe i’ll spoil you even more some other time.” sungchan groaned in response, veins popping up from his neck. you leaned in to nip at his skin, tracing your lips over his angry veins.

”y/n.”

humming, you continued to ignore his desperate pleas, moving your hips slowly while your hands roamed all over his body. “fuck, please.” you could tell his patience was running thin, his tied hands were trembling against your waist, nails digging into your skin.

for a quick second, you thought sungchan finally surrendered to his fate, his body relaxing and letting out a exasperated sigh. what you failed to take into consideration was his inhumane strength in the face of desperation.

you found yourself splayed down the plush mattress, head dangling on the edge of the bed as sungchan towered over you— his hands were no longer tied, red marks left on his wrists as he pinned you down. the ruined remains of the ribbon were peeking out from behind him, a daunting foretelling of your fate in the next few seconds.

”i begged you nicely, princess,” sungchan whispered, eyes glinting dangerously as he stared down at you, “even i relent after you ask, don’t i? isn’t this unfair?” shivers ran down your spine, gasping sharply when you noticed how much danger you were in.

before you could even speak, sungchan began to pound into you, pushing you down with each thrust. you felt air escaping your lungs, whimpering as you desperately held on his arm to keep yourself from getting pushed off the bed. a small smirk was on his face, chuckling as he watched you get ruined.

”must’ve been fun for you, huh?” sungchan cooed, rubbing his thumb against your cheek, “you liked it? being in control?” he asked, voice going lower as he leaned in to kiss away the tears that threatened to drop from the corner of your eye.

sungchan leaned back slightly to appreciate your expression and string of whines that left your swollen lips. “you look better like this, princess— writhing and moaning under my mercy.” you whimpered at his words, walls clenching down on his throbbing cock.

”fuck. you like that too, huh?” he chuckles.

you cried out incoherently, nails scratching his arm as your hand slid down, leaving a bright red mark on his skin. sungchan hissed at the sensation, hips stuttering when you accidentally drew blood from how hard you were gripping on him. he let out a small whimper, brows furrowing as he focused on moving his hips.

”sungchan! slow down!” you cried, your upper body now hanging from the edge of the bed. sungchan licked his lip, wanting to know how hard he could push you.

you held him tightly, trembling underneath him as you came undone in no time, though that didn’t mean sungchan would slow down— he began to thrust even harder, his pace brutal and frantic. your walls clenched around his cock, still spasming as your orgasm builds up quickly.

”i’m so close, princess,” sungchan panted, his frown getting deeper as he pressed deeper inside. you felt so warm and inviting, wanting to fill you up with his cum as soon as possible. “fuck, fuck— you want it, baby? show me how much you want it.”

you whimpered, gripping on the sheets as your body tensed up once again. sungchan pressed his body against yours, moaning against your ear as he chased after his own orgasm. you gasped sharply, holding on him as you came at the same time, both of your bodies trembling sensitively.

sungchan murmured curses against your skin, rolling his hips as he rode out your highs. he plopped down on top of you, completely exhausted from the sudden burst of strength he just showcased.

”sungchan, i’m gonna fall,” you mumbled weakly, wrapping your arms around his neck desperately. he chuckled against your skin, nuzzling his face on your neck before pressing soft kisses.

”just a bit more. i don’t feel like moving,” he whispered, voice sounding hoarse. you frowned and began pinching his shoulder. sungchan laughs mischievously, finally propping himself up, bringing you along with him as he laid on his back.

you sighed softly, snuggling against his warmth.

”dummy.”

sungchan laughs, cooing at you as he massaged your waist gently. he let out a blissful sigh, burying his face in your hair before speaking, “can i finally tie your hands up?”

you raised your head, a small frown on your face when you looked at him. “you ruined the ribbon, though.” he grinned at you, shaking his head before shuffling out of the bed. sungchan came back to the bedroom with a paper bag in his hand. you tilted your head, wondering what other trick he has up his sleeve.

he took out another black box with a pretty ribbon on it, the only difference this time around was that it looked professionally done. you stared at the box, confusion apparent on your face. sungchan laughs, sitting beside you to peck your cheek.

”for you,” he whispered sweetly.

you cautiously unwrapped the box, glancing up at sungchan from time to time. you opened up the box, revealing a brand new handbag. your jaw dropped in surprise, not expecting to be spoiled like this.

sungchan had a smug smile on his face, pleased with your reaction, “what do you think? will you finally let me?” you blinked, staring up at him with round eyes.

”a new handbag? really? just to have my hands tied up?” he laughs at your bewilderment, shaking his head.

”i honestly had this prepared as a reward but now i have to use it to bargain.” you couldn’t help but laugh at the pout that appeared on his lips, kissing it away as you giggle.

”fine, but after this we’re even, okay?”

sungchan smiled, pressing a kiss on your lips as he picked up the ribbon that fell on your lap. “i promise, princess. i’ll even make sure you won’t be able to get out of it.”

[c-m-stuff]

Wedding Ring

Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

-Description: You and Spencer are married. When you forgot to put your wedding ring back on, Spencer panicked.

-Warnings: Fluffiness, angst

-Word count: 656

-Note: It's finally summer vacation! I hope you are all enjoying the sun and this little story. Have fun! You deserve it! Also, thank you so much for 100 followers! It means a lot to me and to celebrate it, I made a summer party! Join here. :)

-Credits: @radiant-reid

-Tag list: @reid-ingandweeping

Masterlist

Spencer's POV:

Fear was the first thing I felt when I came home to my wife, noticing she wasn't wearing our wedding ring. She always wears it, so why not now? Immediately my head was spinning with thousands of thoughts. Why isn't she wearing our wedding ring? Does she want to divorce? Did I do something wrong? Fell she out of love? How long is she feeling this way? Is there-

'Spence? Are you alright?' she pulled me out of my thoughts, or rather the chaos in my head, as I looked dumbfounded at her.

'Y-yeah.' I was quick in discarding my coat and satchel, walking towards the love of my life and giving her a quick pack on the lips, before disappearing into our shared bedroom.

I wasn't ready yet to confront her, wanting to clear everything out by myself first. Maybe I did do something that upset her? Or maybe she really fell out of love? This thought made me start to panic. I don't want to lose her. I can't lose her. A single tear, escaping my eye, as I heard a soft knock on the door.

'Spence? Can I come in?' It didn't take a profiler to hear the worry in her voice.

But yet, I couldn't answer. I was too busy keeping up with my own thoughts, it was like I couldn't do something else.

'I'm coming in.' and just like she said, she opened the door.

In the meanwhile, the panic and fear had set in so fiercely, that tears were now fully streaming down my cheeks. The moment (Y/N) saw me, she ran into my arms, hugging me tightly, while drawing circles on my back, in attempt to comfort me.

'Shhh, it's okay. Everything is okay now. You're safe, I'm here.'

I kept her in my arms for a few more minutes, before my tears finally lessened. I slowly pulled away, facing her worried figure. She took my hands in hers, rubbing them softly.

'What's wrong, love?'

I no longer was able to hold myself in. I needed to know. Knowing deeply that her answer could break down my whole world.

'Do you- do you want to divorce?' she looked at me with widen eyes, filled with disbelief and shock.

'Wh-what? No, no of course not! Why in the world would you think that?' relief flooded over my body, while releasing a sigh I didn't know I was holding.

'You're not wearing your wedding ring. You always wear your wedding ring.'

'No, no, honey. You completely misunderstood. When you went to see Ethan, I decided to do something I hadn't done in a while. Painting. I took the ring off because, knowing me, I can't paint without having my hands full of it. I just didn't want it to get dirty, and forgot putting it back on.' I began to relax more, hearing now the logical explanation, while feeling a little shame for getting to such a conclusion.

'It's right-' she disappeared out of the room for a moment, returning quickly back.

'here.' she continued, holding the ring and putting it back on.

'I'm sorry, I thought that. I just panicked because you never not wear it. I'm sorry.'

'It's alright, love. Don't worry about it. You just need to remember that I love you very much and that I am still happily married.' I felt her soft lips on mine, kissing me passionately. I kissed her back, both chuckling in the process.

'I love you. You are my whole world, you know that?'

'I do.' she smiled.

'As long as you know that you are my whole universe.'

_________________________

[buckets-and-trees]

Chosen, Part 7: Offering

Characters/Pairings: James Buchanan Barnes/Bucky x curvy Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 3.2k Summary: You have arrived at the altar, it is time for the offering, and you finally come face to face with James Buchanan Barnes.

SERIES Content Warnings: SOFT!DARK STORY, cult themes, explicit smut, dubious consent and enthusiastic consent, veiled truths, gaslighting, sleeping drugs

CHAPTER Content Warnings: cult elements - human offering for a ritual; light smut: intimate touching, teasing, breastplay, cum swapping/tasting, consent is mildly dubious; public nudity/on display for others; exhibitionism; herbal enhancement/explanation of herbal enhancement in the system

Notes: You might get some answers to some questions in this part... but I make no promises!

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↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

In your final approach to the altar, you notice someone standing behind it, shrouded in shadows.

As you reach the dais, he steps forward into the moonlight. Your breath catches in your throat as you take him in.

Standing tall and commanding attention, his powerful build is cloaked in flowing black robes that only enhance the sense of strength emanating from him. He’s the only one in black. His longer, dark hair frames a face that can only be described as painfully handsome, with chiseled cheekbones and a strong jawline, covered with rugged stubble. But it's his eyes that truly captivate you. Piercing blue orbs locked onto yours, sending an electric current through your body. With his intense gaze, he seems to see right through you, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable in his presence.

This is James Buchanan Barnes, the enigmatic founder you've heard so many whispers of and have so many questions about.

James' eyes never leave yours, but as you draw closer, you notice something glinting behind him in the moonlight. Just over his left shoulder, there’s a gleam of blue-ish black that pulls your focus for a brief instant, eyes departing from his, before going right back. He tilts his chin slightly, and you sense he’s interpreting your momentary distraction.

The stone altar, though simple, is intimidating by virtue of its purpose. It sits on a raised dais, bathed in moonlight. You start to see that the dais and altar are both adorned with intricate carvings and inlaid with what looks like moonstone. Candles flicker around its base, casting dancing light and shadows that intermingle with the glowing orbs Steve and others have brought with them.

Steve and Natasha guide you to stand at the foot of the dais before the altar, facing James. The circle of masked figures presses closer behind you, their soft humming growing in intensity, the air thick with anticipation.

James raises his hands, and silence falls over the gathering.

“Welcome,” he announces simply. His voice is deep and resonant, carrying easily through the clearing as he commands the attention of everyone assembled. His eyes sweep meaningfully over everyone, before they lock back on you, and the energy in your body surges again. You wonder if everyone else is so affected by his stare.

He’s nothing short of captivating.

"Step forward," he commands softly, eyes fixed only on you.

Steve and Natasha gently direct you to stand before the altar. Your legs feel timid as you ascend the few steps to the dais. As you draw closer, so does he, his robes trailing behind him. He looks down at you, his intense gaze never waver, and you can see his eyes more clearly - a swirling mix of blue and gray that seems to shift in the moonlight.

"Do you understand why you are here?"

You give a single, slow nod, not ready to test your voice in this moment.

"You have been brought here by my envoys to participate in an ancient ritual," he continues.

“Envoys,” he says, briefly looking past you to Steve and Natasha, “you may present this human oblation.”

Natasha and Steve swiftly ascend the steps behind you, coming to stand on either side of you once more.

“We bring this soul as an offering for the ritual,” Steve says, loud enough for everyone in the clearing to hear, “an offering to celebrate your power and glory, an offering to further your noble pursuit to reclaim your destiny.”

The two then move with practiced grace, their hands reaching for the ties of your cloak, and together they loosen it.

“She has been chosen and prepared with diligent care,” Natasha speaks, “and we, the appointed envoys among your devotees, present her not only as an offering for the traditional ritual of this full moon, but believe her a worthy oblation for the rites of elim, at your discretion.”

As they speak, a knot forms in your stomach, tightening with each word, your trepidation flaring back up.

In a swift motion, they pull the cloak away from your shoulders, leaving you exposed and vulnerable.

But now in only the delicate chemise, it’s not the rest of the crowd assembled that you worry about seeing you like this, only him.

Your heart pounds in your chest as his eyes roam over you, especially knowing there's nothing underneath the midnight blue silk and lace, and the slits feel dangerously higher than they did before. His gaze lingers over the curves of your body, and you swear a small smile plays at the corner of his lips.

“What say those assembled? Could she be elim?”

That word again - elim.

Behind you there are murmurs of assent.

“Then place your oblation on the altar,” he says.

Your envoys step closer. Natasha leans in close and lightly touches your elbow. “Step out of your sandals,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

Steve extends his hand to help you onto the immaculate surface of the table. The surface is smooth and cool to the touch. It’s a masterpiece of craftsmanship, with intricate designs of gold and moonstone adorning its surface. It gleams in the bright light of the full moon, and you feel a sense of awe wash over you as you climb up onto its surface. Instinctively, you sense that should kneel and sit back on your heels. You fold your hands softly in your lap, then lift your gaze once again to the founder.

“Are there eleven among you who will seal their witness on her behalf?”

Your pulse races.

What does that mean?

Why eleven?

And what does it entail?

But grace and confidence, Natasha steps forward and says, “I present this offering and seal my witness for her ascent to elim.” Tenderly, she places a finger below your chin and gently turns your head towards hers. Her warm lips press against your right cheek in a soft, lingering kiss. The moment feels sacred and powerful, as if the entire world has stopped to bear witness to this act. You can feel the weight of her act, solidifying your journey down this unknown path.

Steve moves to your other side as Natasha steps back. Steve takes a deep breath and says, “I, too, present this offering and seal my witness for her ascent to elim,” before turning your head and leaning in to press a his kiss to your left cheek. His lips feel slightly chapped against your skin, and you can smell the mint of his breath as he pulls away.

Then others step forward, one by one, alternating between the right or left cheek - right for the women, left for the men, but their words are slightly different, each of them saying, “I affirm the offering and seal my witness for her ascent to elim.”

Yelena, Thor, Sam, Bruce, Wanda, Scott… These are all people you met at some point through this process.

Their witnessing vows happen steadily, without pause, but you can’t stave off the next worry that enters your mind…

What if eleven people don’t seal their witness?

As the witnessing continues, you find yourself overwhelmed by the sensations and emotions coursing through you. Each kiss, though chaste, feels intensely intimate in this charged atmosphere. The warmth of their lips against your skin, the softness of some and the roughness of others, touches on your arm or shoulder or back as they seal their witness, the subtle scents of each person as they lean in close - it all blends together in a heady mix that leaves you dizzy.

The one thing you grasp onto is counting the witnesses, and after the eleventh, you hold your breath, and look back to James.

During the witnessing, you realize, Steve and Natasha have taken up positions at James' sides. Steve stands to his right, his posture straight and proud, while Natasha flanks his left, her stance graceful yet alert. They form a striking trio, their energy palpable even from where you kneel on the altar. The moonlight and the orbs cast an ethereal glow around the trio, making them appear almost otherworldly.

The clearing has fallen into an expectant hush, the only sounds the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze.

James steps forward, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity of his gaze is relentless, and you feel heat rise up your neck. He reaches out, his hand hovering just above your cheek where the last witness sealed their kiss. You can feel the warmth radiating from his palm.

"The witnesses have spoken," he speaks, his voice low and resonant. "You have been deemed worthy of the rites of elim."

Your breath catches in your throat as his hand finally makes contact with your skin. His touch is electric, sending sparks coursing through your body. You lean into it instinctively, craving more of that intoxicating connection.

"Do you accept this honor?" he asks, his thumb tracing your cheekbone.

You swallow hard, your voice barely above a whisper as you reply, "Yes."

A small smile plays at the corners of his lips. "Then let us truly begin."

He draws away from you and begins to circle the altar, and begins to speak, louder for everyone assembled to hear every word. “You kneel on this alter, chosen and prepared, deemed worthy by eleven witnesses of my devotees.”

His voice is rich and warm and alluring. There are echoes of thoughts you think you should be having, wondering what you’ve gotten yourself into, whether or not you’ll be safe - or alive - come sunrise, what the ritual will entail - but they’re all so muted and fleeting, unable to compete with his oratory prowess.

“But now it is now mine to determine whether you are to be elim or only an offering. Regardless of my judgement, the ritual demands your body as a willing sacrifice to me in the light of the full moon. As an offering I will consume energy from your pleasure and then send you away with no memory of this night; but if I deem you to be worthy to the elevation of elim, you will be bound to me for eternity.”

He’s circled you twice while he spoke, and stands in front of you now.

“Are you ready?”

He’s larger than most men, his stature tall, shoulders broad, chest colossal, and arms and what you can see of his legs thick with corded muscle. He would be dangerous given his mere physical presence, but coupled with his enigmatic charisma, and the power radiating off him? Impossible, unthinkable to resist.

And a growing part of you does not want to.

You nod.

He leans forward, placing his palms on the altar, coming closer to you. “Spread your legs for me,” he commands.

You bite your lip, but slowly, you obey.

As you part your knees, the chemise slides up your thighs, revealing more of your soft skin to James' intense gaze. His eyes flicker down, taking in the sight of you, before locking back onto your face. A small, pleased smile plays at his lips.

"Good," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that shoots heat through your veins.

Without breaking eye contact, James reaches out and trails his fingers along the inside of your thigh. His touch is feather-light, barely there, but it leaves a trail of fire in its wake. You can't help the small gasp that escapes your lips.

"Sensitive," he observes, his smile widening slightly. "That's very good."

His hand continues its journey upward, pushing the chemise higher as he goes. When he reaches the apex of your thighs, he pauses, his fingers caressing the crease at the juncture of your hip, but not going to the spot where you’re aching to be touched, and you whimper.

He chuckles. “Not yet.”

James' fingers continue to tease along your inner thighs, never reaching where you desperately want him to. The anticipation builds with each caress, and your body starts to tremble. You struggle to keep still, your breath coming in short gasps.

"Patience," he murmurs, his voice low and hypnotic. "We have a little time yet before the full moon reaches its apex."

He leans in closer, his lips barely brushing your ear as he speaks, and these words are only for you. "Tell me, do you want this? Do you want me?"

The heat of his breath against your skin makes you weak. You can only manage a breathy "Yes" in response.

James pulls back slightly, his piercing gaze locking with yours once more. There's a hunger in his eyes that makes your heart race. Slowly, deliberately, he brings his hand up to cup your face, his thumb tracing your bottom lip.

“Put your hand between your legs and show us all what’s there. I can smell it,” he assures you, “but I want everyone to see how ripe you are with desire - especially you.”

Your pulse quickens at his instruction. Though part of you feels exposed and vulnerable, another part thrills at the idea of obeying him, of showing him just how affected you are. With trembling fingers, you reach down between your legs.

The moment your fingers make contact with your slick folds, a soft moan escapes your lips. You're wetter than you realized, your arousal coating your fingers as you part your labia. The cool night air hits your exposed flesh, making you shiver.

James' eyes darken as he watches you, his gaze intense and hungry. "That's it," he murmurs approvingly. "Show me how ready you are."

With trembling fingers, you raise your hand, presenting it to him. The assembled crowd murmurs in appreciation, but you barely notice them. Your focus is entirely on James, on the way his eyes devour you. He catches your wrist gently but firmly, bringing your fingers to his lips. His tongue darts out, tasting your essence, and a jolt of electricity courses through you.

"Exquisite," he murmurs, releasing your wrist. “Now taste yourself.”

Your heart races as you bring your fingers to your lips, hesitating for just a moment before parting them. The scent of your own arousal fills your nostrils, musky and sweet. Slowly, you extend your tongue, tasting yourself. The flavor blooms across your taste buds - tangy, slightly salty, with an underlying sweetness that surprises you. You close your eyes, savoring the sensation as you suck your fingers clean.

“Have you tasted yourself before?” he asks, and you give a small nod. “But tonight your nectar tastes different, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Your system has taken well to the essence of the Luna’s Tears,” he explains, tracing one of the blooms in your flower crown. “It was in your water at lunch, in your tea, in the oils of your bath.”

Your jaw drops slightly, a rush of thoughts barraging your mind at this revelation.

“It soothes and primes those offered up for the ritual. But your body has become attuned to it in a potency we’ve never seen before. I’ve smelled it in the pheromones of others, but never in the slick dripping from a cunt.”

James's eyes burn with intensity as he continues, his voice low and husky. "Your body craves it now. Craves me. The Luna's Tears have awakened something primal within you."

You feel a rush of heat course through your body at his words. Part of you wants to deny it, to resist this pull, but you can't. Your body is humming with need, every nerve ending alive and tingling.

"Now, let's see just how responsive you've become," he says, his voice low and commanding.

James' hand descends to your chest. His touch is feather-light at first, tracing the delicate curve of your collarbone. Then, with agonizing slowness, he trails his fingers down to the swell of your breasts. The thin silk of your chemise does little to dull the sensation of his calloused fingertips against your soft skin.

James' hand cups the gentle curve of your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple through the thin fabric. The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through you, and you can't help but arch into his touch, seeking more.

"So responsive," he murmurs approvingly. "Let's see how you react to this."

With a swift motion, he pulls down the top of your chemise, exposing your breasts to the cool night air. Your nipples harden instantly, and you shiver, from the chill, from knowing you’re exposed for many in the clearing to see, but most of all from the intensity of James' gaze.

He leans in, his breath hot against your skin, and takes one nipple into his mouth. The warmth of his tongue contrasts sharply with the cool air, and you gasp at the sensation. His teeth graze lightly over the sensitive bud, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your body.

Suddenly James retreats, and you can't help but feel a mix of relief and disappointment. He steps back, his eyes still locked on yours, and begins to slowly undo the fastenings of his robe. Your breath catches as more of his sculpted chest is revealed with each movement.

“True and noble followers,” he says, tone loud and resonant, “my judgement aligns with those who bore witness, and she will be elevated to elim.”

The few dozen around you begin to hum and murmur again, the words of a song in an ancient tongue.

You bite your lip, and he inclines his head, scrutinizing you.

“A question burns in your mind,” he assesses. “Ask it.”

You wonder if he can he read your mind by some supernatural power, or if has he learned to read you already. You put all your effort into keeping your voice even as the the words, “What is elim?” fall from your mouth.

"Oh, sweet girl," James says, his voice a low, rich timbre that sends a shiver down your spine. "Elim is a sacred bond, an eternal connection between myself and a chosen few. It's a destiny reserved for those who prove themselves worthy, those whose essence resonates with mine in a way that transcends the physical realm."

As he speaks, the others continue their song, and he continues to disrobe, revealing more of his chiseled physique. Your eyes are drawn to the play of muscles under his skin, the way the moonlight casts shadows across his broad chest and defined abdomen.

"Through this ritual, you will become more than just an offering," he continues. "You will be transformed, elevated to a higher state of being. Your body, your mind, your very soul will be attuned to me in ways you cannot yet comprehend."

The robe falls away completely now, pooling at his feet. He stands for another moment, the song of his followers crescendoing, and when they reach the climax of the refrain, he claps his hands together, there’s a streak of lightning across the sky, and the blue light of the orbs extinguishes completely. A hush falls over the clearing, now bathed only in the bright moonlight and the scattered groups of candles around the dais.

“It is time,” he proclaims, extending his arms wide, and your heart truly stops as he finally reveals himself.

NEXT PART: BINDING

MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

I mean... oh, sorry to leave you hanging there!

Thoughts? Threats? Theories?

SEE YOU THURSDAY! go to the chapter

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[tune-on-in-folks]

Day 10! This prompt is CNC/Dub-Con/Non-con, so sensitive topic. Vox doesn't explicitly ask for Reader's permission.

I struggled with this prompt, but hey I did write something!

Tags/Warnings: CNC, dub-con, non-con, top Vox, desk sex, fingering, p in v sex, fem!reader Word Count: 2,060

There was a long list of reasons why Vox could be upset. From Alastor to Valentino, to something not going as planned. You were used to Vox’s volatile moods, watching him swing from one to the next. He could go from berating the incompetence of a lowly worker, threatening them with being Valentino’s target practice, one minute; To charming the public with his suave personality and handsome smile, in the next. It was enough to give you whiplash.

Luckily for you, you had never been on the receiving end of his frustrations. You were careful, almost to an anxious degree. You ensured that everything you presented Vox with was top notch, not a word mistyped, or a single smudge of ink. In turn you never got yelled at or talked down to. Which was nice…You adored your boss, admired him. Wanted to stay on his good side, and the occasional wet dream of him was something you ignored. After all, it was Vox, who hadn’t fantasized about him?

Unfortunately today, you were a mess, distracted and bumbling. Everything seemed to be going wrong, but that was okay, you could handle it with grace. What you couldn't handle was the fact that your incompetence was directly affecting your boss. Enough so, that he personally came to your office to demand an explanation.

The door opened, catching your attention as you tried to get your computer to stop freaking out.

“One moment!” You call, muttering curses under your breath about the incompetence of your VoxTek issued laptop.

You hadn't realized that it was your boss who had entered, or you would have dropped your task immediately. And you certainly would not have been cursing out the computer he had designed.

“Stupid piece of shit!” You curse loudly, slamming the laptop shut.

This brought you face to face with Vox who quirked an unamused eyebrow at your outburst. You felt the blood drain from your face.

“Oh. Um, S-sir! What can I help you with?” You stammer, aware of how unprofessional your display was.

He held up the report you had sent up an hour ago. “What is this crap?” He asks, sounding exasperated.

You blink, your heart dropping at the sight of it. “I..ah, well it's my latest report.”

“Uh-huh.” He prompts, “and it's utter crap. So you should?”

You swallow. “Rewrite it, I know.”

You opened your laptop back up, pressing the power button. Only for it not to power on. You held the button down again, a groan of frustration slipping from you.

“And I would, if my computer didn't just fucking die on me.” You sigh, gently closing it as you meet Vox's gaze again. “I'm sorry, Sir.”

He clicks his tongue, entering into your office further, slamming the report down on your desk. “Unfortunately, sorry isn't going to cut it, Dollface. Your report was lackluster, forcing me to improvise in a very important meeting.”

You swallow nervously, anxiety blooming in your chest. You open your mouth to apologize again, but Vox quickly grabs hold of your chin, closing your mouth.

“You’re going to make this up to me, got it? And if I hear another “I’m sorry” from you, I'll make sure that your mouth is put to better use.”

You swallow hard, blush settling on your face at his words. You could only imagine what he had meant with his threat. 

“I-I'm sorry?” You ask, wanting clarification, not for one second interpreting that the words were also another apology. 

At the quirk of his eyebrow you realize what you'd said, “Shit! I mean- fuck! Clarify?”

He chuckles darkly, standing up to his full towering height. Vox comes around your desk, pulling you up from your chair.

“I mean…that I will fuck that pretty little mouth of yours if you apologize one more time.”

Your face flushed with even more heat, you had thought that was what he meant, but to hear him actually say it? A slight amount of panic ran through you, tinged with a warmth that settled in your core. “I uh…didn't mean to say it again.”

“I'm sure you didn't.” Vox muses, a wicked glint in his eyes. “But you still need to pay for your report… and a new computer.”

“A new computer?” You echo softly, brows furrowed in confusion.

You watch as Vox turns to your desk, sweeping everything off, including your laptop.

“Vox!” You yell in surprise, gasping as he grabs your hand.

He pulls you to him, bending you over your desk and pulling up your skirt. Your eyes widen with panic as you try to sit up, only for him to press you back down. His hand trails up the back of your thigh to your panties, the sensation causing you to shiver.

“Lucky for you, I’ll let that last apology slide.” He says softly, his fingers hooking in the waistband of your panties.

“S-sir?” You ask hesitantly, trepidation in your voice, mixing with arousal. “What are you doing?”

Vox presses his chest against your back, sliding your panties down your legs. “I’m collecting my dues. Now, say my name again, doll. I want to hear you say it.”

You take a deep breath, your voice wavering. “V-Vox.” 

Why were you following his commands? He hadn’t asked your permission one bit, taking advantage of you.

“Atta girl.” He chuckles, his fingers finding your clit.

You gasp at the contact, a moan spilling from your lips as he rubs tight circles into the sensitive nub. You weren't doing anything to stop him, you wondered if you wanted to stop him. You bite your bottom lip, hands coming to grasp the edge of the desk as he slipped two fingers inside your sopping cunt. You cried out at the sensation, your eyes fluttering as he began to finger you. You knew if you wanted to stop him you would have, and you truly didn’t want him to stop. Your body betrayed your arousal, showing Vox just how much you wanted him to keep going.

“So wet for me.” His voice is full of lust and desire. “you know it's taken everything in me to wait to fuck you? Unfortunately, I can't wait anymore, babydoll.”

You whine, rolling your hips back against his fingers “W-what?” You ask, confusion biting through your arousal.

You never thought any of your fantasies about Vox would come to light. Yet here you were, pressed against your own desk, getting fingered by him. You couldn’t find it in yourself to ask him to stop, to point out that he was your boss. That he shouldn’t be doing this.

He speeds up his pace, the wet sounds of your cunt filling the air. “I've seen the way you look at me, doll. And I won't deny that I've thought about it. Thought about you.”

Your walls clench around his fingers, your eyes shutting tight. You hear the clinking of his belt behind him, the unzipping of his pants. You moan softly, trying to keep quiet. He was really going to fuck you, you realize. The thought sends a thrill through you, the idea of him fucking you just made you more aroused.

“Vox.” You moan, breath coming in short gasps.

“That’s right babydoll, say my name. I love when you say my name, it makes me so hard.” He murmurs, his voice right in your ear.

“F-fuck!” You gasp, not having expected those words to turn you on as much as they did.

“Let go for me doll, cum for me.”

You whine at his words, your release sneaking up on you. You moan loudly, cumming around his fingers. When your walls stopped twitching, he pulled his fingers from you. You were left feeling empty, wanting.

“Please.” You whimper, feeling his cock-head pressing against your entrance a moment later.

Vox hums, his hands grasping your hips as he runs his cock through your slick, “Please?” He asks, “Please what?”

“Fuck…” You whine, glancing over your shoulder at him. “Please-”

He thrust forward, his cock sliding half-way inside you, your own moans cutting you off from whatever you were going to say. He watches you as he begins to press the rest of his cock inside you. You whimper, your body trying to pull away from him with how deep he pressed inside you. He felt big, impossibly big.

“Too much.” You gasp, trying and failing to pull away from him. “Vox, you’re too big!”

He chuckles darkly, “Oh darling, I’m perfectly proportioned.”

He thrust forward again, his cock-head pressing against your cervix, causing you to cry out.

“And you will take all of me.” He whispers, pressing further in until you feel like you can’t take anything more.

Vox groans, his face pressing against your shoulder as he bottoms out. He begins to pull from your weeping cunt slowly, until just the head of his cock was inside you. Vox thrust forward, snapping his hips back into you. You gasp, the pain from his thrust blooming into pleasure. He felt too big and not big enough all at once. Everytime he pulled from your cunt you missed the feeling of him being buried inside you. But when he was inside you, it felt like too much. Vox shifted slightly, angling his cock deeper as he began to pick up his pace. Your office was filled with the obscene noises of him fucking you, hard and fast. You were faintly aware that anyone passing by would be able to hear.

“Vox!” You moan, his hips slapping against your bare ass. “Oh, fuck…”

One of his hands moves from your hip, slipping down to rub at your clit. “Fuck you feel sinful, so tight and perfect, like this cunt was made for me.” He mutters. 

Your body shuddered with the pure pleasure you were feeling. Every sharp snap of his hips planted seeds of pain that quickly bloomed into pure pleasure. His finger rubbing small, fast circles around your clit had your walls squeezing his cock in a vice-like grip. You were so close to your release, it was almost painful.

“Fucck!” Vox gasped, his voice glitching as he pressed into you, past your fluttering muscles. “Cum for me, babydoll, let me feel you cum around my cock.”

You moan, a second release crashing over your body for him. It was like your body was his at this point, following his every command without hesitation. Vox’s pace faltered, his breaths coming heavier.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum inside your tight little pussy, fill you up.” He growled, “Make you mine.”

You couldn’t do much else but whimper, your body on fire with how sensitive you were. Vox managed only a few more thrusts before slamming his cock as deep as he could go, his seed filling you. You moaned lowly, the sensation of your boss cumming inside you, sending you tumbling into a final release. Your walls squeezed around his cock, milking him for every drop he had to give you.

“Fuck, babydoll.” Vox gasped, slowly pulling his cock from you.

He chuckled at you whining at the loss of him, admiring how his seed leaked from your cunt, the sight made his cock twitch again. You tried to press yourself up onto your arms, but they quickly gave out from beneath you. Vox leaned forward, reaching for your panties that hung loosely around your knees. He pulled them up, patting your cunt through them, making you gasp and moan at the sensation. He pulled your skirt back down, covering your ass, before he helped you up off your desk. He turned you to face him, holding you in his arms, his softening cock pressing against your stomach.

“I’ll ensure you have a new laptop sent to your office tomorrow.” He says softly, making sure you could stand on your own before tucking himself away.

You nod, slightly dazed. “R-Right. I’ll rewrite that report tomorrow then.”

Vox heads to the door, pausing before leaving, “Don’t bother. Just ensure the next is better. Oh and y/n?”

You glance up, surprised he had used your name. “Yes, sir?”

“I’ll see you tonight, I’m not done with you yet. And use my name, you deserve to after taking my cock so well.”

You flush in embarrassment, watching Vox leave your office with a promise that you knew he intended to keep.

[lokischocolatefountain]

Separation

Series Masterlist

Fandom: Narcos

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Rating: 18+ (*slaps the roof of this fic* This bad boy can fit so much smut, angst and fluff in it)

Word count: 8.4k words wtf

Summary: The last time Javier Peña saw his wife was almost three weeks ago in Steve Murphy’s apartment. He’d finally done it. He’d fucked up the only good thing in his life, driven her away with his neglect.

A/N: Why is it that whenever I write Javi, there’s angst? What is it about this beautiful pathetic man with big brown eyes (and big strong arms) that makes me want to hurt and comfort him? Also, if any of you want to be tagged the next time I post Javi (or just husband Javi) lmk and I’ll make a tag list.

The last time Javier Peña saw his wife was in Steve Murphy’s apartment, holding a sleeping baby Olivia Murphy on her lap as she consoled an anxious Connie Murphy. That night, he’d finally brought his partner home to his wife and child. Relieved, he went home only to find a note from his wife by his bedside informing him that she would be staying with a friend for a while. No explanations, no phone calls. Just a note.

That was almost three weeks ago.

Her side of the bed stayed untouched. Her bedside table was unusually empty without her novel of the week on it. When he reached out for her in his sleep, his heart craving the familiar comfort of her touch, he found it cold and empty. He’d wake up with a start, unaccustomed to an empty bed even though he’d spent all his bachelor life before her sleeping by himself. It was as though married life had been a cruel fantasy he was awoken from to be forced back into the reality of his lonely existence.

No matter how many times he longed to call her friend’s landline, he couldn’t bring himself to dial the number. She’d been by his side ever since he asked her to move in with him. Undying loyalty, a shoulder to lean on, a body to hold when he awoke from nightmares. She deserved a break from him.

The refrigerator sometimes had boxes of meals for him, his whiskey glass was chilled, her laundry done and dried for him to fold up. Dishes left in the sink for him to wash. He had a wife and she did come by the apartment but never when he was there too. She’d been like a ghost, slipping in and out and probably through walls without his notice.

Their anniversary came and went. Still no sign of her.

It wasn’t their wedding anniversary. It was the anniversary of their first date. That was not something they celebrated like they did their wedding anniversary but her absence made him remember and it fucking stung.

He’d finally done it. He’d fucked up the only good thing in his life, driven her away with his neglect. She gave him everything and asked for nothing. Not even the bare minimum. Her parents had begged her for a proper wedding and he couldn’t even give her that. She married him at the embassy and went home alone in the short white dress she bought herself from a regular store as he went off on some fucking raid that ended up failing anyway. She watched as her friends had weddings and baby showers and children while he kept her stuck in the same place in life.

And she was finally gone. After putting up with everything, she’d slowly disappeared from his life without him even noticing it.

Javi found himself outside her classroom. He’d walked into the English Literature department, opened her drawer and checked her schedule, ignoring the questioning staff with the same practiced authority he had as DEA agent.

For the first time, he took in the force that was Professor Peña in action. He knew she was a fucking genius. But to see her command the classroom’s attention was something else.

On one of their first nights together, he’d put his head on her lap and closed his eyes as she played with her hair and asked her unashamedly to read her book out loud to him. He had a reputation of being an asshole, of sleeping around a lot. There was an image of him being a callus man who hopped from one bed to the next. It couldn’t be further from the truth. He gave bits and pieces of his heart to every woman he slept with, he asked personal questions, kissed foreheads and comforted them over their troubles. He lied on the lap of the woman he would one day marry and asked her to read him a bedtime story of how Anna Karenina fell out of love with Alexei and in love with Vronsky. Javier may have been an asshole in others’ eyes, but on her lap, he was the man who kept his parents’ easy intimacy in the back of his head as he looked up at her and wondered if he could have something like that with her.

As she engaged the classroom in a discussion about Frankenstein’s creation, he witnessed everyone around him fall for her just as he did. He watched as she pulled them into discussions and got them involved in passionate debates amongst themselves about the nature of the creature. She was the perfect leader, knowing just how to steer the large group, get the stubborn young people to question their world views and lead them to answers to questions they didn’t even know they had.

She was a wonder.

If this was all he could have of her, he would take it. If she wouldn’t come home to him anymore, he would show up to her classes and sit in the back seat just to hear her voice and see her eyes twinkle with passion.

She didn’t notice him, her attention reserved for the students who asked questions and argued their points passionately. He had to wait until they’d all submitted their papers to her and had a little conversation to continue their discussions. He’d never seen students so reluctant to leave a classroom. He couldn’t blame them; he didn’t want to leave either. Only when most of her class had shuffled out did he have the courage to approach her desk.

He stood there, making no sounds, just fidgeting with his right hand as he tried to find the courage in him to speak to the professor who was counting the number of essays that had been submitted to her.

“Sorry, I have to get home now. Office hours are before class on Monday,” she said, not even looking up at him.

“Sure, if that’s the only way I’ll get to see you.”

She stilled mid-count, letting go of the papers as she looked up at him. She opened and closed her mouth, as though swallowing everything she thought to say.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, finally.

He shrugged and managed a half-smile. “Had to catch you somehow.”

When she said nothing, he continued, “Where do you go when you tell your students you’re going home? Because you don’t come to ours.”

He carried her papers, her handbag and her lunch bag to the jeep. As though he had to confiscate all her belongings to make sure she’d actually come home with him. As though he was afraid she’d slip through his fingers like the sicarios he chased.

Her hand didn’t cross the physical space between them. Her head rested against the glass of the window and her eyes were closed. She didn’t reach over to switch the radio on, didn’t ask him about his day, didn’t reach over to pinch his cheek or steal his aviators.

“Talk to me,” he said, his voice shaking as he realized he didn’t want to hear whatever it was she had to say. He wasn’t prepared for the harsh truths. All he wanted was to take her to bed and kiss her all over and hold her tight so that she would never leave. He wanted to cry like a little boy begging his dad to not leave for work because he would miss him too much during the day. He wanted to overwhelm her with his love, manipulate her mind into taking him back though he couldn’t admit to himself that at some point she apparently stopped wanting to keep him.

His hand was on her knee as he sat at her feet and looked up at her face expectantly for her to speak. It wouldn’t have taken him more than a second to get on his knees. He was no religious man. That stopped the day he buried his Ma. But he would get on his knees again and pray to her to stay, to be his benevolent goddess and forgive his sins for the nth time.

“I don’t know what I did, I really don’t,” his voice cracked as he confessed. “But it must’ve been something terrible for you to stop coming home.” It shamed him to discover that he had become the man he promised himself he would never be. One of those inattentive men who’d grown so comfortable in the kindnesses of their wife that they’re shocked when she decides she has had enough. Neglect killed love. And he had been neglecting her, leaving her alone most days and most nights as he traveled back and forth between Bogotá and Medellin.

She stared at him, her expressions indiscernible. She accepted his hands when he placed them on hers, the small action giving him hopes. “Whatever it is, I’ll fix it,” he begged, holding on tight. He needed her to believe him.

She shook her head and looked down at her lap. “It’s not— you didn’t do anything wrong.”

After relief came surprise. He hadn’t done something wrong this time? The relief was quickly replaced by worry. If he was the cause of her running away from him, he could handle that. He could change himself, fix whatever within was wrong to make her come home again. But it was something else, someone else…

“What is it, then?” He asked, cupping her cheek and gently directing her to look at him instead of her lap or the walls. “Is it work? Are your parents doing well back home?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing.”

He inhaled and rubbed his eyes. “It can’t be nothing. You left me. You packed up your bags and left. I think I deserve an explanation.”

She let out a sigh. “I’ll come back then.”

His hand curled into a fist and his jaw clenched. So that was it? All he had to do was ask? Her easy compliance made him want to throw something at the wall.

He got off the ground where he was knelt at her feet and began pacing across the room.

He expected some resistance when he barged into her workplace uninvited and demanded that she come with him. He expected— no, hoped for a fight for it would give him answers for her sudden disappearance. But she just walked with him to the parking lot, no questions asked. And now she just agreed to move back in. All because he demanded answers.

“Fucking tell me!” He yelled, his hand fidgeting at his side.

“I don’t want to fight,” she said, her voice too calm for the gravity of the situation. Like this didn’t fucking matter.

Oh, you don’t wanna fight? You don’t wanna fucking fight? You fucking ran off and you don’t want to—

“I don’t either, but you’re making it very hard to not do that.”

He heard her take in a deep breath before he heard the unmistakable whispers of sniffling. Great. Fucking amazing. Now, he’d gone and made her cry.

Her sounds of despair were enough for his rage to evaporate off him. He rushed back to her side and pulled her to his chest, forcing comfort upon her in the hope that it would serve as a salve to whatever wounds he’d ripped open. To his relief, she didn’t push him away. But she didn’t pull him close like she always did when he embraced her. Things had changed and he hadn’t even noticed it happening. All he could do now was hope that whatever this rift was between them, he could patch it back together.

—————————

Even in the blistering heat of Bogotá, Javier chose to keep his wife pressed to his chest when he slept. She was disgusted by their sweat combining and their clothes sticking to their bodies, but she indulged his need for closeness. She knew he loved with his body and she accepted his love, in all its sweaty sticky mess.

So he had no choice but to interpret the chasm between them on their marital bed as her rejection of his love.

As soon as he brought her back home, he had to leave for Medellin. Any hopes for setting things right had been crushed when he had to leave from work straight to the other city. He’d called home before he left, informing he would be gone for a long time once again. She didn’t say much, just hemmed and hawed before asking him to be safe out there. No exaggerated smooching sounds to make him laugh, no promises of what would be awaiting him when he came back home to her, no I love you before she said goodbye.

Over ten days after the call, he was back but without any of the feelings of satisfaction he usually had when coming home to her. Instead, there was just dread. She met him at the door as usual and wrapped her arms around him, but she separated without a kiss. The cracks in the foundations of their marriage ran deeper than he’d feared.

“Hey,” he whispered awkwardly when she finally opened her eyes. She stilled, her head jerking up as though surprised he was there.

“Hey,” she replied, her voice groggy from sleep as she shuffled under her blanket.

“I missed you so much, mi amor…” he said carefully, afraid that anything he might say would snap the last thread that held them together. His hand slowly crept into the space between them, an offering to share the littlest bit of marital comforts.

“Missed you too, Javi,” she conceded, not taking his hand but settling for playing with his fingers. He allowed her to lead, giving what little contact she took from him and taking back only as much, afraid to cross any lines.

Her nails were uncharacteristically unkempt. The woman he knew did not tolerate chipped nail polish, wiping all her nails with acetone when the paint began chipping off. Almost all her nails except her pinky had chipped paint now. Her thumbnail was bare.

“May I paint your nails?” He asked, hopeful. She nodded and he left their bed in search of the box in which she kept all her manicure tools and paints.

When they sat together on bed as he took the pink off her nails, they were closer. He handled her hands with care, refusing to scrub too harshly even when the pieces of glitter clung to her as stubbornly as he did. Manicures were something she got done from salons, but she painted her own nails just as often. She said it calmed her.

He then brought the glass file to her nails, reducing them to a shorter oval shape the way she liked them. Any longer and she found it hard to use her typewriter. He made sure to file the edges in the same direction, recalling that she’d told him filing in opposite directions was not good for nail health. He repositioned her hand in his, turning it left and right as he evaluated his work. Satisfied with the shape, he brought his lips to the finger, his eyes remaining on hers the entire time to check for any signs of rejection. He pressed little kisses from her fingertip to her wrist, relishing in the shy smiles she rewarded him with.

He repeated his work with the other nails and then used the little wooden stick she had to push her cuticles back in preparation for the paint. The shower would wash it off soon, but he still slathered some moisturizer on her hands, using it as an excuse to massage her hands. He pushed the excess cream beyond her wrists and up her arms.

He kissed the back of her hand and looked up at her, her eyes clouded with sleep and something else, her plush lips parting as his own traveled up her arm. “You feel so good, baby, so soft,” he praised, making her shudder. When he reached the sleeve of his t-shirt that she liked wearing to bed, he pulled it down, exposing her shoulder. As he neared her neck, she cradled his head in her hand, guiding him by his hair to place kisses where she wanted them. His lips went willingly, loving her up in every spot she took him to. She was all sweat, citrus shampoo and the jasmine of the lotion he’d rubbed on her. He breathed her in, her scent being his choice of drug.

She pulled him back from her neck, gazing at his lips before closing her eyes and leaning forward. He brushed the tip of his nose against hers, making her giggle. He smiled before leaning in again but kissing her chin.

“Javi,” she whined as he kissed along her jaw and the corners of her lips and even her nose, refusing to press his lips to hers.

“Yeah, baby?” He asked, feigning innocence. But she knew him too well to believe the act.

“Jodón.”

“Tell me what you want.” He demanded, craving the feeling of being wanted. He needed to know that she needed him just like he needed her, that she wasn’t just capitulating to his desires, that she desired him.

“Kiss me.”

He found himself grinning as he took her face in his hands and tilted his head, unhurried in how he grazed her lips with his. She took initiative, pressing her lips to his. She consumed him, not like a starving woman but like one ready to savor each second of her meal. He let one hand wander down her back, caressing her through the thin fabric but not daring to slip it under her t-shirt. He needed her to take this at her pace, unaffected by his greed and desperation to have all of her. It was fantastic how just a kiss from her could make him feel his heart beating for her.

He’d kissed other women before her and he enjoyed all those times. But with her, it was different. It wasn’t the first step in fucking, wasn’t a means to an end. When he kissed her, he wasn’t a lonely man trying to imitate a deeper intimacy he’d never had merely to quell his yearning for connection. In her lips, he found not just the thrill of desire, but the safety of home.

The first time he kissed her, every other kiss ceased to exist and she’d become the only one. Everyone he kissed after that first kiss left him unsatisfied. None of them tasted like her, didn’t send jolts of electricity through him, didn’t make his heart leap out of his chest.

She mewled into the kiss as his tongue danced with hers, giving in to her exploration of his mouth as she pulled him closer to herself. Taking her sounds as encouragement, he tangled his hands into her hair. He poured a month’s worth of longing into the kiss, asking with each sigh and moan ‘Can you feel how I yearn for you? Can you not feel how you broke me when you left and put me back together with just this kiss?’

She pulled back first and he found himself panting, taking in the air he didn’t know he was depriving himself of. He pounced back, needing her more than he needed oxygen. He took her lips between his, pushing her head into the headboard as he pulled her into a heated kiss. One hand roamed his shoulder and then his arms, up and down and driving him mad as the other rested over his heart. He brought a hand to hers, trapping hers over his heart. He felt lightheaded as she staved him of air, but he happily drowned in her. He needed her to feel him, feel how his heart beat to her tune, how it missed having her head rest on it as they slept in each other’s arms.

“Please, Javi. Need you…” she broke off to whisper. He placed one last kiss to her lips before he slid down the bed, pulling her to the edge before pulling her shorts off her. He dove in and licked her through her panties, savoring the taste of her wetness on the cotton. Her hand found his hair and tugged gently.

“You have no fucking idea how much I’ve missed having you, querida…” he said, placing a kiss between her legs.

“I miss you so much, Javi…”

“No, you don’t know,” he insisted, angered that she would claim to have missed him after she left him. If you missed me so much, why didn’t you come back? He pressed his thumb on her clit, pressed a bit harder than she liked and she whined.

“I’m sorry!”

“You left. You walked out on me, didn’t tell me shit and I was fucking miserable,” he confessed, passing on the hurt right back to her. She mumbled a few more apologies, but nothing would be enough until he got to take her again.

“Gonna let me show you how much I missed you, baby?” He asked, placing kisses on her belly. “Gonna let me make love to you?”

“Yes, yes, please. Need youuu—” she cried as he pushed the cotton of her panty aside to lick her.

“You need me?” He asked, licking her again. God, how he missed his favorite taste. “Did you miss my cock like I missed this pussy, baby?”

She nodded, but that wasn’t enough for him. He needed to know from her lips, needed her to scream for the entire city to know how she missed his touch. He pushed her legs back together and pulled her panties off before setting it aside. He wrapped his lips around her and sucked on her clit, exacting the sweetest little sounds from her.

“I need to hear you.”

“Missed you, Javi. Missed your cock,” she confessed, tightening around his finger as she did. He wished he had his cock inside her as he made her tell him how much she missed it. He would pull more confessions out of her with a promise of an orgasm and he knew she would say anything he wanted.

“You have ruined me, mi amor. Can’t make myself cum just as good anymore without this pussy. Hate my own fucking hand.” He praised before he lapped and laved at her core, licking her up as he made her wetter and wetter for him.

“I sneaked your panties out of the laundry hamper, took it with me to Medellin like a fucking creep,” he confessed, unsure if her cry of his name was the work of his fingers or the confession of his depravity. “The pink one with the stripes, covered in you from when you touched yourself, when you kept this cunt to yourself and kept me away. I needed to smell it when I wrapped my fist around my cock and imagined I was fucking you.”

She clenched around his finger and that sent a rush through him. “That make you feel good, Cariño? Knowing you’ve turned me into a fucking pervert?”

“Javi, baby please…” she cried as he busied his lips once again with her cunt. He would’ve left her pussy lips for the lips that cried his name so prettily but she kept him down with her hand on his hair. She fucked herself on his fingers, gasping when he added a third one to stretch her out further.

His idle hand traveled up her body, its every nerve ending enjoying having her tremble beneath him once again. He took his time, roaming everywhere, feeling every inch of skin that he would soon trap under him as he fucked her for the first in a long time. This was the longest they’d gone without each other ever since they decided to pursue what they had for real. Even with his job being the way it was, he managed to come to Bogota every now and then to have her.

She wrapped her legs around him, trapping his head with her thighs as she dug the heel of her foot into his back. He growled into her cunt as she thrust up into him, fucking his mouth and his fingers at the same time. She still wanted him in between her legs if nowhere else and if he had to, he would fuck her into staying with him forever.

A few more minutes of licking and sucking and she was pulsating around his fingers, her thighs setting enough pressure on him to make him fear that she might crush him. With a cry of his name, she came for him, coating him in her juices. He drank up all of her, not showing any restraint.

She pulled him up by his hair and he obeyed, kissing her lips to bless her with her deliciousness. He dipped his tongue into her mouth, meeting her tongue as she moaned with her own taste. He placed his hand over her collarbones, smearing her all over the place before he crept up and held her neck as he relished in the vibrations of her moans.

He gasped into the kiss as she wrapped her hand around him through his boxers. He grabbed her wrist and held her in place, keeping her from stroking his cock. It’d been too long since he had her and he wasn’t going to waste this morning by coming in his fucking underwear.

“Let me have you, baby,” he begged, dipping down to her neck to lick up her cum that he had smeared over her. He wasn’t going to let any of her go to waste.

“Yes, fuck!” She reached into his boxers and took him out, painfully hard and already leaking precum. He licked and sucked the skin until it was marred from his attention.

“Wanna be on top, please,” she begged and he rolled them around, acquiescing to her. She sat up on him, her knees planted on either side of him before taking her t-shirt off to reveal her pretty tits. Before he could reach up for her himself, she took command in taking his hand and placing it on her breast.

“Missed this so much, Javi,” she said as she stroked his cock. He kneaded her breast in his hand, enjoying having the ample flesh in his hands.

“Need to be inside you, please,” he breathed, trying as much as he could to clear his thoughts for if he focused on her hand around his cock and how gorgeous she looked on him, he would burst in an instant.

She obliged, adjusting herself over him before living him up with herself. She let him inside her wet heat, just the tip, before pulling back up. He groaned at the loss of contact, biting down on his lip as she repeated the motion, giving him just a bit of her pussy before pulling away once again.

He grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Don’t fucking tease. I haven’t had you in the longest time, darling. I need—ssss” he hissed as she took him in once more.

“I’m not teasing,” she gasped silently as she allowed a little more of him inside her. “So big, Javi. Haven’t stretched me out like this in s-so long,” she praised as she swallowed him bit by bit. “So fucking thick, gonna ruin me.”

“That’s right, baby… You love this cock, don’t you? Can’t go for anyone else ever again. I’ve made you mine,” he said, moving his other hand to her clit, moaning when she rewarded his touch by gripping him tighter.

“Mmmm love your cock,” she moaned as she struggled to take more of him even though he’d gotten her nice and wet with his fingers and mouth. Poor thing needed time to get used to his girth again after having gone such a long time without him.

“You are so beautiful like this… Look so fucking sinful trying so hard to take all of me, sitting on top of me like that and letting me touch your tits,” he praised as he played with her nipples, pinching and tugging and rolling between his fingers to make her tighten around him. She might have been on top, taking the reins, but he still had control. He knew her body like he knew the communas where he chased men, knew every shortcut, memorized every path, knew where to go to corner and capture them. He could elicit every desired response from her by touching her in the right places and saying the right words. She belonged to him, body and soul, and he enjoyed using every inch of her body to remind her to whom she belonged.

He let her set a slow torturous pace as she adjusted to him, groaning as she finally swallowed him to the hilt. It was pure bliss to be surrounded whole by her, to feel all of her wet, velvety heat. He felt her all over, from the tips of his toes to the top of his head and it was everything. She was everything.

It was sweet torment to be exposed to the cold air of the fan only to be swallowed back up by her hot cunt. He needed her so fucking bad, needed her not just for the carnal pleasures that sex brought but the feeling of home when he found himself buried in her— he needed her to devour him whole and keep him right there, inside her, all hers and nothing else. Only the Javier that belonged to her was worth existing. Everything else he’d become in over three decades of life was insignificant.

Inside the walls of their home, on their marital bed, there was no world outside. She brought him the delusions of safety and he luxuriated in it, allowing himself to forget everything that wasn’t her. The world was just her tight cunt, her tits under his hands and the filthy sounds from her lips as she slowly went from a woman in control to a writhing, moaning mess. He met her halfway with his thrusts when she struggled to keep up on top of him. He sat himself up and pulled her to his chest, giving in as she stole his lips. It was hurried and sloppy as they explored familiar territory, still as excited as the first time they kissed each other. Practiced lovers, savoring the familiar comfort of each other’s lips yet excited to find something new each time.

“Don’t ever leave me,” he begged, holding her face in his hand and making her look at him in the hopes that she would see just how much he meant it. “I can’t, without you… I— I c-can’t, mi amor— Please…”

“I w-won’t,” she managed to stutter out as she grew breathless.

“Promise me,” he demanded even though what he wanted to do was beg.

She opened and closed her mouth, unable to form words as he set a relentless pace, taking over as he thrust into her and thumbed her clit.

“Fucking promise me!” He growled, forcing himself into her in hard, merciless thrusts.

“Aaaah! Ja—”

“You’re mine. You’re fucking mine, get it? This isn’t— We aren’t just da-dating. I’m your husband. You can’t just leave like that.” He forced himself deep and inadvertently hit her cervix. She jolted in his arms and let out a pained cry, letting him know his mistake and he pressed a kiss to her cheek in a silent apology.

“Sorr— hnnng! ‘m sorry Jav—”

A tear slipped down her cheek and he kissed it, tasting her. He breathed her name the way a dying man would call for his god in desperation. He prayed her name, each syllable a request of Save me, never leave me, breathe life into this wretched man.

She pulsated around him, collapsing on his chest and relying on him to hold her up as she reached her peak. She was deadweight in his arms and he held her tight as he reamed into her, her back arching and her hair cascading down her back, shaking from his hard thrusts. She took him along with her, erasing his world and making herself his everything. She had dragged him to the peak of the world and now she was pulling him down and he went with her willingly, taking everything she gave him, getting lost in her body. She was like a breath of air after drowning for eternity, she gave him life, gave him meaning even though she’d been the one to rob him of it.

He wiped her tears and kissed her all over, showering her with all the love he had for her. But it wasn’t enough. No matter how much he poured out, he couldn’t show her the depth of his feelings for her. No words compared, no kisses came close to the place she had in his life. No matter how many times he told her he loved her, she would never know just how much.

“Te amo, Javi,” she broke off from their kiss to whisper. He collapsed on the bed and brought her down with him. He pecked her lips once and then twice before setting his gaze on her eyes.

“Si me amas…” he paused to take a breath. “¿por qué me dejaste? ¿Por qué?”

She looked down at her lap and fidgeted with her rings as she spoke, “Y-yo no quiero perderte.”

He shook his head as he said, “No me perderás. Yo soy tuyo.” He took her hand and placed it on his chest over his heart. “Tuyo.”

She scoffed, her hand curling over his chest. “More Escobar’s than mine at this point.”

“What?”

She shook her head and looked away, avoiding his eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to— I shouldn’t complain.”

“No. No, you talk to me. What is this about?”

“We’ll fight if we talk about it. Like Steve and Connie.”

“Do you…? Do you want to leave…? Like Connie did?” He asked, unable to steady his shaking voice. Three weeks with her gone was hell enough. If she wanted to take off permanently, he didn’t know what he would do with himself. Hunting the hijo de puta had become his purpose in life over the past few years. But he now had another important purpose, a woman he’d made promises to. Promises he was insistent on keeping.

She shook her head.

He sighed as he tucked her hair behind her ear, needing to see her without anything in the way. It was fucking frustrating, not knowing what worried her so much that she couldn’t even talk to him about it, that she chose instead to run away from him. But he had to be kind if he wanted her to open up.

He began by caressing her cheek with the back of his hand. Gently, like soothing a wounded child. “Baby… If you don’t tell me what this is about, how am I going to fix it? Hmm?”

“It can’t be fixed,” she said, same as that day.

It took him a moment to know how to answer her.

“When I asked you to marry me, you asked that I give you all of me. Have I not kept that promise?” He asked, knowing that he had so far. No matter how ugly, no matter how broken, he brought home all of himself. To her credit, she accepted him just as he was.

She nodded and said, “you have.”

“Now I’m asking. I want everything, too. Whatever you’re hiding from me that has you worried will make us fight. Is it about my job?”

“I’m sorry,” she said as she nodded, head hung low as tears spilled out.

“No, no, nothing to be sorry about. Just talk to me. What about my job?”

“S-scared.” His chest tightened at the trembling of her voice. Relationships were not something he was comfortable with after he left Lorraine and it was alright for his dangerous new lifestyle as an agent in Colombia. There was no one else he was putting in danger because of his line of work. But then he had to go and fall in love.

It was one of the reasons he proposed to her as soon as he could. Being his wife offered her more legal protection than did being his girlfriend. And knowing that she was it for him, he saw no point in waiting. But she was still afraid for her safety.

He reached out quickly to reassure her.

“I’m here, okay? Our home is safe. Those bastards won’t dare touch you here, won’t dare touch a US federal agent’s wife. I got you,” he whispered into her ear and rubbed her back, hoping to help her relax in his arms. She didn’t. She just tensed.

“‘m not worried about m-myself,” she said softly. “Ever since Steve got kidnapped, I—”

He took in a deep breath and pulled her in closer even though there was no gap between them. What was he supposed to do? Tell her he was safe? Lying wasn’t something he was ready to do in their marriage. Even if he did, she wouldn’t believe him after she had to comfort a panicking Connie. He had the same job as Steve, faced the same dangers. It could be him next. And he might not be lucky enough to come home.

The CNP guys were in much greater danger than he was as an American. Call it gringo privilege. But he couldn’t make promises. He couldn’t promise that a jump from the roof wouldn’t end up terribly. He couldn’t promise that he would never catch a stray bullet. He couldn’t promise that a crazy motherfucker wouldn’t target him for the bragging rights over nabbing a US agent.

Small town sheriff Javier Peña hadn’t thought of all this when he signed up for this job in his mid twenties. There was just an opportunity to run away from a town that hated him— a town he hated more for how it smothered him from all sides as he grew and grew yet it remained small, insignificant. It was his chance to do something great, to be the good guy fighting big bag guys and he took it. He hadn’t been warned that he’d one day be sat holding his sobbing wife, speechless because he couldn’t make the most basic promise— to fucking stay alive.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, the tremble in her voice tugging at his heartstrings.

“No, no. I’m sorry.” Sorry I can’t give you more. Sorry I made you cry. He pulled her into his arms and sat on the couch, cradling her in his lap more for his comfort than hers.

“I shouldn’t complain. I know I married a man with a dangerous job. I signed up for all this, but… ‘m so scared, Javi. I can’t sleep at night. I wake up from nightmares and I lose you every single time. I get scared when I get a call because what if—” she stopped, breaking down into sobs.

There was nothing he could do to fix this, she was correct. The thing that was causing her all this agony was his whole life.

“Do you want me to quit my job?” He asked, regretting it the minute the question left his lips. What if she said yes? What if that was the only way to fix their marriage? He would quit. There was no question about that. But that would mean that almost a decade of his life’s work would be worth nothing. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself. Resentment would break anything they had left between them.

Please don’t ask that of me.

She shook her head and he had to keep himself from letting out a huge sigh of relief.

“Do you know I have students who— I shouldn’t tell you. I’m not on the field like you and I don’t know all the things you know, but I see everyday how he’s fucking ruined lives. I want you to catch that motherfucker. You’re in this fight and I’m not letting you leave it without crushing his blood empire. I just don’t want us to be collateral damage. I can’t bear losing you whether it is to divorce or a bullet. I can’t—” she brought her hand to her lips, biting on her newly shaped nails.

He swallowed, tugging her hand away from her mouth and giving it a kiss. “I can’t make promises about the latter,” he said softly, unable to look her in the eyes as he said it. He didn’t want to know what he did to her with those words. “You know I can’t. But when I die, whether it’s tomorrow or 40 years from now, I’ll die your husband. I don’t do divorce. You might think it’s not a big deal for me, the guy who left his first fiancé at the altar. But trust me, you’re a catch and there’s no way I’m letting you escape”

She laughed and nuzzled into his neck. He rested his head on hers and pressed a kiss to her hair. “I’m not joking. You should be very scared, baby. As far as I’m concerned, I’m it for you. Won’t let you leave no matter what you do.”

“Yeah?” She laughed, her eyes glinting with tears but also something new. Her lips quirked up in a mischievous smile. “What if I slept with a bunch of guys?”

He raised an eyebrow, reeling the unhinged jealous little man in his heart to join her in whatever this was that made her smile through her tears. “Good for them. Best pussy they’ll ever have. I mean, I will beat them to death for touching you. But you’re still my wife. Not divorcing you.”

“What if I fucked Steve?” She challenged, raising an eyebrow.

He knew what she was doing. She was making it personal, putting a face to the act and making said face a very familiar one. But he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

“Last thing he’ll ever do in his life. I’ll kill him and Connie will help me hide his body.”

“Mhmm? What if…..?” She trailed, looking into the distance as she stroked her invisible beard. “What if I let someone else knock me up?”

“You bitch!”

She gasped and shoved at his chest. “How dare you call me a bitch!?”

“How dare you even think of letting another man do that?”

“I won’t actually do that!” She defended, folding her arms over her chest. “I’m just trying to get a raise out of you.”

“And you did,” he supplied, making her scoff.

“How about…? Okay! What if I fucked Escobar?”

“Shit, I would tell everyone!” He laughed. “My wife? Getting that close to that piece of shit and living to tell the story? Yeah, I’d be on the rooftops with a megaphone. Oh and I’ll kill him. Of course. Goes without saying.”

“Well, you were gonna kill him anyway. What will you do to him for touching your wife?” She asked, twirling his overgrown hair around her finger.

Was this…? Noooo! He was just joking, but she seems to like the idea of him killing men for wanting her.

“Baby, what’s wrong with you?” He asked, laughing. She surprised him every goddamn day.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” she licked her lips and drew shaped on his chest with her index finger. “There should be an explanation for why I signed up for all this.”

“You like this, don’t you?” He asked, lowering the register of his voice the way she liked as he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You want me to possess you, to hurt anyone who would want you that way I have you. You like that I can be a dangerous man.”

She shivered, but quickly stabilised herself, looking very blasé as she spoke, “Huh, that answers my question. I always wondered what kind of idiot would be with Escobar. I guess women just like to fuck a powerful man. And money. She’d gotta be in it for the money.”

“She married him before he got rich, actually. And it’s not just women who are attracted to powerful men,” he added, letting her know just how much he liked when she was in a position of power.

“Men too? You’re gonna tell me you want to fuck Escobar?” She asked, making him laugh. He pinched her bum, making her squeal and attempt to get off him. He pulled her back in immediately, not ready to lose contact.

“When I came to your class, I sat in the back the entire time. I enjoyed seeing you in your element, leading the discussion, getting a big room full of people to listen to you. And your ass in a pencil skirt. If I was your student, I would wank off every day thinking of you” he groaned, his cock twitching inside her at the mental image.

“Oh my god!” She exclaimed before hitting him playfully.

“Whaaat? I feel bad for those fuckers in your class, having to talk about Frankenstein’s monster to impress their hot little literature professor.”

“Don’t sexualise my job!” She looked positively scandalised. Like he’d suggested that she let him fuck her on the streets.

“Uh huh? Now you know how it feels? What was that you asked me for your birthday?” He teased. “On yds, the little interrogation fantasy. You’ve been begging me to tie you up and interrogate you.”

She hid her smile from him, covering her face with her hands, but he pried them off to see her looking so sweetly shy at being reminded of the depraved things she wanted him to do to her. “You don’t have to do it,” she said, shy and quiet and she played with her rings.

“Mmm thank you baby, but I’m gonna make your dreams come true. Just be happy I’m not CIA. Cause CIA has some terrible interrogation methods. They’ll fucking waterboard you.”

“Oh my god! Okay this isn’t fun anymore,” she said, getting off him, but he pulled her right back onto his cock, laughing as he caught her expression.

“Let me go!”

“No, no sorry. I shouldn’t talk about the CIA in bed, they’re such a turn off.”

“You think that’s why I’m trying to escape?? Javi, women don’t like talking about waterboarding with a dick inside them.”

“Okay, okay, I know. Just stay in bed. I have today off and I need to be inside you,” he said, rubbing her back in an attempt to coax her into foregoing her household responsibilities for a lazy day in bed with him.

“I have work to do. Papers to grade and clothes to wash. Oh and some pervert,” she said, poking his chest a few times. “has been stealing my panties so I have to go wash them before he gets to them.”

“Oh please, it was just one pair,” he lied, looking away quickly but it wasn’t enough for him to get away with it.

She squinted her eyes at him and he relented. “Fine. It was three. Pink one with the stripes, blue lace ones and a white cotton panty.”

“Pervert!”

“Or I’m just really in love with my wife. You should see the sweet side of it. You don’t know how other guys act on the field. It’s like as soon as they’re in Medellin, they aren’t married.”

“Uh huh?” She said as she tilted her head, her tone suggesting that she wasn’t convinced by his words. “And I’m supposed to be grateful that you aren’t sleeping around? Pendejo!” She punctuated her curse with a slap to his chest.

“That’s not what I meant!” He defended, taking her slapping hand and giving it a kiss.

“Sure, Cabrón.”

He laughed, amused at how adorable she was when angry. He pulled her down to lie down with him, her head on his chest and his hand in her hair. Mornings like these had become so rare. Even without their period of separation, they didn’t have quality time together. Work always called, always overwhelmed and left him with very little to give as a husband. Being too tired to do anything else, he couldn’t even take her out anywhere for dinner. But that would change tonight.

“I made dinner reservations for us. Are you free tonight?”

He’d booked it a while back, but he didn’t know if she would want to go with him after she left. And he didn’t want to promise her a date night before he knew for sure that he would have the day off from work. She did not take it terribly when he had to calculate on her for work, but something told him it wasn’t good for a marriage to keep breaking promises.

“Hmm, I don’t know. This pendejo said he’ll paint my nails and did a half assed job. I might have to book a nail appointment for the night,” she teased, making him laugh. He’d completely forgotten that their activities were preceded by his request to paint her nails.

“I’ll finish the job now,” he said, getting up, but she pushed him back down and trapped him in a loving hug.

“Later. I just wanna stay like this a little longer. Feels good…”

“I like when you hold me like this, mi amor,” he confessed, his voice softening as he opened himself up to allow himself to bask in the euphoria that holding her to his chest brought him.

“I- it calms me down. I need to hear your heart beating. I wake up from bad dreams sometimes and I can’t fall back asleep if I don’t lie down like this.”

He froze. He had no idea she had nightmares. “You never told me.”

“Didn’t want to worry you.”

He said her name softly, making her look up at him from his chest.

“You have to tell me these things,” he said, moving her hair out of the way so he could have an unobstructed view of her. Her features were soft, her eyes open, vulnerable.

“You have a lot on your plate already… I don’t want to be one of your problems.”

“Jesus,” he swore before sighing. “You’re not- I’ll never think of you as a problem. I understand why you worry. It’s not unwarranted. I would never ask you to hide your feelings for me. I thought we talked about these things. You’re the one who’s always telling me that we should communicate about difficult things. What happened to that?”

“Do you remember when I made you choose? Either date me for real or stop coming over for anything other than sex?”

He hummed in response, encouraging her to continue. They'd been fooling around for around two months back then and one night when he was dressing himself to leave, she forced him to confront how he’d been treating her— he’d been giving her mixed signals, pulling her in and pushing her away. He’d act like her boyfriend one minute but get distant the next and she was understandably annoyed.

“And you said you wanted to date me but you warned me that your job was dangerous and that attachments were a weakness. I didn’t want to be your weakness, I still—”

He shook her head, interrupting her mid-sentence, “I was talking out of my ass, I was just scared. And it’s different now. We’re—”

“Yeah but when I think of you strapping a gun and badge on yourself to go out and get shot at by those malparidos, I want to stop you,” she choked on her words, getting up off his chest and hugging her knees to her chest. “I told you I could handle it. That day and the day you asked me to marry you. But, I can’t. I can’t handle it. Ever since Steve was kidnapped- and I know you said he wasn’t in any real danger, but fuck! It was terrifying to see Connie like that and I couldn’t help but worry and put myself in her place. And I couldn’t stop thinking about every terrible thing that could happen to you and I just wanted to lock you up at home. So I left- because I don’t want to be your weakness. But I can’t be brave, I can’t be strong.”

It broke his heart to know that behind the scenes, behind her easy smiles and her strong shoulders he leaned on everyday, there was so much fear. So much insecurity. There was shame too. Had he been more attentive, he would’ve known without her having to tell him, without her having to run away.

He sat up, pulled her close and placed a kiss on her head. “You are brave and you’ve been so strong, putting up with more of my shit than you need to… Sometimes I think I won’t get through this with my soul intact if it weren’t for you. So never think that you’re my weakness.”

She listened, her eyebrows furrowed and eyes never leaving him. She bit down on her lip, pulling at the skin with her teeth, something she did when anxious. He reached over and thumbed her lip, not wanting to wait until she started bleeding.

“I… I’ve put you in a difficult position, but I would never ask you to hide your fears for my comfort. And you leaving definitely did not make me stronger. Just scared the hell out of me. I thought I’d done something so shit that you’d left for good.”

“Sorry I left… I just—”

“I’m sorry you couldn’t talk to me. Not like that would’ve solved anything,” he scoffed, rubbing his eyes. “Nothing short of stopping that bastard is going to solve this.”

“I know, I know…” she sighed.

“I’ll get him,” he affirmed, taking her hands in his. All the things he’d done since he landed in Colombia, all the things he’d lost because of that man… To think he might lose her too… It was chilling. He’d lost friends, made enemies, became the guy everyone called an asshole for not cutting corners, for not putting up with anything that wasn’t right. He’d lost so much, but she wasn’t going to be one of them. He wouldn’t allow it.

Javier Peña wouldn’t rest until Escobar was history.

.

.

.

Series Masterlist

[hungermakesmonsters]

Love, Sick Love

Chapter One

Plot summary : Working at one of the shadier bars in Brooklyn, you have one rule; don’t mess around with the patrons. Most of them are criminals, dangerous. None more so than Billy Russo, but Billy believes that rules are made to be broken. Especially your rule. One lapse in judgement is all it takes for Billy to decide that you’re his, and he’s never been the sort of man to take rejection well.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] All chapters will deal with dark and smutty themes, including but not limited to stalking. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 5.8k

A/N : A full explanation of expected themes and TWs for this fic can be found here if you are uncomfortable with dark romance/toxic romance then this fic might not be for you.

Master List

Chapter One

“So, how was your date?”

You were barely through the door when the question was mercilessly thrown your way, the few patrons drinking the afternoon away in Sam’s lifting their heads to glance your way before quickly losing interest. Thankfully, they didn’t care how your date had gone the night before nearly as much as your co-worked Jenna did.

Sam’s wasn’t exactly the sort of place where people cared to get to know each other. The bar had a reputation, the kind of reputation that regularly had cops posted outside the door, waiting to scoop up patrons at closing time, though they rarely dared set foot through the door. And that was why it suited you just fine. Aside from the occasional drunk thinking he might be lucky enough to get in your pants, people didn’t care who you were or where you were from, a courtesy you were more than happy to return.

So, while there was a snicker or two around the bar, no one but Jenna was interested in your love life.

Or, lack thereof. 

You shrugged off your jacket as you made your way around the bar, hanging it along with your purse in the small staff room before heading out to start your shift.

“So, it didn’t go well then,” Jenna stated, eyeing you up and down as you stepped out of the back.

“Hi Jenna.” You said in an overly forced, perky tone, clearly avoiding the question. “How are you, Jenna?”  

“Wow, that bad?”

You’d often thought to yourself that Jenna would be better suited working for the FBI instead of tending bar; she knew how to get people to talk and she had a dogged tenacity when it came to things she wanted to know. But, fortunately for the criminal element, Jenna was only interested in gossip, bitching, and information that could be used to her advantage. She was your closest friend and a constant pain in your ass for all of the above reasons.

“Is it that obvious?” You finally relented, giving her a slither of what she craved.

The look she fixed you with was more than enough to answer the question.

“You’re wearing your fuck-me boots and that’s never a good sign,” she said with a knowing grin, obviously impressed with herself. “Wasn’t it the third date? Don’t tell me he left you high and dry...”

All it took was a slight look of disappointment on your face for less than a second for her to have the whole story.

“Oh - oh, okay,” she said and for a single, solitary second, you hoped that she’d drop it. But, of course, she didn’t. “So, how bad are we talking?”

“It wasn’t bad,” you answered, turning away from her, acting like you were checking stock, “just... disappointing.”

“He didn’t make you come?” She asked, loud enough that anyone close enough could hear. Fortunately you weren’t easily embarrassed. “I thought you said he was a doctor? Isn't he supposed to have a good grasp of… anatomy?”

Your eyes rolled as you threw her a glance over your shoulder.

“He’s a physiotherapist, not a gynaecologist.”

Not that that distinction made it any better. Disappointing sex was disappointing sex at the end of the day.

“Are you gonna see him again?” Jenna asked, biting back a laugh.

“And waste another evening on unappealing sex? No thanks. I think I’m just gonna swear off men,” you sighed dramatically, barely holding back a smirk.

“Or,” Jenna started, really drawing out that one little syllable, ���maybe you need to stop only going for the safe guys and expecting Captain America to give you what you need.”

Your cheeks heated a fraction as you burst into laughter. It was a good thing that no one who could overhear understood that Captain America was what Jenna liked to call the dildo she’d bought you as a prank secret Santa gift last Christmas on account of it being a red, white and blue, unlicensed Captain America sex toy that claimed on the box to be an exact replica of Steve Roger’s dick.

It had become a private joke between the pair of you, though you’d never dare admit to her just how much mileage you’d actually gotten from the toy.

“Seriously, you need to lower your standards and find a guy who’s willing to just fuck your brains out,” Jenna continued, still utterly oblivious (or perhaps just indifferent) to the half dozen men trying to enjoy their drinks within earshot. “We could go to that biker bar just off the highway again and -”

“Aren’t we barred?” You asked. “Or, more to the point, aren’t you barred?”

“That’s what makes it more fun.”

Again, you rolled your eyes and, finally, you had a look around the bar. It was still quiet, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. As soon as it started getting dark out, the place would be packed, wall to wall.

That was when you noticed him, sat at the end of the bar, slightly hunched over and with no drink in front of him. You looked to Jenna and gave a nod in his direction, and she shrugged in response, leaving you to deal with him. If he’d overheard any of your conversation with Jenna, he didn’t seem interested. For a moment, you hung back, not wanting to interrupt whatever was going on in his head but, finally, you forced your customer service smile to your  lips and made your approach.

“Hey, what can I get you?” You asked.

When he looked up, your heart stuttered. His face was littered with scars, but they weren’t the cause of the violent pounding in your chest, in fact, after first glance you barely noticed them. No, it was his dark eyes and the way he looked at you, the way he looked through you. For a few seconds you dared to believe you might drown in his gaze (and that maybe you’d enjoy it).

The moment felt like it lasted a lifetime, his gaze fixed on yours, his dark eyes filled with unspoken threats. And promises.

“Whiskey,” he said, a scratchy quality to his voice, as if his throat was raw from screaming.

“You want the good stuff or the cheap stuff?” You asked, blinking and finally managing to break his hold over you.

Instead of answering, he patted his jacket pockets before fishing out a wallet, eyeing it as if he’d never seen it before. As he opened it and checked its contents, you tried to feign indifference, but you couldn’t help but notice the stack of bills, and how he seemed just as surprised by them as you were.

“The good stuff,” he finally answered, his eyes finding yours again.

“Excellent choice,” you answered.

After grabbing a glass and placing it on the bar in front of him, you turned to grab a bottle from the top shelf, stretching as you reached for it.

Jenna jokingly called it Tip-teasing and had been the one to teach you it when you first took the job. It was simple really; tending bar was a performance, like a striptease but you got to keep your clothes on. You’d bend and stretch in ways that showed off your figure and a little bit of skin, and the customers would suddenly feel more inclined to leave you a tip. The trick was to be flirty enough to make them want you, but not so much so that they thought they had a shot.

It wasn’t how you’d envisioned earning a living, but your hourly wage at Sam's wasn’t enough to live on and, honestly, with the way some patrons behaved you felt entitled to take them for every penny they were dumb enough to part with. 

You hadn’t decided if you wanted to help empty this guy’s wallet, but you still put on a show for him as you stretched to grab the bottle from the top shelf, your skirt and blouse both shifting and revealing a little more skin. You didn’t even have to check the mirrored wall behind the bar to know he was watching your every move. It felt like his gaze was burning into your back, like he was trying to devour you whole with just his eyes.

And when you turned back he was still looking at you just as intensely, like you were the first woman he’d seen in months. His gaze flickered downwards to the low neckline of your blouse for the briefest of seconds, and you knew you had him on the hook.

“Not seen you in here before,” you said, filling his glass. “You from around here?”

“Yeah but I’ve been... away...” he answered.

Away in a place like Sam’s meant one of two things; either he was ex-military or he’d been doing time. Normally you could tell which just from the look of a guy, but not him. His clothes were a poor fit and didn’t suit him, and, honestly, the jacket he was wearing made him look like a dealer who sold drugs to teens at raves, but you didn’t get that vibe from him. And the scars on his face were like nothing you’d ever seen before. 

But you didn’t push, didn’t pry. You knew better than anyone not to ask questions.

“Well, welcome to Sam’s,” you said with a smile as he placed down a twenty and told you to keep the change. “Gimme a shout if you need anything else.”

Jenna’s eyes met yours the moment you turned away from him, obviously interested in the new customer but, more importantly, interested in how well he had tipped. Her eyes lit up when you flashed the twenty on the way to the cash register. 

While it wasn’t policy or any sort of rule, you and Jenna always split tips when you were on shift together, teaming up and taking the patrons of Sam’s bar for everything you could. The hourly was shit and you both needed to make ends meet. And, you made a great team; Jenna’s shamelessness appealed to some customers, while your subtleness appealed to others. Between the pair of you, you emptied a lot of wallets.

“Looks like someone’s thirsty for more than whiskey,” Jenna joked under her breath. “He’s practically fucking you with his eyes.” 

You nudged past her, opening the register and depositing the bill. You gave a sly glance in the mirror, confirming that he was watching you, but you didn’t think much of it. “He can look at me any way he wants if he’s gonna keep dropping twenties.”

Over the next hour or so there was a noticeable change in the man, he seemed to relax a little, though not in the way that suggested he was on his way to being drunk. It was the kind of relaxed that came from comfort and safety. You wondered if he was hiding out, if the cops were going to be waiting for him at the end of the night, but you doubted it. 

You’d seen enough guys come through after pulling jobs, high on adrenaline, but this guy - ugh it annoyed you how difficult he was to read, so much so that he became your focus and you watched every little shift and move he made. It reached a point where you were staring at him almost as much as he was staring at you.

“Just fuck him and get it over with,” Jenna muttered, watching you after your eyes followed him towards the mens bathroom and had been staring at the closed door for at least a couple of minutes.

“Oh, yeah, I’ll just follow him into the bathroom and let him bend me over in one of the stalls,” you answered sarcastically, turning back to look at her.

“I know you’re joking, but I think that’s exactly what you need.” She grinned at you, ducking out of the way as you threw an ice cube at her. “C’mon, you’ve gotta admit, even with the scars, he’s very...”

She trailed off and you didn’t think twice before finishing her thought; “fuckable?”

“Glad you think so.”

Your heart stopped and your cheeks immediately started to warm. Jenna bit her lip, desperately trying to hold back a laugh, her face reddening with the effort. Wincing, you turned, finding him sitting at the bar again, an amused smile on his lips. And there was just something about that smile, something that felt right, that made you think it was him far more than the grim expression he’d been sporting since you’d arrived and found him at the bar.

“We were just -” you tried to explain.

“Oh, I got the gist of it, don’t worry,” he said.

Luckily he seemed more amused than anything, his eyes only leaving yours for a second to watch as Jenna headed towards the door, muttering something about a smoke break as she abandoned you.

You turned from him and took a breath, grabbing the whiskey bottle from the back before looking at him again. Without a word, you refilled his glass. When he started to reach for his wallet, you gave a wave of your hand.

“It’s on the house.”

“Is that because I’m fuckable or because you’re embarrassed?” He asked, still smiling at you.

“I’m not embarrassed,” you answered automatically, not wanting to show any sign of weakness, but then you realised the implications.

“Good to know,” he said. Then he drained his glass, keeping you there a little while longer. As you filled it again, he decided to introduce himself. “I’m Billy, by the way.”

You offered your name in return, before trying to apologise; “look, I’m sorry about Jenna, she just gets a little -” you paused, trying to think of a way to describe it, “- openly horny.”

Billy laughed and, for reasons you didn’t understand, it almost sounded alien, like he’d never laughed before - or like it had been a really long time since he had. “And you don’t?”

The question caught you off guard and had an eyebrow rising.

“I try not to.”

“Then I guess I should be honoured that you find me fuckable,” he teased.

Your eyes rolled and you were about to come up with a devastatingly witty retort when the door opened and a group of guys entered. You managed to bite back a sigh of relief at the distraction, glad that you had a reason to step away from Billy for a moment. 

While most of the group that had entered made for one of the tables at the back, a familiar face headed towards the bar, grinning from ear to ear at you.

“Hi, Jake,” you greeted, leaning on the bar a little, letting him get a good look at you, “you guys want the usual?”

He nodded and watched as you set about pulling pints for him and his buddies. 

“So,” he said, “you decided when you’re gonna let me take you out yet?” 

A slight, teasing laugh slipped from your lips and you shook your head.

“You know my rule, Jake,” you responded, like you always did, keeping a smile on your lips despite your disinterest. “I don’t date customers.”

“Can’t you make an exception just this once? I’d show you a real good time,” he countered.

“If I make an exception for you, then I’d have to make an exception for every other guy who comes through here,” you answered, laughing. “I’d be on dates every night, then when would I find time to watch Grey’s Anatomy?”

Billy let out a laugh and both you and Jake looked his way. For a moment you thought there was going to be trouble.

“Don’t worry, she just shot me down too,” Billy shrugged before taking a good look at Jake, his attention fixing on Jake's army jacket. “You earn that jacket, or did you buy it?” 

“I earned it,” Jake answered, bristling. You watched the two men, ready to intervene if needed. “You earn those scars on your face?”

You didn’t expect Billy to laugh, but you found yourself relieved.

“Yeah, I guess I must’ve,” was all Billy offered in answer and a part of you was disappointed that he didn’t give more than that. He reached into his pocket, pulling three twenties from his wallet, putting them down, still looking at Jake. “They’re on me.”

That settled, you finished pouring the drinks. Jake invited Billy to join his friends and he did, leaving you at the bar, though you weren’t alone for long. Jenna decided to slink back in, still looking like she was about to burst into hysterical laughter.

“You’re not funny,” you told her, swiping at her, clipping her arm with the back of your hand.

“Please, you should have seen your face,” she said with a smirk, though she was soon frowning when she realised Billy had disappeared. “Did you scare him off?”

“He’s made some new friends,” you told her, nodding towards Jake and his crew.

And that was where he stayed for the rest of the night, save for when it was his turn to get a round and, then, he’d linger at the bar chatting to either you or Jenna, though it soon became clear he was more interested in speaking to you. For the most part you indulged him, playing along with his teasing comments and reaping the rewards every time another round of drinks was ordered.

“So, this rule of yours...” he said.

“What about it?”

“Does it apply to fuckable customers?” He asked, smirking as you rolled your eyes.

“Especially the fuckable ones,” you retorted.

“What if I never came back?”

“Sorry, there are no loopholes.” You shrugged as you placed the last full glass in front of him.

“The funny thing about rules is that they wouldn’t be rules if they couldn’t be broken,” he answered back, grabbing the glasses and heading back to his new friends before you could respond.

The night drew on and, by last call, you and Jenna had made more in tips than you had in weeks, and both of you knew it was thanks to Billy. It took some cajoling to get the group to leave, but once they were gone, you set about closing the bar.

���I feel kinda dirty,” you joked to Jenna as you counted up and divided the tips. 

“Why? Because you let him spend the night eye-fucking you?” Jenna laughed. “If he comes back, you better keep putting on a show. With tips like these I might actually finally be able to afford a better apartment.” 

“In that case, I’ll wear my shortest skirt,” you said with a roll of your eyes.

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy the attention.”

She knew you too well, and she was right even if you didn’t want to admit it. It had felt nice to have someone who wasn’t blind drunk or just looking to pester you for a quick fuck to notice you like that. But, rules were rules, and you weren’t going to be convinced to change your mind so easily.

“It’s a shame I can’t find a man who doesn’t drink here who looks at me like that,” was all you gave her.

“I told you, you need to stop looking for the safe guys and just have some fun... and Billy looks like he’d be a lot of fun...”

“Uh-huh, I’ll get right on that,” you retorted, “I’ll let him fuck me on the bar tomorrow night as long as he promises to keep tipping.”

The joking continued until you were both ready to leave, locking up and going your separate ways. You’d been living in Brooklyn long enough to feel reasonably safe on the streets, even late at night. So the four block walk home didn’t usually bother you, but that night something felt different.

You told yourself it was because you couldn’t stop thinking about him, Billy, and the way he’d been watching you all night, but you felt like you were being followed. Glancing over your shoulder, you checked behind you, almost expecting to find him there, but the streets were empty and, a moment later, you felt ridiculous for having the thought in the first place.

What was it about him? Why was he suddenly so stuck in your head?

(You knew the answer - of course you knew the answer - you just felt shitty admitting it, even to yourself. It was the scars and the dark eyes that went with them. He was a man with a story, trauma. There was something dark and dangerous about him, something mysterious and interesting.)

When you arrived at the bar the following evening, he was there again, sitting at the bar. His eyes found you the moment you stepped through the door the corner of his lips twitched upwards for a second.

“Back again?” You asked, smiling as you shrugged off your coat.

“I like the atmosphere in here,” he answered, his shoulder ticking upwards in a half-shrug.

“Oh, is that what we’re calling it?” Jenna remarked, barely holding back a laugh as walked to a table behind him to collect empty glasses.

You had to look away, biting back a laugh of your own, hanging your coat up in the back before moving behind the bar.

“Ignore her, she’s -”

“Fabulous?” Jenna interjected.

“A pain in the ass,” you said.

A smile appeared on Billy’s lips and you felt the full weight of his attention on you while you placed a glass in front of him and turned to grab the whiskey. You filled his glass and, as you pushed it towards him, he reached for it, his fingers brushing against yours. It felt deliberate but you didn’t say anything.

When he opened his wallet again, you noticed that it was full again, and you found yourself wondering just where he’d gone after he’d left the bar last night. If Billy noticed you staring at his wallet, he didn’t seem to care.

“So,” he started, “been working here long?”

“About a year,” you shrugged, not really interested in talking about yourself.

“You from around here?”

“Not originally.”

“No?” He continued. “Been in New York long?”

“Just over a year.”

He let out a laugh. “You don’t give much away, do you?”

“Not if I can help it,” you answered back, flashing him a playful smile.

Despite your evasiveness and your obvious attempts at keeping him from getting to know you, Billy just smiled, seeming amused by it all.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you can’t help it.”

“Oh really?” You asked, almost enjoying his persistence.

He seemed a lot more sure of himself than he had yesterday, a lot more comfortable in the bar and around you. You weren’t sure what had inspired the change, but he hadn’t given you any reason for concern, so you were happy to play along with him.

“I have ways of getting pretty girls to open up to me,” he told you.

You hated the way your thighs squeezed together and you were glad of the bar between you, concealing your visceral reaction to his words, and to him. Part of you was almost ready to give in, to throw caution to the wind and let him try to open you up, both literally and figuratively.

“Aww you think I’m pretty?” You teased playfully, batting your eyelashes at him, leaning on the bar a little more.

“You’re more than that and you know it,” he answered, his gaze dropping to the low neckline of the tank top you’d opted to wear tonight for a second. “You’re trouble.”

Before you could even think to ask him what he meant, the door opened and in walked Jake and his crew. He called out to Billy, catching his attention and motioning towards the table they’d been at last night.

“To be continued,” he said, sliding off the stool.

“Can’t wait,” you replied teasingly.

As the bar got busier, you lost track of Billy and what he was doing whenever he wasn’t directly in front of you at the bar. It was a busy night, busier than it had been in a while and it was made so much worse when Jenna grabbed you to tell you that she needed to leave early an hour before closing.

“Are you fucking kidding?” You asked.

“I’m sorry,” she told you, “my idiot brother got himself in an accident and now I have to go get him from the hospital. My mom’s freaking out - you know how she gets.” Unfortunately, you did know how she got, and since you’d arrived in New York Jenna’s mom had been more of a mother to you than your own ever had. “I can call Sam, ask him to get off his ass and actually do some work?”

You practically winced; Sam’s favourite part of owning a bar was not having to work in the bar and still make money from it. He mostly did a few hours during the day when the place was empty, and spent his evenings doing god only knew what. It wasn’t that you didn’t like him, but working with him was always uncomfortable - like anyone in a management position, he was happy to criticise but less happy to actually help.

“No, it’s -” you sighed, “- it’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” she told you, throwing her arms around you and hugging you for a second before heading out, stopping only briefly to say something to Jake and Billy.

It wasn’t so much the last hour that was the issue, you hated manning the bar on your own because all the drunks liked to drag their feet at the end of the night, and having to deal with cashing up on your own always made you a little uncomfortable.

But, tonight, everything seemed to be going well.

Seemed being the operative word.

Someone stepped in just as the last customer had left and, from the looks of him, he was already wasted from wherever he’d been drinking already. He’d probably been kicked out of somewhere and wanted to try his luck at Sam’s.

“We’re closed,” you told him.

“I just want one more drink,” he said. 

“Yeah and I wanna go home.” You stepped out from behind the bar, ready to shoo him towards the door. “The Styx two blocks over is still open -”

“That’s where I just came from.”

Great, so he’d been kicked out of the only bar in the neighbourhood that had a worse reputation than Sam’s. 

“Then I don’t know what to tell you,” you shrugged, “‘cause we’re closed and you’re not getting a drink here.”

If you’d been thinking straight, if you hadn’t been so damned tired, so fucking cocky, you never would have stepped as close as you did. Before you could even think to step back, his hand was on your shoulder. Your instant instinct was to swing your arm, catching him across the face with an open palm, but that just made things worse.

His other hand grabbed your arm and he pushed you backwards against the bar, with enough force to wind you.

“I said I want a drink, bitch,” he snarled.

“She said the bar’s closed.”

Shock jolted through you the second the drunk was pulled away from you and his head was slammed against the bar. A sickening thump turned your stomach and you watched, frozen, as his arm was awkwardly twisted behind his back and his face was dragged along the length of the bartop. At the end  of the bar he was thrown to the ground.

Billy.

It took a moment for it to register that it was Billy who’d come to your defence, kicking the drunk in the stomach, over and over, as he tried to curl up on the floor and protect himself. You were shaking, stuck between thoughts of wanting to see the drunk get what he deserved and knowing that it would only cause more trouble if he ended up dead.

The change in Billy was so sudden, so severe and jarring, that for a moment you dared to think that surely this couldn’t be the same man who’d been joking and laughing with you over the last couple of nights. Now you were seeing a new side to him, something dangerous, violent, vicious.

He didn’t look like he was going to stop. It looked like he wanted the drunk hurt, dead even. For a few moments he seemed utterly out of control.

“Billy, stop,” you protested weakly, your voice coming out too quiet.

It was lucky that Jake was still around. He grappled with Billy, struggling but managing to pull him back. And, after a very brief conversation between the two, Jake pulled the drunk off the floor and led him outside to god only knew where.

When Billy turned back, you found yourself forcing a breath, trying not to look as upset or shaken as you felt.

“Are you -”

“I’m fine,” you snapped, heading around the bar, not wanting to show any weakness.

Your back hurt and you still felt winded, but what got to you most was the way your hands shook as you reached for a glass and a vodka bottle.

“You don’t have to put on a brave face,” he told you, following after you. “Did he hurt you?”

“I said I’m fine, so can you just drop it?”

You knew better than most where weakness got you and, in a place like Sam’s, you couldn’t afford to be weak. You did have to put on a brave face because that was all part of the job; you needed to be tough, you needed to be able to put up with this kind of shit happening. But try as you might, it wasn’t you. For all your bravado, it had scared you.

Billy watched as you poured a drink and knocked it back, not saying a word as you tried to still your trembling hands. After a pause, you reached for a second glass and placed it on the bar for him, pouring him a healthy measure of vodka while you refilled your own glass.

Neither of you spoke for a couple of minutes, both content to have a couple of silent drinks; you didn’t know what to say and he clearly didn’t want to get his head bitten off again. But it soon became awkward and uncomfortable.

“You didn’t have to -” you started, your voice threatening to break despite your best efforts to sound cool and detached. 

“Yeah, I did,” he said, his voice firm and unwilling to consider anything to the contrary.

You didn’t dare ask why he felt like he had to intervene. You didn’t even want to ask why he and Jake had still been there. In fact, you decided that you didn’t want to think about it anymore. All you wanted was to forget it ever happened.

After a couple more drinks, you put the bottle away. The buzz you felt was more than enough, and you just wanted to go home.

Billy stayed while you locked up, waiting out on the sidewalk, watching your every move. Once you were done, you turned to him, expecting him to leave but, instead, he just looked at you.

“Don’t you have a home to go to?” You asked.

“I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re home safe.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need an escort, Billy,” you sighed, just wanting the night to be over.

“Who said I was offering?”

Common sense told you to argue, but you got the feeling that there was nothing you could say to stop him. And, honestly, some part of you felt glad of the company, even if you couldn’t admit it. But something had dramatically shifted; he’d seen you weak and vulnerable and you’d seen him - well, whatever that had been.

With a resigned sigh, you started to walk, a slight sway in your step from the vodka you’d been necking on an empty stomach. Billy fell into step beside you, his hands in his pockets, not saying another word until you huffed another sigh.

“Have I done something wrong? ‘cause you’re treating me like I’m the one who had my hands on you,” he asked, a hint of something in his voice that you couldn’t quite place. Anger? No, irritation.

The thought caused you to falter. For all his talk, it was the most forward he’d ever been with you, like the game he’d been playing had ended and something else had taken its place. And, in a way, you felt bad. He was right, he hadn’t done anything but you were still taking your shitty mood out on him.

“Sorry,” you finally answered. “I’m just used to taking care of myself and that...” 

“I get it. When something like that happens, it makes you doubt yourself.”

You glanced at him, catching the way his shoulder awkwardly hitched, almost like he was in pain, like he’d pulled something saving you. But, of course, you didn’t ask. You didn’t ask anything. The lines had already become far too blurred for your liking; who you were in the bar and who you were out in the real world were two very different things.

You didn’t speak again until you were outside your apartment building, a creeping feeling of embarrassment and dread filling you. Putting it nicely, it was a shithole. Despite the hour, there was music blaring from the ground floor and a group of kids were hanging out on the steps, drinking, smoking and getting high. It wasn’t a great place to live, but it was all you could afford.

“I’ll walk you in,” he said before you could say anything.

You opened your mouth to protest but just one look from him told you that it was pointless and you were too tired to argue with him. 

The elevator was out of order but he didn’t comment or complain on the slow walk up four flights of stairs. You did. Under your breath you complained a lot. And, by the time you reached your apartment, you felt like you had to invite him in for just one more drink, to thank him for everything he’d done for you. And you hated it, hated letting this man that you hardly knew into your apartment, letting him see a side of you that you kept hidden.

(Worst still, you hated thinking how this would change things, how he probably wouldn’t look at you the same way tomorrow. He’d seen that you were more fragile than you let on, and you were certain that whatever interest he’d had in you was well and truly over.)

He gave you a look before accepting your invitation, an indecipherable smile on his lips, before stepping into your apartment and setting in motion a chain of events that was going to change your whole life.

End Note : Again, if you didn't see the explanation of what themes and TWs this fic will have, you can find a full list here. This chapter is pretty much set up, but things will start getting dark and smutty from next chapter onwards. As with my other Billy fics, I'm hoping to be able to post this weekly on Fridays.

As always you comments/likes/reblogs/asks/general screaming is always appreciated. I hope you enjoyed this first chapter and I hope you all have an amazing weekend!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt.

Tag List : @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @sweetserendipity65 @dreadfulxives18 @snowkestrel @ladyblacky

@readingabouthim @cheshirecat484 @broadwaybabe18 @oliviaewl @lincerad

[reyrapidsbutgayer]

Ranking All Shadow of the Erdtree Bosses and NPC's by Fuckability.

It's finally time. The sequel to the 2nd worst post I've ever made.

I 100%-ed the DLC and it was fantastic. Time to find out which new characters are the most fuckable.

In this hypothetical all of the bosses can be reasonably communicated with (if possible) and are not actively trying to kill you (Unless killing you makes it sexier).

Repeat bosses not included, duo bosses counted seperate. Bosses that already appeared in the Base game are not counted.

It should also be assumed that all of these bosses have access to their magic/items/resources to benefit them in bed.

Explanation of Grading system:

Ineligible: (Cannot give consent)

These characters are not sentient enough to communicate consent, or are physically incapable of sex.

Unfuckable: (Can give consent, but does not DESERVE sex)

Character sucks so badly that they do not deserve to experience pleasure in any shape or form.

Uninterested: (Can give consent, does not WANT sex)

These character are fully capable of sex but would never participate in sex due to lack of interest or overabundance of moral convictions.

Not worth it: (Can give consent, is terrible in bed)

I mean, you COULD have sex with these characters but why would you?

Acceptable: (Can give consent, would be fine in bed)

These characters are average in bed, nothing crazy or noticeable. Some might end up in this category because they ARE good at sex, but the entire process would be inconvenient or uncomfortable to initiate.

Good Time: (Can give consent, would be great in bed)

These characters are good at sex, give or take a few points depending on their mood or situation.

Knock your socks off: (Can give consent, would be amazing in bed)

These characters excel in giving pleasure and would be well worth the time and effort involved.

Sex God: (Can give consent, would be the best in bed)

These characters would be so good at sex that all other factors are irrelevant. They are serving and we are here for it.

Evil Sex God: (Can give consent, is a terrible person but you’d make an exception.)

These are characters that should fall lower in the rankings, but their sexual prowess supersedes their inherent awfulness to a noteworthy degree.

Full list below the read more. Obviously it's not going to be sfw.

Ineligible: (Cannot give consent)

Ralva the Great Red Bear:

Animal

Rugalea the Great Red Bear:

Animal

Ghostflame Dragon:

Undead, probably not capable of sex.

Golden Hippopotamus:

Animal

Swordhand of Night Anna:

She is a hot goth knight, but is a mind controlled puppet.

Unfuckable: (Can give consent, but does not DESERVE sex)

Promised Consort Radahn + Radahn Consort of Miquella:

Radahn is just a mind-controlled corpse, and Miquella is a little bitch, so they are both ineligible. Honestly who tries to become a god but also ditches their inner goth girl? St. Trina deserved better.

Scadutree Avatar:

Theoretically capable of sex, but is made of pure anger and thorns.

Fire Knight Salza:

War criminal, even by Elden Ring terms so you KNOW it's bad.

Jori, Elder Inquisitor:

Creepy torturer and hypocrite, thinks sex is a sin and I plan for him to die sinless.

Uninterested: (Can give consent, does not WANT sex)

Curseblade Labirith:

Too devoted to being a monk to care.

Midra Lord of Frenzied Flame:

He's going through a LOT right now. He just got dumped AND he is being tortured for eternity while also containing a god of madness in his body, just leave the poor man alone.

Blackgaol Knight:

In another life he'd fuck like semi truck, but as of right now he's taken a vow to be a wet blanket alone in a mausoleum.

Not worth it: (Can give consent, is terrible in bed)

Chief Bloodfiend:

Too goopy and covered in diseased blood, but is still up for it if you are.

Putrescent Knight:

On one hand it's melting skeleton made up of thousands of merged souls... but on the other hand if you managed to get the consent and each and every soul I bet you could PROBABLY do something.

Lamenter:

Throw him one pity fuck and then run, he's clingy and a whiner.

Death Knight:

Is mostly just a skeleton, and whatever flesh is still there is probably rotting... but he does have some rizz and cool wings... goth guys can still get it.

Acceptable: (Can give consent, would be fine in bed)

Black Knight Garrew:

A highly trained knight, probably has good stamina but is also a fanatic to a creepy cult.

Black Knight Edredd:

Is also a highly trained knight, probably has good stamina but is also a fanatic to a creepy cult... but he does know crucible incantations... he might have some weird animal stuff you can get him to use in bed.

Rakshasa:

She's covered in blood and is overflowing with bloodlust... but lust and bloodlust are in the same neighborhood if you know what to do.

Divine Beast Dancing Lion:

If those two guys in there aren't rotting corpses... Fucking two guys inside a scary lion costume is an above average Tuesday night.

Good Time: (Can give consent, would be great in bed)

Logur, the Beast Claw:

A nude man covered in blood is running at you on all fours... you are either about to die or have a WILD night.

Ancient Dragon Senessax:

A very average dragon, but all dragons have a baseline fuckability so she's up here.

Jagged Peak Drake:

Drakes are slightly less fuckable than dragons, but if you don't think I'd willing be double teamed by two dragons while Igon watches, you clearly don't know me.

Ancient Dragon-Man:

All the perks of dragon sex but in a much more portable package.

Demi-Human Swordmaster Onze:

Normally Demi-humans are more cute than sexy, but this guy dedicated his life to the blade, you should be helping him make up for lost time.

Count Ymir, Mother of Fingers:

He's a delusional asshole... but he smacks of gender™ in a very submissive and breedable manner. A man who wants to be a mother and has giant fleshy fingers growing out of his body? It will be uncomfortable and deeply personal... but you GOTTA try it at least once, the LGBTQ community is depending on you.

Knock your socks off: (Can give consent, would be amazing in bed)

Red Bear:

All the raw sex appeal of Logur but with 25% more daddy energy.

Moonrithyll, Carian Knight:

Listen we have all been sleeping on Moonrithyll when we should be sleeping WITH her. She is the chamberlain to Rellana (as in head bedroom attendant) which means she is an actual #girlboss and there must be insane wizard lesbian sex behind closed doors. Not only that but she is beloved by the trolls and can fight on equal terms with the carian troll knights, who are no doubt getting sucked and fucked by her nightly. She's just a normal human but she is blowing out the backs of demigods and giants alike. She is struggling to keep her head above water and that water is pussy.

Commander Gaius:

Ok so here me out: He is an asshole, and violent, and a fanatic who serves the very order that discriminates against him... but all you have to do is mention that Radahn is better in bed than him. With this one simple trick he will have you bent over the back of his boar making sure he won't be the only one who can't use their legs after. He is pure rage and he will not stop until he has make you cum more times than Radahn ever has. Trust me, this happened to me, video games are real.

Dancer of Ranah:

Infinite stamina, enough said.

Sex God: (Can give consent, would be the best in bed)

Rellana Twin Moon Knight:

I want you to imagine Rennala, a normal woman who was able to satisfy Radagon/Marika, the sluttiest possible duo in the entire history of the lands between. Now imagine Rennala at full power, no depression, no hanging out in her basement mourning her failed marriage... now imagine Rennala 18% more goth and holding two magic swords. She will fuck you into space and then fuck you back to planet earth. Now imagine being bisexual.

Messmer the Impaler + Base Serpent Messmer:

I have slowly grown to love this sad bishounen anime boy more and more as I learn about his pathetic little life. He seems all mean and firey, but he is a bottom. (and his snakes are not) I wanna make him squeal and then get him therapy and then for good measure make him squel again.

Romina, Saint of the Bud:

A sleeper hit, but she is a mean insect lady with a giant prehensile centipede tail. She is like a xenomorph queen but a pink pastel goth rather than a vampire goth. She will wrap you up in that giant tail of hers and get straight to the egg laying. If you haven't considered it before, then you will now.

Evil Sex God: (Can give consent, is a terrible person but you’d make an exception.)

Metyr, Mother of Fingers:

Look... you WILL die after doing this, but she has a giant stomach full of squirming wet fingers and she is basically a big pile of dicks. Get naked, jump into her gaping stomach and die happy. That's an order from your commanding officer, now do your duty and serve your country.

Bayle the Dread:

I hate this dragon, he is responsible for the steady decline in dragon sex appeal, he hurt my Igon, and I can't explain why but I feel like he is sexist somehow. BUT... a dragon is a dragon. If Igon asks me to double team this guy I legally can't say no.

BONUS: Ranking the new NPC's from worst to best in terms of fuckability:

#13: Fire Knight Queenlign:

Somehow, his haircut is more of a turn-off than the war crimes he committed in the name of a god who doesn't even know he exists, which is not a good sign.

#12: Hornsent Grandam:

Normally I would give GILFs a pass to live their life and fuck as little or as much as they want. But she is the type to slut shame other women and as a feminist I cannot stand idly by.

#11: Hornsent

In another life he'd be a decent lay. He had a wife and a child so he has had sex at least once. In a pinch I can forgive the blind self destructive quest for vengeance, but I draw the line as soiled loincloths. You're an adult Hornsent, so act like it.

#10: Moore

My sweet little pot boy... If it came to sex I'd like to imagine that he is attentive and gentle, with his armor clattering around the whole time because he is too scared to take it off entirely. But he is too sweet and you honestly don't deserve him. He needs to be romanced, swept off his feet by a loyal and supportive partner and let's face it, you aren't at a place in your life where you can be all that he needs.

#9: Thoiller

The pillow princess to end all pillow princesses. He is a simp, he's submissive, he's breedable, he's a sopping wet pathetic little meow meow. Tumblr, THIS is the man you keep saying you want, now get in there and impregnate this man as the prophecies foretold.

#8: St. Trina

She's a plant at this point and probably isn't up for sex. (And a disembodied essence of love from a corrupted demigod) But I KNOW for a fact you kept imbibing her nectar more than you needed to. She just likes to watch as you and Thoiller get high and flop around in the putrescences. Lore says St. Trina was a fully grown woman at some point, and not just a weird little plant person, so in her prime she probably had a weird sleepy plant orgy with her followers.

#7: Redmane Freyja:

On paper she is the tragic butch sword lesbian we need but don't deserve. A prisoner who earned her freedom and rank through brutal gladiatorial combat, a loyal knight to a fallen demigod, and a big buff lady who can step on you. But in practice she still sides with Leda after breaking free of the mind control, and lets Miquella control her lords body like a toy. Come on Freyja, where is your fire? Your rage? Suplex Leda and fuck your way across the lands between as did your forefathers.

#6: Swordhand of Night Jolan:

She's a mean goth girl with a tragic past and a desperate need to be loved. I could fix her.

#5: Sir Ansbach

He easily earned his place in the top 5. He's running from a tragic past, he is trying to be a better person, he has all the sex appeal of Varre' but actually bathes, and he is a GILF. In practice he probably isn't the BEST in bed, but he is rather romancable. He can still get it, since he was a highly trained warrior in the past, but I see myself cuddling him as he somberly adjusts his glasses and stares out the window. Don't get me wrong there is still a LOT of sweaty blood sex but he knows what he is doing and understands what soap is.

#4: Igon

He's a screamer. Broken legs, dirty armor, doesn't matter. The warriors code demands that we look into each other's eyes as we both cum. That is the only honorable way.

#3: Needle Knight Leda

She sucks. She willingly follows a loser wannabe god, and it's not even the mind control, she is just like that™ already. She is so bad at socializing with rational people who are already on her side that she jumps to murder without hesitation. She even killed all the first Needle Knights just cuz of her own paranoia. She should be at the bottom of this list... but a yandere is a yandere. It would be creepy, uncomfortable and she'd be very demanding and probably bite you in a very non-sexy way. But it would still be some of the best sex you'll ever have. You'd regret it just as much as you'd enjoy it, and you'd regret it for the rest of your life.

#2: Dragon Communion Priestess Florissax:

Lovelorn dragon lady who wants me to eat other dragons in a very sensual manner. I am not immune and neither are you.

#1: Dryleaf Dane

After that brush, he is distant. His training is cold and impersonal, he throws himself into his prayers, dedicating every waking moment to meditation. He sought to turn his flesh to iron, so why is the flesh so weak around you?

Hear me out. He's religious, he is dedicated to his cause, he tries to kill you, and he doesn't even say a word to you.

BUT.

Imagine what happens when you finally get him to break.

He is your master, teaching you in the dryleaf arts, the two of you sparring atop a waterfall and bruising your knuckles more and more with each strike. The two of you meditate together, seeking inner peace to further your warriors spirit. He is stoic, his heart closed off to you and his mind focused on his holy mission.

But he is temped, you can see it in his eyes, in the way he watches over you when you are hurt, the soft way his fist unclench after a battle, and the thick layer of sweat you share after sparring. Together you are hardening your bodies to become living weapons, but bodies are not only used for violence, and the two of you cannot ignore the tension that grows with each day, your bodies intertwining during a particularly heated duel, grappling turning slowly to wanton exploration. He comes to his senses right before it crosses the line and you see the fear in his eyes as he pulls away from you. But you wouldn't have stopped him and he knows it from the pleased expression on your face as you lie on your back, defeated.

When it finally happens, you are sparring, leaving nothing behind. You shed your armor to let the movements flow without hindrance and so does he, conflict apparent upon his face. You trade blow after blow, your bodies raw and sore but still you don't let up. The sun is setting and neither of you will relent, sweat coating every inch and the roar of the waterfall drowning out every thought that isn't dedicated to this battle.

He is getting sloppy, his eyes transfixed not on your fists but your face. A poorly placed sweep to your legs leaves him wide open and you go for the maneuver neither of you have attempted since the close encounter that frightened him so.

He struggles, pushing your arms and legs away fruitlessly as his exhaustion drains away his years of practice. Soon you are pinning him to the wet ground on the riverbed, his hair wild and his hat flung far out of arms reach. He looks like a cornered animal in your grasp, eyes bulging and his breathing haggard. You can only look down upon your former master with a gleeful hunger, his body already more familiar to you than your own.

In a moment of understanding you see the hesitation drain from eyes. He knows what he wants, and he is done denying it. You grab his face roughly and kiss him more violently than any punch you have thrown. He returns in kind and all the exhaustion seems to leave his body as he sits up and wraps both arms around you firmly, desperate to make up for lost time, his holy mission only to worship your body and the unbreakable bond you have forged in sweat and blood.

And then you bone.

We have all imagined that exact scenario, haven't we? I have yet to meet a Fromsoft fan who hasn't described that fantasy to me word for word without hesitation. I am just saying what we were all thinking.

(Pictured: a man I would fuck until he renounces his god.)

[look-at-the-soul]

Every little thing you do- Part 5

Tommy Shelby x reader

Series master list

I changed slightly what I already had written after reading someone’s comment on the previous part 🤭 I always love reading what you think, sometimes it even sparks an idea or two… 🥰

Word count: 3,213

Y/N walked excitedly through the Shelby Company headquarters. She was granted with the permission to open the Shelby Institute, it was incredible how much Tommy’s contacts helped her speed up the process. Now she’d need to interview and recruit teachers, cleaning personnel, a couple of secretaries and enroll the children for the upcoming school year.

But as she got closer, Tommy’s shouting became clearer.

“Don’t fucking try to trick me, Lizzie.” He warned.

Then Y/N flinched when Lizzie raised her voice. “What’s your fucking problem then? If I sleep with Angel, his father or his cousin it’s none of your business!”

“Of course it’s my business!” He exploded. Anger raising at the thought the Changrettas getting sensitive information from his secretary, Lizzie had a big mouth when she wanted to. In more ways than one. “How much is Changretta paying you?”

“So you can choose who I sleep with,” Lizzie spat, “but you are covering Y/N’s pregnancy and treating her as if she was a Shelby!”

She was now able to understand all the secrecy around Tommy’s confident, why suddenly everyone wanted to make sure she was alright, why she was around more frequently. The thought of Y/N fulfilling all the dreams that belonged to her, made Lizzie go mad.

What was happening with the Changretta family? Y/N wondered as she overheard the heated exchange coming from Tommy’s office. The last thing she knew about them was when Danny Whizzbang was falsely killed in front of the Italians. But that was a few years back.

“I know her parents kicked her out.” Y/N heard Lizzie again. “What? You thought I wouldn’t find out? So now you’re pretending to be the perfect little family?”

That’s why Scott disappeared overnight. Lizzie wondered for how long they’ve been fooling everyone.

“Since when do I have to give you explanations, ey? You’re not answering me! What have you told Angel about us?” His hands shook her shoulders abruptly.

“Oh please! Don’t give yourself that much importance, the last thing we do is talk about you. And you don’t have the right to question my decisions, when you’re supporting Y/N and her bastard.”

That last statement was enough for Y/N to feel her blood boiling.

“Repeat that in my face. I dare you.” She opened the door with such force that it slammed against the wall behind. Lizzie paled.

Tommy recognized that look, he barely had time to react and intercepted Y/N midway.

“Y/N calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Y/N shouted, if it wasn’t for Tommy she would’ve already slapped Lizzie. “I’m tired of this, everybody thinks they can call my child bastard just because I’m not married.” She had to bite her tongue to stop her from telling a truth or two to Lizzie. She rarely got angry but once she did, there was no going back.

“Lizzie get out, I don’t want to see you.” Tommy barked as he tried to help Y/N to sit down. Then he realized they had an audience outside his office. “What are y’all doing there?! Go back to work!”

Once he had her settled on the couch, he offered Y/N a glass of water.

“Don’t let her words sink in. It’s bullshit.” He tried, but Y/N was still altered.

“She from all of the people, dares to point her finger at me.” Y/N said sarcastically and rolled her eyes. “And just because I thought Scott was-” she trailed off.

“You’re much better without him, you know that right?” Tommy crouched down, to be at her level.

“Will this ever stop?” Y/N’s voice cracked by the end, emotions at its highest.

“I’ll shoot anyone who dares to say anything like that again.”

His hands tried to calm her trembling fingers. His words managed to earn a small smirk from her, Tommy’s words managed to make her feel better momentarily. But she couldn’t help but wonder for how long she’d be able to deal with comments like that. She’s need to create a shell around her, a thick skin as Ada had told her. Give zero fucks about others people’s opinions.

“It’s like I’ll have it tattooed in my forehead for the rest of my life.”

“What the hell happened?” John demanded to know.

“Get some men to follow Lizzie, she’s been seeing Angel Changretta and we don’t know what kind of information she’s been giving them.”

“Ah the brat!” John made an annoyance face and stormed off.

To try to calm the anger raising, Tommy poured himself a glass of whiskey, not wanting to snap at Y/N for the previous altercation with Lizzie.

The Italians had always give him and his people a bad blood, they thought they were better than anyone else. And in the long run, a relationship between his secretary and one of the Changrettas would bring him more problems than good. Lizzie knew way too much about the business, he couldn’t just fire her.

He needed to find a loose end, something to stop them, to show his power over the Italians. He needed a plan…

Love and sex are a dangerous thing, people get blinded by it and he could’ve a snitch under his nose, he needed to be more cautions with the people he hired and make it clear the unwritten rules and conditions to work for him.

“I should’ve told you sooner.” Y/N mumbled, feeling guilty.

“You knew?” The frown on his brow intensified.

“Not exactly, but one day she started making weird comments about a date and her love life and oh this incredible man…” Y/N shook her face. “I thought she was just bluffing.”

“Yeah you should’ve. But it doesn’t matter now…” he trailed off going for a glass of whiskey, it was still early but he felt like a lion in a cage.

Y/N noticed the way his mind was working, already anticipating to endless possible scenarios and outcomes. Then he paused to rest his arms against a chair and let his head hang loose. The straps of the holster tightened around his shoulders and back, his muscles flexed under the shirt.

“Are you jealous?”

Tommy’s head snapped at Y/N’s words. Taking him by surprise.

“As if you didn’t knew me, you from all of them.” Tommy scoffed, but his eyes softened. “Really? You think I’d be jealous for Lizzie?”

Y/N blushed embarrassed for asking something so intimate. It wasn’t her business.

“Forget I said anything.” She looked in the opposite direction.

“Look at me.” Tommy pleaded with a deep voice. “Lizzie… is not the type of woman that would make a man jealous.” How could he say it nicely? Lizzie was a whore, he didn’t judge her though… But he tried to be cautious with his words.

It took Y/N a moment to register what Tommy meant. But she got the hint wrong. “I get it… just like me, right?”

Mortified, Tommy placed his hands on her shoulders. “No, no that’s not what I was trying to say.” The last thing he wanted to was to hurt her.

“Sure.”

“Y/N…” Tommy whispered, using his forefinger to tilt her head up. “You’re different.”

“The only difference is that she gets paid.” Y/N shuddered, accepting her new reality.

“That’s not true and you know it.” He was too close for her to smell his aftershave and cologne.

His thumb caressing softly her chin.

Shaking her head, she took a step back, but the bold movement made her feel dizzy, her head started spinning.

“What is it?” He asked with worry. “Are you alright?”

Y/N let him guide her to the closest chair. “Yes, it’s just this dizziness, it will go away in a minute.”

But despite Y/N’s efforts to calm him down, Tommy got worrier by the minute.

“Do you need anything?” He eyed Y/N, trying to read her expressions.

“No, thanks.”

“Y/N tell me what I can do for you.” Tommy kneeled before her.

The way he showed her that he genuinely cared about her, melted her heart. Having Tommy’s support meant to her more than words could express.

“I swear I’m fine.”

“Are you feeling poorly?” Polly stepped into Tommy’s office.

“She got dizzy.” He answered for Y/N, looking at his aunt.

“I’ll make you some tea.” She announced before giving Y/N a gentle squeeze on her arm. “Keep her with her head up until it pases, then bring her to the house, I need to speak to you.”

Polly’s look didn’t go unnoticed by Tommy.

He knew those eyes and something was happening, and judging by the look in them it had to be serious.

“I just came to tell you that you can set now the date to open the Institution as soon as we get the personnel.” Y/N announced with her eyes still closed.

“That’s the best news I’ve heard today.” The smile he gave her, was inevitable. “Can I help you with anything?”

“I don’t think you want to go through the interviews and stuff.” Y/N raised her eyebrows at him.

“No.” Tommy answered bluntly.

“That’s what I thought.” She gave him a smile that made him notice something else in her features, something that she didn’t have before, or at least he haven’t noticed… until now.

“Okay so you can sign those papers for me so I can go and sort this out?”

Tommy took the folder and placed his signature on the papers without even reading it. “You’re not taking off my money right?” He joked, the light mood in his voice mirrored in his eyes.

“Absolutely how do you think I’ll feed this baby?” She kept the joke going, feeling a bit better.

“Let me know how this goes.” He saw Y/N take her belongings and the papers. “Y/N how about a party to raise funds for the project? The school needs funding.”

Y/N ran her hand on the door thinking about it.

“A… fancy party?”

Tommy nodded. “With waiters and champagne and shit.” He had access now to the elite members club, people with enough money in their accounts to end poverty but selfish enough to not give away a single coin.

“Could you organize it?” He asked hiding his hands in his pockets.

“Yes, I can do that.” Excitement made her skin tingle, she had never been to a party like that, only once when Lady Winchester requested her to be by her side, but her place was to be back in the shadows, not as a guest.

“You’ll need a dress then. And some fancy shoes too.”

A dress! He had said a dress! She couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of it, she, a no body getting all dressed up to attend a rich people gathering while several weeks pregnant.

“You must not spare on anything, alright? I’ll give you a blank check so you can arrange all of it.” He explained proudly. His dreams finally materializing.

Y/N took in his success, all of the things he ever wanted, he never stopped, never complained. No, instead he focused on finding a way to do all that would take him to where he wanted to be.

His hard work and intelligence was admirable. He never relied on excuses. And despite what everyone might think of his imposing presence, he had a heart of gold and a genuine interest to help.

“Tommy?” Her soft voice pulled him out of his daydream. His blue eyes fixed on hers. “I’m so proud of you.”

She didn’t know how much her words meant to him. How he’d treasure and savor their taste… Y/N was the only person that saw him crying over his mother’s grave, she had been the one who helped him to be a part of the man he used to be when he got back from France, she heard him talk for hours of the horrors he had seen. And now she was helping him materialize his dreams, but in a very subtle way because she wasn’t impressed or interested in the luxury he could afford, she didn’t assume he’d give her everything, no, she wanted to work hard by herself to earn it. She wasn’t accepting anything more than what she thought was fair.

In a world where he could easily get confused and loose sight of what really matters, she was keeping him grounded.

“Do you want to have dinner in your office?” Y/N asked Tommy as she found him in the hall.

After looking at his clock, he guarded it safely again in his pocket, trying to keep his nerves at bay, he had a secret meeting with Churchill in a desert road, he wanted to share some more instructions about the upcoming deal with the Russians and not having total control over when and how things would happen was driving Tommy mad. This was a very delicate matter and the slightest mistake could get them all murdered in a heartbeat.

“No, actually I’ve to go.”

Touching her arm and giving her a gentle squeeze, Tommy asked her to be safe before walking outside. His vehicle roared as he exited the property and Y/N found herself eating alone in the huge dining table.

For her own safety it was better if Y/N didn’t get involved in this. Russians simply didn’t care about anyone, they were fucking mad. He had been actually considering asking Y/N to go somewhere else safe, but knowing her the way he did, she’d take it badly, as if he was trying to get rid of her.

Y/N glanced at the window, it was dark. But she knew it wasn’t her place to ask anything else. Where could he go at this time of the night? With who?

As much as her bond was so close to Tommy, she needed to realize they weren’t stitched or glued to each other and Tommy generally was extremely reserved about his private affairs.

Being alone made Y/N feel miserable and sad, her whole days were filled with lots of people at the Shelby Company Ltd, or the tea time with her grandma at the Garrison or the moments she shared with Tommy once they arrived at Arrow House. So now being by herself it felt so different…so lonely.

“Mary could you please prepare a tea for me?” Y/N asked politely after finishing her dinner.

“I only serve Mr. Shelby ma’am.” The maid added before walking away.

In a few words, she made very clear that Y/N’s presence wasn’t as welcomed as she thought. And her loyalty was reserved for her master, not his unwelcome guest. So without another word, Y/N picked up her dirty dishes and brought it downstairs.

“Miss Y/LN what are you doing?” Asked one of the maids as the chef wiped his hands with his apron.

“I’m going to wash these.” Y/N stated firmly, voice close to break after the humiliating moment she went through with Mary.

If things were as they should be, Y/N would be working under Mary’s supervision.

“Absolutely not, let me handle this.” Gently, the maid retrieved the items and gave the pregnant woman a look. “Can I help you with anything else? Some desert?”

Y/N shook her head. “No, thanks. Where’s the kettle?” She asked instead. This place was huge and there was a walk-in pantry and everything was organized meticulously.

“This is because of Mary right?” Y/N fixed her eyes on the young girl. “What did she do?” But then she placed her hand on her lips, as if trying to say she messed up. “Apologies I shouldn’t have.”

“No, it’s fine… it’s not like I’m Mrs. Shelby.” She sighed and twisted nervously the bow at the front of her blouse. “She reminded me of my place in this house, that’s all.”

The young maid exploded. “She thinks she’s better than the rest of us, just because she’s in charge of everything.”

Y/N studied her features, noticing her reaction was genuine.

“She’s always criticizing the way I do my job, it’s never good enough. And Mr. Shelby doesn’t even care…”

“I know this isn’t my business.” The chef caught her attention. “But she had been complaining about you to every member of the staff, she doesn’t understands why she has to attend you and do things for you when you’re not married to Mr. Shelby.” Duncan explained as he cleaned the stove.

“Oh I’ve heard her plenty of times too, you should talk to Mr. Shelby.” The kind maid suggested.

But Y/N shook her head and thanked the woman for preparing a tea for her. “No, I’m not here to cause Tommy more trouble. And he needs Mary to take care of everything.”

All of this was because Mary had very inflexible thoughts about premarital sex, she was always murmuring “this offends the Lord… or Lord forgive them for that.” So with Y/N being pregnant and living with a man without being married, this was a sin. Y/N was a sinner and in her eyes, she didn’t deserve even a bloody cup of tea.

“Thanks for the tea and the company. I’m sure Tommy wouldn’t mind if you got to have some rest early, all the chores pending can be done in the morning.” Y/N gave them both a smile and rushed upstairs to her bedroom.

The place was huge and she made sure to lock her door, a constant fear of some intruder breaking into the mansion made her feel uneasy. Tommy had a bunch of enemies after all, they wouldn’t care about harming her or her baby just to get to Tommy.

It was too late now to regret anything, it wouldn’t change the course of things. But sitting on the ottoman by the window, she let her mind wander to think of her baby, to imagine if would it be a girl or a boy?

She wondered how would it feel the kicks and her baby would like to hear her singing a lullaby to sleep. Polly already warned her that she’d buy a stroller and a crib for when the baby is born and her grandmother was already knitting some shoes and a blanket. Esme promised to give her a box full of clothes of all sizes so she could choose what to keep, each gesture kept touching her heart, to realize how generous they all were to her, never making her feel bad or unwelcome. She would make sure to let her baby know of all the love that surrounded them even before the birth.

Y/N knew that sometimes blood means nothing sadly, but life always brings a good group of people to replace the others.

But thankfully her baby would’ve lots of arms to cuddle on and a loving chosen family to rely on.

Part 6

Master list

Thank you so much for reading ! ✨🥰 I hope you like this part, as usual, your words is what keeps this going xx

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