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i-drop-level-one-loot · 4 months

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To Love You (Platonic Yandere!Child x Monster!Reader)

Chapter 1: This child needs me

[part 0, here, 2]

CW: femme bodied GN Reader, monster stuff, accidental adoption, description of nudity (non sexual)

Avery stood as still as the trees he hid behind while he watched the thing become a poor imitation of his mother.

If he barely closed his eyes it would have looked like her, but with his brown eyes wide open, staring at it's nude form, Avery wondered if the monster even knew what a human looked like. Their body was the right height, but the shape was off; it had no breasts, nor genitalia. The creature had taken a quick look at the clothed woman and guessed what her body looked like.

Everything about the monster felt off. Like a mannequin come to life. The skin had no texture or character, no discoloration or birthmarks. The hair was a slightly wrong shade and a little too long. But the worst part of the being was it's face.

It whipped around, staring at Avery with eyes slightly too wide, showing the whites above and below the iris. It's lips were an absurdly red shade, as though it thought the lipstick the woman was wearing was her natural lip color. But what made the face really off putting was the fact that it was too symmetrical. Avery couldn't verbalize that that was what was wrong, but it didn't have the same human inconsistency that his mother's face naturally had.

And for a moment, Avery remembered every single time his mother grabbed his arm a little too tightly.

She never would have killed him. And he told himself that she loved him. But it didn't matter how often she would buy him ice cream after a big fight, or how sweetly she smiled at him, it didn't stop him from flinching whenever she raised her hand.

He didn't know why he did it. Maybe it was the same reason he had grabbed the steering wheel earlier.

Avery rushed forward, and held the monster as tightly as he could.

(Reader) was filled with confusion. Not only was their disguise less than passable, but they were positive that the little boy saw them kill his mom. So why did he hold onto them as though they were the hero?

Their hand reached down and slid over his dirty back. Thoughts of ripping out his spine and eating him as well filtered through their mind, but instead they went on autopilot, as though their true identity had not been exposed already. "Let's go home."

Avery slowly released the monster, looking up at them with large, teary eyes. "Okay.. mommy."

(Reader) gently held the boy's hand in their own, and allowed him to lead them to the damaged vehicle.

It was much more advanced than the last time they saw a carriage, but this wasn't the last time they slept through major technological advancements. They would adapt. They always did.

Tiny frozen fingers squeezed (Reader's) hand to get their attention. "It's too broken to drive. But there's a coat in the back."

The monster looked down, remembering their nakedness. Unlike humans they did not feel the cold, and when they were in their true form they had no need for clothing.

Ripping open the smashed door with ease, (Reader) found a long winter jacket that when they slid it on fell to their knees. Avery still stood by their side, expectantly holding out his arm stiffly so he could hold their hand again. Although it always took a bit for the ancient one to get their mind in order after a long slumber, even they could see that the newly orphaned child was an odd one.

It wasn't customary to ask questions. They just killed people and replaced them. Those who learned of their true nature were also killed. And it had been that way for as long as (Reader) could remember. They had been both man and woman and those who were neither; they had spoken many languages in many skins and lived many lives. But this child was holding out his hand, knowing that they were not his mother.

"Which way is home?" They asked, their voice parroting the sound of the woman screaming her last words, calling out for her child.

Avery still held out his hand expectantly. "Down the road. It's really far."

The creature looked at his hand, then at his small legs, and realized how long it would take if he meant that they lived at the bottom of the mountain. They grabbed him under his arms and easily swung Avery onto their back. Perhaps they would keep him alive, just until they found a better family to cleanly assimilate into.

"Am I heavy?" Avery asked with a surprised tone.

"No." (Reader) almost found his question amusing. Did he not see them rip the car door off?

The six year old thought about when he was sick the year before, and purposefully acted more pathetic than he felt because he wanted his mother's attention. How he sobbed loudly because he was too ill to walk to his bed from the couch. So his mother left him to sleep out in the living room.

It was dangerous, but the idea that this creature was his savior, and not just a monster, gave the child more confidence than he should have had, given his situation. "Are you a girl?"

".. No."

".. Are you a boy?"

sigh "No."

"Oh.." The boy leaned down harder into their back, snuggling into their hair. They didn't smell like their mom's shampoo, they smelled like dirt after the first rain in a long time. "Can I still call you mom?"

(Reader) tried to recall if this had ever happened to them. Had there ever been a time that someone learned of their true nature, and still wanted to pretend like everything was fine? They remembered the last time someone figured out that (Reader) was a monster. The poor wife had snapped, months of little clues here and there had convinced her that her husband was not her husband, but no one would believe her. Not until she stabbed (Reader) in the chest, and the thing that looked like her husband did not die.

"Yes, you may." (Reader) didn't know why they were amusing the human like they were. But it felt very warm when he constricted his arms around their neck like a snake.

He smiled into their hair. Avery didn't know it, but he was just as confused as (Reader) was. "My name is Avery. Avery Jones. What's your name?"

The creature paused. They knew their name. It was the name of a human they took a long time ago. But they wouldn't tell that to this kid. That the only name they ever thought of as their own, was the name of a child who's life they stole, a child they lived as. It was the longest they pretended to be human. It felt nice. All those years ago. They couldn't remember now what that face looked like, nor why they were so attached to it, but they became (Reader).

"I am now your mother.. What is my name?"

"Luanne. Luanne Octavia Jones."

(Reader) mimicked a laugh, their smile equally as wide on their top lip as their bottom lip. "What a terrible name!"

"Oh..I'm sorry.." Avery tensed up.

"I think I'll prefer Mom."

They felt him relax again. The longer the two walked, the more intriguing the child became. (Reader) murdered his mother. They bit her head in half. They tore her apart, ripped off her limbs, and ate her while he hid not too far away. Perhaps he was in shock?

"Do you know what I am?"

Their eyes opened harder than what was physically possible. Why did they ask that?

Avery wiggled a little. "A hero? Like the Martian Manhunter?"

"What is that?"

"A cool hero from Mars! He helps Superman! And he can change into stuff!"

(Reader) could have scoffed. Them? A hero? But the situation was slowly starting to make sense. 'And so, I am a hero..'

His body was lighter than (Reader) remembered human children to be, and they wondered if it was normal. He wasn't much shorter than the average child, but his body was like a housecat's. "How old are you, Avery?"

"Six."

Older than I thought..

(Reader) carried the boy for well over two hours before another automated carriage passed by, slowing and pulling off towards the tree line behind them. Avery sleepily mumbled "It's the police.." as the monster halted their steps.

An officer stepped out, a younger man with hard eyes squinted in suspicion, and approached the two travelers.

"Is everything alright, ma'am?" His green eyes glanced down at their bare legs and dirty feet.

His question woke Avery up, as though he only just then remembered that his mom was not his real mother. "We were in an accident." The boy stuttered out.

"An accident?" The officer looked up the road briefly. "Are you two alright?"

"Ye-"

"Ma'am, where are your shoes?"

He interrupted (Reader), and they immediately considered killing him. But it was a good question. What were they supposed to say? A mostly naked woman had been found descending the mountain with a child on her back, was strange, most definitely concerning and possibly nefarious. Could he tell that under the long jacket they were nude?

Avery was panicking. They could feel his breathing hitch and hear his heart speed up. "We flipped our car! And- and-"

"I hit my head." They responded more monotonously than they intended. "I don't remember the accident, and I don't know why I took off my clothes." (Reader) reached up and ran their hand across the back of their head. Obscured by their hair and the angle, only Avery saw as one of their nails grew quickly, slicing open part of their scalp, just enough to get blood on their fingers.

The policeman's eyes relaxed their suspicious gaze when they brought their bloody hand out. However, it almost instantly bounced back. "Have you been drinking tonight?"

"No."

"Have you taken any illegal substances? Any medications you've been prescribed?"

The questions were aggravating (Reader). "No."

"Any medical issues I should know about?"

"She's bleeding!" Avery cried out.

"Alright, calm down. I'm going to bring you down to the station. Do you consent to a blood test?"

The police were.. interesting. Having been so many people, the creature was not dumb to the inequalities humans forced upon other humans. They remembered how one body would be treated very differently than another body, but even with having experienced it, if they saw a naked woman walking along the woods, injured, it felt natural that sympathy would have been expressed. Or at least, sympathy for her presumed husband. It didn't matter. Luanne had not fully finished digesting. If they wanted blood for a "blood test" (whatever that was), they could easily supply it. They just hoped that Avery's mother hadn't been drinking. Which was another interesting development. Had the humans made alcohol illegal again?

No matter how unfair this treatment was, (Reader) knew it would get Avery out of the cold sooner. And if things went sideways, they could easily kill this man.

"I do."

Avery was nearly hyperventilating and his grip had tightened like a vice. "Why are you being so mean?!" Tears started to bloom as his voice wobbled. "We had an accident! My mommy was bleeding and took off her clothes! She was just confused, and, and, and that's why she can't remember!"

The man went rigid, and was almost uncomfortable. "Would you like me to call an ambulance?"

"YES!" The boy cried out, shaking against (Reader's) spine like a small dog.

He eyed their legs once again. "Why don't you wait on the back seat, and I'll grab you a blanket?"

It didn't take long for another, larger and brighter colored vehicle to arrive, with people who were much more sympathetic than the officer. One of the men even seemed to be berating the officer while another person checked (Reader's) body for injuries.

"She seems to have a concussion, so I don't know why you would jump to drugs-"

"Look are what she's wearing-"

"-I watched a young man take off his shoes and hide them in a cabinet when he suffered a traumatic brain injury, okay? People do weird things when they're in pain-"

"Still I think-"

"-She should be going to a hospital. They'll test her for alcohol there, but her head is still bleeding, and she has no signs of intoxication other than 'her clothes' and her lack of memory, both of which can be explained by trauma."

The blue clad worker shined a light in (Reader's) eyes, which (Reader) manually dilated to resemble a human's natural response. They continued focusing on their heart rate and breathing, mimicking Avery's as he leaned against their shoulder. "I think it would be best if we take you to the hospital." The person with short hair smiled kindly.

"I just want to go home.. I can't remember anything that happened today, but my son is tired."

"Well.. I can't force you to go to the hospital, but I can call someone to come get you? And recommend that if your memory worsens, or if you feel confused, if you start throwing up, can't sleep, randomly pass out, or develop a fever, you go to an ER as your concussion could be something worse, like an internal brain bleed."

"Someone you could call..?"

"Dad's still at work." Avery whispered.

Ah. So I am married. This new information didn't sit well with (Reader). They had been married before, plenty of times actually; but what kind of man was he if his wife was like Luanne?

Overhearing this, the paramedic chastising the policeman volunteered his services on the officer's behalf. "If you don't have anyone you can call, Officer Delaney can drive you home. But I do suggest you let us take you to the hospital."

"Thank you." (Reader) could see the two men shudder as they smiled at the both of them. "But I'm really tired. And I just want to go home."

"Alright then.. don't hesitate to go to a hospital if your symptoms don't improve." The man shifted his eyes uncomfortably.

(Reader) returned to the police car, Avery securely tucked under their arms and on their hip. Their attempt at human expression had frightened both the medical professional and the officer. "I will."

The little boy held on to (Reader) more aggressively than he ever remembered holding onto his own mother.

It was peculiar.

Had (Reader) ever felt this way before? They had felt attachments before. Held and loved, but those feelings were easily thrown away whenever their hunger reared it's ugly head. But this wasn't the connection of a family loving someone they assumed (Reader) was.

This little boy was not clinging to Luanne Octavia Jones.

Avery was clinging to (Reader).

#platonic yandere #platonic yandere x reader #yandere x reader #monster reader #gn reader #fem reader #yandere family #parent reader

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unadulteratedsoulsweets · 2 years

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A DC X DP IDEA #4 You’re worth is more than a penny.

Imagine dis…

We all read and saw fanfictions about either Jason, Constantine, Bruce, or even Jazz raising Danny when he became younger due to Clockwork’s interference, but what if we reverse the roles?

Alfred Pennyworth was raised by Phantom.

It was early 1900 in England where it is common for children were being sold like cattle for a penny. Among the rows of yelling parents who are willing to sell a few of their children for a few pounds to help themselves or the younger ones at home, one parent was loudly exclaiming that his child is merely worth more than a penny. A nameless child with skin and bones as a body, at the tender age of 6 years old he already knew the horrors of child slavery. Some were never seen again like the ones he saw outside playing tag and others return to their parents in a body bag. He also knew that no one would want a skinny child like him so he waited for the inevitable beating at this man’s house, He refuse to call that man his father nor that dingy four-by-four wall home.

Suddenly a distinguished gentleman walked past him and he was just in awe at what he had sawed. A young man that seemed like in his early 20s has a face of youth yet has an air of maturity around them. Wearing the cleanest pair of white waistcoats and black trousers, shaggy black hair, and striking blue eyes.

It was obvious that he was an errand boy looking around for new workers, his mind supplied.

The man looked at him with raised eyebrows and couldn’t help but think that this person may buy him out of this man’s clutches and put him to work that may or may not end his life.

The older man who saw the interested look of the errand boy tried to advertise him as his worth is merely a penny.

…

Danny was merely taking a break from his kingly duties after months, years, and centuries have passed since his adventures as Danny Phantom. Visiting a newly made dimension in the eyes of the king of Infinite Realms, he made his way through the early 1900s for some sight-seeing, with the insurance from his advisers, court, family members, and consorts (Tucker & Sam) he went and enjoyed the view and contemplating that why does Clockwork give him his farewell in a form of a cryptic message such as a father of a bat needs saving from his unexpected fate, as well this universe felt like something interesting is bound to happen.

Being the High King of the Infinite Realms the realms itself chose him as their champion and king through countless rights of ascensions throughout the years.

Seeing that child slavery is still a thing at this point in time made him want to turn around and go to another realm less depressing than this time and come back later when they abolished slavery.

Though he caught an eye on this thin scrawny little boy who is nothing but skin and bones that the tiniest gust of wind will push him on the brick pavement, the boy’s parents however saw him taking interest and tried to get rid of the boy seeing that he was nothing but an extra mouth to feed due to his “responsibility” as a parent and tried to sell him for a penny.

Danny weighed the pros and cons in this situation, raising a mortal child may be both rewarding and satisfactory but the fact that he cannot break the ancient rules to make him immortal that was placed by the Realms themselves to uphold the balance between the living and the ancient realm, but he can bend it to an extent, so that if he can extend longevity in his lifespan to at least reach a century or so.

Added to the fact that Clockwork gave a message to protect him.

Bought the boy for a penny and carried the child towards the disguised horse carriage.

Now, how to explain to his family that he acquired a mortal child?

…

The nameless boy widened his eyes in surprise as the “errand” boy actually bought and carried him gently towards a clean carriage that looked like is owned by a king.

After making him sit beside his employer, his employer began asking him questions.

Such as his age, and name. likes, dislikes, and many other confusing questions.

At the mention of not having a name his employer began to frown, looks like he has made his new employer furious and he hasn’t even begun to earn his keep.

After a tense silence, his employer declared that HIS new name would be Alfred Pennyworth, as the word Alfred means counsel as he stated that he can see his future and that he would counsel different men who wish his advice, and Pennyworth, as his father is a fool for selling him for a penny as he is worth more than that.

At the time the nameless no…, At the time Alfred didn’t know what is the warm feeling on his chest that made him long for this man’s approval. He may be naïve or far too trusting for putting his trust in a man he met for a few minutes but at the time his only thought was he had his own name that he owns.

When the carriage stopped his employer carried him out of the carriage, and what greeted him is something he would never forget.

An endless green sky stretches along the horizon, A large black castle that reaches the sky that has growing vines all over its walls, at the front an entire estate dedicated to different and extinct plant life to flourish, and rows and rows of servants lined up and dressed in the fanciest clothing for maids and for all genders bowing ever slightly greeting and welcoming back their master in unison.

He looked behind him and around him for the master of the house but when he couldn’t see one, he turned his attention to the one who bought him as he is quite sacred for upsetting for not greeting the master in his own house.

But as he turn to the man for a plea for help he caught the small smile that his employer gave him and nodded towards the directions of the servants.

That was the time he learned that the man who bought him and gave him a name is his supposed master.

…

The next few days were confusing to the young Alfred Pennyworth, as he expected to be working on the animal shed or any menial tasks yet he was treated like a prince.

Free to learn what he desired, learning skills that he would never think of learning, free to eat anything his heart and stomach desired, free to have a soft bed to sleep on as well as having toys to ensure that he was not bored, given a wide variety of possible hobbies to take his mind off things. Gained and learned philosophies around the realms as well as had great teachers in teaching him essential things in morals, science, and more. Most importantly gained a family that he never thought he would even have.

He learned how to walk silently as a ghost, be swift in terms of movements waster no action, be present like a shadow, and use any weapon at hand, one’s body is a weapon itself. Discipline thy self in any temptation known to man, to integrate oneself to be unknown, eyes and emotions betray your mind be mindful of your facial and body movement as a single doubt will get someone you love to perish, but most importantly learned his new family’s motto.

Family is family.

Simple yet a powerful motto. No matter how cruel the man who brought and gave him a new life and purpose, the man who he saw as father, maybe in making decisions to ensure that the Infinite Realms stay balanced throughout the entire realms. How ruthless are his aunts and uncle to make sure that everything in between stays in the center of the balance as too much of the brings chaos

When Alfred was merely a teen he was given a blessing by his father, to be able to live a long life while maintaining his morality. One day he may die which is true, but it will be a long time before the reaper takes him to his next adventure.

Spending time with each member of the Nightingale family are memories that will be kept deep inside his heart. His mother Sam, taught him the wonders and secrets of flora, his other father Tucker, taught him how technology is used both in hope and destruction, His uncle Dan taught him about being an impenetrable wall in both mind and body, His older aunt Jazz taught him how to read his opponents in combat as well learning the beauty of human brain, His aunt Ellie who taught and showed him the wonders of the world in terms of the scenery, delicacy and culture, His grandfather Clockwork, taught him to be a cryptic as well moving on and forward as bad things are as natural as breathing and to move on is to let the time run its course.

Last but not least his father Danny, the High King of the Infinite Realms the man who he owes his entire being and life. The man whom he respects and wishes to turn out like him, the man who is proud to call his father. Taught him a multitude of things that one would not expect from a king, Be a Gentleman. A firm handshake combined with looking the other person in the eye carries with it respect, dignity, and strength, Honor Your Father and Mother, Respect Women, Be a Man of Integrity, Take Responsibility, and Work Hard, among the advice he gave and taught to him that they put into his life through action and words.

When WW2 came to his dimension he asked his father to be able to go back as it is still integrated into his blood to fight for the country that he was born into. As well as making a name for himself, to prove to the world his worth is more than a penny, to prove that all of their learning is not to be put to waste.

With the approval of his family, he set out to make his name.

S.A.S. Armed Services, fighting in 15 different operations between ages 18 and 20. A skilled medical and front liner soldier who was decorated. He later joined MI5, as well the secret forces of the Queen and later being knighted by her majesty

…

In this present time, we all know the current Alfred Pennyworth, the kickass ninja butler who is a mystery to the Batfam and has a lot of skillsets that are both surprising and expected to the Batfam. The butler who dared to out Batman the Batman. The butler is willing and dared to ground Batman for not taking care of himself. The butler carries a shotgun out of defense and we are pretty sure he is hiding a hidden bazooka somewhere in the manor. The butler who cooked delicious food and the one who raised Bruce Wayne

…

Working for the Wayne is not set to be permanent but the moment his ward Bruce Wayne becomes a hero just like his father and brings in his own version of a makeshift family he cannot help but stay for the sake of his ward that he saw as a son.

His family was there every step of the way.

Looking at the long dinner table that is filled with food with his ward/ son and his children he can't help but look fondly at the scene in front of him.

This is why he would not eat with the rest of the Batfam, the ambitious dinner or just being complete brings him back just when he was just a little boy looking at his father for guidance.

…

The Bat family are known to be good sometimes great detectives as they were taught by the greatest detective in the world, despite their wit and intelligence they still could not figure out their grandfather/ butler.

Having no presence before WW2 is common, as many orphans joined the war to bring acknowledgment to their names and presences. So when a glowing green letter made its way towards the kitchen counter, just as Alfred took a moment to look when he immediately snatched the said letter and ripped it open to see the contents.

Now mind you this was a never occurrence as Alfred Pennyworth is the epitome of calmness and neutrality so when he tore a letter like a kid who was given his first Christmas present all noise seemed to stop to look at the wide-eyed butler.

Alfred kept reading the said letter with wide eyes ignoring the shocked look of the people around him. Immediately telling Bruce that he will be going on an immediate 2-week vacation without even concealing his own joy in his voice and quickly turned around to pack a suitcase worth.

The entire Wayne’s both adopted and not are now invested what could the letter possibly contain that Alfred Pennyworth himself becomes a kid just by reading it?

Tailing the said butler was hard, following his quick steps which indicate impatience from the patient butler as well as a small smile that indicates fondness immediately became their new case.

Stopping at a large mansion surrounded by plant life that has a gothic aesthetic to it. As Alfred entered the gate he was tackled by a small black-haired blue-eyed child immediately followed by three teens and one large buff young adult.

All of them are hugging and exclaiming joy as Alfred reciprocated each hug with enthusiasm for his age.

Who are they and how does Alfred know all of these people?

…

PS: If someone out there wanting to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so don’t forget to tag me though.

#dc #dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #danny phantom #ghost king danny #infinite realms #dp

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general-fanfiction · 1 month

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Let Me Help You. (Steve Harrington x Reader)

Word Count: 6.2K

Steve's got a crush on the girl next door. Though not everything is as it seems.

Warning: Mature language, domestic violence, cheating (kind of, maybe?), smut, p in v sex

Steve knew he was in trouble the moment the moving van pulled to a halt at the house next door. He was never one to make an effort with people, at best he would reluctantly greet any new neighbors with his parents after his mother’s persistence. It’s not like he was being nosy, he just so happened to glance out of one of his bedroom windows as the family exited the van. They looked nice, friendly, nothing too out of the ordinary, just a very all-American couple. Or so he thought.

He continued to watch as they waved for a third person to climb out the vehicle and admire their new home. Steve wasn’t one to believe in love at first sight, however, upon seeing her, perhaps he felt differently. She was anything but ordinary, a ray of sunshine in the boring old town of Hawkins. Dressed in a short red dress with a thin white cardigan draped over top, he took note of the way she wrapped the thin material tighter around her body. As though she felt too exposed. Steve admired everything about the mysterious girl, from the dazzling smile on her face, to the way her hair was tied back in an adorable white bow. Heart pounding at an alarming rate, he knew deep down that this girl may very well be the death of him.

In the months that followed, despite Steve’s hope to get to know the girl next door, she seemed to pay no interest in him. They’d exchanged pleasantries, come to learn one another’s names and briefly made small talk if they passed each other outside of their homes. Steve couldn’t understand what he had done wrong, sure, he knew that following his graduation from Hawkins High, he had lost his King Steve ways. Yet, he thought he at least had the same charm, not to mention she hadn’t once seen him in his Scoops Ahoy uniform, so he couldn’t pretend that that’s what had turned her off.

He’d come to understand her routine by now, knowing that she often climbed out of her bedroom window, shimmying down the drainpipe in the dead of night when she thinks nobody will see her. Only to return a few hours later, creeping back into her house before the first crack of dawn, ensuring that her parents didn’t know of her nighttime activities. Sometimes, she gets dropped off by a mysterious white chevy camaro, and whilst Steve never caught sight of the driver, he assumed it was a boy. Heart sinking to his stomach everytime the car would pull into their driveway, knowing that it wasn’t him that she was spending the night with.

He swore he wasn’t obsessed, insisting to Robin that he was just ensuring that she returned home safely after she caught him gazing out of the window one too many times. It’s not like she had no idea who the fascinating girl was, Steve spoke about her often, disguising the very obvious crush as nothing more than an interest in her wellbeing. Robin wasn’t stupid. Knowing her best friend like the back of her hand and it was obvious that he was head over heels in love with this girl that he hardly knew.

Which leads us to present day, Steve was sitting in the alcove of his window, curtains open slightly, blowing gently with the light summer breeze. Fleetwood Mac played softly from the record player beside him, though he wasn’t focused on the music. Eyes drifting between the magazine in his hand to the house next door, awaiting his neighbor’s return. He watched the hands on his watch ominously creep forward and he couldn’t help but feel a pit of worry begin to form within his gut. 04:37AM. She’s normally back by now. Usually climbing back through her bedroom window at around 4AM.

Deep down, Steve knew that it had nothing to do with him, what she chose to do in her spare time. The pair weren’t even friends, if she wanted to stay out all night then he couldn’t stop her. However, he knew this wasn’t like her. Not wanting to feel like a creep for watching the girl so intently, he did his best to quash the nerves bubbling inside him. Forcing himself to stay awake, no matter how tired he felt or how much his eyelids were desperate for the sweet relief of sleep.

5:49AM. Sometime between now and him previously checking the time, Steve must have drifted into an uneasy slumber. The sound of a car door slamming before revving the engine and flying off down the street is what pulls him back to consciousness. Startling him as he eagerly pulls the curtain back gently so as not to draw attention to himself. Though, when he takes in the sight of the girl, all his excitement at the few seconds he is granted to observe her, vanishes instantly when he notices her appearance.

Even in the dim orange light, he is clearly able to make out the violent bruise beneath her left eye, swollen to the point she is almost unable to open it at all. Evidently recent, her skin is already beginning to turn a deep mauve. Her lips are no better, mahogany brown lipstick smeared across her face as though a child has scrawled it on. There’s a deep, gaping cut directly through her bottom lip, dried blood in a dirty shade of red cracks in the corner of her mouth. While fresh scarlet liquid continues to fall and drip from the wound, stained across her chin as she shakily brings a hand to her face, attempting to wipe it the best she can.

For the first time in his life, Steve doesn’t know what to do. He’s tempted to sprint down there, offer her any assistance she may need but he’s afraid that it may scare her away. So instead, he watches with a racing heart as she struggles to pull herself through her bedroom window. Clearly having lost any strength she may have had previously. His heart is broken for her and he wants nothing more than to hold her in his arms and tell her that everything will be okay.

Lost in his thoughts, he is completely unaware that the girl has seen him watching. Hastily snapping her curtains closed as she allows the tears to fall freely without prying eyes following her every move. She’s embarrassed that Steve saw her in such a state, oblivious to the fact that he still thought she was the most breathtaking being to ever walk the planet, in spite of her injuries.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been a week and a half since Steve had caught me returning home, bloody and bruised. Ever since, I’ve been avoiding the boy as much as physically possible. Checking that he isn’t in his window before I make my escape from the house. It’s not like we talk much, Luke made sure of that the second he laid eyes on my neighbor, however, I don’t want him to think any less of me. I was always cautious around Steve, putting on my best display of a pretty, confident girl, even if I felt anything but. That was how I wanted him to perceive me. I certainly didn’t want him to view me as weak, or judge me for what has happened.

Steve caught my eye the minute he entered my family’s house warming party, every lady in the vicinity flocking over to him. Vying for a slither of his attention, yet, I couldn’t help but notice how his eyes kept wandering to mine. Friendly smiles shared between the two of us before a proper introduction from our parents. It wasn’t hard to see why the ladies adored him. He was charming, polite and ever so funny, and despite only talking for a matter of minutes, I found myself entranced by him. Wanting to learn every little detail and explore every inch of his body.

I shouldn’t have thought about him this way, not when I have a boyfriend. However, I simply just couldn’t help myself. Luke has never been a good guy, I knew that when I began dating him, often finding himself in trouble with the police, unafraid to drag me down with him. Though, he was always good to me, at least until I met Steve. For whatever reason, Luke became overwhelmed with rage, something about knowing his reputation and what he was like at school. The night of the party was when Luke laid a hand on me for the first time, a swift smack to the cheek after I mentioned Steve’s name in conversation. Each time it happened, he would continue on as though nothing had taken place. Silently handing me flowers or another small gift the next day, an apology without actually saying the words ‘I’m sorry’. I tell myself that I will leave and never see him again but I continue to run back. Fearful that if I do leave, I won’t find love again.

After checking to find no sign of Steve, I carefully begin my descent down the drainpipe, hopping on to the grass below me when I’m only a few meters above the ground. Brushing my hands to rid myself of any dirt that may have come from the pipe, I turn to begin the walk to the end of the road where I meet Luke and his friends, only to find Steve standing mere feet away. Hands in the pockets of his Levi’s, leaning against the side of his house, having been waiting for me. How did I not see him when he was standing right there?

“I saw you the other night, and I needed to know that you’re okay.” He speaks softly, almost as if he’s scared that I’m going to take off running. His eyes are scanning my face, studying me, attempting to see how bad my wounds were. Unfortunately, my face is plastered in makeup, hiding the unsightly damage.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I’m unable to look the boy in the eyes as I lie to his face. Focusing instead on the scuffed converse glued to my feet, trying to think of a thousand different ways to get myself out of this situation.

Steve sighs, pushing himself away from the wall and walking towards me slowly, and whilst doing my best to keep my distance, I find myself with my back pressed to my own house. Almost identical to his positioning only moments ago.

He’s closer now, standing directly in front of me and I can only pray that my makeup combined with the barely there moonlight, truly hides what Luke did to me. With shaking hands, he nervously takes my jaw between his fingers, my breath catching in my throat as he does so. Gently moving my head from side to side in order to truly examine my features. Judging by the look of concern that flashes across his face and the way he takes a deep breath as he lowers his hand, I know he knows the truth.

“You don’t have to lie to me.” He whispers, coffee brown eyes gazing directly into mine, asserting that his words are truthful. “What happened to you?”

Something about him has me hanging on to his every word, believing that I am truly safe with him. Assuring me that perhaps Steve could be my way out, the reason I don’t return. He has such a warm presence, it’s inviting and I just want to spill my guts to him.

Opening my mouth to speak, I’m forced to remain silent as the familiar sound of a car engine grinds to a halt on my driveway. Whether I was going to tell Steve everything or simply deny everything, I’m unsure, but the moment that car appears, my mouth remains shut. Glancing over to the driver’s seat, I can just about see Luke over the beams of his headlights. Fear begins to flood my body as I can see the deep scowl set upon his face.

“I have to go.”

Pushing past Steve, I force myself to muster up a smile, not wanting to give Luke another reason to be upset with me. I mean, I can’t blame him for being mad at me tonight, he warned me to stay away from Steve and yet, he’s caught me red handed clearly disobeying the one thing he asked of me. It definitely doesn’t help that Steve grabs hold of my wrist as I begin to walk away, causing me to snap my head back to look at him. Brows furrowed in annoyance, I know he is just trying to help, to be a good person but he is only going to make things worse for me.

“Please. Don’t go.” His voice breaks, and for a split second I allow my eyes to soften, shaking my arm out of his grasp. Attempting to reassure him with the tiniest of smiles before silently hurrying over to the car.

Luke doesn’t even acknowledge me as I slide in beside him, possessively grabbing my thigh, a display of dominance. He has an eerie smirk on his face, not once taking his eyes off Steve, who stands in the same spot defeated, claiming his ownership over me. As much as it pains me, I keep my head down, sinking further into the seat, wanting to disappear off the face of the earth entirely.

For the rest of the night, my mind is plagued with thoughts of Steve. The hurt in his eyes as I walked away. I can’t bring myself to engage in any conversation that takes place, not like Luke wants me to anyway. He’s icing me out. Clearly upset about the situation he found me in, his friends must also sense the tension as they make no effort to include me.

Beers continue to flow throughout the night, hands shaking every time I place another can into Luke’s hand. He’s driving us home, though shows no sign of stopping despite being on what must be his eighth carlsberg in the span of only a few hours. It doesn’t help that his pals encourage him, egging him on to drink as much as I can, laughing at the idea of recklessly driving through the streets of Hawkins. To them, it’s a game. Let’s see how much we can drink and still make it home, to me it’s a life or death situation. Afraid that in his intoxicated state, we actually won’t make it home in one piece.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Listen Robin, she needs help.” Steve sighs into the receiver, eyes never leaving the window, not wanting to miss the girl’s return. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, she will allow him to help her.

“Steve, as nice as it is that you care, it’s none of our business. Besides, you don’t even know what happened, for all we know she could be in some elusive fight club and the good girl act she has going on is nothing more than that.” Robin twirls the cord of the phone around her finger, she’s never met the mystery girl that her best friend seems to be hypnotized by, worried that he is possibly getting in over his head, if what he is saying is true.

“He hits her Robin! I know it, she won’t admit it but I know he does.” His voice is strained, sounding as though he could burst into tears at any moment and Robin can’t help but feel sorry for him. She’s never seen him care this much about a girl, especially one that is practically a stranger. Sure, he loved Nancy, but this seemed different. In a way that she couldn’t quite put a finger on. “God, I’d love to know who the bastard is that’s doing this.”

“I’m gonna stop you right there Steve, let’s say for argument’s sake, you’re right. Her boyfriend is a piece of shit and is getting physical with her, in which case she does need help. Question one, what are you gonna do exactly to help her? Question two, what do you actually think you’re gonna do to the asshole boyfriend because last time I checked, you’ve lost every fight you’ve ever been in. And number three, why do you care so much about this mystery girl? I mean, from what I’ve gathered, you know nothing about her other than her name.”

Robin’s words, although intended to help him, hit Steve like a ton of bricks. What was he actually going to do to help her? He hadn’t thought that far ahead, possibly because somewhere deep down he believed that she would continue to refuse any support from him. Nor did he know why he cared so much. It was like there was some magnetic force tugging his heart towards her anytime she was nearby. A pull so strong that he was unable to deny it, not that he wanted to.

“Fuck, I don’t know Rob, I don’t have a plan okay. I just can’t let her get hurt anymore-” Before Steve can say anything else, he hears the very faint sound of footsteps dragging down the sidewalk outside. Immediately dropping the phone, he’s bolting towards the window, Robin’s voice calling for him distantly. Not even his worst nightmares could’ve prepared him for what he witnessed.

He thought he’d seen her at her worst, nothing surpassing the extent of her previous injuries, he couldn’t have been more wrong. Deep and gaping slash across her forehead, a bright crimson red that cuts off just below her eyebrow. The cut on her lip reopened, once again pouring with blood. All of the makeup that she had left the house in was nowhere to be seen, violet bruises litter her jaw, matching the black eye she is no longer able to hide.

Tears prick at the corner of Steve’s eyes, watching as she carefully limps towards their houses. Struggling to walk, no doubt from the physical pain she is enduring, one arm clutching her side the entire time. Informing him that the wounds on her face aren’t the only ones she has obtained.

Incapable of holding himself back, Steve is sprinting out of his bedroom and down the large oak staircase. Thanking the heavens that his parents are away on yet another work trip so he doesn’t have to explain everything to them. They wouldn’t understand his need to help, insisting that whatever she was going through was a personal matter and that he shouldn’t be meddling in other people’s private lives.

He yanks the door open with so much force that it thumps against the wall, he’s only two steps outside his house when he realizes that she is standing in front of him. Half expecting to find her attempting to climb the drainpipe, he can’t hide the shock on his face as she stands gripping one of the posts at the bottom of the stairs leading to his porch. She wheezes, breath rattling each time she takes a gasp for air and he knows that’s not a good sign.

Standing beneath him under the lights from his house, he is able to see more clearly just how bad her injuries truly were. Red marks wrap around her neck, an indication of strangulation and he has to stop himself from breaking down right then and there. Wanting nothing more than to wrap her in his arms and never let go.

“I couldn’t go home.” She chokes out, lifting the hand that clutches her side, hand stained red. Raising his eyes to her stomach, he spots the wet patch on her t-shirt and releases a shaky gasp. Before he can even think about his actions, he is striding over to her, strong arms embracing her smaller figure to aid her into his house.

It’s with great difficulty that they reach the porch, her knees ready to give out at any moment. Though she’d been fighting for this long, she finally loses the last of her energy after completing the stairs. Caught off guard by her sudden fall, Steve almost drops the girl, catching her at the last second and easing her to the wood beneath their feet. He couldn’t lie and say that he isn’t panicked because he is. Completely out of his depth in this situation, he has no idea what to do. Watching her face drain slowly of its color, he knows he’s losing time and yet his mind is blank. Lost on what he needs to do.

Eyelids flickering shut, he sees whatever light she had left in them fading away more and more each time her eyes close. Hands gripping her face gently, his thumbs push loose strands of hair out of her face as he gazes down at her, heart shattering at the thought of losing her entirely.

“Don’t close your eyes, please don’t close your eyes!” Steve sees the slight smile on her face as she listens to his voice, it’s the first time he’s seen her smile in a long time and he thinks to himself that she is still the most perfect girl he has ever laid eyes on. Even if his hands have left bloodied handprints all over her cheeks as he cradles her face.

“It’s gonna be okay, I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Soft melodies flutter quietly from down the hallway, the sun beaming through the open windows makes it hard for my eyes to adjust as I prop myself up in bed. Stomach aching harshly as I do so, a tightness making it hard for me to move properly. Lifting the unfamiliar yellow sweater, I find the entirety of my torso wrapped up in a neat, white bandage. Pinned carefully so as not to poke my skin. I struggle to place the bedroom I’m in, it’s unknown to me and still I find myself comforted in this new environment.

My feet follow the sound of the new Queen album, Freddie Mercury’s powerful vocals leading me to the large, open plan kitchen. The distinct smell of grilled tomatoes drifts over to me, a homely scent. Eyes rising from the hardwood floor, it’s only then that I see him, a loose red sweater hanging from his broad shoulder, paired with loose black pajama bottoms that hang low on his hips. He hasn’t noticed me yet, too engrossed in whatever he is cooking up to sense my presence, lips mouthing the words to whichever song is playing. The corners of my lips quirk up in a shy smile, imagining a life in another reality where this was how I woke up everything morning.

“Good morning.”

My voice is quiet as I lean against the doorframe, careful not to rest any of my side against the wall. Steve jumps, mouth falling open slightly in surprise as his eyes find mine. My smile grows wider as he drops the wooden spoon he previously held, not caring as it hits the floor with a clatter. He pads over to me eagerly, throwing his arms around my shoulder and tugging me into his chest. I can tell by the way that he’s holding me, he’s scared of hurting me. His touch light, not daring to hold me too tight. However, I do catch the way his grip tightens on the sweater when my arms slide around his waist, allowing my head to rest against his chest. Hearing the steady beat of his heart releases all the tension and stress I had built up within me and I relax entirely.

Much to my dismay, Steve releases me from the embrace after a few short minutes, keeping his hands on my shoulders firmly, worry evident in the browns of his eyes as he makes a mental note of every little cut and bruise on my face. I feel him delicately brush the backs of his fingers down the side of my face, tracing over what I assume is another bandage of some sort as I no longer feel his touch on my skin when he reaches my forehead. He’s trying his best to hide the frown on his face, but I’m studying him so intently that I don’t miss it.

“I’m okay Steve, I promise.”

“Let me help you.” He whispers, pressing the lightest of kisses to the top of my head as he pulls me in for a second hug, resting his chin on the same part of me that he just kissed. “You’re breaking my heart Y/N, please, just tell me what’s going on.”

With a small sigh, I reluctantly pull myself away from the taller boy. Playing with the hem of the sweater that just about covers me, as I wander over to the kitchen island, taking a seat on one of the many stools. I sit opposite Steve, who stands with his elbows resting against the counter top. Tomatoes sizzling away, completely forgotten about by the both of us.

I have to swallow the lump in my throat, realizing that I am in fact about to confess possibly the most shameful and embarrassing secret of my life to the boy that I have fantasized about since the day we first met. It’s impossible to describe the effect he has on me, only Steve Harrington could be the one to coax my deep dark secrets out after keeping them hidden for months. Only Steve Harrington would be the one person to care enough.

“I don’t really know what to say, Luke was a nice boyfriend at first, he drank too much and got into trouble a lot but he was nice. When I moved next door to you though, he became crazily jealous, he’d lash out at me if I even so much as mentioned your name. Something about a bad past between the two of you. He never used to get physical, it only started a few months back, he would just get so unbelievably angry. It didn’t matter what I did, the littlest thing could set him off and he’d just see red.” Steve has his hands to his mouth as I speak, almost like he can’t believe what I’m saying. His expression is one of pain and I can’t hide the sadness I feel as I tell him the truth. “Last night was the worst. Luke, he drank far too much, a lot more than he should’ve since he was driving. I think he was just trying to scare me by going so fast but we got into an argument and he took his eyes off the road for literally like ten seconds. We almost went headfirst into a huge brick wall but I grabbed the wheel and instead we spun off the road, down into a ditch and hit a tree. I think that’s where I got all the cuts from, the windows shattered and glass was everywhere. I mean, the car is totaled completely.

Then Luke lost it. He was screaming at me, that it was my fault we crashed. I just remember him pulling me out of the car and wrapping his hands around my throat. Steve, I thought I was going to die.”

I’m staring over at him with such vulnerability that his own gaze softens. Reaching over the counter to wipe away the tears that slide down my cheeks. Movements cautious and tender.

“I think I must’ve kept blacking out because everything after that is a bit of a blur. I remember him being on top of me, punching me and how I struggled to breathe. The next thing I know, I’m on your doorstep, I didn’t know where else to go. My parents can’t know about this, they’d be devastated and well, I feel safe with you.”

Steve’s round the island the second I stop talking, nudging himself between my thighs and taking my hands in his. Thumbs lightly rubbing over the tops of my knuckles. I know in my heart that he is a good man, that he isn’t judging me for what I have been through. Yet, the longer he remains silent, the more I feel the worry gnawing at me. Terrified that he is going to shame me for what I confessed.

“Promise me, you’ll never go back.” Steve speaks firmly, piercing eyes focused solely on my own. Even if I was afraid to leave before, I don’t think I physically can say no to that handsome face of his.

“I promise.”

“Stay with me, for as long as you want. I’ll take care of you, I swear it. I won’t let anybody hurt you ever again.”

The determination on Steve’s face and in his voice has me smiling like a child on christmas. Things would’ve been so much simpler had I met him before Luke. I wouldn’t have endured all of the trauma of the past few months. Though, gazing up at him right now, with nothing but love and care in his eyes, I can’t help but wonder if this is how things were supposed to happen.

“Only if you want to stay here, if you want me that is?” His gaze falters for the first time since I entered the kitchen, fearful he may have overstepped. I know he’s not asking me to be his girlfriend, or for anything serious at all. The question, however, has me feeling slightly dizzy, understanding that he’s asking if I want him to be around. To be by my side and help me through all of this.

“I do want this.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

After taking a much needed shower, and pulling the yellow sweater back over my body, I feel content laid in Steve’s bed, aimlessly flipping through one of his magazines as I await his return. The boy was hesitant to tell me where he was going, insisting he just had to run a few errands and that he would be back shortly. He’s only been gone two hours at best and I still find myself missing his warm presence already.

When I hear the faint sound of the main door clicking, my head perks up, moving to sit upright so that I can greet him the second he walks through the threshold of his bedroom. Opening the bedroom door slowly, I notice he keeps his head down, not wanting to look at me. A sharp tinge of hurt flows through me as I watch him silently shrug off his coat, back turned so he’s still facing away from me.

“Steve?”

I hear the sigh escape from his mouth, he reluctantly turns to face me. Head still turned towards the floor but I don’t miss the bloody graze just above his eyebrow. Gasping softly, I scramble to the edge of the bed, raised on my knees in order to take his head in my hands. Accepting that it’s my turn to inspect his injury.

“What happened?”

His hands hold my wrists, finally meeting my gaze as I look at him with curiosity. What sort of errands leave you with a bloody face? I have my suspicions about where he truly was, however, I want him to admit the truth to me, rather than throwing out false accusations.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I just couldn’t let him get away with what he did to you.” His voice is tainted with humiliation, embarrassed by his actions. Though, I couldn’t be more attracted to him than I am right now.

Sliding my hands to the back of his neck, I’m pulling him down to my face before he can even react to what is happening. My lips are on his, kissing him firmly even if it does cause the cut on my lip to sting. His mouth moves against my own, hands settling comfortably on my waist, still careful not to apply any pressure to the bandaged area. I play with the hair at the nape of his neck and can’t contain the soft whine that leaves my mouth when his tongue flicks over mine with ease.

“Please tell me he looks worse than you.” I ask desperately, chest heaving as I regain some air following the kiss. He nods with a chuckle, a shiver running down his spine as I continue to twirl the hair between my fingers.

“Don’t worry, I took care of him.” He tells me, tentatively pushing my body against the bed, crawling on top of me as though he’s done it one thousand times before. “Now the question is, are you going to let me take care of you?”

Nodding my head eagerly, a bright smile settles on my face as he presses tender kisses to my neck, agonizingly slowly making his way down my chest. As best he can with the sweater still covering my body. One hand tightly holds my hip, the other traces my thigh ever so softly.

My own hands rest in his brown locks, gripping harder when he sucks or nips at my skin. The feeling arouses me even more so and I’m embarrassed to admit just how much I want Steve.

“Take it off.” I whisper as his hands hesitantly play with the hem of his yellow sweater. Before carefully pulling it over my body, displaying my bandaged and bruised body, though he pays no attention to this. Eyes wide, fixated on my chest and the lack of a bra to cover my breasts. If it wasn’t for the look of lust in his eyes, I’d be covering myself up, self conscious of my appearance.

Steve wastes no time, wrapping his lips around one of my nipples, licking delicately while using a hand to palm the other one softly. A breathy moan escapes my lips and in the brief moment we make eye contact, I feel as though I could cum right then and there.

As his mouth and one of his hands focus on my breasts, his spare hand reaches my panties. Dragging his fingers over the thin material, teasing, he rubs circles, touch barely there though I’m sure he can feel the growing wet patch. I can feel his hips grinding down onto the bed between my legs, attempting to provide himself with some sort of relief.

Cautiously I push on his shoulders, to which he instantly pulls himself away from me. Fearing he may have done something wrong or that I’ve changed my mind. However, when I push him back against the bed and rid him of his clothes, I don’t miss the boyish grin plastered on his face.

Straddling his hips, I begin to grind myself over his erection, lips catching his in a desperate kiss. It’s messy and wet, neither focused on anything more than the pleasure experienced from our movements. He pants and whines softly, hands toying with my nipples, making me breathless. I can feel my side aching at the movement, yet I don’t care to stop, accepting the pain as a result of my need for the boy beneath me.

“Do you have a condom?” I ask through a string of deep breaths, gazing down at Steve with nothing but passion.

He doesn’t even take his eyes off me as he pulls his bedside drawer open before reaching in and handing me a silver packet. I remove myself from his lap momentarily, yanking my panties down my legs faster than I ever have before. When his boxers are removed, I rip open the little packet, rolling the latex down his length. Before dragging my hand up and down it delicately, resulting in a shaky exhale from Steve.

As I position myself above him, tip grazing over my clit gently, he grabs my wrists, eyes locked on mine. “Are you sure this is okay?”

“It’s more than okay.” I reassure him, grabbing his member and ever so carefully lowering myself onto him.

Gasp slipping from my lips as I take all of him inside of me, never having felt so full in my life. Steve’s fingers are stroking my hips, staring at me with an encouraging smile as I work up the nerve to move slightly. A hesitant lift of my hips before pushing myself back down. As I take more and more, I find myself shocked by how easily he slides in and out of me. Bounces easy and indescribably pleasurable.

Pressing my hands to his chest, I find the perfect rhythm, a combination of bouncing on his length, whilst rocking forwards just a little in order to hit the spot deep inside of me that evokes the most toe curling feeling within me.

Steve’s eyes are closed, deep groans emitting from his throat as his hands knead my ass softly. Hair stuck to his forehead from the sweat and cheeks flushed a deep red, yet he’s still the most beautiful man I have ever seen.

Mere seconds later I find myself reaching the boiling point, gripping Steve’s shoulders tightly as I rock myself through quite possibly the most intense orgasm of my life. Collapsing onto his chest with heavy breaths, his weight shifts under me and he begins to thrust up into me. Chasing his own high. The sensitivity becomes too much and I find myself seeing stars as he releases into the condom with a string of obscenities.

Rolling off him reluctantly, I watch as he rids himself of the latex, launching it into the bin at the otherside of the room. Turning to me, he opens his arms, wrapping me in them gently.

“I will never let anybody hurt you, not again.” He mutters into my hair and I’m unsure whether he’s telling me or himself.

“I know Stevie, I trust you.”

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dcxdpdabbles · 1 year

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Hello ❤️

Can you please write something about Jason x Danny? Maybe something about Jason having a crush on this new guy (maybe Danny works in a library or helping people as a nurse) and just falling cause Danny is sincerely nice and isn't afraid of his Lazarus's rage

Jason first notices the new face volunteering at the soup kitchen when the guy hand-makes flour tortillas for the beans. Just like his mom used to make, alongside Mrs. Huerea before she got into drugs.

It's been years since he last had some, not because Alfred refuses to make it but because the butler never has the time.

It's usually a treat for Thanksgiving, Christmas, Hanukkah, or his birthday. Sometimes if Jason is lucky, there is another important holiday for the many members of Wayne Manor, and there is time for Alfred to get them done. He can have them more.

But mostly, Alfred had them store-bought.

That's why he wanders to the other man's line, mouth already watering as the volunteer piles smashed beans with cheese and tortillas onto plates. A name tag has a simple "Danny" on top of a white NASA shirt coupled with slightly baggy pants is the whole outfit of the stranger - odd in Gotham's winter time.

He offers Jason a smile, then, with a wink, places two more fresh tortillas on his plate.

Before he can say anything, Danny pushes the plate toward him. "I can tell you're a man who appreciates fine food. Take them. I can always make more. "

He jerks a thumb to the back, where a press awaits use. It looks just like Mrs. Huerea's iron-clad tool that, for a second, he's six again, early happy the women preparing for Christmas.

When his mother was sober, the Huereas had always opened their home to them. The elderly couple had always felt like grandparents to him.

"Thanks," He says around a forming grin. It matches Danny's.

Jason accepts the food with an excited thrill; for once, the memories of his mother are not so bitter and ruined. He moves out of the way for the next person, making a mental note to tell his men to ensure Danny gets home safely after his shift. It would be in his employee's way.

He does this often, assigning some Red Hood boys to make sure no one bothers any of the volunteers. Jason knows he can't get rid of all crime, not like Bruce believes, but he can at least protect those trying to make this place less of a shit hole.

He sits, savoring the flavor with great appreciation. He's got time to relax a little.

One of his Lieutenant is in the back, speaking to the director of the Soup Kitchen. This is one of Jason's protected areas, but to make sure people know it's not to be taken lightly, the Red Hood gang does require protection money.

He doesn't ask a lot but Jason knows that any place that doesn't have protection money is a bigger target. Of course he also here pretending to be hungry just to make sure the place is actually doing what they promised to do and feed people.

When Jason first took over, this particular place had been known to only give out half of the money they donated in food. The rest was going into the old director's pocket. When he caught wind of the senior director often refusing kids just to save money to steal, Jason quickly fed him to the fish.

His Lieutenant, Rogers, would not be able to recognize him. Jason was eating without a mask. What better disguise than his own dead face? Much less the other people in the soup kitchen.

Although he was meant to observe his surroundings for any funny business, Jason glued his eyes on Danny the entire time. It seemed the man had an easy smile for everyone and a calming personality that seemed to put even the most hostile at ease.

Snow. Jason thinks while watching Danny make more tortillas while chatting with a street kid until the young girl feels she could make one. He lets her round the table easily, showing her how to press down on the metal lever with the same soft ease. He's like pure white snow.

He would not last long in Crime Alley. Nothing pure ever does.

Jason fishes his food, unable to look away from what he knows would be a broken man in only a few weeks.

He leaves just as Rogers returns to the front clutching a brown bag. It looks like he didn't need to worry about the upkeeping of this place. He needs to check on the other kitchens in his territory before the day is out.

After three other Kitchens, Jason is satisfied that he's secured two. He must send Rogers to the last one because a few girls seemed uncomfortable with the leering crew. He'll have the creeps removed by this Friday.

He's swinging around as Red Hood on his normal patrol when he catches sight of Danny again. It's close to two in the morning, so he's surprised to see the other man cheerfully strolling about without any signs of exhaust.

He's also not wearing warm clothing despite the snow slowly falling around them. The only difference between what he was wearing earlier is the large black backpack. Jason half wonders if Danny only has nothing else to wear until the man pauses at an alley entry.

He crouches down, unzipping his bag, before pulling out a plastic-wrapped package. Jason watches him cautiously walk into the alley, following on the roofs out of curiosity.

His eyes widen when he spots a young boy hiding behind a trash bin, squishing himself against the wall as Danny carefully approaches him.

Jason hadn't seen the kid when he had passed by earlier, likely due to the boy knowing how to hide himself in the shadows. How had Danny seen him?

"Go away!" The boy yells when Danny gets too close for comfort. Jason's hackles rise, pulling out his gun in case he needs to intervene. He remembers the days when the sound of approaching footsteps to his hiding places in the streets meant.

Danny stops just on the other side of the trash bin. He places the package on top of it and backs away quickly. "I don't mean to bother you. But I thought you could use these. Stay warm, and if you need to escape the snowstorm, go to the address in the right pocket."

The boy doesn't answer, and Danny doesn't seem to wait for one. He leaves with quick strides. Jason watches him from the roof, noticing he returns to a slow stroll once he's back on the main street.

Below, the street kid carefully pulls the plastic bag towards him once he knows Danny is gone. He unwraps the bag only to gasp in delight at the jacket, gloves, hat, scarf, and socks inside. He quickly slips them on, burying himself in the small amounts of warmth they offer him.

Jason watches the boy for a few minutes before jumping down. The kid scrambles away until he realizes it's Rood Hood. Everyone knows that he won't harm street kids.

"Hey," He says, noting that the boy's new clothes seem to be made from expensive material, all in black and neon green. "Do you have somewhere warm to sleep tonight? Snowstorm is coming."

"I can handle it." The boy scoffs despite the shivers that wrack his body.

"I know you can. But it's not safe out here" He kneels at the boy's eye level. He seems about twelve, likely new to the streets since he has yet to find proper shelter. Dirty blond hair and dark, weary brown eyes stare back at him as Jason offers. "Let me get you somewhere safe."

"I won't go back to the stupid system."

"Nah, that shit's broken. I got a safe house for you to crash in."

The boy thinks it over. "Just us?"

Jason isn't a mind reader to know what the kid fears. "No. It's full of other people."

It takes a few more minutes, but eventually, he convinces Max to follow him. They travel across Crime Alley to one of the empty warehouses he had turned into an illegal shelter. Inside are various Red Hood gangsters passing out blankets and setting up cots for people from the streets to sleep.

The heaters are on, but a few still refuse to remove their warm clothing- likely in fear of theft or that it proves an extra layer of comfort- as they settle down.

Max thanks him as the boy rushes to a corner that seems to be taken over by children. He doesn't approach the others to speak to, but he looks more comfortable picking a cot close to them. Jason's eyes widen slightly when he realizes that all seven children are wearing some form of the Black and Neon Green outfits Danny had given Max.

Rogers strolls up next to him, nodding his chin at the children. "Some street kids have been saying a man is offering them free supplies. He doesn't ask for anything in return and leaves them alone with they tell him to. His calling card is the little neon green ghost he places on each item. Want me to take a few of our boys and check him out?"

Jason grunts. "No need. I already know who it is. He seems like a non-threat."

Rogers appears flabbergasted for only a few seconds before pulling himself together. "If you say so, boss."

Jason turns to stare at the man, and Rogers raises his hands. "All I'm saying is that it's a little odd how good the guy is at spotting street kids."

"How good is he?"

"It's like he can see in the dark. He might be a meta."

Jason thinks back to Danny walking around in his light clothes like it's the middle of summer instead of winter and finds some weight in the meta-theory. "I'll pay him a visit soon."

Rogers lets the matter drop, even if he is confused by Jason's involvement. Usually, he has some of the newest members of the youngest ones who reckon a personable target- or new recruits.

But something about Danny called out to Jason. He couldn't say it, but the man's snow-like personality eased the Pit Rage in him. Strangely it felt like Danny was the calm winter promising rest to the wounded parts of Jason's soul.

He didn't want to see Danny's pure heart ruined by this city.

Jason wonders if he could keep it safe and if Danny will even give him the chance to try.

He hopes so. Danny has such a lovely smile.

#dcxdpdabbles #Dead on main #Red Hood's snow #Jason falls for the man trying to make Crime Alley less terrible.#Danny is just vibing being a help to anyone that he comes across #Jason was raised along side a sweet Mexican family cause I say so #Jason falls for a man with a pure heart.#Rogers is freaking out #His boss??? with a crush???#Hope you like!

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thewriterwithnoplan · 8 months

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THE HIGHEST TOWER (1/2)

Summary: As a Princess of the Realm the chance to escape political marriage and abscond with your Promised was beyond anything you could wish for. When the time is right, your dragon will lead you to them and your mother will support your union. In return, you must do all you can to protect her claim, even if you must do so from within the very heart of the Greens.

Soulmate AU: Your animal familiar leads you to your soulmate.

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Reader (eventual), Aemond Targaryen x Reader (mentioned)

Word Count: 4296

Warnings: Canon typical warnings, swearing, just general character awfulness, some espionage, canon divergence, my first time writing for hotd.

Masterlist

You had lived the better part of eight and ten years in the Red Keep. The daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen handed off to the Queen like some paltry trinket. The King’s first and final word on the matter of his granddaughter. Thrust carelessly into Alicent’s care at the fresh age of ten, a peace offering and a trade for Lucerys’ life. You scarcely remembered life beyond the borders of the castle. Only that one moment your brother's life had been under threat and the next yours was all but forfeit.

Your mother had clasped the back of your neck, pulled you toward her and begged her father for mercy. You who had not even been in the room when Aemond had lost his eye, lost to your own midnight flight atop dragon back. And then the curtain of Rhaneyra’s hair parted, and from over her shoulder Daemon met your eyes. For a single poignant moment, he stared and then a smirk broke across his face as if he knew.

Knew that you were not the innocent that your mother would have the King believe you to be. Knew that your midnight rendezvous with your dragon at the exact moment of Vhagar’s claiming was not mere coincidence. Your intentions had been innocent at first. A trip to the kitchen for a cup of milk which you would warm on the stove – a feat the late Sir Harwin Strong had taught you. Past your brothers’ room, your mother’s room, the servants' quarters and a balcony overlooking the beach. And then you had seen him. Aemond scaling your cousin’s dragon. And that just wouldn’t do.

Targaryens – true Targaryens who did not cower under the cover of darkness – needed their dragons if they had any hope of finding their Promised. Your cousin, Baela who always shared her sweets and let you borrow her wooden sword, deserved the chance to meet her Promised in the wake of her mother’s death. The man or woman that Vhagar would lead her to when the Old Gods saw fit. In the game of thrones when Targearyens already found so few chances for happiness, how could Aemond strip his cousin of her chance at true love? True, as an eldest daughter Baela’s future husband was most certainly decided – likely one of your brothers. But you were certain that Jacaerys or Lucerys would be understanding and gracious when the time came for Baela to claim her Promised, as she would be when the time came for her Lord-Husband. Such was the way of things. At least for the lucky.

Imagining your dragon, Laesuvion, claimed by another and leaving you with no guide to your Gods-given Promised made you feel ill. And so, you set out on bare, hurried feet to find and mount Laesuvion. You were a Targaryen born of the blood of dragons, of true Valyrian features. Vhagar was your cousin’s dragon by right and it was your duty to protect that claim. She was a formidable, indomitable beast but shackled with a new rider on his first flight. If you had one chance to disrupt the yet fragile bond being formed by dragon and rider, it was to dislodge the green boy and send him toppling toward the sea.

Laesuvion had hatched for you in your cradle. He was much younger and smaller than Vhagar but all the faster. It would be no trouble to fell your traitorous cousin. The difficulty became disguising the shock of white scales along the elongated arch of Laesuvion’s neck whilst searching for Vhagar’s camouflaged breadth.

“Aderī Laesuvion. Dokimarvose.” (Quickly Laesuvion. Focus.) You urged him.

Despite your efforts, you only caught sight of them twice. Once among the clouds, though you were sure Aemond got a greater view of you than you did him. And again, as Vhagar was returning to land Driftmark. Your hunt had been unsuccessful. But you had been sure no one would suspect you of such vengeful intent toward your uncle. Except perhaps Daemon.

“It is a fair price, Rhaenyra,” Daemon’s smirk was cunning, “They will not harm her.”

The betrayal on your mother's face heated your blood. How dare he tell her what to do? Your mother, Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the iron throne. This man who was no one, husband of no one, Prince of nowhere, heir of nothing. Who was he to command your mother? And now, to step toward you and attempt to pry you away from her. So close you could almost-

Almost hear the two of them whispering. To each other. To you.

“Think.” Daemon hissed, “They will demand her for Aemond sooner or later.”

“She is my only daughter.”

“She will still be your daughter in the Red Keep.” He kept up the pretence of fighting your mother, despite her arms having gone lax around you. “Not a bastard. Not a bargaining chip. Your daughter. At the heart of the greens.”

“She is a child.”

“A Targaryen child.”

“She is my child.”

“Then let her prove it.”

“Mother,” You warbled. “I don’t want to go.”

“Tala.” Daemon shifted, and his eyes met yours again as if you should know this word. You did not. “You will go. Make your mother proud. Learn at court. Find those who support her claim and those who will side with the Hightowers. You are weak and a girl, they will not suspect you. When the time comes you will be our most valuable weapon.”

“But I want to go home, Kepa.” (Father or paternal uncle)

“Oh, my sweet girl.” Rhaenyra held your face and brushed away your tears. “You will.”

“’Nyra.” Daemon warned.

“But not today.” She kissed each of your cheeks. “Today you must be strong for me. You must be strong for your brothers. You must do as Daemon says, we must keep them happy.”

And then your mother pulled you toward her firmly, pressed her lips to your ear and whispered a promise. A reward should you embark on this mission. Beyond sweets and silk dresses and extra time on Laesuvion. Beyond anything you had ever been promised or ever dreamed of asking for. Do this for your mother and she would exempt you from the chains of political marriage that would shackle each of your brothers. There was no guarantee you would be lucky like your brothers, married to one who would understand. But do this and you could have your Promised under the eyes of the Seven, the Old Gods, and the traditions of old Valyria itself. Even at 10, you knew that for a Princess and a second-born, there was no greater boon.

So, you did what you had to do for your one shot to truly be with your Promised. You squared your shoulders, kissed your mother's cheek, and stumbled toward Queen Alicent. She gripped you by the shoulder, tucked you into the folds of her skirt, and stared cruelly down her nose at your mother.

“Now I will have no more fighting.” Said the King and having satisfied his wife for the first time in their long marriage, he ambled off to bed.

As the crowd dispersed, Sir Criston Cole flanked the Queen and as a unit, the three of you marched from the room. Your mother, scarcely held together in Daemon’s embrace, gave one last warbling cry as you passed the threshold and disappeared, not to be seen again for nine long years.

You were kept that night in the Queen’s own quarters to thwart rescue or escape. Behind a bolted door and no less than three kings’ guards. And yet, that morning, upon waking with puffy eyes from silent tears and aching limbs from the harsh sitting room sofa, you found something that had not been there before.

A gift from Daemond, most assuredly, tucked under the pillow you had slept on. The handle was perhaps an inch too long for your small age, but the blade was curved and wicked sharp and would require little finesse to cause harm. Inlaid in the pommel was a single ruby, the size of your thumb and wonderfully smooth. Carved into the cross-guard flowing Valyrian script read valar morghūlis. (All men must die.)

You would call the dagger gaomilaksir, duty. You would carry it as a reminder of the promises you and your mother had made one another. One day, as Daemon had said, you would become her greatest weapon.

There had been few bright spots in your life as the Queen’s ward. So, few in fact, that you could count them on one hand.

One.

You could not fly. Such a thing would only encourage escape back to Dragonstone and your mother. But you could visit Laesuvion and watch him sweep through the clouds. He had grown much in your teenage years. Still lithe in build and elegant in frame, but more angular like an arrow strung tight. He did not take to Kings Landing, not in all your years trapped there. So used to the comfort of Dragonstone and your family’s own dragons, he often abandoned the Dragonpit entirely. Kept tethered to the Keep by your presence alone.

“Where is Laesuvion?” You were just shy of ten and two when you approached the Dragonkeeper Acolyte.

“Hunting, my lady.” He knocked his quarterstaff against the ground. “He flew north not three hours ago.”

“Do you not offer him food?”

The keeper lowered his head, “He refuses it, my lady.”

“Offer him better.”

“We give him our very best, lady. He is a magnificent but stubborn creature.”

“He is a dragon, not a creature.” You conjured up a playful grin. “And I am a princess, not a lady.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” The Acolyte blustered, “Shall I inform you upon his return?”

“That won’t be necessary,” You strode to his side and plunked yourself down to lean against the stone entrance. “I shall wait for his return here.”

And so, you did. Silently, for the better part of twenty minutes as the Acolyte threw furtive glances your way.

Until finally, “Truly, my lady. Your Highness. He could be hours still.”

Wonderful. You thought and cast a dazzling grin up at him. “Perhaps you ought to keep me better company then.”

And so, you began your mission. You charm the Dragonkeepers – Acolyte and Elder, all seventy-seven of them – who knew the princes and their dragons, their strengths and weaknesses. You befriend the maids, the scullery, the wet nurses, and the servants they bunk with. Piece by piece, inch by inch, you win back your mother's share of Kings Landing.

Two.

Strange though she was, your Aunt Heleana always welcomed you into her chambers. In your shared youth, she always had a critter clutched between her hands as if it were the most precious thing she owned. You are four and ten, a year younger than your aunt when she is forced to split her time between her menagerie of insects and the chubby masses of her twin babes.

“The young prince has lungs,” You smiled at Heleana as the wet nurse rocked a wailing Jaehaerys. “He will make glorious speeches when he is grown.”

“Only one.” She examined the creature in her hands. Today she favoured a centipede, passing Jaehaera onto you.

You had long since learned to ignore her ramblings, “The sweet Princess must be the wordsmith, then.”

“The fourth in an age.” Heleana startled as if only just noticing your presence. “Apologies, Hāedar. You wished to speak?” (Younger female sibling or cousin)

“No apologies necessary, Mandia.” (Older female sibling or cousin). The Valyrian word tasted foul. You had your own siblings on Dragonstone, those whom you had been stolen from and those whom you had yet to meet. But Heleana liked it when you pretended that you were not a prisoner, that you were her mother’s daughter and not her forcibly attained ward. And so you swallowed it with a smile, “Might we talk privately?”

Heleana startled again as she turned to the wet nurse. “Take the children to the nursery, Bria.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” Bria gave an awkward curtsy, shuffled the still-wailing Jaehaerys to one side and received Jaehaera from your arms. Heleana turned to you expectantly as the trio disappeared through a side door.

“It is a sensitive matter I am afraid,” You eyed the centipede as it escaped her hands and crawled across her skirts. “I do not wish to cause offence.”

Heleana’s eyes pinched at the corners, “It is not such a terrible burden – to be a wife. Mostly he ignores you.”

“You misunderstand me,” You hurried. “I only wished to speak of your grandfather.”

“Not my brother?”

“Do you wish to speak of your husband?”

“No,” Heleana gave you a quizzical look. “I speak of Aemond, who will be your husband.”

“Aemond?” Your uncle who’s selfishness had trapped you here. One of Alicent’s precious children married to her living doll. The thought would have been hysterical were it not so frightening. Surely not.

“It is the natural progression of things. I was given to Aegon and now you to Aemond.” Heleana’s attention returned to the centipede. “One pairing to strengthen our house, another to mend its bonds. So says grandfather.”

“Oh Mandia. I am entrusted to your mother. There need be no marriage to bring me into the fold. We are family.”

“Yes. So says mother.” Heleana stared. Not so blind as she seemed. “But grandfather always gets what he wants.”

And so, you are four years into your mission, having sat patiently by the Queen's side. Having listened and learned and noted those your mother can count on. Four years in and the time to begin quietly making moves had arrived with a head start from your oblivious Aunt.

But then you see the centipede crawl from her hands again and writhe across her skirt. And you think maybe Heleana’s warnings have more to do with where the critter is trying to lead her than it has to do with you.

Three.

It took you longer than you would like to admit to worm your way into Otto Hightower’s confidences – if there were such a thing.

You had quickly learned in your first year at the Keep that Alicent feared her father, distrustful of his greed and power lust. Not much unlike yourself, she had been sent into the greedy hands of a different house in pursuit of the Iron Throne. Were Otto not so blinded by his ambitions you might have begun to worry that Daemon’s strategy might ring familiar. But Lord Hightower’s strength was also his greatest weakness. So careful in his scheming, gently coaxing his will unto others, moving his pawns about the board, sacrificing all but himself, he could not see his tactics turned against him. Beyond your connection to Rhaenyra, you barely registered as a piece in the game.

Daemon had been right. Weak and a girl and not a threat. Not yet.

So, you worked tirelessly to endear yourself to Alicent. Just as you learned from her, you began to teach in turn. When you are in the room Otto Hightower dares not spin his lies about succession. When you appear around corners in search of your Queen-mother talk of hastening the king's condition ceases. When you are near, Alicent is safe. She begins to wear you like the expensive accessory you are, a decorative shield.

Hours trailing your Queen-mother to and from meetings of the small council, waiting patiently at her side as she sat in place of the King. Serving wine to fat and foolish lords.

And then finally, on the eve of your ten and fifth nameday, the Queen brings you along to the Hand's Tower.

“Father.” She greets.

“Alicent,” Otto brings you to his office, where a tea set for two lays steaming. “I see you have brought your shadow.”

The Queen barely glances your way as you serve her tea and then her father’s, before retreating to stand at her shoulder. She glares across her father’s desk, “This does concern her.”

“She is approaching her fifteenth year, two since her first blood. Time has well arrived for her to marry,” He stares directly at you then, “Have you any fondness for your uncle, Princess?”

“My lord, the Princes and I are often kept busy by our duties.” Your friends among the servants have divulged their schedules. You stay firmly away from drunken Aegon and selfish Aemond, remaining civil only with young Daeron.

“You must see reason.” Alicent implores her father. “They hold no affection for one another. Aegon and Heleana have already wed in the name of strengthening our family. To marry her would serve only to anger Rhaenyra.”

“And to bind her eldest daughter to us.” Interesting that he would say so openly in front of you. Perhaps you have been more effective in playing a Green than you had thought. “Aemond will be a good husband to her.”

“I have no doubt,” Alicent says and as silence stretches you suspect she is losing conviction; you have not saved her this time.

You clear your throat delicately, “If I may?”

“Of course, sweet pet.” Alicent reaches out to fuss with your hair. She likes it long and keeps its length to your hip despite how cumbersome it can be. Short hair is unbecoming, she claims.

You look to Otto in false deference, “My lord?”

“Very well.”

“I think,” You begin carefully. “Aemond and I may be of better use to you.”

“And how might that be?” He is condescending but you have his attention.

“When the time comes that grandsire passes on, I suspect the lords of the realm will need cause to back a claim to the Iron Throne. My Septa says that peace such as we have seen under his rule may bring unrest. I do not doubt that Aemond will make a fine and just husband. All I mean is that mayhaps it would be wise to keep us unwed until we may serve a greater purpose.”

No mention of your mother nor their ill-begotten plan for Aegon. Hightower's methods played against him.

“And when the time comes you will do this?” He demands.

“It is my duty to my house.”

He tilts his head as a predatory bird might. “You must swear it, to myself and to your Queen, upon your young brothers.”

To pause would mislay your ruse. To hesitate would be to sign your life away to Aemond Targaryen.

“I swear it, upon the lives of my brothers.”

He considered you for a moment, and then his daughter.

“You have done well with her, Alicent.” Your Queen-mother sighs as Otto Hightower stands. “Enjoy your tea, I have matters to attend to elsewhere. Perhaps you will be of more use than we originally suspected, Princess.”

Your first true victory. You will not be shackled to the Keep; you will be kept safe until your mother comes for you. Until such a time that you and Laesuvion can seek out your Promised.

Four.

The Queen held a strange fondness for you. Platinum-haired and purple-eyed, the spitting image of the Realm’s delight and perhaps the only trueborn among your siblings. She took pains to brush and braid your hair, dress you in green and flout you at court. Her perfect tamed Targaryen. Who would eat from her hand, take tea by her side, sit prim and silent as her Queen-mother decorated her. You were her walking-talking glimmering triumph over Rhaenyra.

At ten, Alicent’s obsession stole you from your mother. At ten and four, it protected you from a hasty marriage. And now, at ten and eight, it was your path to freedom.

“Mother?”

Oh, how Alicent loved it when you called her that. One more thing ripped from Rhaenyra’s thieving hands. Alicent pushed into your room with a tired facsimile of a smile and took the seat across from you by the roaring hearth.

“My sweet pet.” She was dressed head to toe in full regalia. “I am so sorry to have missed you today.”

You tucked a piece of scrap paper into the book you had been reading, buying yourself time to school your features into innocent confusion. “As am I. My door has been locked. I am sorry I could not come to you.”

“A precaution – one that I fought.” Alicent reached for your hair, running her fingers through its length. “But we cannot trust you to betray your mother. Regardless of the years you have spent in our care.”

“I do not understand, mother.” But you do.

“Your grandsire is dead.”

You close your eyes, “Aegon is king.”

“Yes.”

“You did not wish for this.”

“I wish Viserys were still a living corpse. That he would outlive us all so that none could claim his cursed throne. Not Aegon. Not Rhaenyra. Not my father.”

“That is not a solution.”

She tugs at your hair harshly, “Foolish pet, there is none.”

You blink harshly. Your eyes scarcely holding back tears. For the first time since you left your mother's embrace, you are truly scared. No longer are you the meek girl who walks in the Queen’s shadow. Given liberties and protection in a twisted echo of her love for Rhaenyra. You are a living embodiment of what House Targaryen will be to House Hightower. A pretty little puppet kept from your dragon, cloistered away like some trophy, scrambling for a scrap of power to delude yourself that you have some control.

“What is to become of our house?” You whisper.

“Your mother and Prince Daemon remain on Dragonstone. No blood has yet been shed.” Alicent brushed your hair softly behind one ear. “We have sent Aemond to Storm’s End to do as you once suggested. To offer himself to one of the Baratheon girls, that Lord Borros might see reason and acknowledge Aegon as rightful King.”

Good, there were those beyond the Keep who remained steadfast and loyal. It was time to return to your mother, then. To tell her all you had learned these last eight years. To name her allies and set Daemon loose upon her foes. Now was the time.

“What of my brothers?”

Alicent leant back, “Scouts have spotted Vermax flying north likely as an envoy to rally support among the lords.”

“How could they have mobilized so quickly? Was Aegon not crowned mere hours ago?”

“He was, indeed.” Alicent’s gazed into the fire. “The Lady Rhaenys was not so welcoming of solitude as you have been.”

“She has gone to Dragonstone?”

“She has.”

“And no one has come for me?”

“They have not.”

For a moment you each stared listlessly into the hearth. When Alicent shifts back to face you, she has a letter clutched in her hand. It is crisp and of fine quality but most strikingly, stamped with the King’s seal.

“I am under no delusions,” Alicent says softly, mournfully. “You can no more contest your mother's claim than I can Aegon’s. We are matching pieces in this game, I think.”

Your fear swells, “Mother.”

“Please, my sweet girl.” She smooths the hair atop your head. “You must do me one last favour as my ward.”

“I don’t understand.”

She presses the letter into your hands. “Jacaerys will fly first to the Vale, to treat with House Arryn and then to Winterfell. You will take this and beat him there. You will do as you swore to do those years ago.”

“I ca–”

“Listen!” She jerked you by your shoulders. “You must listen. You will wed Lord Stark. He is as fine a match as any. The north is loyal to Rhaenyra and will remain steadfast, you will be well treated. You must go, with this missive from the King, his final wish to send you north to snow and safety. In return for your hand, they will take no part in the fighting, they will protect you as their own, until such a time that the victor is crowned. Do you understand me, pet?”

“The King never cared for me.” You said foolishly.

“And yet, with his dying breath, he spoke of you and of Aegon. That you would carry his legacy, that you would see out his dream to the North. That Prince Aegon was Promised to this kingdom. You must believe me. You must do this for your grandsire.”

“I do believe you mother.” She was deluded. “I will do what must be done.”

Alicent has offered you one gilded cage for another. You will not be fool enough to fall into this one. You will find Laesuvion and be gone in the dead of night. You tuck the King’s missive into your book and smile at the Queen.

“Shall we call for tea, mother? You have much to tell me. I hear I have missed a coronation.”

Five.

You shape your fifth and final joy as the Queen Alicent’s Ward whilst escaping her clutches. You take three sharp detours on your path to the Dragonpit. First, to the chamber of the small council where you snatch the King's ball of quartz, you will make a gift of this to your mother. Then to the creche where the Keeper’s turned a blind eye as you pilfered three precious Dragon eggs. Finally, you find yourself ascending the steps of the Lord Hand’s Tower. To take the Dowager Queen from the Greens would be the greatest gift to your mother and her cause. But Alicent, despite her many faults, had been as kind to you as one might be toward a favourite pet. And so you do as a pet would – you do not bite the hand that fed you. Instead, you do both your Queen-mother and the woman that birthed you, a favour. You find Otto Hightower asleep in his study and you pass onto him your final gift from Daemon Targaryen.

You leave gaomilaksir in the heart of Hightower as you flee north, your duty complete.

(Part 2 : The Winter Keep)

#cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan x you #cregan fanfiction #jacaerys velaryon #prince jacaerys #lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #queen alicent #alicent hightower #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #otto hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen

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lordprettyflackotara · 4 months

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sharp fangs || sam & colby || part two

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+. sam and colby are vamps hehe🧛🏼‍♀️. TW: SMUT WITH PLOT. this fic contains blood, brief gore, murder but like it’s justified tbh. mainly you just have two vampire bfs obsessed with you lol. made this shit extra long. ps: part three will not take as long i promise. enjoy my beloved readers. MWAH <3

Sam and Colby absolutely adored you. You were the apple of their eye, the air that made them feel like they could breathe again. They couldn’t get enough of you, making a conscious effort to spend every moment they could with you. When you were away they’d clean your apartment. (Or snoop through your things.) When you went to sleep at night they’d take shifts watching over you while the other went out to hunt.

You were so darling while you slept, the contentment and peace on your face the sight of a lifetime to them. In all of their long years they had didn’t think they’d allow themselves to get attached to another human. After the first two hundred years they saw all of their companions die, leaving them alone with just one another. All of their past lovers met the same inevitable demise, death becoming an old friend of theirs.

The routine was beginning to become old, the two deciding interacting with humans was pointless. Humans were so fragile, so unfortunately disposable. Whoever they chose to get attached to could get hit by a bus and die, or catch a simple cold and it’d end the same. They shared the same fears with you, which they tried to repel by watching over you so heavily. You liked it in an odd way, having your two best friends become angels watching over you. Both Sam and Colby only shared two fears. They feared the day you’d unexpectedly die from a tragic occurrence. Turning you into one of them was out of the question, your soul deserving better than eternal damnation.

The only thing they feared more, was when you truly saw them for what they were. They knew everything about them was appealing to you. Their looks, their voice, even down to their scent. They believed you truly cared for them, but they weren’t convinced you actually comprehended how terrifying they could be. How savage and ruthless they could become. They feared once you realized this, a look of genuine horror spread across your face, you’d wish them away. Forever.

Often times they tried to ignore this fear. After all, right now you were standing in between them, asking them questions about being a vampire. Your fingers were intertwined with Sam’s, Colby’s arm lazily hanging over your shoulders. “Coffins?” You asked. Colby chuckled, an ice cold winter breeze flying past the three of you. “Did we bring coffins when we moved in?” He asked. You rolled your eyes, hoping the boys didn’t notice your visible shivering. They did.

It wasn’t unusual for the three of you to go out for a snack late at night, the empty streets allowing Sam and Colby to be visible without disguises or questions. “Alright alright. How about garlic? I may be Italian, you never know,” You asked. Sam had given you his jacket a few minutes ago, your lips still turning more white by the second. How had they not thought this through better? As the blonde looked down at your eyes, the soft doe kind that made their frozen hearts flutter, he remembered. Right, that’s why.

“Human food doesn’t bother us. You can make as much garlic bread to your hearts content,” Sam replied, placing a small kiss to the side of your head. Small snowflakes had entangled themselves in your hair, Sam’s lips forming a frown. You were willing to make yourself this cold and potentially sick for a twinkie? The three of you finally approached the tiny store, Colby handing you a wad of cash. “Jesus Christ, a twinkie does not cost more than a hundred dollars Colbs,” You gasped, looking at the wad of crisp and shiny hundred dollar bills. “I read about inflation all the time. Just get a few snacks so you won’t have to nearly freeze to death for a twinkie,” He insisted.

You smiled softly, placing a kiss on Colby’s cheek. “Alright i’ll be back,” You say, before dipping into the grocery store. Sam and Colby preferred to stand outside, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention. “We didn’t have twinkies in our time right?” Colby asked. Sam let out a chuckle. “Dude we were actively there for the salem witch trials. We absolutely did not have twinkies,” He answered. Colby teasingly elbowed him, the two leaning against the brick wall outside of the store.

“Just double checking. Couldn’t recall if we were around to try those hyped up little rolls,” Colby told him. It was odd when they thought about it, how long they had roamed the earth. It was always just the two of them during life and then resurrection. They couldn’t help but feel like you were the final piece to the puzzle, the third to the trio. Yet they feared how long they’d actually have with you. Especially when you opted to eat twinkies a majority of the time instead of actual food. (Colby had agreed to learn how to cook just to get you to eat better.)

Sam’s ears twitched for a split second, the sound of footsteps flooding them. He looked around, both him and Colby as still as statues. “You hear that?” He asked the brunette. Colby nodded, equally as on alert. The weather was undoubtedly freezing. No economic crisis was occurring, there would be no reason for a regular human to be roaming the streets this late at night. “I’ll go check it out. Stay with her and i’ll meet you guys back at the apartment,” Colby huffed, dashing off into the night. The ringing of the bell attached to the store door rang, your happy face emerging into sight. You had already broken into one of your twinkies, taking a big bite. You went to hand Sam the wad of cash, before searching for Colby.

“Where’s Colby?” You asked, wiping the white cream off of your bottom lip. Sam’s mind briefly went to filth, before resuming to the matter at hand. He didn’t want to worry you, but he also didn’t want to lie. Since they had met you they had agreed to not lie, the truth something you’d have to handle if you wanted them around. “He’s off investigating something he heard. He’ll meet us back at the apartment,” Sam explained. You laced your fingers with Sam’s, allowing the blonde to walk you across the street. “You think it’s another one of your kind?” You asked, taking another bite of your twinkie.

Sam purposefully kept you on the side away from the road, ensuring no car would hit you if it came brawling your way. Especially with the icy roads, Sam knew human drivers would be unpredictable. (Big shocker: he wasn’t a fan of automobiles when they came out.) “I doubt it. This is our territory now. Our scent is everywhere,” Sam reassured you. You shoved the empty wrapper in your pocket, leaning on Sam for support as he walked you home. His body was cold and statue like, yet you found comfort the more you touched him.

The three of you didn’t want to make things confusing after you all met. After all, the sex was just supposed to be a one time thing. A peace offering in the boys minds. That’s what it was supposed to be. Yet the memory constantly lingering in the forefront of all of yours minds. There was a not so subtle craving that you all wanted it to happen again, the timing just not seemingly right. Sam and Colby didn’t believe in rushing things, even if you didn’t have all the time in the world as they did. Snow crushed underneath your sets of footsteps, Sam’s hearing acutely on alert for intruders.

Yet he couldn’t find it within himself to hear anything over the soothing sound of your heartbeat. It was music to his ears, the sound gratifying to him. It was so soothing in fact, it was distracting. This distraction created the perfect element of surprise for a man in a ski mask to emerge from the alleyway shadows, grabbing you. “Sam!” You screeched, thrashing against the criminals grasp. Sam was forced to let go of your hand, knowing he’d accidentally tear it off if he held onto you and played tug of war against the criminal. Sam could hear it now, the disgusting blood flowing through the lowlifes veins. He had been so blinded by how ethereal your presence was and now he was paying the price.

The flash of a blade sent Sam into an angry frenzy, baring his fangs at the attacker. “Sam! Help me! Colby!” You screamed, your voice echoing off of the alleyway walls. In the blink of an eye Colby was on the attacker, biting into the side of his neck. The grasp on you was released, your body falling to the ground. You quickly turned around, moving backwards on the icy sidewalk. Colby wasn’t feeding onto your attacker, his gaze was much more intense than that. Much more unhinged. He yanked his head backwards, tearing his throat apart. You barely had time to blink before Sam was on the other side of the attacker, copying Colby’s actions.

Clumps of flesh hit the ground, streams of blood flowing everywhere that you looked. Your attacker was long dead, your heart thumping so loud you thought it may burst out of your chest. You continued to back away, your back hitting a street lamp as you watched Sam and Colby. Any mortality they had, any sense of pride or self control had been washed away by the biggest wave. Neither of them were hungry, the taste of the attackers blood sickening. They received no satisfaction from feeding on him, their animalistic craving ordering them to tear the threat apart.

So they did, the man’s neck now a pile of unidentifiable blood and flesh. You swallowed, staring at your best friends. The ones who did your laundry and watched sitcoms shows with you. The ones who looked over you every single moment of the day, even when you didn’t want them to. The same ones who had once fucked you merciless, your life never having been the same afterwards. Blood coated both of their hands, the same crimson paint dripping down their chins and necks. Sam’s maroon sweater was now soaked, Colby’s leather jacket stained with splatters.

Sam dropped the attacker first, his eyes darting around in search of you. You were a pitiful sight, one Sam wished he didn’t have to see. You were on the ground, your back hugging the closest streetlight. Your hands were buried into handfuls of snow, your fingers turning red from the cold. Your eyes were widen, your gaze refusing to stray from him and Colby. Sam swallowed, the rancid taste of the attackers blood still coating his tongue. He walked in front of you, crouching down to your eye level. “I’m so, so sorry,” He whispered. You looked terrified, surely of them. Sam was very sure, his eyes soaking in what he figured to be the last time he’d see you.

Colby quickly joined his side, the corpse abandoned behind them. You had never seen so much blood before, the color seemingly everywhere you looked. “It’s going to be okay, I promise,” Colby cooed. He brought his hand up to your cheek, lovingly stroking your cheekbone with his thumb. The blood was staining your skin, the feeling unnatural and making you slightly uneasy. Yet, when you looked at the two killers in front of you, you felt nothing but pure awe. Sam was trying to find the words to say to you, expecting the worst. Colby didn’t seem to have the same thoughts as him, which only made the situation ten times worse.

“I-I-I-” You began stuttering, unable to form a coherent sentence. How could you do it? How could you ever thank them? They saved your life. The faint sound of sirens interrupted the conversation, the boys heads turning to the left at the same time. “Sorry princess the conversation is going to have to wait. Let’s get you home,” Colby said, scooping you into his arms. You curled up against his chest, the stench of blood flooding your nostrils as you nuzzled against his shirt.

The boys had gotten you inside safely, setting you down on the couch gently. “Do you need anything? Water? Food?” Colby asked. There were only a handful of things a human could need, surely there were maybe five max. In his mind at least. Sam’s mind was soaring in the other direction, his mouth running dry. You shook your head no, meeting their gaze. “Thank you,” You said. Sam blinked a few times, trying to ensure he heard you correctly. “We’d do anything for you,” Colby answered, crouching in front of you. The blonde braced himself, sure this was the end.

“I’m sorry I didn’t do my best to protect you. I know what you’re doing to do and I just have to say that I-” Sam began, your widened eyes stopped him. Fuck, you really had no idea the power you had over them. The three forbidden words were on the tip of his tongue, the ones that would only make this harder. You quickly rose to your feet, cupping his face into your hands. Gratitude had washed over you, your body demanding to give them a reward. You couldn’t deny that although unsettling, the sight of them covered in your attackers remains made your heart skip a beat.

“I wanna thank both of you, for saving my life,” You say, looking up into Sam’s red orbs. A thousand thoughts ran through the blondes head, many of them thinking they had broke your sanity or something along those lines. “Are you not scared?” Colby asked, approaching you from behind and resting his hands around your waist. You shook your head no. “You both won’t hurt me,” You answered. Sam’s eyebrows furrowed. “You don’t know that. You saw what we did. We ripped his throat apart. Tore him to shreds,” Sam huffed, “What exactly makes you so confident we wouldn’t do that to you?”

His words were hurtful, even if they did hit the hammer on the nail. “You did that to protect me. I know you. I know you both. You won’t hurt me,” You answered again, more confident this time. Colby exchanged a look with Sam, the gears in his brain finally turning the same way his were. “I think what Sam is trying to say is that what you just saw was a lot to process. It is for us, which means it has to mean even more to a human-” He began, your sharp eyes turning around to meet his. Your eyes were shooting daggers, a look Colby knew to not threaten. “Enough with the whole ‘weak human’ bullshit. I may not be immortal but I have a brain you know,” You snapped.

Yeah, Sam had came to the conclusion that they broke you.

“And what does your brain tell you about what you just saw? About the two blood soaked demons that are standing in your living room?” Sam questioned. Your facial expression softened, your eyes resuming their doe like fashion. “They’re telling me that you’re both vampires. Vampires with habits and tendencies I anticipated. Ones that don’t scare me,” You answered. Why didn’t they understand? Could they understand?

Your words seemed so sincere, both boys back on you. It was Colby in front of you this time, Sam’s chest pressing against your back. “We are so sorry you had to see that,” Colby told you. He grabbed your chin, guiding you to look up at him. They could hear your heart skip a beat, the blood smudging against your soft skin. “It’s okay. If it makes you guys feel better, you both look awfully hot covered in blood like this,” You say, biting your bottom lip. Sam pressed himself against your ass, his hands traveling up to your breast.

“Really, is that so?” Colby hummed, smirking down at you. He centered his thumb on your bottom lip, pulling it down teasingly. “In that case, let us show you how sorry we really are,” Sam murmured into your ear, pressing a kiss against your earlobe. You groaned, his large hands kneading at your breast. “Open your mouth princess,” Colby muttered. You did so, flattening out your tongue on display. The brunette could feel himself getting hard, watching you eagerly suck his thumb as he put it into your mouth. The taste of blood coated your tongue, your pupils dilating as you looked into Colby’s eyes.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect,” Colby praised. He removed his thumb from your eager mouth, replacing it with his lips. His taste made you feel drunk, your body becoming putty in between the boys as Sam tweaked your nipples. He chuckled darkly into your neck as they hardened under his ice cold fingertips. “Always so eager,” Sam murmured, sucking hickies onto your neck. He could feel your veins, hearing the blood flow through your delicate body. Colby’s tongue slid into your mouth, the brunette careful to not nip you with his fangs. Your desperation only made them harder, your sinful noises only becoming louder.

“Fuck, i’ve missed this,” Colby panted, pulling away from your lips. A thin string of saliva hung between both of your lips, your lips now swollen. “We’ve missed this,” Sam corrected, working on his third hickey. Colby dropped to his knees, eager to please you. “Let me taste you, fucking please, just wanna make tonight up to you,” Colby pleaded, his desperation washing over him. You could feel Sam’s hips roll against yours teasingly, ripping a groan out of your throat. “Answer him baby,” Sam encouraged, the smell of your arousal flooding his nose. You licked your lips, your balance unsteady.

Sam’s large hands kept you in place, his assault on your throat relentless. “Please, do whatever you want to me,” You whined, raking your fingers through Colby’s hair. The brunette quickly pulled down your skirt and stockings, accidentally tearing them in the process. “We’ll buy you new ones,” He muttered, bringing your panties down to your ankles. Your slick was drenched for them, Colby’s eyes blown with lust as he admired your cunt. This is all he could think about since the last time he saw you like this, so wet and desperate.

“Go on baby, use Colby’s tongue the way you need,” Sam said encouragingly. You pulled him towards you by his hair, his eager tongue lapping up your juices. Your knees almost buckled, Sam quick to keep you in place. The blonde was having a hard time restraining himself, your blood calling to him. Your smell was always so delightful and it only became more so when you were a moaning mess. “Sammy,” You whined, using your spare hand to grab his wrist. Colby’s lips sucked at your clit, making it harder to form coherent sentences.

“Yes baby?”

“Drink from me,” You panted, grinding against Colby’s face. Sam blinked, unable to deny or question your request. Your blood was sweeter than any others he had tasted, his body always yearning to have another taste of you. He slowly sank his sharp fangs into you, the piercing pain subsiding into a blinding euphoria. “Oh my God,” You whined, clawing at Colby’s hair. His large hands were keeping your thighs pried open, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as Sam drank from your neck like a starving man. “Thats it princess, keep using me. Make yourself cum on my tongue,” Colby ordered, the sight of you crumbling enough to make him want to cream his pants.

Sam managed to pull himself off of you, panting as he did so. Your blood was so intoxicating, so addicting. It’s like you were made for them. He lapped at your neck, cleaning your wound as you felt a familiar knot form in your stomach. “Fuck fuck fuck,” You whimpered. Sam slithered one of his hands around your waist to keep you upright, using the other to guide your head to turn. He brought his lips to yours, swallowing each noise you made with his mouth. You could taste your own blood, the metallic taste sending you over the edge. You pulled at Colby’s roots are you came, your vision clouded with stars.

Colby emerged from between your thighs, bruises of where his hands had held your thighs apart already forming. Sam picked you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. You smashed your lips against his, the boys bringing you to your bedroom. Your back hit your plush mattress, the boys switching positions. Colby stood in between your legs, undoing his belt. “You sure you can handle me princess? I won’t go easy on you like Sam,” He smirked, causing Sam to roll his eyes. You nodded eagerly, reaching behind you to undo Sam’s belt.

“I’m not just a human Colbs. I can handle whatever you throw at me,” You say, as cocky as you can muster. The boys exchanged mischievous looks, their cocks throbbing with excitement. You laid your head back, quickly helping Sam take off his pants. You could feel your core throbbing with desire, Colby making himself right at home in between your legs. He rubbed his tip up and down your folds, soaking in the feeling. You stuck your tongue for Sam, eagerly awaiting his cock. The mere sight of it was making your mouth water.

“You have no idea how long i’ve been waiting to fuck you,” Colby confessed, pushing himself inside of you. You moaned, your noises being muffled by Sam’s cock as he placed it inside of your mouth. The vibrations sent a chill down his spine, your name falling off of his lips. “Fucking hell, you’ve got to try her mouth,” Sam groaned, pushing himself down your throat deeper. Colby grinned as he bottomed out, your walls milking his cock.

“Trust me I remember, everything about her is a slice of heaven,” He replied, gripping your waist harshly. He began to move slowly, slithering one of his hands down to your clit. Your thighs trembled at the extra stimulation, Colby’s thrust speeding up rapidly. Both boys seemed to be in a state of heat, their hips moving faster than you could keep up. “You’re so pretty like this,” Sam praised, watching the shape of his cock go up and down your throat. Colby bit his bottom lip, his sinful noises threatening to spill out at a rapid rate.

“You’re taking me so well. Like you were made for me,” Colby grunted. He drew faster circles around your clit, your waterline flooding with tears as Sam’s cock abused the back of your throat. They were merciless, hell bent on making you cum whilst chasing their own highs. “Made for us,” Sam corrected, his orgasm coming quickly. He pulled himself out of your throat, watching as you stuck your tongue out, desperately trying to lick the underside of his cock. He jerked his shaft above you, depositing his seed directly into your mouth.

“You’re so fucking hot, my fucking God,” Sam panted, watching you eagerly swallow his cum. Your mouth was free to moan now, your mascara smudged and tears peaking at the corner of your eyes. “Just like that, please, feels so good Colbs,” You babbled. Colby grabbed both of your legs, throwing them over his shoulders. He felt impossibly deeper, his cock abusing your g spot as it pleased. “You’re fucking milking me princess, it’s like you want me to cum inside of you,” Colby moaned, his thrust relentless.

Sam snickered as he lowered himself near your ear. “You’d like that wouldn’t you? To be bred by him? By both of us? Such a dirty girl, wanting to be bred by demons,” Sam snickered, licking the side of your neck. You could feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm, your body beginning to tremble. “Shit, i’m gonna cum,” You warned. One of your hands found Sam’s squeezing it tightly as you felt your orgasm wash over you. He now felt what Colby felt before, the butterflies swarming around his stomach at the romantic gesture.

Colby’s hips stuttered, his thrust coming to a halt as he came inside of you. He slowly pulled out of you, collapsing on the other side of the bed. The rooms sounds consisted of your rapid breathing and heartbeat, for Sam and Colby at least. Colby stroked your hair as you calmed down, Sam’s hand never straying from yours.

“Hey guys?” You hummed. Sam could’ve jumped on his feet right then and there. Anything you needed. Anything you wanted. He’d eagerly walk to the ends of the earth to get it for you. “Yeah?” He replied, awaiting your orders. You giggled, looking over at him.

“Wanna have a round two?”

#sam and colby #sam and colby smut #sam golbach #colby brock #colby brock x reader #colby brock x y/n #colby brock x you #sam golbach smut #sam golbach x colby brock #sam golbach x reader

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onyourhyuck · 1 year

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GOLDEN HOUR. | L.MK

— Prologue: “Excuse me waiter?”

— Summary: You’re a waiter and Mark Lee the local biker and infamous bad boy loves the eggs your diner makes, but now he wants a taste of you.

— Genre: Smut, smut smut. Minors DNI. Badboy biker!marklee. Waiter!y/n. Lots of degrading terms as well as praising (we lot a degradation + praise moment) Public sex. Literally they do it on his freaking BIKE. Hairpulling. Teasing. Y/n is a big fucking tease. Playful banter. Enemies to ???. Y/n is made to humble Mark Lee. Mark calls Y/n Good girl. Y/n has a hand kink. Mentions of rings/jewellery. Mark is a massive ass guy here. Groping. Spitting on her ass. Ass play. Male receiving head. Mark literally grabs y/n’s face and made her to submission.

— Notes: Mark’s song Golden Hour inspired me by this…. I will write an apology for this filth you’re about to witness.

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You are a hard working woman, you love your work. You believe nothing comes easy in life so it’s useful to have hard shell around you to protect you from all sorts of evil this world has to offer. You don’t have the patience or the time to be wasting on useless things that do not serve you, your mind has always been set on this certain job you’ve been working on for a year nearly. You ended up loving it so much.

At first you weren’t sure if this job was the path you wanted to take but now you wouldn’t trade it for the world. You couldn’t careless if this job wasn’t going to pay you more than you needed in the next following years because as long as you are happy enjoying it; you thought screw it. This job may seem like a temporary waste but to you it was a long term source of your happiness and so many memories.

You’ve met good customers, some customers weren’t just as pleasant but nonetheless everyone you meet in this diner was a blessing in disguise.

Your coworkers were as equally happy to have you join them and light up this diner making it your own home. They wouldn’t change it for the world, you formed bonds no one could ever replace in your heart. To the point your boss was kind enough to promote you to head waitress diner and have made arrangements to have your own personal keys to the diner. So everytime you have yourself a night shift you can close down anytime you are done.

Your colleagues were glad to have you around the diner because without you many of them wouldn’t be able to get out there. Once a coworker you know couldn’t make it to the shift because of their blind date, you without any consideration stepped up and said you will take it. No matter how busy you are the diner comes first to you.

On this day you were opening the diner letting the customers in view come inside. It wasn’t busy and it was rather quiet in the morning. You couldn’t really tell what it was you’re feeling when it’s just you in the diner. No one else arrived and you were the first one.

You brush the broom on the floor sweeping the marble flooring the large diner owns, you hum a longing melody to yourself quietly as the empty diner leaves you waiting for anyone to come in, anticipating your colleagues and more. But the moment the front bell rang on the door making you swing your back straight to look at the front a gang of bikers pull up at the front entrance with their roaring lioness engines.

Wearing black and leather made up of straight skinned people, bandanas on the hairline or the beads — some wearing boots so heavy it made your own body shudder by the weight they are pulling on the feet itself. Streak of blonde hair entering the restaurant, wearing a brown leather jacket, a loose cast white shirt, the hair ruffled up and styled so lavishly it made him reek of trouble. You could smell it from miles away and it certainly wasn’t a pleasant fried egg smell it was a rotten roast of trouble smoking behind the young man.

It’s as if everything in the diner went dark and more silence came out than before even though it was only you in that diner. Somehow his company made you even more stunned. You don’t remember seeing him round here often enough because you remember everyone of your customers. You try to at least, and you’re more than sure that this man who strut in to your diner you’d remember a face like his.

Putting the broomstick on the wall you wipe your hands on the diner apron you have wore everyday your shift starts. Walking over to the table where that young blonde man with his obvious dyed hair and piercing cold eyes sat. Holding the menu in his hands you reopen you small notepad and take out an ink black pen.

You smile out. “Hello sir what will you be having today?” You say as if you weren’t saying this to everyone in your shift.

The young man hums out looking at you. “I have not decided just yet.” He was rather picky on which egg he wants today. You see, Mark loves his eggs a certain way. They have to be perfect and matching to the needs and cravings he has for a certain period of time. Unlike in your sight.

You tap your feet on the ground slightly staring him down after twenty minutes standing there. Mark kept his fingers gracing them on the menu at each egg point still not able to pick a damn meal. You slit your teeth together.

His fingers raided with diamond rings on them blink to the reflection of the light coming out the diner window could blind your almond doeish eyes. The way his hands were taking their dear sweet time reading every word, you couldn’t help but observe the size of his fingers and the beautiful flashy rings; you hated how your thoughts got unholy the moment his eyes saw your intense gaze at his fingers but he didn’t mention it. You wait at the counter staring him down into disbelief.

‘God I hope he didn’t see me staring at his hands.’ You wanted to mentally pray he didn’t. You told yourself to pretend like nothing has happened.

You’re back to being filled with annoyance to see more minutes passing by and the customer up front not choosing yet.

You love this job, okay, you really do. But you hate indecisive customers the fucking most.

‘Just pick something everything is eggs. What’s so hard about picking an egg.’ You wanted to scream to him, scream and tell him to get on with it. Eggs are eggs. They’re not much different to taste until you pick the seasonings.

“Are you here to eat or are you here to piss around causing trouble here?” You seethe gently trying to come out as passive aggressive. You don’t want to be rude but this boy was really tearing your patience apart from you. I mean, look at Mark. The young man came out lavish dressed just to look down at the diner menu and not pick a single thing over the next thirty minutes.

Mark flaunts at you with a wide smirk. “I dunno that depends on your answer.”

Your eyebrows rose up confused together, arching down like an innocent aisle. He couldn’t lie but he loved the way your reactions were so easy to read, he could tell he was annoying you and that’s exactly what he wanted to do. You cross your arms questioning that he might of came here with a higher purpose than to just eat eggs at your diner.

“What are you on about?” You ask out loud.

“What’s your name sweet lips?” Mark’s words echo right at you like a radioactive bomb flaming your skin open melting it like it were pure wax. You stare impatiently, clenching your jaw together. “It’s Y/n.”

Until you calm down your nerves you loosen up and reply unbothered, or you pretend to be. You won’t give him the attention. It’s clear he was flirting his way into your head and you can’t get away from it without putting on a professional fake smile. “Call me when you’re ready to eat.” You turn around walking away to clean more of the diner.

Mark’s eyes land on your back and down to your ass in that uniform the diner made all the coworkers dress in. He slants in the chair whistling as his eyes land on your legs, the thighs that touch each other, he loves seeing the way your thighs were both thick and soft looking. It reminds him of bedsheets in a way with how soft looking and clean they look. And your ass, don’t forget the way he could see it peeking out of that skirt. It was hard not to check you out. Actually it would be rude not to check you out, you look amazing. Your face card never declined in fact Mark saw you round the diner before but he never came to eat at this place he only saw you from afar. But everytime his biker gang and him rode in the street outside the diner, the boys mention you.

They speak often about you. It made him curious why they are talking so much about a young girl who’s just a simple diner girl, but now it all makes sense why they are talking. Why they’re discussing you of all people.

You were strong headed, professional, you were clearly smart enough not to fall for his lousy flirting skills he has to work on. But not only that it’s the way you were physically looking like straight out of a movie. Your body was indescribable. The way clothes made Mark frustrated on you, he never hated clothes so much before until now.

He shouldn’t be thinking these things but he was and unfortunately it was all your fault because you saw him checking you out in the corner of your eye, you knew and you saw it, it just left you smirking behind that innocent professional mask face you have on. In reality you were equally peeking interest at Mark when you saw a glimpse of his eyes stare at your ass.

But you didn’t want to show it. Of course you did not this is your workplace. You wouldn’t want someone as arrogant as Mark Lee to have the thing he wants so easily.

For once Mark looks like he actually wants something that is not eggs. He wants you.

“Excuse me waiter?”

Midway your work duties you hear the young man calling you over and you finally reach him with your impatient gaze. He loved seeing you worked up hearing him call you and somehow it made him want to sing to you. He looks up pushing the menu down. “Sunny side up.” Mark quotes proudly.

“Make the yolk in the middle right. I like it half cooked.”

‘God just make it yourself then.’ You wanted to say to him. Usually you’d be happy with suggestions, but not when a guy like Mark trouts in like he owns the freaking place.

You wanted to roll your eyes and tell him ‘Well now that wasn’t so hard was it to choose off the menu?’ But you hold your tongue tight and write it down. You gaze up at him.

“Do you want any drink with that? Toast?” You trail and Mark smirks leaning forward. “Is your number perhaps on those lists to serve?”

Your heart might escape your chest if he keeps on pestering you with his flirtatious tactics, you aren’t sure what you can and cannot handle but this beautiful man was a creature you couldn’t tame. Oh no, he was a wild one.

Your lips fell in a thin line. Your feet move forward and lean down in a ninety degree angle to grab the menu off his table with a slam to your palm. Mark’s eyes land down to your eyes, then to your beautiful pink chapped lips with a soft lipgloss glowingly and then his infatuated eyes land on the cleavage of your uniform.

His stare was so hungry. But something tells you it wasn’t for the eggs.

“One more flirtation and i will personally charge you more on your meal.” You threat.

He smiles, delusion all the way. “Was that a threat or a dare?” He couldn’t take you anymore seriously, but the way you push him back. He somehow knew you wanted him too.

You walk away scoffing. “Fuck around and find out. The more money for me.” You shrug going to the counter to prepare the food.

The sizzling from where you stand handling the heat was an impressive sight to say the least, Mark couldn’t make eggs, but he loves eating them. Despite not being able to make them it’s okay, because he never goes hungry thanks you and your diner. It was cheap and affordable for a high quality egg food you could munch on any time of the day and week. Somehow he never gets tired of it.

But what he was curious about was you. When you prepared the egg he saw you walk with his plate putting it on the table. But as you walk away and he starts to dig into the food, something underneath the plate moved and he flipped it open lifting it up. As the plate was lifting in the air a small white paper note curled up was found.

The plate was on the side and Mark slowly reveals it curiously wondering what was this, but as he did all the things he could’ve imagined were incorrect. Your handwriting struck him and it gave him a lingering hope.

The paper said your number, underneath a little message making Mark want to laugh.

‘You’re paying extra five on your order for my number :)’

He turns to look at you in front of the cashier station but you were already staring at him looking so smug. Your smile increased widely and his did too. ‘So you were interested, you just didn’t want me to know. God, you’re interesting.’ Mark practically vows. You’re unpredictable but you were something he wants to know.

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The afternoon hits you and your coworkers trade the shifts. Your work has just ended but the moment it did one of your colleagues asked to to take her night shift.

You should have said no but you did not and instead you stayed behind watching everyone leave. Your boss told you to close up and you nodded bidding goodbye to them.

Now you’re alone and it’s getting darker outside. In fact it’s already quite pitch black and the stars are coming out alive and well.

You turn to the clock seeing the customer timings going by and closing so you walk to the door to turn the customer open board around to ‘closing hours now’ but the moment you did a hand on the door makes you jump.

He saw you scream holding your mouth but the moment realistically seeing Mark outside asking you to open the door made you feel slightly uneasy but you were glad to see the boy at the same time.

‘Geez he didn’t have to appear in like that.’ You swore he’s the death of you.

You felt embarrassed for becoming so jumpy. You open the door and Mark walks in. “Did i scare you out there?” Mark chuckles and you look away murmuring.

“I thought you were someone trying to break in.” You roll your eyes. “You never know what can happen in these areas.”

Mark follows you from behind as you welcome him into the empty diner leaving only you two. “Ay you won’t have to worry about that Y/n my darling, no one will break in with me here.”

Mark couldn’t help but check down your ass again as you turn around walking from the door. His playful voice carries in the distance of the diner like a tracking star. “Did anyone tell you that the diner uniform is hot on you?”

“You make me barf, Lee.” You scowl.

“You make me wanna do bad things Y/n.” He copies you.

‘He’s so childish.’ You state in disbelief.

“Do you always come in to bother me when no one else is around?” You sigh putting the cloth away on the counter and his torso leans on the cashier counter. He saw you behind leaning down with a righteous smirk.

“You haven’t kicked me out yet I must be doing something right here.” Mark really knows how to trick your buttons.

You clench your hands huffing. “The only thing you make me wanna do is wish i haven’t seen you tonight.”

Mark whistles. “God you’re so mean.”

You glare. “If you think I’m mean wait until you hear my thoughts.” You sent through your teeth at Mark and he smirks, no matter how much arguments you guys go through they tend to always end on a different note with him smiling and you becoming grumpy.

The conversation ended only to begin when the younger boy was busy watching you do your night shift duties. You were almost glad he was here in a way, it does her creepy at night when you’re the only worker here and only one person is closing down. It can get lonely and way too quiet for your liking. Mark is the perfect guy to keep around if you need a person who doesn’t know how to shut up.

He playfully adds. “I wanted to see you because i was nearby.”

You couldn’t believe him sometimes, but a small part of you wishes it was the truth coming out his mouth. Somehow this boy you only met this morning annoyed you, but he was damnly devilishly handsome no doubt attractive and he somehow got your number too.

You look down breaking away your hold eye contact, clearing your throat as you felt a sudden butterfly coming up your lips all the way from your stomach. “Don’t lie. You came here to annoy me isn’t that right. The Mark Lee i know only does it in for himself.”

He tilts his head grabbing a hold of your hand. “Well why don’t you come and get to know the real Mark Lee, Y/n?”

You twist your head at your hands touching it made your skin crawl eloquently as so calmly like the sea. Your eyes slowly began to walk towards his face. When mark saw your attention on him again, he spoke, even though your silence was deeply inside finishing him he wanted to try.

“What’s the real Mark Lee like?”

“I think you and the real Mark Lee, would get along quite well.”

Mark’s eyes look so pure in that moment you felt your heart pull on the heartstrings and you happen to find yourself choosing to be and go.

To try to persuade you to come with him. It made you think that maybe it’s not a bad idea to get to know Mark.

“How about we go see the Golden Hour together after your night shift ends?” Mark asked you,

And to his luck you were pretty convinced. Mark’s hands were attaching to yours, like a lock to a key. It felt right being held in his hands.

“Okay, take me with you.”

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On this night the natural black hugs the stars as a diner closes ending its peace and heading to sleep but only leaving to souls to find each other awake. You couldn’t help but dangle the keys to the diner, closing the door, making sure everything was perfect before you leave with Mark. The boy was patiently waiting for you in the front of the motor bicycle; his bike was an all black with two black helmets on the side in his two palms. He was watching you in that cute little diner uniform with heart eyes but you didn’t notice. You were too busy.

When you were satisfied you turn around and saw Mark smiling you down. You raise your eyebrows suspiciously, blurting out.

“What?” Your breathe was let out, approaching the bike now. Your eyes widen when the size of it was revealed and you can’t believe you’re going to be riding this now.

Mark turns around humming. “Oh nothing. This is yours.” He puts down his helmet and holding yours going towards you. You were stunned for a minute when two pair of hands put on the helmet for you on your head.

It felt like kindness has infected his pure heart with the love that you weren’t aware of yet. Mark freaking Lee was putting the helmet, strapping it down on your head without asking him to. At this point you weren’t sure what to say but his eyes saw your throat clench in surprise and your eyes widen a little on the front. He was up close with your heads nearing each other like cannon rounds because he wanted to strap the ends under the chin.

You murmur. “I could’ve done it myself you know…” mark looks up at you directly. “I know, I just wanted to do it for you.” He smiled and you saw him pull away like it was nothing.

He was the ace at everything. Mark lee had everything he could ever want but what he didn’t want before changed the minute he’s met you and now you’re everything he wants, needs and could possibly ask for for. You were someone he could speak to all day and feel as if you weren’t judging him you were listening instead on repeat. You don’t even have to talk because he could do the talking; instead you Will be listening to him with those beautiful robes your eyes provide and he will be happy. He wishes to see you smile again, and he’s going through changes he never expected from your presence. Such as helping you put the helmet on.

You approach the bike getting on. The helmet he has on covers most of his face but his voice was still the sameness kindness that attacks your hard solid heart you guard your heart with.

Mark looks down at his waist where he needed to see your hands and your hands were clinging on the leather jacket. Your hands were tempted to hold him there but your thoughts intervened making you pause and in panic you couldn’t bring yourself to hold him there.

“Hold me tight Y/n.” He says.

You were shy. “W…where? I am holding you tight.”

He chuckles a little bit wasn’t expecting it that your fingertips touching was considered ‘holding tight’ but nonetheless he pulled your wrists from behind suddenly and making you lean your chest on his back enough so your arms were wrapped on his waist like two red ribbons making a single knot together.

“No wrap it like this Y/n. Okay?” He softly spoke out and you couldn’t even comprehend the words were made with intention to have you safe.

You wondered if it just you or if it’s many people who see this side of him where Mark doesn’t have to keep an image around like a toy with a job constantly. Where he could just be Mark Lee. You wonder thinking perhaps not, because a guy like Mark Lee was trying to keep up to his reputation but around you it was getting no where near to impossible.

Your chin rests on his shoulders and the engine roars like a wild animal awakening. It terrified you but normally you would never get on this thing in your life, but now you’re not normal. You’re hanging out with Mark the guy who walked into your diner in the morning, made you annoyed but you found relatively attractive, ended up successfully getting your number and on a good note he waited for your night shift to take you somewhere else.

The man rumbled in the iron horse between his legs, and the miles sped away beneath its black wheels. He grinned despite himself through the shiny all jet black helmet as the wind whipped about it, and gave an unconscious squeeze to the lever on the great y-shaped rudder, coaxing yet more power from the magnificent machine. Ahead, in the distance, she spied the spires of the road, leaving the diner. Give him nothing but a straight up motorbike ride down the road right down to the sea, with a beautiful girl like you on it holding him tight because he could sense how terrifying it must be until the sight of the ocean hits your eyes you start to see the beauty of riding a rising bike everywhere, and he would ask for nothing more in this life or the next.

You see it was scary at first. Doing something completely new but you found yourself falling in love with how the nightfall beach looks like as the young man driving the bike slowly because he wanted to have you see it for longer. Or the beautiful breeze hitting your legs exposed and vast bits of your neck because your long hair was exposed to the wind flowing it back like a flag of a nation you’d be proud of. You felt surreal and it started to show that perhaps the driver riding you wasn’t a bad person but made up by your poor misjudgement instead. Your pride rather and he was simply an okay guy — actually not even an okay guy. He was just a straight up sweet guy underneath those needless reputation and hard tough persona. It made you conflicted at first before but now you’re convinced. That you might believe Mark’s got a side you haven’t met yet.

But that’s the story to living your life. You have to explore a new thing to be able to know if you like it or not and I guess it applies to Mark and You. You squeeze your arms round his waist and suddenly rest your head on his back as you listen to the quiet earth where everyone was asleep but you and Mark — listening to the wind that the wind blows from the front and you swore you could sleep to this tranquil silence and feeling.

He seethes out a smile feeling the arms tighten and he was happening to feeling a sense of proudness in him as he could make you enjoy this. From a severe anxious young waitress to a young woman enjoying the experience he couldn’t of been more happier than this. Than live in the moment with you.

He never lets anyone ride the motorcycle with him and you were the first woman and person itself to be able to go on. Even though he denies everyone he lets and offered you to go on. Even the previous woman he shown slight attention to in the past never had the chance because he flat out rejected the idea of anyone being on this thing. It was a precious item he holds dear to his heart and something within him accepted you to get on.

Treading to the secret location you’ve been waiting to know about you pull up to a mountain cliff sight area where the bike stops on the shoreline of the mountain. Not off the edge but close enough leaving you and Mark on the bike sitting at around five am. Mark lee was one of a kind man and when you tell yourself the view didn’t leave you gaping it left you gasping instead.

It was beyond anything you’ve ever seen. It was a whole different view of the city and you could see everything all at once. The glimpse of the beach was there in sight, the diner was somewhere around there, you could see the apartment blocks nearby which is where you live too. You were so far but everything you love dear to your heart was close in your eyes. All at once too. Mark truly knew this place would be the perfect fit for your bonding experience, or rather he would claim it as a date doing nothing but chatting with you.

Your helmets were off and he saw your moving gaze lovingly watching the beautiful scene. He smiles your arms never left his waist until you unlock them to get up and takes a closer look.

“Mark… when did you find this place. It’s beautiful. It’s anything I’ve ever wanted to see before.” Your voice itself was hyperbolic and hypnotising. You look thrilled and it was benevolently beautiful loudly.

He follows you standing on the edge of his bike and wrapping the helmets on the sides of the wheel where they hang. “Once I was driving one night and I happen to see this. I often come here when i can’t sleep so i go for a ride and come here.”

You turn around with crystal like eyes, they looked like pure gemstones with how shiny they are and even in the pure darkness they glow.

“Thank you. It’s very sweet of you to share this view with me.” You sigh out and let your arms roam the free air twirling around.

Mark grins out. “Any time. You’re the first person ever I’ve shown this too. So keep this a secret between us.” He told you. “I’d like it to be only you who knows of this place with me.”

The moment he said this your cheeks grew a little red and turning round to meet eyes with his personally grew stronger. There was a define element of possession here and you couldn’t help but let out a strain laugh hearing him.

You come forward slowly. “How come you’re so… nice to me? I mean how can i ever repay you for this. We only just met but you’re quite an enigma. You keep surprising me with your new sides.” Your voice trails softly easing your thoughts when his hands wrapped round your waist pulling you closer and seemingly you didn’t back or make any complaint you just stayed and following his strong hands where they push you in on his body closing your large gap that was punishing him by making you so far away.

His deep voice I’ve craved to answer me had a way of igniting my internal engine, just like he would light up a motorbike as if it knew I wanted to ride with him before I had a chance to process. “I don’t know I guess i… like you enough to say that I’d be raw and real with you.” He sounds husky and hoarse looking down with a dark half eye lid gaze. You couldn’t help but feel that maybe the tension between you was a sign call for help.

“How many have you been raw and real with like this?”

“None.” He quickly said. “Just you.” He told you softly It was the kind of deep voice that is so very easy to fall in love with, it was like a perfect harmony between cooking you have.

“You’re someone who’s… a first to my everything. My bike is off limits for everyone except me but here we are. You were sitting on my bike so nicely with that…” your ass was squeezed surprisingly you by that gentle yet hidden pleasing laying grope on your back.

Your face grew red but he knew that. It’s exactly why he did it and smirking down at you, you felt yourself feeling small and cautiously exposed but in a way you found butterflies in it.

He needed you just as bad and now you’re here needing him. He was real with you and that’s what made you shudder when you feel your heart escape your chest so much. All because of him and everything he does was a terror of attractiveness. He was breathing and you found his breathe even more beautiful. He was just there standing and breathing looking you up and down with an intense stare.

And you’re here trying to figure out what and how was this man created into existence. He felt like something you knew for years and years in your head and at the same time something you’ve never known in your life for years and years until now.

“Are you always this…” you stop talking and stare down at his lips. “Never mind… kiss me please… I’m going insane.” You held your teeth together for a minute until he was glad to hear you consent because God knew, he couldn’t stop you from kissing once he began tasting your lips.

It was a very easy decision to make when Mark saw the offer you made him, your lips crash on top of each other like a gentle road on a wheel. It was a smooth transition. It felt heavenly however. You couldn’t compare any feeling of Mark’s lips the way they made you feel so complete in many ways, it was a sensual passionate makeout between them leaving the air round them to be sucked in faster. Your breathes were doing magic together, compiling as one source keeping your fast bodies going somewhere.

The makeout was a speedy and intense success knowing your chest was thumping probably so freaking hard but you weren’t focusing on that. You were focusing on the way his tongue intrudes in your territory so freely and with ease across your tongue wrapping round it keeping you guessing what’s happening next. Your bodies swung around switching positions with Mark no longer slanting on his bike and you now pressed against the machine. Your back resting on the bike leaving you climbing on it where your hands were wrapping up and down his clothes chest and the neckline.

Your hair was pushed back because his hands were crawling down your legs caressing them and softly rubbing the softness of your thighs in that skirt that’s been driving him mad the entire day.

He couldn’t wait to just strip it fucking off your body you had no idea how much he’s been imagining it to the point his imagination couldn’t save him from holding back anymore. You were equally eager it seems though when your tips pinch the belt on his jeans he found himself growing exciting in the shares of your kiss.

His voice pulls you away and your mouth crawls to his jawline and on the sides, you lick down his Adam’s apple. “A bit impatient are we? You’re looking at me with so much impatience.” He felt so many shivers with your teeth grazing his skin so much it drove him right off the edge.

You bring your swollen red lips apart. He swore he saw fire in those awoken eyes of yours. You pull him on the bike and you swap positions once more where you suddenly go on your knees pulling down the trousers.

“You can’t blame me being impatient when you’re looking at me like that…” your words slant themselves and he chuckles deeply hearing this. When his pants fell down your eyes gawk at the sight of his rock hard member in the front your hands couldn’t hold back, you touch it instantly and he vows down at you going. “I’ve been here impatient a little longer than you darling. Why don’t you be a good girl and help me out and i promise — you will get a good reward.”

You couldn’t argue with that. Your saliva spits down on his erected cock and he could just twitch by the warmth of your shared saliva from your intense makeout a minute ago. His head swung back when you first take him in very softly by doing small kitten licks and eventually engulf him into a welcoming home of your inner mouth where your scorching tongue felt like million pieces burning. Somehow that burn became something enticing and thrilling though because even though it was so intense it became more intense that you get addicted. And that’s exactly what Mark went through.

Your mouth was an extraordinary thing and It certainly wasn’t the only thing it was good at. He watches you with a dark lingering gaze that could be darker than the night sky above you both. You fell in love with how he watches you, intensely with his eye locks on you sucking him in so deeply. Making sure every length and part of him was in your mouth. Your deep throating gave him enough time to clench the bike a few times and once even made him groan out a little louder than a few hisses there and then.

“That’s my girl. You’re doing such a good job.” His hands grazed your hair sweeping it up and gently holding it into a ponytail in his hands between the diamond rings that blight you. You felt your stomach turn hearing this and pull apart your lips to make a pop and only to go and suck him in again which leaves him expediting a whole new feeling in the world. You were throating him so hard, it could bruise your mouth but you could not care.

You wanted it to leave a mark. You wanted this to remind you of this experience that you’re doing in the wide open slot.

Mark grunts. “Shitshitshit, careful. I don’t want to cum just yet.” He said pulling your head apart from his cock that was twitching and begging to have a release of its own but Mark had other plans for you and him. As your head was thrown back with a rug to your hair in that ponytail he scraped the remaining drool around your mouth with his thumb.

You swore you could’ve melted on your knees if you weren’t on them already because it was unbelievably sexy watching a man like Mark touch your swollen and reddish lips all from sucking him near to dry and kissing him like it was the end of the world looking you down and gently wiping it clean, with his thumb. You could lose your mind. This man was effortlessly attractive. He was like a whole package to uncover.

Suddenly a pair of fingers have been crossed in your mouth and you didn’t fight back at it as Mark leers down at you. “Suck on them darling.” And you did just as he told you to sucking his fingers until he pulled it away from your lips coating them with your thick and warm saliva.

Your positions switch again this time you’re on the bike again forced to be seated on it with your legs wide open and spread ready for Mark who was leaving you impatient. The skirt was lifted up leaving your white panties exposed and he looks up at you, smirking. You could feel a slight warmth on your face growing again and not only that, once his fingers press on your clit through the panties lining all he could see was a soaking mess.

He was amazed, by this huge effort he has on you. “Y/n I wasn’t aware you’d be this wet i haven’t even touched you yet. ” He leans closer and you turn away avoiding his gaze as you stutter out. “I- can we…get to the fun part.” You mention and he lets out a smile leering it back at you. “Oh trust me love it’s coming.”

You weren’t a fan of his teasing but you couldn’t help but feel mesmerised when he slid down your panties to the side and an accidental touch on his metallic diamond rings makes you twist and turn your head back in a pleasuring awe. At first Mark thought it might’ve been his fingers but when he realised it was his rings he couldn’t smirk at the thought he had. The fingers coating by your saliva pushing deep in your waterfall of a cunt only to have the big diamond rings digging in too much. You choke out your words, but he wanted you to shout to the rest of your lungs till you couldn’t speak anymore tomorrow for your next shift.

Worst thing was that you’ve been imagining this all day since the morning you’ve met Mark. You were creating scenarios with his hands all along and which is why you’re so wet. It was sexual frustration but at the same time, you felt rewarded by this. Mark knew all along you wanted him just as much as he wanted you but of course you tried to hide it by being professional — now answer this where did all the professionalism go? He wanted to laugh but he wanted to see you lose yourself before he does.

Your eyes were obsessed by watching his hands go so deep into your hole that you wanted to see how much you will come. You were pressing at your deep end soon, you could sense a few strings in your stomach boiling for a release you were so close.

Mark mockingly adds. “This is what you wanted all along isn’t it? I saw the way you were checking my hands in the morning. You wanted them to do stuff like this to you.” He looks at your exposed cunt in the public domain with wind cushing at you and you weakly murmur your groans. “Maybe you wanted my fingers to do this?” His thumb pressed down on your clit moving it in circular motion. While his other fingers were occupied by your insides pulling it inside more and more.

The overstimulation did you great because the next minute Mark was welcoming a wave of gushing liquid running down your thighs and into his lap where you shockingly gasp out your high moans on your releasing resort. He was so proud of himself and of you for taking everything he gave you but that didn’t stop him from suddenly roughly slamming you down into the seat more and slinging his erected tip and length to your entrance, you weren’t given enough time but when he kissed you to lead you into him and to focus on to him and not your large orgasm; you couldn’t help but feel calmer and allow the burning stretch of his big girth cock entering you. Your body clench tightly but he massaged down your waist and hips when he feels the urge to your body to clutch.

“That’s right baby taking me so well. Now turn around and press your stomach flat on the bike.” You couldn’t help but turn around and you felt him go even more than before deep working you from head to toe making you squelch with how wet and lubricant everything you had. Mark was insane for just making you press hard on your back so your stomach was flatly on the metallic machine and leaving you on your arms supporting by your elbows.

He wants you to see the view as you’re getting your brains fucked out hopefully you’ll remember everything. He has no doubts you will because the minute the Golden Hour appears, your brain will be taking a photogenic picture in your memory engraved as you’re floating naked on his bike getting your shit wrecked by him. The first ram made you curse strings you weren’t expecting it to make you shake on the first try and go it’s as if he was exceedingly amazing to rock you back and forth in the middling position. Your body clenching underneath him letting your ass jiggle back and forth between the bodies. His weight was heavy on yours and he kept on ramming until he was satisfied with it.

The speed wasn’t slow at all. It was fast and hard. You weren’t sure what’s happening at one point you were lost in all the pleasure you lost your sense of time and presence as well as your self identity. You were going places with Mark Lee rucking against you so good his length tip touched the peek of your g spot making you come more than once, this man behind you fucking you made you come so many times it left you dripping out for everyone to see.

“If only you could take a look at you. You’re dripping on the grass and down my bike.” He roughly slits between his teeth, speaking in broken sentences.

You couldn’t help but grow embarrassed. But Mark loved it seeing you become so actively engaged in with him and his pleasure giving you whiplashes.

You’re in the public sector where people can come and go but since it’s this late you weren’t worrying but the thought of someone walking by at this time walking on you two made this everything ten times more arousing and thrilling for the both of you. You both enjoy being seen like this fucking like animals until you were stuffed and full of him and until you only can think about him, he won’t stop.

Mark bellows at you every time, he said all sorts of things but nothing crazier than him losing his mind to you. “I bet you want people to walk around us and see your dripping wet cunt getting stuffed with my fat cock. I bet you want them to see how much you’re soaking bending over my bike and getting slut out in the open shamelessly like this.”

His fingers tug on your hair lifting you up when the time has come suddenly swing your head upwards enough to leave you choking out your moans. “Now look up at this, beautiful. It’s the Golden Hour.” And your eyes widen seeing the magnificent skies.

The Golden Hour leads you like a tunnel into a whole new haven offering where the sunlight was waking up and so were the people around from the slumber. Your eyes welcome the Golden Hour, that iris of fire so pretty in its devotional image reminding you of the ocean waves but instead they were bright orange, mixing in with the beautiful ember red and the bright yellow equalling to the sun. It left you stunned for a minute and Mark saw your beautiful expression smiling at it. ‘It’s beautiful’ you thought.

He kissed your shoulders momentarily bringing you back and he thrusts deep within inside you again and again until your legs were physically turning into snapping bridges where no one could cross over again.

You cross out holding your mouth when voices in the distance has you questioning the whole presence you weren’t sure why people were waking up this early, but you’d effectively heard a man and a dog barking in the distance. Your moans were hidden into your mouth and Mark whispering chuckling at your attempt to hide them out.

But as much as you tried to hide and conceal your moans you could not thanks to Mark roughly punishing you with his cock growing deep in you. “Awh what’s this hiding your perfect noises you’re making? Darling let them see you so they know how perfect you are.” He gnaws at your brain leaving you helpless and you achingly whimper out.

He spanks your ass once more roughly and gropes it. He could never get tired of your ass for once more. “I’m going to come now.” His teeth clatter as he spoke out final words before grunting releasing bits of his come inside you but pulling out and covering your ass a little too. You ooze out and he couldn’t help but want to replay this image of you stuffed and oozing out him out of you was the hottest thing he could have witnessed.

You try to lift yourself up only to nearly fall backwards fixing your skirt but a figure behind you caught you and you make eye contact with him once more. Mark smirks down at you watching how your legs were shaking and he held your skirt get pulled down and your panties back up.

You couldn’t help but feel hopeless once more, murmuring. “I could’ve done it.” You say softly and he looks at you with eyes that resemble boba pearls.

“I know.” He leans down capturing your kiss softly, putting the belt around his trousers meanwhile he was lost on the feeling of you on his lips. “But I wanted to do it for you.”

“But i…”

He pulls away holding your face with his hands pulling you to face him when you were about to look away and disagree with him doing things for you. “No buts. How about we take a ride and see more of the Golden Hour and then…”

“And then?” Your eyes rose up waiting to hear an answer but Mark smirks shrugging. “And then you can stay over at my place and rest, how does that sound?”

You chuckle. “Okay sounds good to me, Mark.”

You feel yourself becoming part of him. This golden hour will forever hold a special place in your heart.

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@onyourhyuck please refer from translating and copyrighting my work thank youu! Please reblog and follow me for more updates it helps a girl out <3

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mingisaddctn · 1 year

Text

unholy | j.yh

Pairing: preacher's son!yunho x reader Genre:[smut] yunho disguised as the devil brainrot Warnings: religious themes, corruption kink a/n: yea.

(also, sidenote, but it was kinda hard translating some of the christian terms bc i grew up with those but in my native language so bear w me

it always came back to that golden cross.

the token of Christ that he held around his neck, dangling on his chest as if it held the symbolism of carrying the holy figure in his heart.

ha. the irony of that.

you watched intently as the tall boy stood in the background. he didn't blend in, even with the gelled-back hair, white dress shirt and the gentle smile that was plastered all over. they all dressed the same, spoke the same, stood the same, but he somehow, his presence was the only one everyone seemed to focus on.

some could say it was the divine light that chose him, and no one would dare to oppose. how could they? not when the boy did everything to grace his image. an impeccable reputation, something not even the son of Christ himself got before meeting his end, being the towns sole preachers son almost faded in line of all the things jeong yunho was;

hard working student, star athlete, gracious volunteer, cheerful friend, sweet lover and darling son. sinful con-artist.

your father clapped alongside the people, cheering for the homily, he made sure to glance in your direction to ensure his own ego that you were being a good girl and paying attention.

he wanted you to fill those big shoes just as much as he wanted to slap your mother across the face every time she burned the food, leading her to fill another glass of wine and fall asleep alone on the couch, but still waking up earlier than everyone to pretend to be the very good wife that she was graced to be, offered just as young as you were now, by her own father, and the only thing she got in return was a sole golden cross to hang on her neck—a mark, a stamp that stated where and to whom she belonged—not your father, no.

but God.

"make sure to shake the preacher's hand" your father spat, oh-so-loyal to his master, shaking its tail as one of the sheep in the flock.

and you did. the mass had already ended when you approached the altar, under the watchful eye of the big wooden cross as you picked at your cuticles. in line, alongside your mother who held the weight of submission on her back, shrinking almost into a ball, you held your hands together waiting for your turn to thank the old man for doing his job.

"smile" your father told you.

and you did. borrowing one of the various features, doing your best impression of the good daughter, the most innocent sheep.

but the eyes of the predator followed around. to anyone, it would be just a caring gaze, but you knew what came within, the dark pair of eyes making your skin tingle and stomach churn.

you avoided it. you knew the consequences but you did anyway. you knew that later, when the blue darkened into the night and no lights would be seen within a mile radius, he would strip you out of wool, pierce your organs and drink from it as if it were the blood of Christ.

and when the birds went into hiding and dark hues shadowed the figures around, you found yourself shaking your leg frantically, looking between the clock on your nightstand and the closed window with lacy curtains that protected you so foolishly from the outside world.

it was close to time to leave when you heard the wine glass clinking downstairs. you put down the bible, shallow breaths forming inside your chest as you opened the window, jumping onto the dry grass that your father never cared to water. why would he do anything that didn't come with god's name attached to it?

approaching the same chapel you stood in this morning, you saw a faint light of an oil lamp coming from the backside, with it, came the following gaze that haunted you every other day, and you could smell the faint scent of soap in his clothes. not a wrinkle, not a stain, shirt as white as heaven, eyes as dark as sin.

he smiled as you came closer. not his usual one, but the one he reserved for those nightly escapades of yours—and your heart pounded from the knowledge that it was for you. you noticed that he was chomping on an apple, the sweet scent of the fruit adorning your nostrils as you stood idly in front of him. a small light reflected on the small piece of gold that hid on his chest.

with his hand up, he held the viciously red apple in front of your eyes. you didn't eat a lot at dinner because a fight between your parents broke out, and you were already sick from attending mass—ever since you started meeting the boy outside, sundays never felt the same—so the sight of a lustrous, full and juicy fruit did the trick on you.

you reached to grab it, but he retreated his offer.

"nuh-uh" he said. "open up."

and as a good girl, you did, allowing to be fed by the same fingers that found its way into your deepest parts. the same ones that dragged along your skin and touched wherever you claimed to be forbidden by the eyes of the lord. but how could it be so wrong? not when his touch felt that good.

yunho smiled at the sight of you biting into the fruit. you had no idea what he was thinking most of the time, but when he smiled like that, it was real.

"come" he said as he opened the back door, discarding the core on the grass. the evidence of it only being the sweet taste left on your lips, now to linger forevermore.

following him inside, you two reached the same familiar room where you grew up going in and out of. the wooden cabinets surrounding you, full of things that were meaningless without being held at the altar on sunday mornings.

the sacristy was somewhere you spent a lot of time organizing things as a volunteer, helping the altar boys and doing your part as part of the church, being the prideful gem of your community. but would they think so if they knew that your only reason to do it was so you could see more of the golden boy?

you could never lie when someone teased you about being too infatuated with the boy. your cheeks would heat up and heart would pound like crazy, to the point where you always worried if you were on the verge of dying or exploding. you first met him at the church, following him around as if he was your pastor, the one that would lead and save you.

then it was at school, but the meetings would always be brief, since he was always busy with school work or sports. you could never catch him alone, there was always crowds around him wherever he went, and you knew you fell into the category of being another one in his flock, but then he caught you staring that one sunday after mass, while he played the organ and no one was around for once.

"you always stare" he said, his voice velvety and seemingly to be something made by God's hands Himself "but you never say anything. are you scared of me?"

shaking your head, you looked down to your shoes, fingers picking at your cuticles.

you knew he was observant, too. most of the times you stared, he caught you, but he never said anything—that's how thoughtful he was, and that was one of the many things that made your young heart belong to him.

before you could even answer, your father called you from the sacristy, and you left, escaping from those warm, chocolate eyes.

but that was the day when things changed; the day he made you aware that he knew of your hobby of watching, because the next sunday, you caught him sneaking wine from one of those big wooden cabinets.

it was before mass, when you found yourself in the sacristy, opening the door without announcing, not expecting anyone to be there. but then you found the boy leaning by the entrance, drinking from the chalice as he watched you closely, his eyes never leaving you.

it shattered you on the inside. the sharp dress shirt he always wore to mass now held a deep stain by the collar, and everything about him seemed so messy. but what hurt the most was to see his eyes turn dark, something you never expected to see.

and it seemed to exhilarate him, the thought of you being the only one knowing. he knew you watched, and he wanted to give you a show.

on christmas night, when the mass would be held late, you stood behind to help clean up and organize the things from the short play held by the community. it was almost the next day and even the preacher had left, but you were folding the costumes and reassembling the scenery.

it wasn't rare for you to be alone in the church, at some point you even had the keys, but something felt eerie about that night. and then you heard a noise. it was indistinguishable at first, and you thought that someone could have returned and maybe got hurt, so you left the sacristy and went to the main hall.

now the sounds grew louder, and your heart pounded in its cage. it scared you, you thought someone might've gotten hurt, but you kept on going, trying to see where the noises were coming from.

stepping lightly, you heard another moan of what you thought was pain, coming from the confessional, the small door closed, but the sounds coming through.

"h-hello?" you called, no response.

approaching closer, your fingers held the handle and you took a deep breath, opening it slowly.

and you were met with dark eyes, the same ones that corrupted you before, the same ones who disguised themselves all this time, fooling everyone who dared to stare back. the same gaze you longed for, but now dreaded.

yunho leaned against the confessional wall, hair disheveled and the dress shirt half open. he panted, and the air inside felt heavy. moans sung by the heart shaped lips, the same ones you wondered if they were hand painted in heaven, now sounding so shameless, making sounds so sinful as he fisted his cock.

but the way your body reacted, your stomach felt like melting, and your face held too much heat. you didn't know you could sweat from other places, but your undergarments were now drenched. and that's when he grabbed your wrist, leading your hand to fall on top of his, enveloping his warm member into your palms.

you knew you were supposed to feel disgusted. you knew you were supposed to go back to your house, pray and go to sleep, but how could you when your hand was melting into his, and the noises he made when you moved your wrist were so forbidden it tasted good?

his pants became heavier and heavier, and the movements grew faster, then he spurted on your fingers and brought them to his own mouth.

seeing as you didn't move, he pulled your wrist, making your face fall closer to his, and then placed both of your fingers between your mouths, giving them a long lick, tasting his fluids.

"this is because of your staring" he claimed, placing yours and his digits into your mouth, making you jolt in shock. "do you know how hard it is to pretend not to see it?"

you did what you did best; you watched him. both of your fingers now resting on your tongue and the bitterness of his release mixing with your saliva.

"take it. prove it to me" he stared back. "prove that you want me."

it was over for you when you sucked on his skin involuntarily.

after that, he would ravish your body and sing prayers as his tongue tasted the sheen coat of sweat all over you. all week he portrayed the golden boy, the blessed child; but sundays, his mind became possessed by you.

now, back in present, he was holding the same golden chalice, signaling for you to grab the bottle of wine sitting next to you.

"will you open that for me?" he asked, voice coated in velvet that rubbed against your ears.

you took the cork off and he waited for you to serve the chalice, but before you could, he stopped himself, as if he had just gotten a new, better idea. he sat on the cushioned armchair behind the desk, pulling you closer by the hem of your thin camisole, face laying lower than yours, to the point you had to look down.

"pour me a drink, please?" you could've swore you'd seen the small, sheer glimpse of those same warm eyes for a moment. but it had to be just your mind playing tricks on you.

the boy sat under you with his fingertips grazing against your thighs as he opened his mouth, waiting for you to serve him. he knew that no matter what he asked of you, you would do it, no questions asked.

you started pouring the wine into his mouth, watching as the deep, dark liquid pooled onto his tongue as he closed his eyes, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed every last drop. mesmerized and lost in his godly features, you tilted the bottle a little more than you should, letting some of the wine drip on his skin, a small, faint line leaving its trace from the corner of his mouth to his neck.

he gave your thigh a small squeeze, and you stopped all motion as his eyes shot open, tongue licking his lower lip to not waste any alcohol.

"c'mon, darling, it's not time to make a mess yet" he laughed, the hearty laugh you grew up replaying inside your mind, giggling with your feet in the air. "clean that up now, will ya?"

you just nodded, turning on your feet to grab a napkin when he stopped you, pulling your legs closer in a quick move, making you fall onto straddling his strong thighs.

"you know what I meant by that" he watched every singular move your irises did closely, keeping track of your thoughts as if he could read them.

biting your lip, you looked at where the wine stained his cheek, and leaning forward, you gave it an experimental small lick. not daring to lean back, knowing that he wouldn't leave you alone with that following eye contact, you went lower, reaching for his neck, the tip of your tongue following the trace of a vein that stood under the fair skin.

the deep rumble of his groan trembled from your tongue to the rest of your body, accommodating itself inside your lower abdomen, a spot of wetness that began to stick to yunho's dress pants.

"I haven't even touched you properly, dear" he whispered into your ear as you kept on licking him clean "and you're already getting wet?"

your breath faltered and, ashamed, you hid your face into the crook of his neck. but he never ran from what he wanted, when he wanted—that's when you felt his long, cold fingers sliding inside your panties, the fingerprints embedded on your folds as he played around with the slick.

"y-yun—" you let out a whimper, your fingernails leaving half-crescent marks onto his shoulder.

"huh, what is it?" he asked, whispers into your ears and engraving his voice into your soul as his fingers pinched your clit, making a squeal leave your lips. "what is it that you want the most?"

you bit into his skin, chills running down your spine and cold sweat forming on your nape, could even be mistaken for a chilly breeze in the middle of that hot summer night.

when he slid a finger inside you, you could swear that your heart almost got stuck into your throat. placing your hand on top of your mouth, you tried to control the noises you were now making in union to the newly-found friction.

you found yourself nipping on your cuticles involuntarily, being too swayed by the waves of pleasure and emotional burst, but he caught it. he always did.

"oh no... you hurt yourself" he grabbed your hand with his free one, scanning it, watching as a small button of blood formed where your teeth bit into, it was a tic, you always picked at your fingers, and making it bleed wasn't news, but he seemed disappointed.

and then he put your fingers into his mouth, and sucked on the blood. eyes not leaving yours as you stared back, brows furrowed, a moan leaving the confines of your lips as you felt the texture of his tongue swirling around your digits.

with his free hand, he kept on moving, fingers in and out, pressing the sweet spot that was reserved for him, and only him. you weren't bounded by marriage, nor you thought you would be too soon, but under the severe gaze of god, you were his and he was yours.

the knot that formed on your stomach grew tighter and tighter while he sucked on your fingers and pressed inside you. the bulge in his pants causing friction when you rolled your hips desperately, using his body for your own selfish needs.

soon, the release came, washing over you as a cozy blanket of pure comfort, and you slumped onto his upper body, being held in arms as a cage, knowing that, even when he was the threat, he was the savior.

"you seem pretty found of this" he noted, and then you came to your senses to see that you were gripping to his golden cross.

leaning back, he unclasped the gold chain, the other hand that was nestled inside you left the warmth, the coldness of the slick on your panties meeting your lower lips and making you shiver slightly.

"I want you to have it" he said, placing the other hand on top of your lips, forcing them open, placing the cross on your tongue, and his wet fingers on top of it, pressing. drool began to form on the corner of your lips as you gazed at him with half lidded eyes. "god... how can you be so beautiful?"

in a quick frenzy, you suddenly found yourself on the top of the altar, legs spread and the weight of the golden cross now falling on your chest. yunho kissed your legs, leaving deep purple marks inside, places where only he could see them. he lost his dress shirt along the way, and his pants were unbuttoned, only a matter of time for him to lower his boxers to reveal the hard cock stuck in its confinements.

from where you laid, you could see the tall boy standing in front of you, and on top of him, as if to peek, was the huge wooden cross. the one last symbol you caught sight of as he entered you, the last view before falling into the depths of insanity.

his big hands sneaked under you, holding your body close to his as he moved in and out, the feeling of his cock rubbing against you making you crazier by the second. the feeling too good to be right, and the small voice inside your head that kept you pure, innocent, now was gone. you had no trace of light anymore, not when you were conjoined; not when your body melted into his.

his groans were prayers and you attended them with moans, the song of angels being made right in that moment, and nothing was holier than the way your heart thumped against his. keeping quiet wasn't an option anymore, and your whimpers soon became screams, the sound of his name echoing over and over between those walls.

you screamed, and drooled, and held onto dear life, his body being the last piece of salvation close to you, and the grasp so desperate you would think your soul was condemned. he kept on thrusting, his member hitting the same spot over and over, and the sound of your hips slapping grew louder.

you weren't you anymore. you never knew what came over your body when he fucked you, but it wasn't something holy. it trembled and shook and moved on its own, every trace of control abandoning your senses, the grasp of reality not being in sight.

"I'll make you mine" he repeated in your ear as a promise, singing it as his own psalm. "you'll be forever bound to me; to my body."

"I am yours" you babbled, not even sure if the words were clear, but he got the message as he kept on thrusting, fingers digging into your skin as his lips sucked on your neck.

and when his dark gaze met yours again, a groan run through his throat, the bundle of pleasure snapping inside you, just as his own did. the seed of his own filled your walls completely, and you smiled satisfied, mind far from your body as you were consumed by the primal urges.

now, with his golden cross wrapped around your neck and his claim slipping between your thighs, he marked you as his.

it was scary, how much you lost yourself when he touched you, scary how good it felt, scary how forbidden it was, scary how he made you feel like never before.

for as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him;

and you feared him the most.

#yunho #ateez smut #ateez #ateez yunho

584 notes · View notes

star-suh · 1 year

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The Phone Call

Kim Mingyu x Male Reader

cw: rough sex, spit play, breeding kink, sex while talking to the phone, pwp, spanking, degrading, slapping, choking, tummy bulge, overstimulation, second round of sex, non-idol au, edging.

an: this was inspired in that scene of jinx but tbh i think it's not that good 😭

—

mingyu was on the couch, fucking y/n rough, his ass was starting to get red for all the spanks mingyu has gave him "look at you squirming like a whore, being so happy for having a fat cock up your hole" said mingyu lamding another spank on y/n's ass making him moan "hng… ple~ase.. be more g-gentle…" told y/n to the older who just ignored him and keep looking for his pleasure "shut up, toys don't talk" mingyu slapped y/n's cheek and covered his mouth.

y/n feel like he was in cloud 9, mingyu's cock keep brushing his prostate making him look stars, "look, your hole is so hungry for cock that when i try to pull out it doesn't let me, fuck!… and when you take it back in~ y-you take it balls deep fuck yeah" mingyu rubbed his hand on y/n's tummy feeling the forming bulge. suddenly mingyu's phone rings, it was hoshi who was taking his vacations in other country and wanted to buy gifts for the guys so he was calling every single one of them to ask them what they want, including y/n.

"hello?" asked hoshi, "hey, hi" grunted mingyu trying to disguise the moans he was making because of y/n's hole squeezing his cock so hard "i'm calling you to ask what do you wanted as a souvenir from here". "hng" y/n moaned so mingyu slapped fast his hand on y/n's mouth.

"what was that?" asked hoshi

"nothing" quickly replied mingyu " just y/n who asked me to… to help him in the gym… you know he's a s-silly boy who thinks he can take much more of what he actually can"

"oh y/n's there? pass him the phone i want to ask him what he wants too" hoshi told mingyu who complies and put the phone on y/n's shoulder "h-hello hoshi" y/n said.

"hey y/n, so do you want something from here" asked hoshi to the younger "umm i don't kno-" suddenly a powerful thrust from mingyu makes him yelp in pleasure

"are you ok y/n?" asked hoshi

"y-yes… hng j-just i lifted something too… heavy haha~" y/n lied while mingyu keep thrusting his cock deep inside y/n's abused hole "i want f-food… you know. i love… your coc- i-i mean food… yeah food…" y/n was so overstimulated that he didn't know what he was saying.

mingyu picked up the phone "bring me food too, now bye we need to end today's routine" he said. "ok bye, see you in some days" hoshi hanged up "whores" he mumbled and went to buy some candies.

"so you like that huh? your cock was squeezing so hard while you were on the phone, nasty boy". minutes passed and y/n was fucked in every possible pose while being edged, his hole was agape dripping with lube and mingyu's pre-cum.

"please i can't take it anymore… i'm gonna cu-" mingyu introduced his thumb in y/n's mouth making him suck it "cum for me pretty boy" the older said thrusting hard and kissing y/n and playing with their saliva between both their mouths. "cum for me pretty bitch" mingyu ordered y/n while choking him, y/n's eyes rolled back while white ropes of cum were shooted from his dick head paintimg the sofa and his body in white. "such a good slut" mingyu scooped y/n's cum in his hand and taste it "you always taste good you know that?" the older licked his hand clean of cum and proceeded to spit it into y/n's mouth "swallow it all and show me" y/n obeyed and showed mingyu his mouth, he slapped y/n's cheek softly "that's right my pretty and perfect slut" he then kisses him and carry him to the bathroom.

#male reader #kim mingyu x male reader #kim mingyu x male reader smut #kim mingyu smut #kpop x male reader smut #kpop x male reader #smut #male reader smut #mingyu x male reader #mingyu smut #mingyu

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dont-offend-the-bees · 1 month

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If the Shoe Fits, Then I Won’t Try It On

Omg I made it! Threw this one together today, so might not be my best! But thanks to my pal @every-moment-a-different-sound making these gorgeous gifs for my fic Outside Looking In, and also @wordsinhaled writing this lovely little fic inspired by it, I felt compelled to pop back in and give the disguise altar egos a little love! So this one is set pre-canon, about seven years into the boys' friendship/detective agency, and it's the first outing of the disguises (in their very early and imperfect forms! I like to think Charles has been experimenting over the years and the ones we've seen in show are just like, the latest versions!). It can really only be called case fic by the barest technicality but it's the best I got xD There's some nebulous Edwin gender-feelings, I'll leave it up to your personal preferences/interpretation whether it's a bit of transfem/nonbinary/genderqueer joy or just a boy's formative experience with drag, this baby can fit so much gender!! And references to fictionalised alcohol abuse, gambling and infidelity, but it's all just banter and tall tales, really. 2k, T-rated, also available on Ao3. Thanks again, @painlandweek!

"Perhaps we ought to rethink this strategy," Edwin muttered, fussing with his skirts.

"Relax, it'll be fine," said Charles. "No one's gonna suspect anything."

"They may suspect something," said Edwin. His voice sounded different, but the tone was one Charles had heard a thousand times before — pessimistic and haughty. Edwin seemed to pick up extra helpings of poshness when he was rattled. "They needn’t ascertain the exact nature of our ruse to know we're playing one."

"What? You think they're gonna be expecting someone to go in for fake marriage counselling?" Charles laughed.

"Stranger things have happened, Charles." Edwin spread his hand and swept it, gesturing between them and their magical disguises. "Q.E.D."

Charles looked at him blankly.

"Quod erat demonstrandum."

"Mate. They haven't taught Latin in that school for donkey's years."

Edwin made a noise of frustration — it had a bit of a high pitched, trilling quality with his fancy new vocal chords. "What I mean to say is that you and I are — figuratively speaking — living proof that real life is stranger than fiction."

"Well, yeah. But only to people who know ghosts exist," Charles reasoned. "And if this lady knew that, our client wouldn't've needed to come to us, would she? She'd've haunted the information out of her already."

Edwin exhaled, a quick, nasal huff like a bull, and pinched the bridge of his nose. His fingers bumped the chunky plastic frames of his enchanted glasses. "Pity. If she could see us, there'd be no need of these ridiculous costumes."

"I think we look brills," Charles beamed, proudly straightening out his big red rain mac. Sure, the disguises weren't perfect — he was still getting the hang of tweaking the enchantment. And yeah, he'd ballsed up his own bald spot at first, made it too big and just a little bit sort of... Australia-shaped. But all in all, he thought they looked mint! No one was gonna suspect them of anything, couple of old geezers. Who'd think they were a crack detective team?

Edwin was obviously having a harder time settling into character. He kept on faffing about with his unfamiliar layers of flowy clothing. Kept tugging on his little blue cashmere scarf, changing his mind on the drape of it — getting thrown whenever a tug of the fabric dislodged the waves of hair on his shoulders. Charles really hadn't got the hang of hair, just yet. He'd been aiming for something a bit classic and classy for Edwin, something honey-blonde and neatly coiffed. Instead he'd ended up with straw-like, brittle strands of peroxide white with... maybe just a hint of green. Charles would have to get that sorted out sharpish before they brought these disguises out again. Edwin would never let himself walk around looking less than his best if he had any say in it!

Charles turned to him, properly, grabbing Edwin's restless hands away from his scarf. "Eds. You look fine. Nice, even! Leave it."

Edwin glared at him, brow wrinkled. If Charles was being honest, the weirdest thing about seeing Edwin like this wasn't the fact that he looked blonder or older or, well. Like a woman. No, weirdest thing by far was how much thinner his eyebrows were. Charles had probably made them a bit too thin, he'd have to fix that, too. They were decent eyebrows! Visible, at least. But they were skinny and pale and neatly plucked, no little dusty dark hairs in between. Charles sort of missed them. He'd gotten used to those thick, dark brows scrunching up at him like grumpy caterpillars when Edwin was ticked off about something.

"It hardly matters if I look nice, Charles," he said, with a little belligerent flick of his hair that sent it flying. Charles probably should've made him a hairband or something — all long and loose, Edwin couldn't seem to get his hair off his mind. "But I do need to look convincing."

"You do! It's a good disguise, mate — made it special, didn't I?"

"I never said it wasn't." Edwin sighed, eyes fluttering closed a moment. Charles winced — maybe he'd overdone it a bit with the eyeshadow. There was a bit of colour-clashing going on, but hey-ho. Sort that in the next edit, too. "I am not concerned with the quality of the work, Charles."

"What is it, then?" asked Charles, dropping Edwin's hands to squeeze his shoulders instead. "What's got you all het up?"

Edwin shifted on his feet. His high heels clicked on the concrete porch. "I am merely concerned that I'm not... wearing it well," he said, a little bit through his teeth. "I don't want to compromise the entire investigation because I'm unable to act in a... befitting manner."

"Well, you're not gonna. Mate, you're doing brills." Charles smoothed down the big, floppy collar on Edwin's trenchcoat — he tried to do a Casablanca thing, but he might've gone a bit overboard — and grinned at him. "You're a natural. The way you stand all straight and that. Christ, you could've been walking in them heels for years! You're smashing it. For reals."

Edwin ducked his head, with the smallest smile. It was so Edwin that Charles could almost see the shape of him through the disguise; high, sharp bones under those rouged apple cheeks. Could almost spy that little spot on his chin. Actually, the chin wasn't a million miles off Edwin's own, with that barely noticeable little dimple in the middle. Maybe Charles had been taking some inspiration, subconsciously.

"I don't come across... peculiar?" asked Edwin.

"No. 'Course not." Charles sighed and patted his shoulders. "But look. If it's too weird for you, I can be the girl."

Edwin's brow twitched.

Alright. So maybe Charles could've worded that better. He coughed and took a step back, shoving hands in his pockets. "I mean, y'know. Bet I can manage it. How hard can it be? Probably won't be as like, chic as you, but I could give it a go."

Edwin pursed his lips, looking off to the side. He was fiddling with the rings on his fingers — maybe Charles had overdone them too, a bit.

"It... doesn't feel strange," said Edwin, quiet as a mouse. He couldn't seem to look Charles in the eyes. "It doesn't feel strange at all."

Charles smiled, all warm in the chest. Edwin had been a closed-off, buttoned-up sort of chap as long as Charles had known him — seven years and counting. Every time he offered up something of himself, Charles wanted to cup it in his hands.

"Oi," he said, gently, waiting for Edwin to look at him. "Suits you, mate."

Edwin smiled again, a barely-there twitch of his tinted lips. But he gathered himself quickly, clearing his throat and adjusting his scarf. "Well. We'd best be be getting on. We're due for our 'appointment' any minute now."

"Right."

"Shall we walk through the plan once more?"

"Go in, introduce ourselves, spin a backstory for a bit, make her think we're legit," said Charles. "Angle for a bit of one-on-one time. I keep talking, see if I can get her to slip up, drop us a hint — while you sneak off, search the office."

"Spot on," said Edwin, with a brisk nod. "According to our client, this woman writes down everything. No doubt she stores her more sensitive journals somewhere apart from the rest, somewhere discreet. Find the journals..."

"Find the body," Charles agreed, tilting his head side to side to crack his neck. "She'll have written down what she did with it for sure."

"Precisely. Right. That's the aim." Edwin steepled his fingers. "And we are...?"

"Edie and Colin Cromley," Charles replied, automatic. He should bloody well hope he knew that one — he'd had to put up with Edwin calling him Colin all night, trying to get him into character.

"Correct. And we are here because of discord in our marriage, resulting in my alcohol dependence and your extramarital affair."

Charles frowned. "Right..."

Edwin cocked his head a little. "Is there a problem?"

"You, uh. You ever actually been drunk before, mate?"

"Not as such, no," said Edwin, primly. "But, as we've quite thoroughly ascertained, I've never been a woman before, either."

Charles snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Fair point."

Edwin's manicured finger hovered over the doorbell. "Right. Are we quite ready?"

"Yeah," Charles mumbled, fidgeting on his feet. "Yeah, s'pose."

Slowly, Edwin lowered his hand. "Charles. We must be on the same page if we're to go inside and sell a convincing fiction."

"Just... feels a bit weird, is all."

"Why? You've always enjoyed undercover work in the past."

Charles shrugged. "Just... feels off. I wouldn't do that to you, y'know? Cheat, I mean. If we were married."

Edwin stared at him. "But we're... not married."

"Yeah, obviously." Charles felt all hot in the face, embarrassed. He should've just kept his big mouth shut. "Just saying, like — I wouldn't mess around on you like that. Or anyone," he added, quickly, because he was making things weird again, fuck's sake —

"Charles," said Edwin, amused. "Are you having ethical qualms about the character you're playing in this scenario?"

And alright, yeah. It sounded bloody ridiculous when you put it like that. Charles huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Just — it's hard, yeah? Dunno how I'd even pretend I'd screw you around like that."

Edwin hummed, toying thoughtfully with the dangly end of his scarf. "Perhaps... I could play the unfaithful partner?"

"You want to?"

"... No. No, not particularly." He pressed his fists together. "Hm. Perhaps infidelity is the wrong narrative for Mr. and Mrs. Cromley."

"Not believable, is it?"

Edwin chuckled. "No. No, I suppose not. Hm. Back to the drawing board..."

Charles mulled it over, tugging on his earlobe. "How about... right, okay, how about, yeah, if I have a secret gambling problem?"

"That does feel more authentic — we've had plenty of words about your impulsive decision-making," Edwin teased. He nodded, eyes sharp as he formulated the new story in that big brain of his. "Very well, a gambling problem is it. You've been losing money at the races —"

"Reckon I'm more of a footie bloke. Big bets on the big games."

"You've been losing money at various sporting events," Edwin corrected, rolling his eyes. "And the extent of your debt has recently come to my attention."

"You should see how much I lost on the cricket world cup," said Charles, seriously.

"Oh, believe you me, I did. Hence, marriage counselling."

"And boozing."

"Indeed. I knew the problem needed addressing a month ago," said Edwin, fingers gesticulating as he spun his little yarn. "When I visited our local public house for a consolatory tipple and became positively sozzled on sherry."

Charles chuckled. "Sure you wanna go with sherry?"

"Is it not appropriate?"

"I mean. It's fine," said Charles, raising his hands. "Nothing wrong with it! Just doesn't sound like your usual sort of, uh, blackout drunk sort of booze. Never heard of anyone going on a sherry bender."

"Well, what would be your suggestion?" Edwin challenged.

Charles wasn't actually sure, come to think of it. What did middle-aged classy ladies drink to get sloshed? "Um... well. Me and the lads used to get pissed on White Lightning after school."

"Very well, then. I overindulged on White Lightning. Happy?"

"Aces."

"Right. Well, now that's all straightened out..." Edwin lifted his finger to the bell again. "Shall we?"

"Go for it."

Edwin rang the bell — and when he dropped his hand, Charles picked it up. Edwin looked at him, quizzical.

"What?" said Charles. "Meant to be a couple, in't we?"

"One in the throes of marital strife," said Edwin, a little smile on his lips. "I doubt we'll be expected to be affectionate."

"Right. 'Course not," Charles agreed — but he didn't let go.

Edwin chuckled, and stayed put. His hand felt small, smaller than it ever had the few times Charles had held it — usually when he was hauling Edwin out of harm's way. Small and bony, lined with soft wrinkles, dotted in sun spots. Couldn't be much further from Edwin's long, lean, smooth hands if it tried.

But it fit in Charles' hand just the same.

Hope you liked it! Probs won't be one tomorrow unless I can whip up something suuuuper short/quick or I find an existing WIP to polish off, but there'll defo be fic on Sunday! Thank you so much for all your love and comments I seriously appreciate them beyond words 💛💛💛💛💛💛

#painlandweek #painland week #payneland #dead boy detectives #dbda #my fanfic #BARELY scraped this one together #i wanna shout out the lovely payneland community who helped me brainstorm ideas for a fic that #sadly #untimately ended up too involved for me to write/finish today #y'all are angels and also SO fucking funny holy shit #anyway have fun!!#REALLY interesting writing charles and edwin at a different level of friendship/intimacy than i've done before #not brand new not 30 years in #just sort of... beginning to find their way #god i love them

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