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mirohlayo · 2 months

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NOT SO JEALOUS

( Max is desperate to win your heart, but what can he do when other suitors are looking for you too? - Or in other words, the 2 times when Max denied his jealousy. )

warning : cute jealousy, sexual harassment, fluff fluff fluff

note : I think this one is cute

word count : 1.6k

You were incredibly perfect in Max's eyes. You were kind, funny, very very beautiful and adorable to everyone. You had your principles and your values and you were the most modest person in this world. To summarize, Max was destined to conquer you and your heart, because there was only you as the perfect woman.

But Max knew he wasn't the only one who saw your qualities. Other men saw in you the beautiful personality that you possessed, so naturally they also sought to seduce you, because that was all they dreamed of.

"Max, you've been staring at her for 3 minutes." Charles' eyes were mocking at the sight of his friend who seemed to melt on the spot admiring you. "How could I not? She's so... breathtaking." The Ferrari driver rolled his eyes as he went to retort.

However, looking back at Max's face, he could tell that something had changed. His jaw was clenched, his facial features more pronounced and his gaze - much darker and frightening. Charles frowned, examining his expression, as he decided to turn his head towards where Max seemed to be glaring at someone.

And a few meters further on, there was still you, in the paddock, and surprisingly, a man with a confident appearance and a dazzling smile. The dark-haired man seemed to make you laugh until you were close to tears, and Charles had also noticed the subtle touches this man was trying to do. Him too, because obviously Max had noticed that from the moment the man appeared in his vision.

"Jealous ?". Charles asked simply, curiously. Perhaps with a playful tone, which seemed to annoy the dutch. “No, not jealous.” “Not so jealous?” Charles continued again, friendly titillating the pilot next to him. Max was giving him a look that certainly screamed 'keep going and I'll kill you', so Charles didn't bother to tease him further.

But sure, his ears did not miss the curses that Max grumbled in a low voice, like a slight "anyway, he is not as beautiful and perfect as me. I am much better for her", before finally leaving with his head bowed and a pout on his face.

Clubbing. That word was pretty clear – dance, have fun and of course, flirt. So Max knew very well what he was going to get into when he took you to this famous little club in Monaco, your pretty navy blue dress that he adored on your body. He knew he couldn't really save you from any suitors.

You stayed by his side all evening. He absolutely didn't want to move his arm wrapped around your waist, a sign that showed others that you were potentially his. But when you kindly asked him to slip away to get some refreshments, apologizing, that's when he started to display his famous jealous expression.

“I can accompany you if you want.” Max said those words, and they sounded more like an order than a question. “Don’t worry Max, I'll be there in two minutes.” It seemed like the driver was looking for every possible excuse for you not to leave him, and you were starting to find that strange. “Max, we’re going to join Lando’s group, are you coming?” One of his close friends was yelling at him loud enough for him to hear.

His face fell as he already felt himself being dragged by the arm, seeing you disappear among the crowd. It was only a few seconds later, sitting like a sulking child who didn't get what he wanted, that he saw you sitting at the bar, impatiently waiting for your drink. You couldn't wait to join Max, because after all you'd be lying if you said you felt safe in this club.

Where Max gave you a feeling of peace and security. And this feeling of insecurity took shape when you felt an arm wrap around your shoulders and the alcoholic breath of a man older than you. His smile was scary, you tried to be as comfortable as possible but it wasn't working. “Don’t be afraid, pretty girl, I won’t do anything to you.”

Those words sounded like a lie and you inwardly begged the bartender to switch to lightning speed. The man felt more and more comfortable, his hands roaming over the bare skin of your arm. That's when you started to panic. "Sorry but I already have a boyfr-" "She already has a boyfriend, so no need to come touch her like a dirty pervert. Get out of there, otherwise I'll take you out myself."

Before your eyes, was there, Max. A look filled with disgust and fury, an expression almost similar to when he didn't achieve his goals in F1. An expression of rage and anger. You had never seen him so angry, at least just for you. The man was decomposing on the spot, and without a word he didn't bother to stay any longer.

"Are you okay, princess? Did he hurt you? Did he insult you? Do you want to go home and rest?" The way he worried about you made your heart melt, as he looked at you like you were the most beautiful and fragile thing in the world. You nodded slowly, taking the time to calm down. "I'm fine Max, don't worry. And I'd like to go home and rest, if you don't mind."

"It doesn't bother me at all, princess. Your wishes are orders." While he wrapped his jacket around your shoulders to keep you warm, you waited patiently for your Uber on the sidewalk of the club. The scene replayed in your mind, and a question tickled your tongue. "Jealous ?" The word came out naturally, and you watched as Max's cheeks flushed as he looked at you surprised. Completely in shock.

He looked away, his eyes glued to something nonexistent. “No, I just wanted to protect you.” “Not so jealous then?” You couldn't help but respond promptly, amused by his reactions. He cleared his throat embarrassed, before gently squeezing your hand that was in his. “Maybe a little, then.” That response alone was enough to make you giggle as he enjoyed the sweet melody. Maybe a little too much much after all.

It was your birthday. You had invited a few people, but enough so that you could organize a nice little evening. You had invited your closest friends, including two or three boys, and of course Max was one of them. Except he just wanted to be the only boy invited to your birthday.

It was perhaps immature and childish of him to think like that, but after all he had made the decision to confess his feelings to you at the end of that evening. He wanted to be the only one of the male gender who could tell you this tonight.

However, he didn't want to risk keeping you to himself all evening. It was your birthday, you were enjoying it to the fullest with your loved ones and that alone made him happy. Only, he would have liked not to have to endure your interactions with your other guy friend, who seemed to steal all your attention. He was once again displaying that terrible, tense and marked facade.

But he couldn't blame you. After all, who wouldn't want a woman as pretty as you? Except he couldn't take it anymore. To wait and endure all these hours. As you were about to blow out your candles, you slipped away to cool off in the kitchen. The guests finished lighting the last candles, and you found yourself alone with yourself and... Max.

Surprised to see him appear at first, you slowly turned to face him fully, an angelic smile on your face. Your smile that he could admire all day. “I saw you staring at me all night Max.” This sentence had the effect of a bomb on him, as his eyes widened. He thought he was at least being discreet, but it turns out he wasn't.

He scratched the back of his head nervously, feeling uneasy. “Don’t worry, I don’t feel anything for him.” He knew that you were referring to your friend because otherwise he would never have planted his gaze on yours as quickly as in this present moment. A faint giggle left your lips, amused. "Jealous ?". Max rolled his eyes playfully as he tried to hide his smirk.

“No, I don’t think I’m jealous.” You raised your eyebrows, surprised by his response. "Not so jealous, huh? Then I can go back to chat and laugh with my friend-" "NO- I... no, please. No, don't go back." He seemed completely panicked at the idea of seeing you laughing with this man he hoped to suffocate under his pillow tonight.

Suddenly, his strong muscular arms wrapped around your waist as he approached your bodies slowly. His gaze burned your skin, your eyes, but it was gentle. "I'm jealous, of course. You have no idea how much. Seeing you laughing, even just standing next to another man. I almost lost my mind. So I hope that a kiss could fix it, if you're okay with that ?" He asked in a cheerful voice.

A big smile took place on your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “I'm perfectly okay with that, Mr. Jealous.” Your lips against his were perhaps the most beautiful thing he had ever tasted. It was sweet and innocent, but full of love and emotion. "Birthday kiss, birthday gift". He laughed softly.

“Oh yeah, I saw that you didn’t make an effort to actually gift me something.” You giggled back, kissing him again. “Maybe I should have given you some pepper spray to blind the men who admire your sublime beauty.” Another laugh escaped your body as he fully savored this happy moment.

“We shouldn’t keep them waiting.” You were referring to your guests. “Absolutely not, I really need to yell at them and tell them that I have the most perfect girlfriend in the world.” And in new laughter, you joined the others, who absolutely did not expect to see you kissing each other passionately behind the smoke of your blown out candles.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fluff

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virgo-barbie · 1 year

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bimbo starter kit ✨💖

it can take a while for a bimbo to feel comfortable with cosmetic procedures, or even just to secure the necessary finances to take the next step in her journey! here are a list of things you can start on right away while you figure out the rest.

1. exercise! a bimbo's body is her best weapon. try to aim for a couple times a week at least. if you don't like running, try pilates, yoga, dance, anything. it's just important that you feel connected to your body in some way.

2. spray tans! for me, this really amps up my sex appeal. my skin has a golden hue that a spray tan really brings out. if i don't have time to go get professionally tanned biweekly, i'll use a tanning mousse instead. it gives a similar effect, but the spray tan is a bit more realistic.

3. manicure and pedicure! what is a bimbo without her claws? i personally love having acrylic nails. i don't have them right now because i can't have acrylics when i go in for my breast augmentation, but i almost always do otherwise. i like barbie pink or long white claws. both are very feminine and look great wrapped around the base of a cock or squeezing a beautiful boobie! having your toes done is also important - nobody wants to suck on and lick mangled feet, and you need to be prepared to be worshipped at any point in time.

4.new clothes! i literally threw everything out and started fresh with a wardrobe of basics. 5 pairs of tiny short shorts, about 20 basic tops in pink, white, and black. I am working my way up towards more exciting statement pieces and building up my shoe and purse collection, but this all takes time. In the meantime, you need clothes that look good on your body and show off your best assets. after my breast augmentation, i will be getting a bunch of new clothes from brands like skims, alo, for love & lemons, etc. for my more bimboish pieces, i kind of just shop around, but i think it's important to have a ton of basic pieces so you can create endless outfits. the mini skirts, fur coats and heels can come later - once you have things to wear them with that make you look super stylish and more importantly... show off your body.

5. get your hair done professionally! most bimbos like to be blonde (myself included) and unless you're already blonde to start with, i see absolutely no reason you should do this at home. save up some money and find a hair stylist in your town who specializes in blonde hair. you won't regret it, and there's nothing bimbo about having crusty, fried hair. if you're not certain if blonde is the best route for you (it probably is), ask a stylist! pink also looks adorable on bimbos with a more cutesy y2k style. a good haircut with some face framing layers can also completely change your whole look.

6. whiten your teeth! invest in a whitening foam and tray, or just use strips. i've had a similar effect with both.

7. get good with fake eyelashes! they elevate any makeup look from fresh to sexy. once you've had lip filler, lip gloss and lipstick will also become your new best friend.

8. silly little accessories! may i suggest a pink lollipop or bubblegum? this will help keep the attention on your perfect little mouth all day and will also give you something cute to distract yourself with while you fantasize about being used out in public.

#hyper femininity #bimbo doll #girlcore #bimbo babe #bimboification #coquette #dollette #it girl #coqeutte #girlblogging #bimbolife #bimbo goals #bimboization #bimbo hypnosis #bimbo training #bimbofied #bimbocore #bambi bubbles

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cillianmesoftlyyy · 3 months

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Wary Sailor Pt. 2 | Matthew Joy x fem!reader

summary: Second Mate Matthew Joy goes out on a whale hunt and even after a successful chase, he can't seem to feel satisfied. Something's weighing heavily on his mind. While alone in the harpoon boat, trouble comes to call.

warnings: Aiming a gun at someone, talk of violence, smut, oral (F receiving), penetration, dubious consent (weird circumstances), unprotected sex, Matthew's abandonment issues lol.

word count: 2763k+

Tucumcari- Goodnight, Texas 🎶

Lady May- Tyler Childers 🎵

Note: The lyrics that I included are from the old whaling song Maid of Amsterdam.

*Pt. 3 (and maybe 4???) coming soon!

The men were deployed into the smaller whaling boats, each boat armed with a harpoon and dense cord. Matthew stood at the back of his boat to steer it away from the ship, navigating the aggravated water. He forced himself to think about the whales, keeping his mind inside the boat… but the girl’s eyes appeared like stars in the corner of his vision at all times.

“Joy!” One of the rowers was yelling at him, snapping him out of his trance. “Joy, focus! Don’t go soft on us all of a sudden, eh?”

Matthew grimaced as the grisly sailor chuckled. He steered them out to open water, following the Captain's boat as per his orders. While he couldn’t see their bodies in the water, Matthew could hear the loud vibrations of sound the Sperm whales made as they spoke to one another. He could also hear Owen yelling out commands to his men. The harpoonist prepared his weapon. Matthew directed his man to do the same.

“Steady now!” He advised his men as they waited for movement below the surface. Striking the whale was simple compared to the rest of the exhausting process. Matthew just planned on keeping his men alive but whale oil was also a necessity that he was willing to sacrifice for. He wasn’t a greedy man by any means, he’d lived in poverty all his life. His life was whaling and he didn’t spend much time off the ocean, the stillness made him restless.

“There she blows!” A man yelled and Matthew peered over the edge as the side of his boat rose out of the water, stuck on the back of an adolescent whale. As he looked over, the distinct silhouette of a woman wavered beneath the surface. Choosing to ignore it, Matthew swung the boat over to allow the harpooner to cast his weapon.

“Go, go, go!” He barked, spit flying from his mouth as he waved the man on. The harpoon sailed through the sky, landed in the water like a seabird, and missed. The whale diverted away from Matthew’s boat and found itself trapped beside Owen’s. The mother whale broke the surface nearby, distracting the men to the real prize. Matthew steered his boat away as the other men helped reel in the harpoon’s cord. The harpooner aimed and threw.

…

It was evening when the whale was secured by chains to the deck of the ship. The whale was so large she had to rest in two different places, one on the ship’s deck and the other in Matthew’s boat. The men aboard wrapped rags around their noses to cover the smell. Matthew just grimaced and rubbed the sockets of his eyes. The darkening landscape helped relieve some of his headache. The other men were already aboard the Essex, only he was left to watch over the end of the whale, saving it from sharks and other predators. He could hear the men singing as they did their work, scraping the fat from the inside of a giant. He hummed along to the song they were singing together.

A roving, a roving

Since roving's been my ru-i-in

I'll go no more a roving

With you fair maid!

Movement in the water drew his mind away from the song. Ripples expanded across the surface where something had just been. Matthew drew his rifle from the floorboards and checked the chamber for bullets. He watched the surface carefully for the distinct fins of sharks.

I put my hand upon her thigh

Mark well what I do say!

I put my hand upon her thigh

She said young man ‘That’s rather high’

I'll go no more a roving with you fair maid!

Matthew cocked the gun and aimed it at the dark water around his boat. The men’s singing seemed to dissipate with the seriousness of his situation. Sharks could be both dangerous and damaging. The scent of whale blood always drew them in, sending them into a frenzy where they could throw themselves against the side of the boat, risking damage. They were a nuisance to Matthew and he didn’t mind shooting them when necessary. The boat rocked in the waves and he steadied himself.

“Are you going to use that on me, Matthew Joy?” The voice behind him startled a gasp from his lips. He swung the rifle around, aiming it at the same face he’d seen hours before.

“You…” he whispered, keeping his rifle trained on her throat. Her eyes were the same green as before, only this time he could see them more clearly. The sun had fully set but colors remained in the sky above her head, bloody purples and such. He couldn’t see her body below the water but he saw that her shoulders were bare save the scattered pearls stuck to her skin like freckles.

“Are you going to shoot me?” She whispered back, her face inches from the barrel of the rifle. He licked his lips before speaking.

“Where… where did you go? You disappeared…” he muttered darkly, flicking his eyes up to the deck where his crewmates continued to work. He was alone with the girl.

“I had to see what you were like,” she offered a small smile. Matthew adjusted the way he held the gun, still aimed at her.

“You asked me if I believed in Sirens…” Matthew remembered warily, his eyes trailing over the pearls across her chest. Her dark hair rested behind her shoulders, down her back.

“Do you?” She asked and reached up her hands slowly, holding the edge of the small boat. He stared at her, his breath clouding the metal scope on his gun.

“Is that what you are?” He asked finally and the girl smiled once again.

“Is it quite shocking?” She teased and bit her lip timidly.

“Well… yes,” Matthew exhaled and raised his eyebrow, “I thought they were only in stories. They weren’t real… Why didn’t you sing?”

The girl cocked her head to the side. The air felt heavy between them as he waited for her response. His body was confused and frightened, something he’d rarely felt before. His instinct and desire clashed, strengthening the opposing forces within him.

“I don’t want to kill you,” she answered honestly, “we sing to kill.”

Matthew lowered his gun and nodded, breathless.

“You had legs. You didn’t look… ” He ran a shaky hand through his hair and ran his hand over his mouth. He could see the top of her fin break through the water. It was a beautiful silver color and her scales were shiny and iridescent.

“I wanted to see how you would treat me. I disguised myself as a human girl and you treated me gently.”

“What do you want from me? You had to keep me alive for some reason,” Matthew sat down on a plank of seating and rubbed the waterducts of his eyes.

“Nothing more than just to know you. I’ve watched your crew from the sea for weeks. You are a good, kind man.”

Matthew looked up from between his fingers and exhaled slowly, lowering his guard only slightly.

“Then what does this mean? How do you want to… know me?” He furrowed his brow and sat back once again on the plank of wood. Her hands tipped the boat slightly so that she could come a little closer to the sailor.

“Come closer, please…” she whispered and rose onto her elbows, her face a few inches from Matthew’s. Matthew stared at her lips, rosey pink and plump. She smelled like sea salt and clean things. Ever so slowly, Matthew closed the distance between them, his eyes staying on her lips.

“Y/N…” He tried to restrain himself as he whispered but eventually, as she stared up at him with her beautiful curtained eyes, he kissed her. It had been years since he’d actually kissed a woman. Kissing was so different than fucking. He’d forgotten how much he enjoyed it, the softness of it. Her hands inched up his blouse, beneath his overcoat, grabbing at his lapels. His hands found the sharp edges of her jaw, meeting her mouth with a more fervent kiss. She tasted lightly of salt, like seaspray against rocks. He devoured her flavor as though it were precious, forbidden. He twisted his fingers into her hair that felt dry despite being in the water, moaning against her lips.

“In what other ways do you want to know me?” He muttered against her lips, his eyes closed. Her fingers ran over his neck, down to the dip between his collarbones.

“I want to know every part of you,” she smiled and moved away, allowing the light from the deck to illuminate her figure below him in the water. Matthew hid a choked sigh as his eyes trailed over her body below the waves. Her body was decorated with pearls and scraps of white cloth. Instead of a tail, she now had two legs that beat the water to keep her afloat.

“Will you take me into your boat?” She asked softly and Matthew nearly forgot to respond, caught in a state of disbelief. He cleared his throat and scooped his hands beneath her arms, pulling her into the boat in one movement. Standing above him on two legs, she looked even more beautiful than she had hours earlier. He could see the buds of her nipples through the white fabric, surrounded by pearls and strands of seaweed. Her cunt was hidden behind a swath of wet fabric but he could still see the dark shape of pubic hair. He looked back up at her face, his lips having fallen apart in amazement. The Siren laughed softly and carded her fingers through his hair, pulling his head back slightly as she did.

“Lay me down,” she requested and smiled when he immediately wrapped his hands around her waist and flipped her over where she could lie flat on the bottom of the harpoon boat. The planks were far enough away to give him space to kneel above her. He supported himself above her, studying the contours of her body, plump and full. She twisted her fingers through his hair again and pulled him close so she could whisper in his ear.

“Now make love to me, Matthew Joy.”

…

He was already hard when she cupped her hand against his pants. It had been a while since he’d slept with a woman after months at sea. His body ached as badly as if he were a teenage boy again, not an aging man. He was throbbing as he moved the fabric on her cunt aside and lowered his head between her thighs. Looking up at her, he ran his tongue against her, tasting her. She hummed and shook with nerves.

A roving, a roving

Since roving's been my ru-i-in

I'll go no more a roving

With you fair maid!

Feeling emboldened by her reaction, Matthew licked her again and rubbed his nose against her clit. She was wet against his tongue and he licked his lips greedily. His cock started to throb as she whimpered and moaned beneath his mouth. Her hand pulled tightly at his hair but he loved the pain and worked his mouth harder into her cunt.

“Now, please now!” She begged him as she started to shake with pleasure. Taking the hint, Matthew undid his trousers and pushed them down to his knees. His face was still wet with her precum as he pulled out his cock and inserted himself quickly. She spasmed around him, her hands moving to grip the sides of the boat for leverage. His thighs clenched as he thrusted into her, his eyes almost rolling to the back of his head. He leaned closer to her chest and rocked into her neck as he fucked her.

“Oh you don’t know how long it’s been, love,” he sighed against her neck. “Is it ok?”

She nodded emphatically and pulled him closer by the back of his jacket, moving him deeper inside her. They both gasped out. He pulled his face away to watch her, still fucking her.

“Beautiful. Pretty pretty creature you are,” he praised her as he trailed a finger down her cheek. Her thighs bounced against his as he pulled her legs around his waist. The boat shook around them. He slipped his tongue around the mound of her breast beneath the cloth, making more moans escape the girl’s mouth. He slipped the fabric aside with one finger and looking up to watch her face, he pressed his mouth around a nipple and sucked. Immediately, her body pulled into his, her back arching off the curved bottom.

I'll go no more a roving

With you fair maid!

“Matthew…” she gasped as her muscles tightened and her bare feet flexed. He rolled his tongue around her nipple while his hand moved to hold her neck lightly, supporting her head. She cried out silently, her eyes screwed shut as if she were in pain. He dragged his tongue along her sternum to her neck and sucked at the flesh there. Her breathing evened out and she pulled his face to hers once again.

“Do what you want with me. Get what you need from me,” the seriousness of her command sent a spasm of pleasure into his cock, still inside her.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I want you to use me,” she whispered and spread her legs farther. Matthew looked at her for a second before smiling.

“Fuck, love. I think I’ll fall in love with you,” he chuckled softly and brushed his hand across her cheek.

“And so what if you do, sailor? Hasn’t everyone else done the same at some point?”

Matthew raised an eyebrow and kissed her, dragging her hands out above her head. Pressing her hands down into the boat, he began to thrust slowly into her, his hips still rebounding off of her pelvis.

“You’re going to stay right here, Y/N. I don’t want to lose you again.”

The girl smiled and broke into a moan as he shortened his thrusts, keeping himself as far inside her as he could. He went slowly so he could feel the orgasm clearly as it came over him, making his cock feel swollen with seed. Her hips shook wildly as she began to lose control over her orgasms. He watched her orgasm and released a wave of contractions around him. Smiling, he finally began to speed up as she whimpered beneath him.

“Fuck, yes… fuck… yes!” He muttered breathlessly as he felt his cock start to twitch before his orgasm. She tightened around him, pulling him deeper and drawing a guttural groan from his throat. His shoulders shook with effort as he allowed his orgasm to explode, cumming inside the girl and sending waves of relief through his system. He pulled out slowly and kissed down her stomach, savoring the heat of her skin against his lips. She caught her breath as he lapped at her swollen cunt. She was still shaking from her orgasms and whined when his tongue overstimulated her. He cleaned her out and nibbled at the skin on the inside of her thighs.

“It’s time for me to go.”

Matthew looked up at her and furrowed his brow, “so soon?”

The girl nodded and sat up to face him.

“I’ll be back, I promise.” She smiled shyly and rubbed her nose against his.

“Where do you go… I mean where do you go while we’re aboard?” He stumbled over his words, still catching his breath.

“Here,” she offered no further clarification as Matthew gave her a questioning look. She pressed her hand against his cheek and laughed.

“Don’t worry about where I go, sailor. The sea is my home.”

Matthew kissed her hastily as he redid his pants and pulled his suspender straps back over his shoulders. She stood and kissed him once more before she stepped over the edge and dropped into the water. In seconds she was resurfacing with her silver tail.

“Let me ask you one thing,” Matthew stopped her before he could leave, “are you real? Was that real?” He gestured to the bottom of the boat and the girl laughed brightly.

“Be wary, sailor. You might just lose your mind."

Matthew nodded and watched as she backed away and dove into the dark water beyond the reflection of light from the deck. Moments later, a whistle sounded and he was called to return to the ship. Forcing himself to look away from the place where the girl disappeared, he felt the familiar material of his old coat that he had wrapped around the girl earlier on the plank beside him, folded and damp.

...

End of Pt. 2!

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wood-white-writer · 1 year

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"Didn't mean to make your heart Blue" || [5/...]

“Where I'll be looking in their eyes when they're down, I'll be there on their side. I'm losing by their side.”

— Mitski, "Bet On Losing Dogs"

Pairing: Buggy the Clown (Live action) x F!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 6

Summary: You were an apprentice of Gol D. Roger’s crew in your youth, long before his eventual demise. Along with the Red-Haired Shanks and Buggy, you were a formidable trio; the embodiment of a new generation of pirates yet to come. But times changed, and so did you and your friends.

It's been a few weeks since the events in Orange Town, and Luffy notices something that others do not. So, he decides to ask you.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, LA!Verse, No (fully bodied) Buggy this chapter, Luffy being the precious cinnamon we all love and must protect above all else, flashbacks about Shanks, past discussions, Luffy and Reader have a heart-to-heart.

A/N: I was initially going to write them going to the Baratie this chapter, but it became too long so next one for sho.

Taglist:@kurinhimenezu, @carpinchootaku, @ay0nha, @teh-vampire-bunny, @lokiscure, @internationalsuper-spy @detectivesparrow , @yuriwk, @notyuralycat, @angeli-fucking-cat, @machinema7k (If you want to be tagged for this story, just send me a message or leave a comment :))

You're sitting by the table in Party's bar, nursing a cold glass of rum against your cracked lips as you observe to the kid - Luffy - demonstrating his newfound Devil Fruit powers without any regard for poor Makino's furniture.

You don't get him, at all. Then again, you don’t get kids.

You've never thought of yourself as someone who easily got along with them ... or people in general. Shanks has always been the better-suited one for that kind of work. Whereas he is smiling and grinning at the kid’s mischief, you've barely offered him more than a glance at most.

Your crew has been positioned in Foosha village for the better part of the month, stacking up on resources and food in preparation for your next job. Incidentally, the Red-Haired Pirates also happened to be in town for similar excursions. You rarely see Shanks nowadays since you parted ways several years ago, but whenever you happen to come across one another, you share a drink on his tab.

While your crew is around and about, replenishing their strength and vigor for the work to come, you're content with just sitting here at your leisure. When you're not plundering or fighting or attacking Marine bases, you can't find it in yourself to do much of anything anymore.

Nothing adds any purpose to your life save for what keeps you fed and clothed, which in the life of a pirate, simply means pirating.

"I've heard you had good fortune on your latest heist," Shanks says from where he's sitting opposite of you. "For your efforts, the Marines have granted you among the highest bounties in all of the East-Blue."

You hum noncommittally in response, not offering much to the conversation in terms of merriment. "The quality of the Marines has been in decline. It says more about their effort, or lack thereof, than mine."

"Do you know what they call you nowadays?"

"They call me a lot of names, you got to be more specific."

"'Cross-Hairs, the Beast of the East'. It's got a certain ring to it, don't you think?"

"Sure."

Shanks smiles the kind way he always does. Always has done.

"Gum-Gum Pistol!"

The sound of yet another chair breaking has you rolling your eyes without even looking, and poor Makino ages ten years in seconds across the bar counter.

"Luffy!"

"Sorry!"

Shanks laughs heartedly at the display, only to cut it short upon noticing Makino's even glare sent his way from across the bar.

"You were careless," you state matter-of-factly and take another gulp from your drink. "You should've kept the fruit hidden more securely."

"Now, in my defense, I didn't think the lad would searching through my loot."

"Well, you should've." You slam your glass down, strong enough to leave a dent in the wooden surface. "What kind of captain leaves his loot undefended and unsupervised? Especially when it contains a Devil Fruit?"

Shanks doesn't argue with your statement and settles with taking a gulp of his own drink, letting your words simmer in his head. "You're right, I should've been more observant. Now, it'll be more difficult for him to achieve his dream."

"His dream? Of what? Becoming the King of the Pirates?" Try as you might, there's no suppressing the snort that escapes through your nose. "There's only ever been one King, and we all saw what happened to him. What do you think is going to happen to a kid who can't even swim?"

"Oh, come off it!" He gives you a playful nudge to the rib, which you reciprocate with a glare. He remains undeterred. "You mean to tell me you've never thought about finding the One Piece? Not even once?"

"I have no interest in whatever plunder Gol D. left behind."

"Then, what does interest you?" He rests his elbow on the edge of the table and leans over to your side. "What is your dream?"

You grit your teeth under your lips, a flash of blue circulating in your head. "Dreams are for fools and children," you point your head to where Luffy is currently sitting, trying to put the chair back together with a half-empty tube of glue and little luck.

"Come on, I know you better than that. Surely there's something in this world you want more than anything?"

"What I want is ..." You have half a mind to tell him the truth, whereas the other half wants to push the idea further down to the bottom of your chest. "Is another bottle of rum."

You raise your arm to Makino to gesture for another one, but Shanks is quick to lower it with a gentle shove of his arm. You flash him a scowl and brush off his hand, but unlike your crew or anyone else, he's not afraid.

"The point which I'm trying to make before you're completely pissed," he starts. "Is that no matter how much opposition one faces, it's that dreams are never out of reach if you have the will to reach for them."

He inclines his head over your shoulder, and you turn around to see Luffy successfully putting the chair back together. You don't know how he did it - it looked pretty busted minutes ago - but there it is, wholly intact.

And when the boy smiles, it's so vibrant and full of joy that it's almost blinding. He proudly runs over and shows the repaired chair to Makino, who proceeds to pat his head and hand him a plate of food.

"See?" Shanks grins. "Nothing is impossible."

"You can hardly consider putting a chair back together the same as achieving an impossible goal."

He shrugs. "Maybe not, but you won't know unless you try. All it takes is a little spirit."

You watch Shanks for a couple of minutes in silence, processing his mythic words, then shift your attention over to Luffy who's preoccupied with shoving an unholy amount of food into his mouth. If this is to become the future King of the Pirates one day, then it'll be an interesting future indeed.

"A little spirit, huh?"

— — —

You're sad.

Luffy first notices it when you leave Orange Town, and it lingers throughout your voyage.

For as long as he's known you, you've always been a person of relatively few words; never speaking unless you feel the situation requires it, and only acting when necessary. Even following the Kuro situation™, getting the Going Merry, and adding Usopp to his crew, he can tell that you're not all there anymore.

Not to be mistaken, you're not conspicuous with the way you behave. You still act like usual, talk like usual, however little, and commit yourself to your work on the ship, almost to an excessive extent.

All in all, nothing’s changed about you. However, he’s gotten used to your face and general lack of expression most of the time, and though it doesn't seem to alter, he still catches onto the fact that you're sad.

"Hey," he asks the group and props himself in the kitchen, legs crossed atop his seat. "Do you think she's any different?"

"Who? Your friend?" Nami asks, raising an eyebrow. "How so?"

"Well, I think she's sad."

"Doesn't look any different to me," Zoro supplies while polishing his swords on the table.

Usopp's in the middle of munching a piece of loaf, and answers with his mouth still halfway occupied. "Dunno how she usually is, but she's kinda terrifying if you ask me."

"No, she's not," Luffy dismisses lightly.

"What's her position on the ship, anyhow? How'd you come across her?"

"She's always been with me," Luffy answers without any thought. "And she’s a good fighter.”

Zoro — to everyone’s surprise — nods his head to this in concurrence.

Their Captain claps his hands together to get the subject back on track. "But anyway, I just think she seems kind of down now."

"How can you even tell? With eyes like these, —” Usopp puts both of his index fingers at the crow’s feet of his eyes and draws them back to imitate yours. It’s borderline shameful, truth be told. “— I can’t tell for shit what she’s feeling or thinking.”

“I just can.” Luffy shrugs.

“Has she said anything?” Nami asks. “Anything to make you ask?”

“No, not really.” He heaves a sigh and props his hand under his chin, contemplating. “But she's been different since we left Orange Town.”

"If you ask me," Zoro speaks up. "You should ask her about her relationship with that fucking clown."

"Who? Boogie?"

"Buggy," Nami corrects. "Didn't you notice that at the end? They have a history, it's obvious. They know each other, and I don't know what pirate customs are like nowadays, but I doubt you'd touch the face of an enemy unless there was something going on. Has she said anything about it?"

Luffy shakes his head. “No... but then again, she never does tell me much about anything unless I ask.”

The tangerine-haired girl blinks as if the answer to this whole predicament is obvious. She quickly comes to realize that, to Luffy, it’s not.

“So…” she prompts slowly.

“So…?”

She rolls her eyes at his inability to catch her drift. “Go ask her.”

It’s like the thought never even crossed Luffy’s mind in the first place because truth be told, it hasn’t. He lights up like a candlestick on the spot. “Yeah, I should just ask her!”

“Ask me what?”

The members of the Straw Hat pirates (save for Zoro) withdraw in various unique positions, having not heard you make your entrance before you speak.

You’re standing in the doorway to the kitchen, eyebrow slightly quirked at the Baroque-esque scene in front of you. Deciding not to address the display, you simply ask, “Anything I should know about, Captain Luffy?”

Usopp doesn’t even dare to answer, because he knows you sure as hell don’t see him as a captain in general, much less your captain. He swears he notices you briefly look in his direction at the mention of the title, and a shiver runs across his skin. Like static electricity in the air.

“Oh, yeah,” Luffy turns to you, not an ounce of fear in his eyes as he pops the question. “Are you sad?”

You blink once, then twice, like the inquiry on its own is of unfathomable origins to you. “Do I look sad?”

The boy in the straw hat nods. “I think you do.”

“Then I’m not.” It’s not only an answer, but also a sentence that marks this subject as finished on your part. One that does not permit any subsequent additions.

You incline your head to the deck above. “We’re going to have company soon, likely Marines, and they seem to be in supply of heavy fire this time.”

———

The situation with the aforementioned opponents temporarily distracts the crew, yet Luffy maintains a close eye on you, taking note of anything that can point him to the source of the unknown problem. You talk relatively little with the other crew members, but you seem to have developed an amicable enough relationship with them compared to when you first met.

Before, you could care less about getting to know them. Now, you’re actively going out of your way to ask Nami about her cartographic skills, even giving her tips for additions to her geographical detailing. You provide Zoro pointers on self-developed defensive techniques and ways to paralyze opponents in certain spots (which he seems appreciative of).

You even give Usopp a short nod when he tells you one of his fantastical stories, even knowing that they’re full of shit.

Luffy’s happy, but he still sees that you are not.

It’s all in your eyes. They’re hollow somehow, like the end of a barrel. He doesn’t know how he knows, only that he knows, and he’s known for a good while now.

So, that night, Luffy finds you in the kitchen by the windows, absentmindedly snacking on a red apple while you gaze into the dark nothingness outside. He also discovers that he’s subconsciously become quite observant of your habits as of late.

For example, you specifically pick red apples above any other color when they happen to dock someplace, not even paying any mind to the green or yellow ones. Just the red ones.

“Hey,” he positions himself next to you on the bench, a piece of loaf tight in his hand. “Why are you sad?”

You turn your head just a fraction to the side to look at him, not annoyed, but not appreciative of the focus he’s settled on as of late. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? The Vice-Admiral looks a little weary as of late, after all. Are you sad about it?"

"Nope."

“So why do you insist that I’m sad?”

“Because you are,” he states like it’s obvious.

You huff humorously and return your attention to the window that supplies no real view. “How can you tell?”

“I just can.” He takes a generous bite of his food and continues talking, oblivious to the crumbles that fall while doing so. “When I’m sad, I—”

“Eat?”

“Well, yeah.” He swallows the bite down. “But I also like to talk about it with someone I trust. Shanks used to say that true friends are the kind of people you can share your heart with and not get hurt.”

This annoys you, that much he can tell. A nail digs into the apple you’re holding, leaving a crescent-shaped indent on the red skin. “Shanks said many things, and not all of it's true.”

This doesn’t deter him from pressing on the matter. “If you keep all the hurt inside, it’s going to turn bad. You know, Makino said that if you leave a piece of ham in the fridge too long, it’ll get sour and people can’t eat it.”

“Only you could find a way to compare this sort of thing to food.” You withdraw your finger from the apple and end up leaving it alone altogether. A minute or ten of silence waves between you, laced with unspoken questions and denied answers. “Tell me, Luffy, just how much did Shanks tell you about his past?”

He thinks for a moment, mimicking your movements by putting his loaf aside. “Just about his adventures with the Red-Haired Pirates, and a little about the time you served with him. Is it true you were strong enough to throw a three-hundred-pound man to the ground when you were thirteen?”

He swears it’s a snort that he catches leaving your throat, but it’s hard to differentiate it from your more-than-usual scoffs. “He exaggerated.”

“Really?”

“The man was two-fifty, at most.”

Luffy grins with genuine admiration, so much so that your face tilts back slightly, being overwhelmed by the mere brightness that is him. “Wow! You must’ve been quite a beast when you were a kid!”

He notices it again, the sadness that latches onto your eyes like insects to sour meat. Whatever brief smile adorned your lips moments ago disappears like it was never there at all. Thinking he said something wrong, Luffy prepares to apologize when you speak again.

Your voice is soft yet faint like you’re afraid speaking too loudly will make something bad happen. “It wasn’t just me and Shanks, back then, you know.”

The Captain of the Straw Hats thinks it’s almost unnatural of you to be this demure, but he doesn’t interrupt you.

“Buggy was there, too. It was the three of us, together.”

“Oh, yeah.” He remembers it now. “He did mention that in Orange Town. You served the same crew.”

“… He did, did he?”

“He said you and Shanks betrayed him, but I didn’t believe him.” Luffy knows you and has known you for longer than he’s known a lot of people in his life. You’re one of the few permanent people he’s had, and he knows with a certainty that you’re not the kind of person who leaves anyone behind, not without reason.

Even if you did have a reason for leaving Buggy, it must have been a good one.

Your mouth opens and shuts several times in the span of a minute like you’re hesitating to talk about the past. You’ve never been one to talk about it, except to share some details about your time as captain, and even that was limited to the bare minimum.

Still, Luffy, being in no hurry for you to reach an answer, waits patiently by your side until you do decide to talk about it.

Talk about what he believes is the reason for your sadness.

“We were close back in the days,” you begin slowly. “Me, him, and Shanks. It was us against the rest of the world, and we were going to sail together to the end of the seas one day. It was our dream.”

“Then, what happened?”

You put your palm over both your eyes and rest your elbow on the window frame, heaving a sigh that resembles someone who’s spent too much of their life working and working and working without catching any breaks. Pure, simple exhaustion weighs you down, Luffy can tell.

When you speak next, you sound tired too, and perhaps a little strained. He can’t see your eyes, and so, he can’t truthfully tell what you’re thinking now. “The thing is, I don’t know what happened. All I know is that he decided he didn’t want to stick around.” You breathe through your nostrils. “Our captain was gone, and so was the crew, but we three were still together, and I thought we were going to stay together.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No … We didn’t. I don’t know what happened, but one day when I was talking with Shanks about what to do next, Buggy came in, and it … He looked at me like … Like he hated me.” You exhale. “He did hate me, and I don’t know what it was I did, but he practically told me that we were done … And then he left. I never saw him again, up until Orange Town.”

Luffy doesn’t require your eyes this time to tell that you’re sad now because you are. You’re so sad that it’s destroying you from the inside, and even that is an understatement on its own. There are no tears trickling down your cheeks, no quivers or thickness to your voice, no nothing to base his assumptions on, but he knows.

He stays silent for a short while, doing nothing but look at you. You’re one of the strongest people he knows. He’s seen you fight; seen the strength you possess, the fire in your eyes. You’ve stayed with him ever since Shanks left Foosha Village, you’ve looked after him from the sidelines when you thought no one was watching.

You’ve been with him throughout everything, and seeing you like this makes him feel blue on your behalf. You don’t express it yourself – you never do. You carry your weight with the same kind of strength you always do, never letting anyone see you beyond just that, and sometimes, he wonders if you’re lonely because of it.

At least, now he knows why you’re so sad. You’re heartbroken.

He’s never been acquainted with the feeling himself, has never felt any particular inclination toward it, but he can tell it’s your heart that’s hurting now, and it’s not as easy to heal as that cuts he received on his chest from the butler.

His hat seems to itch the harder he thinks about it, as if there’s something digging at his scalp through his hat. He thought Nami patched it up for him. He tries to scratch at it, but for some reason, it doesn’t cease. Maybe he’s got lice?

He ignores it. “It’s weird. Bunky seems to think you were the one who left him for Shanks.”

“I didn’t.”

“I know. You’re not that kind of person.” He says it so easily, without a smidgen of doubt or hesitation. You look at him through your peripheral vision, and your eyes slightly widen at his statement. “But, do you know what happened between them? Shanks and Bonky, I mean?”

“No, I don’t.” You admit with a shake of your head. You’ve tried to figure it out for years, and at some point, you decided to give up. “Shanks never told me, but whatever it was, it was enough for the stupid clown to leave for… He chose a childish rivalry over me.”

“Then, there you have it. It’s all just a big misunderstanding, so why don’t you just tell him if you meet him again?”

“You seem awfully defensive of the guy who destroyed an entire village and almost drowned you.”

“Yeah, but talking about him seems to make you happy.”

You freeze for a bit, snort, and turn your back to the window frame, leaning back and crossing your arms across your chest in silent resignation. “I tried to explain things to him back in Orange Town, and a fat load of good that did. Like I said, he hates me, and he’s sure as hell not my favorite person at the moment. If we do meet again, it likely won’t end any better than it back in Orange Town.”

“You know, –” Luffy takes another bite of his bread. “It didn’t sound like he hated you.”

“Hmm?” You raise an eyebrow, halfway curious and halfway skeptical.

“He still remembers that you like red apples and that you hide knives in your shoes. Is that true?”

You raise both your eyebrows and look at Luffy like he’s just grown a second head. Without a word, you pull your left foot up until it rests on the bench, and withdraw not one or two knives, but four. Small and subtle, hardly enough to turn any heads, but in a flash, you throw it across the kitchen until it lands on a specific spot on the opposite wall.

Bull’s eye.

“We used to have knife-throwing competitions,” you reminisce idly, staring at the knife lodged deep into the wall. “I was good, but Buggy was better.” Your lip tilts up an inch or two. “We made bets, and whoever lost would have to steal a bottle of whatever liquor we happened to find in the next town we docked at.”

“Oh?”

“I ended up snatching quite a lot of bottles, but once every blue moon, he would have to snatch one instead.” You smile. It’s an actual, genuine, honest smile this time, and Luffy can’t help but marvel at the sight. It’s a rare thing for you to smile like you’re doing now. It’s usually brief or sarcastic and never seems to reach your eyes.

This one does.

He thinks you look pretty when you smile. It’s your smile, and it’s so warm that he wishes you could do it more often. He tells you as much, and a red color falls over your cheek. You promptly turn your face to the other side to save face, and it makes Luffy think.

When he thinks about his dream of becoming King of the Pirates, he can’t stop himself from smiling ear to ear. So, that begs the question: “What is your dream?”

What makes you smile?

“My dream …” You reach for your apple and hold it against your face, the uneaten side of it shining against your face. “Is unattainable.

“I don’t think it is,” Luffy says without missing a beat and takes your hand in his, determined to make you see that. “I think that no matter how much stands against us, dreams are never impossible if you have the will to reach for them. All it takes is a little spirit.”

He doesn’t know where those words come from, but he’s heard them from someplace, and judging by your staggered reaction, you’ve heard them too.

“A little spirit, huh?”

“Exactly! So, please tell me, what’s your dream?”

You look straight ahead into the room, resting your elbows back on the window frame without a word. He thinks you’re about to decline his question or ignore it altogether. However, he’s surprised to hear you actually answer this time, truthfully too.

“My dream was to sail the seas with him again.”

Suddenly, the itchiness on his head stops, and it stays that way.

#buggy the clown #buggy one piece #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #one piece live action #one piece x reader #buggy the clown fanfiction #buggy x you #buggy x female reader #one piece #monkey d. luffy #one piece luffy #straw hat luffy #straw hat pirates #shanks #red haired shanks #akagami no shanks

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duchess-doodles · 27 days

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Uuh so some more on my take on human Bill. He basically highjacks Nick's body and uses some good ol ancient rune tattoos to make him into an immortal vessel only he can possess. Some more ✨lore✨ under the cut because I have waaaaay to many thoughts about this

So Nick is just some random guy who's passing through Gravity Falls, and he stops in the dusk 2 dawn for some chips or something

Ford happens to be there at the same time. He has the very normal, very insignificant thought of seeing some dude across the aisle in a convenience store and thinking "hm. cute guy" (which I might add is a thought he's barely conscious of. My guy has layers of representation to deal with but that's a different post) and moves on with his day

Bill on the other hand, the jealous fuck, reads this in Ford's brain and has the calm, collected and controlled reaction of ghosting ford for a few weeks to go fuck with this guy. For "fun." Definitely no reason other than that nope Bill doesn't care that Sixer spent 0.2 seconds looking at another guy whaaat no why would he care

Eventually Bill manages to get Nick to make a deal with him and gets his hands on Nick's body. Nick is obviously Not Ok with this so Bill rips out Nick's eye, using the body's pain to deter Nick from trying to get it back and because he's a crazy bitch like that and also because I want my Bill design to have one eye sue me

Then Bill does all the hair dying and piercing, and then uses spellbinding tattoos to secure his new flesh puppet :D now Nick's body can only be possessed by him (thereby keeping Nick out permanently so Bill can come and go as he pleases, without having to worry about fighting for the body's ownership every time he wants to use it) and doesn't need "looking after" the way a normal human body does (so he can leave it in a closet for weeks on end and it'll be fine)

Bill then rocks back up to the mystery shack and tells Ford he can manifest a human body sometimes. Just flat out lies to him. Like the liar he is <3

He stashes the body under the porch or something when he's not using it

I have more thoughts on this but I'll save it for another post lol

#possessed nick au #human bill cipher #bill cipher #nick gable #billford #gravity falls #gravity falls bill #the book of bill #bill x ford #ford x bill #bill x stanford #book of bill #bill cipher au #gravity falls au #my art

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ivystoryweaver · 3 months

Text

3 Times Jake Lockley Tried Threatened to Kill You and 1 Time How He Saved Your Life

Part 5/5: Finale

previous || Miniseries Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Pairing: Jake Lockley x f!reader

Summary: Jake makes you a life-changing offer, but can you trust him? Can you really trust anybody?

Word Count: 7.3k

Content: nsfw, mdni, language (more than usual), nipple play, oral - m. and f. rec, p in v, unprotected sex, knife play, knife threats, mild injury, blood, wounds, violence, rough sex, creampie, tiny bit of anal teasing, mentions of food, suicide, trafficking and abuse, mental health discussions, not beta'd

gif does not indicate reader's race

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

You checked the lock behind Jake. And again. Three times. Then you checked and re-checked all the windows and curtains, even though Jake had secured the house as soon as you arrived. You peered in every closet and under both beds, in the bathroom, everywhere that someone might think to hide.

And you did all this while carrying your weapon. In fact, you inspected the house so thoroughly and repeatedly that you were searching a closet when Jake returned. Your blood went ice cold in your veins at the sound of footsteps. But you drew a deep breath and gripped your weapon, ready to defend yourself if needed.

He called your name and you almost collapsed in relief, making sure the safety was on before setting the gun on the night table.

“There you are, you okay?” He hurriedly questioned, rushing to check you over.

Nodding quickly, you threw your arms around his neck and held onto him as if he’d just returned from war.

“I got you, it’s okay,” he murmured against your ear, wrapping his arms around the curve of your back and pressing your body against his securely. “I’m sorry I left. You’ve been through hell today.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, your eyes drifting closed as he folded you closer still, deciding to see how he would respond if you remained calm instead of showing him the absolute panic consuming you.

“No. It’s not okay. I shouldn’t have left you.” Pressing a kiss to your temple, he eased back and took your face in his hands. “It won’t happen again. I’m not gonna control you like everyone else. I should have given you the choice."

You blinked at him so sweetly, stunned by his confession - wishing so badly to believe him, but still so uncertain...

Better to play nice for now.

“Keep talking,” you smiled warmly at him. “You’re more than a pretty face.”

He kissed your lips, chuckling lightly, relieved that you seemed in good spirits.

Jake showed you the supplies, allowed you to change into clothes closer to your size, and the two of you made some food since you hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

As the evening wore on, he finally seemed to relax a bit, removing his jacket, although his gloves and hat stayed on. And before you had to wonder anymore, or for very long about his intentions, he motioned around him at the supplies he'd gathered, letting you know he had a ton of work to do to get the two of you out of there safely tomorrow - and suggested you go to bed...leaving you completely bewildered.

"I'll fix up the bed - you can sleep in there. I'll take the couch."

Now you were more confused than ever.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Jake checked with you half a dozen times, it seemed, making sure you felt okay to go to bed.

"You can sleep in here, you know...if you want. Plenty of room," you offered, fidgeting nervously with your hands, which was quite unlike you.

Jake stopped, glancing up from tucking a blanket neatly under the edge of the mattress. "Thanks. Maybe I will. I just don't want to keep you up."

"Okay," you softly agreed, and Jake wondered if the chaos of the day had taken the fight right out of you. "Hey, come here," he said softly, reaching for the swell of your hips to pull you close. "It's been a shit day. I'll come in later."

You nodded, sadness lingering in your eyes and Jake realized he'd never seen you so soft and vulnerable.

"You're safe here," he repeated. "I promise you."

Forcing a smile, you went along with his idea, needing time to think.

Although you'd put up a fight with Jake, at least verbally, several times before, this was different. You were alone, totally isolated and no one knew where you were. You could die here. Or he could be leading you to your death.

So for once, quietly accepting your fate sounded like the way to go. You kissed Jake goodnight and locked yourself inside the bedroom, hoping he wouldn't grow suspicious or worse, angry.

You stared at the pitch black ceiling above your bed, unable to believe this is how your first night with Jake Lockley was going.

This man who haunted your fantasies, who plunged a knife into your abdomen, whose very voice made you wet...was surprisingly the softest man you'd ever met. At least you truly hoped so.

These thoughts turned over and over in your head, making you toss and turn for what felt like hours, wondering if Jake would come to you. After getting up to use the bathroom, you decided it best to unlock the door.

After a while longer, your impatience won out and you remembered all the times in your own bed, in the comfort of your penthouse, when you'd relieved your stress physically - each time fantasizing about Jake - at least for the last few weeks.

Bored, frustrated and wired, your fingers wandered under the cotton t-shirt Jake had given you to sleep in, toying with the scar he'd left with his knife. The knife you came on. The scar he'd caressed while fingering you with his gloves on - something right out of your wildest dreams.

He must think you were so unhinged. Which...was probably true. Even now, toying with your scar, you felt yourself getting wet. Maybe you could just...no. Not with Jake in the next room. He would definitely hear you getting yourself off since you weren't exactly one for quiet orgasms.

The truth was, you simply weren't used to being on your own, quiet, with no phone, no one to call, no one to serve you. Nothing.

"Fuck," you hissed, annoyed with yourself for getting worked up over a stab wound.

"That a request?" Jake's voice sounded from the bedroom doorway.

"Shit! Jake - you scared me." Scooting up in bed, you reached for the bedside lamp.

He stood, shirtless, arms folded over his chest, his curls wild and untamed from running his fingers through them relentlessly...and his hands, finally, bare.

"What, you don't wear gloves to bed?" You teased, drawing your legs up to your chest in a somewhat defensive pose.

"I can if you want, cariño," he smirked, pushing off the doorway to stalk toward the bed.

"I thought you were busy," you huffed, keeping your distance, if only to pretend you were punishing him in some way.

"I was, but...I missed you."

"Sure you did," you fired back, rolling your eyes.

"There it is," he darkly chuckled, easing closer to you. "So sweet before, but I knew it wouldn't last."

"Fuck you," you spat, reaching out to swat at his arm, but he trapped your wrist in his strong grip, condescendingly tutting a few times.

"Mmm, you said that," he nodded, pushing your hand over your head while climbing on top of you, his gorgeous body flexing as he eased you underneath him. Taking hold of your free hand, he pushed it up to join the other, locking your wrists in an iron grip. "Why do you think I came in here?"

Without giving you time to answer, he covered your mouth with his own, strong hips pinning you to the mattress to restrict your movement. Licking open the seam of your lips, he thrusted against you hungrily, growling as your hips shifted to meet his rocking motion.

Keeping a hold on your wrists with one hand, he dragged his free hand down to push up your t-shirt, quickly and easily finding his scar - his mark on you. The one he saw you fondling as he quietly watched you from the doorway a few minutes ago.

He should have let you continue, waited patiently while you slid your fingers into you slick cunt, panting his name.

But he just couldn't help himself, even now, as those same fingers wandered down underneath the hem of your panties. You moaned deeply into his mouth as he rubbed his knuckles between your wet folds.

Tearing his mouth from yours, he kissed a trail down your throat, yanking up your t-shirt to expose your breasts to his waiting mouth, smiling against your skin as he sucked your hardened nipple. Next he trailed his tongue down to your scar, breathing hotly over the sore skin before laving his tongue over the ruined flesh, the steady drag of his knuckles through your folds making you mewl and liquify under his touch.

He continued downward, laying soft kisses along your stomach, down to your panties, before pulling them off your legs.

"Relax, baby," he gruffed out, kissing a trail up the softness of your inner thigh before his lips finally met your dripping core.

"Jake...please..." You gasped, threading your fingers through his thick curls as he softly and temptingly kissed your cunt.

"Think about this every night, mi amor. Wanna hear you when you come on my tongue."

"Fuck, Jake," you moaned as he dragged his tongue through your folds. Your body trembled in pleasure at the way he started eating you - the squelching sounds filthy and turning you on beyond belief.

He nibbled at your throbbing clit before laving with his tongue, over and over and it felt so fucking good you thought you might cry. Then he plunged his tongue into your hole, fucking into you, swirling and licking as his thumb found your clit - circling it with hard, pressing pulses while working his mouth all over you pussy.

You tugged his hair so hard, pushing his face against your cunt, rocking your hips, fucking his face and he seemed happy to let you handle him like a toy, soaking his mouth with your juices.

A pleasure like you'd never known began to build in the center of you and you rushed headlong into it, thrilled that he wasn't trying to control you - seeming pleased with the way you bucked wildly against him.

His tongue felt hot and wild and wet inside you, obscene wet slurps filling the bedroom - only slightly obscured by your shrieks of ecstasy.

Whatever in the world you were mad at him for, he was forgiven because you'd never had a lover or a toy or anything in the world take you to heaven like this.

Just then, his stiff cock brushed against your leg and the thought of how hard he felt and how good he was about to fuck you sent you into oblivion. Your back arched violently off the bed as your whole body shook with orgasm, like a delicious lightning zinging through your entire body, all the way down to your toes.

Jake kissed gently back up your body, knuckles gently stroking your arm, fingers tangling with yours as you rode out your high.

"That's my girl," he murmured against your neck. "Came for me so good. Taste fucking perfect."

"Jake..." You panted, squeezing your joined hands and wondering when the room might stop spinning.

"I got you, baby. I got you."

Your blissed out brain vaguely drifted back to this morning when he said the same thing to you, while trying to get you to safety. It was a hell of a day.

You rolled to your side and curled up against his chest, loving how his arms automatically wrapped around you and pressed your body against the heat of his bare chest. The straining, hard length of him dug into your thigh as his mouth sought yours out once more, this time hungrier, more demanding.

He lifted your t-shirt over your head as you frantically pushed at the hem of his boxers, lips fused every second possible as you freed yourself of your remaining clothes.

He rolled your body back underneath his, kissing you hungrily before pushing your arms back over your head, hissing as his gunshot wound smarted. With fingers tangled, hands linked, he worked his hips in between your legs which fell open eagerly.

Sliding his tip through your drenched folds, he groaned out a few curses in Spanish before pushing into your hole, pausing for just a moment - just to get a reaction out of you.

Predictably, you slung your leg around his ass and urged him into you deeper, hissing as his cock stretched you open.

"Fuck me," you demanded, even as he bottomed out and held himself still, if only to hear you say it again.

Writhing underneath him, the stretched position of your arms put your breasts on a gorgeous display for him. "Fuck me, Jake," you whined, your back arching deliciously as you squeezed your joined hands.

Unable to restrain himself any longer, he roughly speared back into you, twisting his body into yours, his mouth falling open in a gasp as your hips rocked to meet his.

He went slowly, but it was deep and a little rough and wild and so Jake.

"I think of you every night - wishing you were inside me," you panted, body rolling beautifully underneath him.

"I'm here now, baby," he groaned, driving his cock into you possessively. "I'll give you anything you want."

"I want you here," you panted, both legs wrapped snugly around him now, fingers gripping his own, spread open beneath him, taking his cock so good. "I want you inside me. Come inside me. Stay with me."

Your words ignited a molten lust like he'd never felt with anyone else. You were such a beautiful paradox - or maybe it was his heart that thrummed with conflict, but only for you. He wanted you wild, cursing him, fighting him, making him burn for you, but he simultaneously needed to tame you, take your body underneath his, just like this - make you soft and desperate for him.

But earlier, you were too quiet and he worried that maybe your spirit was breaking. He couldn't live with that. You were sweet and vicious and filthy and beautiful. He wanted to shove his gun in your pussy or bend you over the hood of his car and make you cry, but he also wanted to pamper you and get down his knees to give you anything your heart desired. He wanted to pull you apart with his lips, his tongue, his fingers, his cock. To pleasure you for hours on end, tender and deep and slow, in a soft bed.

He wanted all of you. And as you murmured against his mouth that you were glad he was here with you, he thought it might feel something like love.

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You fell asleep tangled up in Jake, honestly pleased to simply have his undivided attention. Despite everything, you still felt safe with him, but doubts lingered.

Your sleepy mind dragged you under and into a terrible dream - vague, but with images of your awful bodyguard who attacked you at the forefront. Then Jake appeared, and simply...watched. You cried out for him, but he didn't seem to care.

You woke up suddenly, disoriented and afraid, only to find Jake sound asleep beside you. Burning questions plagued your mind, so you silently slipped out of bed, quickly racing to the living room to locate some kind of weapon. You needed to solve this right fucking now.

Creeping back into the bedroom, you gripped a knife in your trembling hand, drawing a deep breath before laying it against the corded thickness of Jake's throat. Of course, as soon as he woke up, he would overpower you and probably be pissed, so you decided to climb on top of him, straddling his body to more easily pin him down.

Before you even called his name or shook him awake, his dark eyes popped open, feeling your naked body draped over his. But his brief delight quickly evaporated when he felt a sharp knife edge pressing into his skin.

"Shit," he hissed, struggling at first, but faltering when you dug the knife in to the point of pain.

"Be still," you ordered. "I have some goddamn questions."

"All right, okay," he agreed, holding his hands up as if surrendering.

"Put your hands underneath your body," you ordered. "Lie on top of them. Do it now."

You thought you saw a smirk and it enraged you, which caused your wrist to slip and barely nick his throat.

"Fucking hell, be careful with that," he gasped, complying with your demand - wincing at the way his current arm position pulled at his gunshot wound.

"Answer my questions or I will cut your fucking throat," you snarled, using all your weight to pin him down and hoping like hell you sounded believable, if not intimidating.

"Okay, just...go easy."

"You said twenty minutes," you accused, "You said you would be back from your supply run in twenty minutes, but you weren't."

"Corazón. Please - "

"You said twenty," you fussed, trembling with rage. "It was thirty-five minutes - "

"I'm sorry - "

"I thought you left me here, Jake," you insisted, gesturing animatedly with your free hand. "O-or something happened to you."

Wetting his lips, he attempted to explain. "I went to two different stores, but I got most of what we need. So we'll be ready. It won’t happen again. We'll use burner phones next time."

"Who will be ready?"

"You and me, to leave here tomorrow," he reminded you. "I told you." He groaned as your bare cunt shifted against his lower abdomen. Fucking hell, you were crazy but damn if it didn't make him want you so much.

Scared of asking your next question, you pressed on, desperate to know. "Are you going to kill me? O-or hurt me? Are you still out for revenge against my father?”

“What? No,” Jake passionately replied, hoping to convince you with his body held captive. “You were in the car when we were shot at this afternoon. I’m trying to save your life.”

"How do I know?" You clapped back, pounding your fist on his chest. "How do I know you didn't kidnap me?"

"Jesus," he huffed, rolling his eyes, but he seemed oddly relieved. "That's what has you all worked up. You think I fucking kidnapped you?"

"Maybe you did," you snapped. "Maybe you're trying to trick me - to get me to trust you."

"I told you you have every reason not to trust me, after what I did to you," he insisted. "Believe me, I was surprised you even agreed to come here with me. I'm just trying to keep you alive."

“But why?” You blinked down at him. “Why did you change your mind?”

His gaze met yours confidently. “You were in that bathroom with me today. In the club, when you kissed me. Why do you think?”

“For a good fuck?” You smarted. “Mission accomplished. Now what?”

He took the compliment. “Thanks,” he smirked. “I thought so.” Wetting his lips, he added, “I know I won’t forget the way you looked in that mirror for a long time.”

Fuck. The mere thought of it made you wet. Even his voice could rile you up.

"What if you're full of shit?" You seethed, trailing off as you felt his very prominent erection against your ass.

"What the hell...this is turning you on? Are you seriously fucking hard with a knife to your throat, talking about kidnapping me? You sick fuck!"

Jake's head dropped back to his pillow then and he let out a dark chuckle at your apparent obliviousness to the obvious reason he hadn't overpowered you yet. "That surprises you? You're the one who fucks yourself with my weapons, sweetheart."

"Yeah? Maybe I should shove this knife right up your ass!"

"For god's sake..." He groaned. "You're a spoiled fucking brat, you know that?"

"Fuck you, Jake," you growled, shifting your hips down. Using your free hand, you gripped his cock, pushing your thumb over the tip before guiding his length into your pussy.

With the knife pressed firmly to his throat, you sank all the way down, hissing at how he stretched you so good before starting to rock your hips.

"fuck..." Jake moaned, turned on beyond belief at how you were at least pretending to threaten his life while clenching him so tightly.

"Now answer me," you panted, trying hard to concentrate while riding such a good cock. Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment - an opportunity Jake should have taken, but willfully chose not to. In this case, getting his dick wet was far more appealing than scaring you further.

"Are you going to hurt me?" You half moaned, dragging your hips back and forth demandingly. "Or let anyone else hurt me?"

Jake wet his lips at the sight of your bouncing tits. "No. Never."

"But why?" You gasped, grateful instead of angry when he freed his hands, running them up your thighs. Gripping your hips, he moved you back and forth, helping you ride his dick harder and faster, even as the knife pulled roughly at the flesh of his throat.

"Because...you're mine," he panted, feeling the thrill of victory as the weapon dropped from your hand. "You're fucking mine. Say it."

Bracing your palms on his chest, you bounced faster and faster on his cock - your gorgeous tits mesmerizing him as your body flexed and fucked and you started to moan his name.

After a vigorous round of you riding him hard, he sat up with you, wrapping you in his strong arms, his mouth crashing into yours as your bodies twisted, rolling together like a thunderstorm.

Pulling you harder down onto him by your shoulders, Jake buried his face in your neck, remembering back to the club when all he wanted was to suck a mark on your skin and come against you. But now, you were here with him, alone, naked and he was so deep inside you. You wanted him as much as he wanted you.

"Say it," he repeated, his voice pleading instead of demanding, hands caressing down the curve of your back as he murmured against your throat. "Say you're mine. Because I'm yours. Only yours."

"Jake," you whimpered, your body surrendering to a euphoric wave of passion, arching against him as you came undone. He groaned into your skin, feeling your walls clenching around him, coaxing him toward his own release. Surging heat filled you inside and you held Jake's head against your shoulder tenderly as he he came back to himself.

Easing back, he gasped for air, gazing into your eyes before kissing your parted lips. Touching his forehead to yours, he cupped your cheek with his hand.

"I won't let anyone hurt you. Ever." Reaching for the knife, he felt you flinch, hurriedly whispering his name. He pressed the handle into your hand, kissing your mouth again. "Take it. Do anything you want. I'll never hurt you."

You repeated his name, realizing it was becoming something of a touchstone. Wrapping your arms around his neck with the knife in your hand, you kissed him deeply.

Maybe he really did just want to fuck you, but whatever he was doing was working. You were finally beginning to truly believe him.

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After holding one another in the dark, bodies wet and soft but still joined, the two of you panted, soft kisses and caresses soothing and calming you.

You climbed out of bed to clean up a little, check Jake's gunshot wound, and get a drink. Jake pulled your t-shirt back over your head and found his boxers. Pulling you against his chest, he ran his hands up and down the curve of your back, smiling to himself as you draped your bare thigh across his abdomen.

"I'm sorry I cut your neck," you whispered, running your fingertip over his chin before tracing the shape of his lips.

"No, I don't think you are," he softly chuckled, fingertips brushing the smooth curve of your ass underneath the hem of your t-shirt. "But thanks for saying so."

But you were serious. "I didn't want to hurt you, I just..." You trailed off, your voice faltering.

"You were scared," he supplied. "I don't blame you." Pressing a soft kiss to your temple, he added, "Gotta teach you how to handle a knife though. Just in case."

"Oh don't worry," you laughed, "I'm not planning to climb naked on top of anyone else and threaten them."

Jake hummed against your skin, squeezing your ass. "No, your naked body was pretty effective actually."

You shared a giggle, feeling the tiniest bit carefree, like lovers, instead of the messed up star-crossed whatever-this-was.

After a moment, Jake pulled the covers over your bodies. "Try to get some sleep. We have to leave in a few hours...unless you have more questions."

You did. You asked him again why you had to leave this house so soon. "It’s off the grid - even the electricity and water bills can’t be traced to me, but…it is better to leave soon."

“Okay,” you nodded, “and go where?”

Wrapping you a little tighter, he decided it was now or never. “I’m going to New York. From there, I can’t tell you yet. Not unless…” His voice trailed off for a moment. “You have to decide what you want to do. I can get you back to your father, if that’s what you want."

Chewing on your lip, you squeezed his hand, grateful for his touch. “What if I don’t want? What choices do I have?”

He chanced a look down at you and found you staring at him intently, as if he really could solve your problems. Hell, he was the cause of at least half your current issues.

“Uhm…” he cleared his throat, dark eyes flickering away and then back to yours. “I’m leaving. I don’t know why you would want to, but…you could come with me.”

Your sharp intake of breath surprised him. “Really?” You whispered, your voice laced with sincerity and not a trace of guile or sarcasm. “Y-you would take me with you? Away from my father, from all of this?”

He eased back, lying beside you, so he could see your face better. “I would. I will - if you want.”

“But what about my father?” You pressed. “What about your revenge?”

The familiar ache inside him ignited as Jake remembered his brother. He shook his head, trying to figure out how to explain… With a sigh he finally peered deeply into your eyes. “I want you more than I want revenge.”

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Fingers tangled with Jake’s, your head rested against his arm as the two of you raced toward New York in yet another different vehicle.

“It really doesn’t bother you to leave stuff behind?” You curiously inquired, nuzzling into the sleeve of his leather jacket.

“I don’t have much to leave behind,” he vaguely responded. “Why? You missing your penthouse about now?”

Turning your gaze up to his face, you noticed his mouth curled teasingly.

“I’ll miss the breakfasts,” you answered honestly. “Omelettes made to order, mimosas, tea… Find me some decent eggs and a waffle and I’ll be happy.”

“That I can do,” he nodded, eyes fixed on the road ahead. “I know a few places in the city - greasy spoons, but the best breakfast food you’ll ever eat.”

You hummed out an affirmative, snuggling back into your comfortable spot against his arm. After a few quiet moments, which you realized Jake seemed to cherish, you bravely voiced the most important question.

“So…I’m here. We’re going to New York,” you stated the obvious. “Are you going to tell me what happens next?”

“I will,” he assured you, smoothing his thumb over yours, "when we get there. It's...complicated. But I promise I'll tell you everything."

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NEW YORK

“I think I like your safe house better,” you joked, glancing around at the not-so-nice motel room, noting the presence of one bed and a small sofa.

"It's no penthouse, but it's safe," Jake shrugged, setting down two bags - now your only possessions in the world. "We'll be out of here tomorrow night anyway."

His gaze landed on you, carefully observing, just waiting for you to run out the door and call your father. Why would you want this? Not enough money - danger, leaving your whole life behind?

And why was he taking such a risk, having you here? Rich, well-known and beautiful, you were a beacon, drawing unwanted attention.

Noticing you shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, he crossed the room, relaxing as you smiled at him, accepting his embrace.

"Let's get you some waffles," he murmured against your ear, holding you securely. "Then we need a few more supplies. I promise I'll answer any questions you have."

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"I have...a disorder," Jake finally admitted, his voice blending in with the old diner's dull roar.

Fresh pancakes sizzled on the griddle - the aroma of this morning's coffee filling the air with a slightly burned tinge.

Expecting to him to tell you the plan - to reveal the city of your final destination, you asked him, "What kind of disorder?"

And that's how you learned about his alters - Steven and Marc. He talked for a long while, briefly mentioning his abusive mother, his dead father, and the kidnapping and murder of his younger brother Randall.

Steven had been with him a long time, since they were children, but Marc came later, after college. Marc rarely came around, kept quiet and generally seemed to protect them.

"Steven's not like me," Jake simply explained, while you finished eating. "He's good. He's always been good." Then he went on to admit he planned to let Steven live in London and take a back seat in their mind.

Panic began to grip you from the inside out. Was Jake planning to disappear and leave you with this Steven? Or Marc? Had you met either of them?

And was London really your final destination?

"If you come with me, I'm not going to leave you," Jake explained, "but you'll meet them at some point."

Reaching across the table, you squeezed his hand. "Thank you...for telling me. I understand, in a way."

Noticing his confusion, you went on to explain that you were familiar with disorders and mental health issues because your mom was bipolar.

"She was on and off meds my whole life. My dad didn't really believe it was a thing - always treating her like an embarrassment or a burden," you brokenly explained. "She got so low that...she finally killed herself."

"My god...I'm sorry," Jake soothed, squeezing your fingers gently.

"I think...maybe when she realized what my dad was actually doing - how awful he really is - she just couldn't take it anymore," you went on. "That's why I was so afraid of you."

"You don't have to be afraid of me," he reminded you, rubbing circles over your knuckles with his thumb.

Realizing Jake didn't fully understand, you explained to him that when your mom found out your dad was trafficking humans, she took her life.

"I've been trying to get out ever since. But I couldn't find a way, so I played nice. I didn't know what else to do." You shook your head. "Maybe we should find a way to...I don't know - overthrow him. He's truly evil."

Realizing the horrors you'd lived and how they were as bad as his own, if not worse, Jake's heart burned and he'd never wanted so badly to protect you.

"Let's try to get out first. I'll teach you how to fight, and when to avoid a fight," he suggested. "I don't want to think about something like that until I get you safe."

"You know...at first I thought you might secretly work for my dad, or a worse rival - that you took me...to sell me."

"Jesus," Jake whistled in disbelief, making sure to keep his voice quiet. "Are you serious? That must be terrifying."

Linking his fingers with yours, he peered into your eyes. "I was hired to kill you, by a rival of your father's, yes, but it had nothing to do with trafficking. I may have killed some people but I don't know anything about that world. You have to believe me."

Swallowing hard, you nodded once. "It's hard, but...I'm starting to? If that makes sense?"

Reaching into his jacket pocket, Jake retrieved the keys, sliding them across the table to you. "You have your weapon." He nodded downward. "Those are to the car and the motel. You can hold onto them. You can leave anytime you want."

"Jake - "

"Listen it's not just whether or not you feel safe with me," he tried to explain. "I'm not going to make you believe I'm the only path to safety. You're smart and strong. I don't want you to, but...if you need to go, you go."

Gathering the keys from the table top, you managed a smile, stashing them in your jacket pocket. "Thank you."

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“I hope you’re not trying to seduce me, Mr. Lockley,” you joked later that evening as you watched him peel a white t-shirt over his head. “Because three times between yesterday and last night has me a little sore.”

“Yeah?” His eyebrows shot up almost triumphantly. “You out of practice?" He stalked toward you slowly, unfastening his jeans. "Or maybe none of your toys fill you up the way I do?"

"Holy shit," you half gasped/half giggled as he pulled you close by your hips.

"Take a shower with me," he breathed against your lips, fingers inching underneath your shirt. "Promise I'll be nice."

As if you needed convincing.

Underneath the warm spray, Jake pushed you up against the tiled wall and kissed you hard and deep. Your fingers tangled in his locks as your slick, naked body arched into his.

"Can't believe you came with me," he murmured on your ear, running his hands all over your wet body. "Can't believe you're here."

If you weren't already tender from your activities last night, you would have to stop yourself from begging him to push your legs apart, bend his knees and fuck up into you with slow, powerful thrusts. Just the thought of it had you liquifying in his arms and moaning into his mouth.

It was you who blindly reached for his throbbing length, twisting your grip around this thickness before teasing his tip with pressure from your thumb.

Pulling away from the kiss, you locked eyes with him and dropped to your knees, empowered by the lust you saw simmering there.

He grunted out a curse as you went to work, licking and sucking his balls into your eager mouth, fingers naughtily slipping between his legs to momentarily tease his puckered hole. The list of things you wanted to do to this man would probably make even him blush, but you returned to your task, licking a long stripe up his veiny, hard length - tongue swirling over his tip.

His back hit the tiled wall as if he needed it for support, lips parted and panting.

Fingertips continuing to tease his ass, you sucked his hard shaft into your wet cavern, taking him to the back of your throat and swallowing his tip. He felt you gag for a second - the thought of your pretty mouth stuffed full of his cock making him groan in satisfaction.

After your little preview of how good you could make this for him, you got to work, teasing his balls, stroking insistently, alternating between brushing with your fingertips and cupping him in your palm. Your mouth slid up and down his length, humming out tempting moans to vibrate his shaft, sucking greedily on his tip - up and down, over and over, taking him so far down your throat that you gagged with each pass.

"...f-fuck baby, just like that," he praised, his hand cupping your cheek to keep you in place in the perfect spot.

You smiled in satisfaction, working him a little faster, your cunt dripping for him as he grabbed your other cheek and really started fucking your face.

You didn't mind that he took control - you wanted him to take what he liked, needing him to lose himself in pleasure - and his rough handling of you only made you want him more.

"Good girl," he groaned, hips pushing him down your throat faster now, using you the way he pleased. "You're my good fucking girl, on your knees for me, so pretty..."

The ache in your core was pulsing need now - god, if only you weren't so sore you would beg him to pound you up against the wall. Reaching between your legs, you slid your fingers over your clit, rubbing furiously as your hips rocked in time with his face fucking.

You wanted to focus on him but you need some relief so badly. Jake hissed out several curses as his hips stuttered - his cock erupting, warm spend burning down your throat. You greedily swallowed, loving the sounds he made as he finished.

He hauled you to your feet, kissing you hard before offering to wash your body. "Let's get out of here and I'll take care of you."

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Jake wasn't kidding. He washed you, dried you carefully and pulled a clean t-shirt over your head. Then he laid you down on the bed and kissed you for a brief eternity before crawling down your body.

Lying side by side with his head opposite yours, he, drew your luscious thigh over his shoulder and spent the next hour with is face in your bare wet cunt.

If you died tomorrow, this alone would be worth living for. After wringing a couple orgasms out of you, he started up again, pausing for a moment when you half-heartedly called his name as if you might ask him to stop.

When you didn't, he kept going, ignoring the return of his own erection. Since he was so conveniently placed, you took him back down your throat, your bodies thrusting, fucking in and out of one another's mouths, feeling a mutual bond and wild pleasure beyond anything a lover had ever given you before.

You went on like this another hour - orgasm after orgasm - wild and unrestrained, but he never did anything to make you more sore. It was all languid, syrupy pleasure, molten lust and simmering desire.

He cleaned you up later and you fell asleep on his chest in minutes.

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THE PLANE

"Maybe this is better than revenge," you whispered to Jake, hands joined, seatbelt fastened and ready for an overnight flight overseas. "I mean...I finally got away, and I'm going to be happy."

The thought that Jake could be the one to make you happy, to give you peace and safety was indescribable - stronger and more powerful than anything revenge could have offered him. So he tried to tell you...

"That...means a lot to me."

Chewing on your lip, you smiled at him sheepishly. "Thanks for calming me down before the security check. I got so worried they were going to keep me from leaving with you."

Jake rested his head against yours, sighing gently. Worried was quite an understatement. You completely freaked out and started to draw a bit of unwanted attention, terrified that the two of you would be separated, and that you would be left behind, or that your fake ID would land you in some sort of interrogation.

Jake talked you through every step and now you were on your way to London. Eventually. You were flying through a couple of other cities first, just to make your trail a little less obvious. One thing that enabled you to feel safer was that Jake had been planning this escape of his for years, and had some money saved. The only variable was adding you to the mix.

"I understand. It's okay," he softly replied.

"I'm like her, you know... My mom. Maybe." Your gaze dropped to your lap. "I think I might be." Turning your gaze over to him, you smiled sympathetically. "That's why I get it, in a way - having a disorder or...feeling different. I get it."

Feeling a little choked with emotion, Jake cleared his throat. "Maybe uhm...maybe we're perfect for each other."

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LONDON

The blunt tip of a knife grazed your throat, paralyzing you. Your body was pinned to the ground - you were trapped.

"What now, muñeca?" Jake hotly breathed against your ear, shifting his hips against yours tauntingly.

"We fuck...obviously," you deadpanned, meeting his thrust with one of your own. "But I have to be able to defend myself someone who actually wants to hurt me."

Jake winked. "Show me what you got, baby."

Hooking your arm around the outside of his, you jerked your knees up and rolled abruptly to the side, twisting his arm behind him. Applying pressure to his lower arm, you kept digging and writhing until he started to lose his grip on the knife.

You knew he was stronger than you, but Jake was trying to teach you how to rein in your (typically wild) temper and stay in control, mentally. Not only that, but he showed you how to use your body's momentum to your advantage.

Of course, this was Jake, so once you managed to get the knife out of his hand, he pushed you back down to the floor, face down, and yanked your leggings over the swell of your hips.

Pinning your arms over your head, he sucked the spot on your neck that made you weak. "Be still, muñequita. I'm not finished with you."

"Get the fuck off me," you squirmed, moaning as Jake smacked your now bare ass.

"Fight all you want," he taunted, pushing your legs apart so he could shove his thick cock into your slick core.

You gasped at the intrusion, moaning as he rammed into you in slow demanding thrusts, the position tighter than usual because of the leggings restraining your knees.

"Knew you would be soaked," he groaned out, turned on beyond belief at how hard you were fighting to escape his hold on you.

Fucking while training had become a regular occurrence for the two of you, but since you didn't safeword, Jake drove his hips into you faster, using his free hand to wrap around your throat from behind.

"Want me to stop, Princesa?" He taunted, growling as you threw your head back, headbutting him before he could squeeze your throat.

Using his slight disorientation to your advantage, you scrambled away from him, chuckling condescendingly as you roughly pulled off his dick.

But before he could react, you pushed him down and climbed on top of him, sinking down on his cock and pressing the knife to his throat.

"I told you to throw that across the room from your attacker," he scolded between harsh pants.

"Not if I want to fuck him," you smarted, riding him hard and fast before smiling devilishly down at him. Tossing the knife across the room, you leaned over and kissed him wildly, humming in satisfaction as he squeezed your ass.

"Good fucking girl," he praised, groaning as you worked your beautiful body over his cock, tits bouncing, lips parted, panting and kiss swollen.

"I fucking love you, Jake," you panted, linking your fingers with his, slowing your body into a languid roll of your hips, staring deeply into his eyes. "I love you."

Leaning up, Jake wrapped you in his arms and rolled you underneath him. "I know."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Jake read off the name of your new ID - same first name but a brand new last name you picked out for yourself.

"How does it feel?"

"Feels perfect, Mr. Grant," you teased him, nodding down to his ID, which was in Steven's name.

He nudged your shoulder. "So...are you ready?"

"To get your ass kicked? Or to fuck me again?"

So much training, so little time. You were getting stronger. And you were closer than ever to being able to eliminate your father.

But you would keep that to yourself...for now.

END

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Jake Lockley-Centric stories

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#moon knight #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x f!reader #3 times fic

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catboymoses · 3 months

Note

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danieyells · 4 months

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. . .I could've sworn I did Ritsu's already. Apparently not. Yuri's one of my favorites and he's the one I chose in the beginning so I'm saving his for when I'm a little better rested(I have Monday off because of another doctor's appointment, so that's the lastest i'll post it)

RITSU IS SO. . .I LOVE HIM. I'll rag on him a lot because he's so tunnel visioned and just like. . .repressed. And he needs to touch grass(figuratively) but also. . .when you've been set from childhood to work and care only for your work and only know your work. . .it's understandable that he is the way he is. . . .

The way he changes as his affinity goes up is very repressed too. . .but you can still see the change at the end a little. He's a very stagnant character. . .but still interesting to look into the mannerisms of.

Hello: (the first time the game is opened after that character is set as home screen NPC. Only happens once per day, unless the character is switched out and back.)

"Any self-respecting inspector would stay comfortably ahead of schedule—I suggest you get into the habit. Let's go—there's no time to waste."

dude this is the 'you've logged in for the first time today' dialogue why are you assuming that i must be late! rude.

You've Got Mail: (whenever there's something in the inbox, usually Arena rewards)

"Did you check that notification yet? We could have a request from a client, so please do so right away."

Default: (requires no affinity, has no time constraints)

"I have been assigned to Sinostra, so I will not allow them to stand trial, no matter how villainous their actions. That is the Shinjo family policy."

"I shall ensure the Gala is held this year, and that Sinostra will wear the Laurel Crown. I have never made a promise I couldn't keep."

boy i can't wait for that to fall through--he, respectfully, needs the humbling.

"I've read the Compendium of Laws countless times since I was a child. Memorizing its contents is a rite of passage for the eldest son of the Shinjo family."

and somehow it ended up an artifact he can use as a weapon? I really wanna know what it does tbh.

"What business do you have with me? Please keep in mind that I charge 5500 yen per half hour for consultations, tax inclusive."

(roughly $35USD, although it's faster to just think of it as $55--) WE ARE BUSINESS PARTNERS. WHAT ARE YOU CHARGING A MFER FOR.

"As long as I have a notebook, my business cards, a binder, paper, and my voice recorder, I can handle the initial stages of any case."

i need my binder every day too ritsu.

Affinity 1: (between 5am and 11am)

"{PC}. Are you aware of the responsibility your position as inspector entails? I suggest you tidy your appearance and wipe that vacant look from your face."

they do not need to be aesthetically in order to be inspector. as long as they're paying attention it may even be better to look vacant. lure them into a false sense of security. also it's easier to pay attention if you're comfortable, in my experience. . . .

Affinity 2: (between 11am and 4pm)

"You've lost your notebook? Just a moment. ...At 9:04 AM, it was inside the photocopier. Yes, I do have that information recorded."

Affinity 3: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Have you seen Taiga Hoshibami? Strange... According to my behavioral model, he should be in the casino at this time..."

Affinity 4: (between 8pm and 5am)

"At the end of each day, I compile information about every person I encountered in my notebook. It always proves useful eventually."

yandere adjacent behavior, except it's for everyone and not just one person lolol

Affinity 5: (between 8pm and 5am)

"The vice-captain has asked me to organize some documents. Let's start by making copies of everything in case the originals become lost or damaged."

Romeo has a line that references this as well!

Affinity 6: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"I always have my business cards on hand. It should go without saying—any lawyer who fails to gain their client's trust during the first meeting is not worth their salt."

Affinity 7: (between 11am and 4pm)

"A post-meal coffee must be drunk black. Unnecessary additives only interfere with the natural flavor."

Affinity 8: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Until the age of three, I spent my days visiting the greatest sights the world has to offer with my mother, as from four my studies would prevent me from doing so."

is that child abuse? i think that's child abuse. you learn the source of ritsu's problems very early on in his affinity--he has had zero normal social interaction opportunities and no childhood. From birth until he stopped being a toddler he was just flying around the world looking at beautiful things, no stability in his location or world aside from the presence of his mother, and then he went home and probably basically got locked away to study law the moment he could sort of read. His whole existence was molding him to work. . .Subaru is similar, even down to what age they were forced to start preparing to work at. But Subaru is at least better adjusted, probably because acting awarded him better opportunities to try and think about how other people think.

Affinity 9: (between 8pm and 5am)

"According to my behavioral model, there is a 29% chance that Taiga Hoshibami is currently at the baccarat table."

Affinity 10: (between 10pm and midnight)

"I review the day's coursework for two hours then prepare for the next day's classes for three— no more, and no less. Six more minutes of silence, please."

WHERE DO THE RECORDINGS COME IN TO THIS. This mans somehow has 40 hour days. Maybe his artifact slows down time or something lol

Affinity 11: (between 5am and 11am)

"Good morning, {PC}. We have a meeting at 3 PM today, so please adjust your plans accordingly."

Affinity 12: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Darkwick Rulebook Article 183: "For the protection of anomalies, unnecessary running indoors is prohibited." This rule has been in place for over one hundred years."

wait how old is this school? how old is the Institute???

Affinity 13: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"All right. We need to organize our notes from today's investigation, so let's relocate to the diner. Our usual booth, of course."

Affinity 14: (between 5am and 11am)

"The content of our classes may be novel, but I topped the year in the scholastic ability test—they are nothing I can't handle."

so among the first years' scholastic ability tests, Ritsu was 1st, Leo was 2nd, Sho was 5th. Considering there are only four new first year ghouls then that must include the general students too. I wonder where Ren placed? Probably not very high. But still, Ritsu is a genius. . .or at least very very good at memorizing information. Lots of book smarts, minimal other smarts.

Affinity 15: (between 5am and 11am)

"As your business partner, I request that you improve your conduct. Please refrain from consenting to any further uncompensated labor."

Affinity 16: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Our Anomalous Law classes are truly fascinating. There is a long history well worth learning about— though of course, I have already mastered the basics."

Affinity 17: (between 10pm and midnight)

"I cannot afford to be complacent, even before bedtime. It's vital that I check the day's notes again to ensure nothing has been missed."

Affinity 18: (between 8pm and 5am)

"I set time aside in the evening to watch opera performances online. It allows me to get my thoughts in order, and provides a change of pace."

when??? what time??? because he has to review all of the audio recordings and notes from the whole day--what time does he have to do anything in???

Affinity 19: (between 10pm and midnight)

"I just finished checking my recordings from today. You sighed a total of four times— is something troubling you?"

i love the vibe of this. rather than silently nothing your sighing and potential exhaustion or scolding you for not caring for yourself, he expresses concern towards you. also, it's so soft yandere. like he already records everything you say and do, to confront you over it on top of that he shamelessly defends his recording and notetaking. . .if not for that he recorded everyone it would really be so yandere lolol. instead it's just his odd and overbearing way of showing he's beginning to care.

Affinity 20: (between 5am and 11am)

"You struggle to get up in the morning? I can contact you each day at a set time if you like, but I'll have to think about how much to charge..."

affinity 20 and my guy still wants to charge for his time. . .we're gonna have to teach him to have A Singular Normal Social Connection aren't we. and we're probably gonna fail.

Affinity 21: (between 11am and 4pm)

"You wish to have lunch with me? All right. We are business partners, so I will accompany you free of charge."

wait maybe i spoke too soon.

Affinity 22: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"This is for you, {PC}— it's the takeout coffee I often purchase. Your performance will decline if your mind isn't sharp."

his increased attachment is shown in the bare minimum of understanding normal human social interaction and caring for you by sharing his things and his time without charge. In trying to make you the best you(from his perspective) that you can be. Because that's what his parents did for him--so surely that's the best expression of love he has, aside from obsessive study and understanding.

Affinity 23: (between 8pm and 5am)

"I feel we made solid progress toward the reinstatement of the Gala today. Let's reconvene again tomorrow and continue working together to realize our goal."

Affinity 24: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Could I ask you to accompany me a little longer, {PC}? I realize it's outside of business hours, but...I would appreciate it if you could make a special exception."

He wants to spend time with you. And he's realizing he can just ask that. But he's so entrenched in legal and business mannerisms he doesn't know how to say "i want to be around you for longer". You're his business partner. It's bad form to request your attention outside of work, it has no value towards your goals and business efforts, but. . .that he's making a sort of formal appeal for your attention outside of work is as far as he can get in terms of expressing his affection right now.

Affinity 25(max): (no time constraints)

"It seems we make better business partners than I would have expected. I look forward to a long and prosperous relationship with you."

kind of comical that his max affinity line is still so formal after a more friendly 'please spend time with me late at night' 24th. . .but also, he wants you to be his business partner for longer. i think that counts towards something! It's a reason to stay with you! Maybe over the course of your business partnership he'll learn how to express deeper feelings. . .he's going to need an heir, after all--

Spring: (March-May) (between 5am and 11am)

"There has been a noticeable increase in reports of suspicious activity of late. More incidents means more business. Be prepared."

(between 11am and 4pm)

"You have a petal in your hair. A little more to the right. No, not there. Just let me remove it. Hold still."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Indeed, the cherry blossoms are in bloom. Incidentally, Japan's oldest cherry blossom tree can be found in Yamanashi Prefecture and is estimated to be 2000 years old."

ritsu would probably kill at historical trivia night.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"I had tempura at the cafeteria today. It didn't come close to the tempura I would eat with my father at the historic soba restaurant we used to frequent though."

Summer: (June-August) (between 5am and 11am)

"This one is for my face, and this is for my body. I have six handkerchiefs with me— enough for morning, noon, and night. I cannot let my opponents see me sweat."

why's this giving me ace attorney prosecutor energy. . . . .

(between 11am and 4pm)

"I witnessed a half-naked man running around in this vicinity. Did you see him? He is risking a charge of indecent exposure."

but we saw Kaito in his underwear and you said that meant he wasn't at risk of indecent exposure. . . . . . . .

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"The warmer it gets, the more of a racket people make. Honestly, how were these people raised?"

to relax and have fun during the summer break. . .you should give it a try.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"You want to go and watch the fireworks? A rather childish request, but all right. So? Where would one go to view them?"

FIREWORKS DATE FIREWORKS DATE just don't touch him without getting his consent first that could be counted as sexual harassment and he'll Get Your Ass.

Autumn: (September-November) (between 5am and 11am)

"The weather is much more pleasant for going out on professional errands now. A first-rate lawyer keeps their boots on the ground. Now then, let's get going."

(between 11am and 4pm)

"I object to the cultural assumption that fall is the season of the arts. The arts should be enjoyed throughout the year, regardless of the season."

you and yuri would get along well i think. until you realize the guy is a medical malpractice suit waiting to happen. then you'd criticize him and he would take that so poorly.

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Once I've perused the relevant documents in the library, I plan on doing some reading. Please excuse me."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"The nights may grow longer in the fall, but daylight hours should not affect the time you rise and retire. I'll see you tomorrow."

Winter: (December-February) (between 5am and 11am)

"I have detected a change in how Taiga Hoshibami divides his time since the weather has taken a cold turn. It has created quite a quandary for me..."

yeah he doesn't like getting out of bed when it's cold. he also eats a lot more, like a bear about to hibernate. shockingly behavior patterns tend to change with the seasons.

(between 11am and 4pm)

"I've never experienced snowfall heavy enough to obstruct my movement, but I'd like to deepen my knowledge of the phenomenon for future reference."

to frostheim then! i'm sure that place is just awful for movement in winter.

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"I'm heading to the diner to fulfill a request from Ren Shiranami. Perhaps I shall enjoy a warm bowl of soup while I'm there."

. . .I wonder if this is an Obey Me!Raphael situation where he has no grasp of that the food is not good. . . .

(between 8pm and 5am)

"People say that hard work is the key to success, but it only took me a year to master German—as was the case with Italian and French."

His birthday: (January 13th)

"Indeed, today is my birthday. I've always celebrated this day by enjoying my mother's cooking, but from this year I am striving for a more self-reliant existence."

MAMA'S BOY MAMA'S BOY tbf up until he was 3 his mother was probably his only social connection and then he was locked away studying so. . .his mom is probably the only one he has like. . .personal feelings and attachment for. you'll be a tradwife too :) but also that he's trying to be more self-reliant at darkwick. . .that really does explain that he's like. not used to any sort of social interaction or doing things he hasn't been told to do by his parents. maybe in his time at darkwick he'll realize how good it feels to just. . .be a person. dedicate time to fun and relaxation. realize that work isn't everything. or maybe he'll be so judgemental towards the lifestyles of others he'll retreat even further into his current habits.

Your birthday:

"Happy birthday. A year older, a year wiser. I have high hopes for your performance in the coming year."

New Years: (January 1st)

"Happy New Year. Let's devote these next 365 days—or 8760 hours—to finding fitting solutions to the challenges that come our way."

what if it's a leap year. can we take the extra day off?

Valentine's Day: (February 14th)

"Thank you for the chocolates. Are you gifting them to me out of social obligation, or is this an expression of affection? Your answer will influence what you receive in return."

(for the uninitiated, that is very much a thing in Japan where on valentine's day a girl give some men in her life--like coworkers--obligation chocolates, which are generally not as nice and most likely store bought, although this practice is losing ground. friends get friendship chocolate and you give people you're actually attracted to or in a relationship more extravagant, expensive, or homemade chocolates to express your true feelings or a desire to be in a relationship with them. Ritsu is essentially asking 'is this because we're coworkers or are you asking me out' because White Day is the day for return gifts in response to given valentine's day gifts, and in the case of chocolates given to someone you wanna go out with they can act as a response to that proposal. presumably if you're asking him out he wants to give you chocolate to agree to get with you, since he's bothering to ask. . . .

White Day: (March 13th)

"White Day has its roots in Japan, having been invented by a certain historic confectionery shop. With that knowledge, please accept this."

'here's some trivia. and some chocolates. we are now in a relationship. should this be as fruitful as our business partnership, we can discuss marriage plans within the year.'

April Fool's Day: (April 1st)

"The spreading of false rumors is subject to strict punishment under Article 233 of the Penal Code. Do you still intend to continue this ruse?"

NO FUN ALLOWED.

Halloween: (October 31st)

"Coercing another party to choose between a "trick" or a "treat" could amount to intimidation. Engage in such festivities at your own risk."

NO FUN ALLOWED PART TWO: ILLEGAL BOOGALOO.

Christmas: (December 25th)

"Religious freedom is guaranteed by Article 20 of the Constitution. If this is a day that you wish to celebrate, then I will accept that."

he can't make you work on religious holidays you need off!!

Idle: (about 20 seconds without interacting with the game) (below 13 affinity)

"Five seconds have elapsed. Yes, that is how long you've kept me waiting."

(13 affinity and above)

"How long do you intend to keep me waiting? As always, I am on a tight schedule today. Please hurry up."

Absent: (logging in for the first time in 2 or more days?)

"I've been expecting you, {PC}. You weren't planning on breaking your promise to me, were you?"

SUCH A HARD-WORKING, SOCIALLY INEPT LAD. But Ritsu's a lot of fun, I give him a lot of shit and i desperately need him to touch some grass and get a reality check and learn about how others live and maybe experiment. . .but like i love him for being such a little shit. he's so. . .ignorant to the rest of the world and how other people are. . .i love seeing him try and dissect other people's behavior and intentions and coming to the conclusion that they must want the same things as him because he just. . .has no grasp of interests and intentions that aren't his own. . . . It makes me facepalm but also makes me laugh 8'D good boy. quality boy.

#ritsu shinjo #tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker spoilers #datamining cw #danie yells at tokyo debunker #danie yells answers #danie yells with anons

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loveisanimaginarydagger3000 · 1 year

Text

Secrets

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff X Reader, Natasha Romanoff X Reader

This fic is inspired by the song Secret by the Pierces and the HBO Max show Love and Death. I recommend listening to the song before reading but it's not necessary :)

Warnings: This story will contain dark themes (such as cheating, violence, stalking behaviour, murder) 18+ Smut and angst. Please consider these warnings before reading! If you do read, please bear in mind I did warn you of these topics.

Chapter 1- Would you be interested in having an affair? (4.7k words)

Other Chapters: 2, 3, 4, 5

Would You Be Interested In Having An Affair?

Got a secret, can you keep it?

Swear this one you'll save

Better lock it in your pocket

Taking this one to the grave

If I show you then I know you won't tell what I said

'Cause two can keep a secret

if one of them is dead.

The car came to a slow and gentle stop, Natasha's hand leaving your thigh to pull the handbrake up, securing the car before turning her gaze to you. Her green eyes stared at you in a loving way, a soft smile breaking out onto her face when she sees your eyes firmly locked on the doors ahead, watching the various other people flood into the building. Her hand returns to your leg, squeezing gently to gain your attention, succeeding as you tear your gaze away from the glass doors to your girlfriend.

Your body relaxes at her soft and encouraging smile, your hand sliding on top of hers and turning it over so you could interlock your fingers.

"You'll be amazing love," she whispers, her accent slipping into her words as she raises your hand to her lips, pressing a featherlight kiss to the back of it.

"I don't even know the rules," you mumble to disagree with her, giving her a nervous look as a small chuckle leaves her lips.

"That might be a problem," she says playfully, the light hearted tone somehow helping ease the nerves. "It's a new volleyball club, love, I'm sure half the people here don't know the rules either," she says, truth to her words.

Westview had just opened a new sports centre with a volleyball court for anyone to use, the Avengers facility providing a designated time slot for a volleyball club to start for people interested in starting a new hobby. You'd always been interested in the sport despite not knowing much about it so, when Natasha brought it up to you, you leapt at the opportunity to finally play the sport. You were one of the first names to sign up to the club, unaware that your neighbour had also been one of the first to sign up.

"I can escape Melina and Alexie to come and pick you up whenever you need," she murmurs, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you smile at the mention of her leaving her parents earlier. Natasha had wanted to join you on the first trial of the club but her parents demanded her at dinner alone, the latter not too fond of you hence not being invited.

"Nat," you chuckle out, her giving you an innocent look, "You can't use me as an excuse to ditch your parents, no matter how...charming they are," you reprimand, her rolling her eyes jokingly and grumbling at how unfair that was causing you to laugh. "I'll meet you at home?" You ask, breaking the short silence that had taken over the car, her nodding her head and leaning over to kiss you.

Her lips met yours gently, her hand cupping your jaw as she claimed your lips once more, her reluctance to leave making you smile into the kiss.

"Go," you mutter against her lips, unable to stop the smile etched onto her face as she smiles into another kiss.

"I'd rather stay," she murmurs and you let out a small laugh.

"If you're late Melina will, oh I don't know, chop me up with an axe," you joke, causing her to burst out with laughter.

"Fine," she says while still chuckling, "I love you and good luck," she steals one more kiss as a goodbye, leaning back into her seat properly while you unbuckle your belt and grab your bag from the back seat.

"I love you too and I will see you at home," your tone soft as you bid her goodbye, shutting the car door and making your way to the entrance of the sports centre, waving to her when her car drives past.

***

"Y/n?" Turning around at hearing your name being called, your eyes widen and brows furrow momentarily when you see your neighbour walk up towards you in the changing rooms.

"Wanda?" Your tone is a little surprised, not expecting to see her here. "Are you also here for Volleyball?" you ask, the question is rather stupid as it was the only event tonight. She lets out an angelic laugh, placing her bag down next to yours on the bench and opening the locker, leaving her watch and wedding ring inside there before unzipping her bag.

"Yes, dear," she chuckles out and a shy feeling consumes you as her gaze remains on you, your thoughts screaming at you to say something else but she beats you to it, "And it looks like we're on the same team." You follow her gaze to the shirt the man at the desk gave you, the colour indicating you were on the red team which the older woman was also on.

"It appears so," you say, turning your attention to the woman before your breath hitches, shocked at the sight of her pulling her shirt over her head, exposing her bra-covered chest.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

A prominent blush forms on your cheeks, your eyes now glued onto your bag as you focus on anything but the beautiful woman next to you. Your mind ran wild with thoughts, most of them berating you for thinking that she was a real life goddess as you had Natasha. Natasha, your girlfriend.

Was it wrong to think about Wanda when you had Natasha? Probably, but you convinced yourself that it wasn't love or lust it was a mere... appreciation? Admiration? For the other woman. She definitely didn't somehow consume your thoughts every time you saw her. Definitely not.

You cleared your throat, not noticing how Wanda smirked next to you at your reaction, tugging her team shirt over her head as you timidly changed into yours, trying to start a conversation to divert your attention and ease your nerves.

"Have... Have you ever played Volleyball before?" You ask, pulling your own shirt over your head and making sure to not look to your right where the brunette was.

"I played it during College and loved it," she answers, pulling up her shorts as you did the same, risking a glance at her as she was now fully changed. You regretted the decision immediately upon seeing how short the green clothing was, flickering your eyes up away from her long, slender legs to her green eyes that had a glint of mischief hidden within them. "What about you?" her tone interested as you pack your things away into the lockers, making your way into the main room with the various sports lines painted along the floor.

"Never," you sigh out, looking around at all the other people here and the other teams. "I don't even know the rules," you mutter, starting to wish you were with Natasha instead and enduring the grief her parents would unleash on you.

"Then I'll have to teach you," she whispers with a thick accent, her mouth close to your ear as her body moves behind yours, probably too close for how neighbours should interact.

Her leg slides in between yours, the sharp intake of breath from you not being heard by others due to the chatter around the room but definitely by the older woman. She moves her foot to yours, sliding your foot across and spreading your legs to have you in the proper stance, her hands on your hips to further show you the position. "That's it, perfect, just like that," you almost groan at her low tone, guilt stirring inside you as you feel arousal pooling between your thighs, the thought of Natasha fading from your mind. "A little lower," she murmurs, guiding you into a semi squat, the feeling of her hand at your lower back now burning into your skin. "You want to be on the balls of your feet, keeping your weight on your back foot though and knees slightly flexed," she instructs but if your being honest, nothing is processing as her breath tickles your neck, her hands gliding up and down your body to show you how to do things.

The shrill noise of a whistle interrupts your mini 'lesson' with Wanda, your heart knocking wildly against your rib cage at the interaction between you both. You follow her to the centre of the room where everyone was, trailing behind to try and get a grip of yourself but inevitably casting your gaze down to her hips that sway ever so subtly and her ass.

"For the first day, we're only going to do short matches to help those who've never played before and warm up the others who know the rules," a man named Steve Rogers said in a loud voice so everyone could hear him, hoping everyone was properly concentrating on the rules as he explained them. To say you were listening would have been a lie, too busy getting distracted by the woman next to you and constantly stealing glances her way.

You were snapped back to reality when everyone around you started moving, watching closely to see where everyone else on your team had gone so you could sit with them. You sat on the floor opposed to the bench as it was full, greeting everyone on the team and trying to learn their names and whether they'd played before. Turns out, everyone on your team had played the sport except you, causing you to apologise in advance for your mistakes that were bound to happen.

"Do you want a quick run through?" A man named Clint says after chuckling at your nervousness, your head nodding as you moved closer to him. You paid full attention to his very brief explanation of the rules and positions, trying to wrap your head around it before your team were called up to play the Yellow team by Steve.

"You've got this," Wanda says with a smirk as you walk to the court, winking at you playfully before getting into her position, bending her knees a little and waiting for the whistle to sound.

Here goes nothing.

***

"Five minutes left!" Steve calls out on the final game, and you thank every single god up there for the game almost being over.

Sweat coated your body, your breath ragged from running about constantly to try and do anything useful to help your team win the final game. You managed to pick up the rules as you went along and were guided by the people behind you, Bucky and Sam helping you immensely while Wanda played her role as... well you weren't sure of her position but you knew she was extremely good at it.

"I got it," a man named Tony on the other team shouted, hitting it down with force onto your side of the court, your body moving instinctively to stop him from scoring a point. What you failed to consider was the other member of your team heading for the ball as well, colliding into their body and falling forwards hard on your knees, foot twisting awkwardly.

"Shit," you groaned, pain shooting up your ankle as your head leaned back against the cold floor, eyes resting for a moment as you tried to catch your breath.

"Language!" Steve shouted, eyes snapping open and a look of annoyance washing over your face at his stern voice. You were just about to shout back to him how you didn't give a single fuck about using bad language when Wanda dropped to her knees in a state of panic, her body leaning over yours.

"Are you alright?" Her tone laced with worry, hands moving to the back of your leg. Your mouth parted at the sigh of her above you, the green of her eyes swirling with care as you laid on the ground injured.

"I'm fine," you dismiss with a nervous chuckle, moving to sit up, her hand falling from your leg and moving to your back. She doesn't seem to believe your words but you insist you prove to her you're fine, taking Bucky and Clint's hands to get back to your feet. "Fuck," you say under your breath when putting any sort of pressure on your foot, face scrunching up into pain.

"You're hurt," she says, the look she sends your way shutting you up from any further comments. "I've got her," Wanda says to the others, moving her body so that your arm was around her shoulder, using her as support as you left the court, moving to the closest bench possible.

"Thank you," you murmur when you sit down, removing any pressure from your foot to help relieve the pain.

"You need to be careful dear," she softly says, brushing a few strands of hair that stuck to the sweat on your forehead, letting her fingers linger against your cheekbones before pulling away.

Someone kindly brings over an ice pack as two members of the other teams join yours, taking your place for the final few minutes.

A hiss leaves your lips as Wanda presses the pack against your skin, shocked by the cold sensation. You catch her eyes when her head lifts to look at you, her green eyes holding an indecipherable glint in them as her gaze lowers to your lips before flickering away so fast you think you imagined the brief glance.

"What time is Natasha picking you up?" she asks, your face showing your confusion as you're unsure of how she knew you didn't bring your car, but you brushed that aside and answered her question.

"She's not," you say, her brows furrowing before another odd look takes over her face. It looked like she was angry at Natasha for something but you couldn't think why. "I'm supposed to be getting the bus," you say with a chuckle, not too sure how well that was going to work now as the bus stop was at least twenty minutes walk away from here.

"You're coming home with me," she says, more demanding that you ride with her.

"What?"

"Oh, come on dear," she lets her fingers move to your hand, resting atop of yours, "It's not like your house is out of the way." You offer a shy smile, not wanting to be an inconvenience but she quickly settles it, deciding that you were going to ride home with her, whether you liked it or not.

***

"Are you sure this is ok?" you ask for what seems like the hundredth time while climbing into her car, grimacing at the pain of stepping in as Wanda lets out a sigh while smiling at the way you fumbled with the seatbelt.

"Yes dear," She softly says, moving your bag to the back seat along with her own, her wedding ring left in her pocket as she puts her watch back on. "I'm just driving home like I normally would," she says to remind you that it's literally no inconvenience at all, "If anything, it's nice to have the company on the drive back." She gets into the driver's seat, checking her mirrors before pausing, looking towards you.

Your gaze is firmly locked on the crowd of people emerging from the glass doors, watching as everyone makes their way back to their own cars.

Wanda can't help but think about how beautiful you look, the way the lights of the car park perfectly highlights your face, the way you subtly bite your lip before turning to her, eyes somewhat a little darker after letting your thoughts drift somewhere a little more sinful.

"Y/n?" Wanda lowly whispers, her gaze flickering down to your lips once more, not hiding it this time as you swallow nervously.

"Yes, Wanda?" your voice trailing off as you're enticed by her eyes, almost put under a spell by her mesmerising stare.

"I have something I want to ask you, but you have to promise never to tell anyone," her body turns in her car seat, her hand moving to brush along your arm, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

"I promise," the tone of your voice is almost desperate, eager to know what she wants to ask you.

"Do you swear on your life?" She lets her fingers trail up your arm, moving to your drag along the side of your neck and your jaw before resting on your chin, holding your face to look at her.

"I swear on my life," you whisper, unable to look away from her.

"Would you be interested in having an affair?"

You're snapped out of the little trance she put you under, your mind processing her words. An affair?

You couldn't, could you? No. You loved Natasha.

"What about Natasha?" You say, her hand dropping to your lap, resting against your thigh, "What about Vision? You're husband."

The chuckle that leaves her lips is almost deadly, a predatory look flashing across her face as she smirks at you, her eyes darkening as she looks at your lips once more before flickering her gaze back up.

"They'd never know, Detka," she purrs, staring into your eyes with a look that could get anyone to do as she wishes.

"They... I - I couldn't do that to Natasha," you say but your argument is weak and Wanda knows it.

"You would have said no by now if you couldn't do it Detka," her tone sultrier than before, her fingers moving higher up on your leg.

"I love her," you whisper, trying not to give in to the temptation.

"Do you?" she asks, leaning closer. "If you loved her, why are you considering my offer?" Her mouth ghosted yours, a sinister smirk playing on her lips as she awaited your response.

You were lost for words as she slowly moved closer and closer until her lips practically brushed yours, the sweet taste of her lip gloss teasing you.

"So Detka, what's your answer?" she asks, pulling back marginally to properly look into your eyes, gauging your reaction.

"She'd never find out?" you say, lost in the temptation.

"They'd never find out," she whispers sultrily in response, moving her hand to cup your jaw.

"Yes."

***

Pulling into her drive, Wanda stops the car, looking over to you with a soft look, your gaze following the car that pulls up into your drive, watching Natasha get out of the car and pause when she sees you in Wanda's, a confused look taking over her face. Her lips tug into a smile at the sight of you, sliding her hands into her pockets before leaning against her car, waiting for you to get out.

"Do you need a hand?" Wanda asks as she opens your car door, Natasha puzzled by the action but making no comment until she sees your face scrunch up in pain as you step out of the brunette's vehicle. You take Wanda's hand as she helps you out, the redhead rushing over from her car to make sure everything was alright.

"What's wrong?" her tone cautious as she moves her body to help support you, taking you from Wanda's arms. Natasha's hand cups your face softly as she looks into your tired eyes, the exhaustion from running around catching up to you.

"She fell awkwardly on her ankle," Wanda explains, her tone sharp and blunt as Natasha presses a light kiss to your forehead, the small action making you smile. You notice the switch in hostility towards Natasha from Wanda, not saying anything as you just wanted to lay down somewhere and let sleep take over.

"Oh love," the redhead murmurs, wrapping her arm around you securely while looking at her neighbour, an appreciative glint in her eyes. "Thank you for bringing her home," she thanks the other woman, whose jaw clenches momentarily before letting a fake smile take over her face.

"It was no problem, I just hope her foot feels better soon," she responds, turning her gaze to you, a shiver running down your spine at her intense gaze, her eyes wandering to your lips before flickering back over to your girlfriend. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go to bed now," she moves closer to you, letting her hand rest on your shoulder and squeezing gently, "Goodnight."

Wanda leaves the two of you as Natasha helps you into the house, you chuckling at how overprotective she was being, not wanting you to hurt yourself anymore.

"Nat," you groaned in the crook of her neck when she lifted you up, letting your legs wrap around her waist as she insisted she carried you to bed. "I am capable of walking," you grumble against her skin, the sensation tickling her slightly and causing her to laugh at your tone of voice.

"Mhmm what was that love?" she innocently asks as she continues to walk up the stairs with you in her arms, hands drifting down lower until they rested on your ass. You rolled your eyes at her actions, deciding to let her carry you all the way as it would be a lot easier than trying to fight this very stubborn woman. "There we go," she softly whispers while lowering you onto the bed, your hand clutching the collar of her shirt and pulling her on top of you.

"How was dinner?" you ask, encouraging her to straddle your lap as you laid against the soft mattress, interested in how her evening played out. You also wanted to distract yourself from the little agreement you made with Wanda, knowing that if you focussed on it too much you would start to feel guilty.

"Don't get me started," she groaned, letting her hands play with yours as she happily sat on your lap, the moonlight streaming in from the window illuminating her face perfectly. "I would have much preferred to have stayed home with you," she murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips.

Your hands drifted down to her lower back while her lips pressed against yours, indulging yourself in the moment as her tongue swept across your bottom lip teasingly before pulling back.

"Oh really?" you mutter while chasing her lips, moving to sit up and snake your arms around her middle, noticing how her eyes seemed to darken ever so slightly.

"You're so beautiful," she sighs out in an awestruck tone a little out of the blue, causing a blush to form on your cheeks at the genuine tone of her voice.

You move forwards to claim her lips once more, hands cupping her jaw as you deepened the kiss, wanting to ease the throb that had built between your thighs during your time with Wanda. It was wrong to use Natasha like this, you knew that, but the thrilling feeling that coursed through your veins at the thought of Wanda's deal seemed to take over, unable to get a grip of your moral compass.

The soft moan that left her lips brought you back to reality, her fingers threading through your hair as her kisses moved to trail along your jaw and neck. Your hands swiftly moved to the hem of her shirt moving to pull the item over her head when her lips caught the sensitive part of your neck, a moan spilling from your lips. You tensed when Wanda's name almost spilt from your lips, your thoughts engrossed by the other woman while Natasha's hips softly pressed against you.

"I'm sorry," you murmur, pulling back from the kiss with flushed cheeks and lust filled eyes. Her brows furrowed at your words, unknowing of the true meaning of your apology as you lowered your gaze and avoided her eyes.

"Hey, it's ok," she coos, lifting your chin gently to meet her gaze, "If you want to stop that perfectly fine love, you know that." You just offer her a small, apologetic smile while she takes the hint that you want to stop, kissing your forehead softly before climbing off your lap, laying next to you. "Do you want another ice pack for your foot?" she asks while letting her fingers draw random patterns on your arm, noticing your odd mood and assuming it was due to fatigue and the pain of your ankle.

"No thank you," you whisper back, staring ahead at the ceiling, trying your absolute best to rid Wanda from your thoughts. Fuck, why couldn't you stop thinking about her?

"I'm going to have a quick shower, love, and then get ready for bed," her lips meet your cheek, pressing ever so gently before moving away to retrieve some clothes for herself and one of her old shirts for you to wear to bed, leaving it by your side.

You're grateful that she's left you to your own thoughts but also a little annoyed as you can't clear your mind to think properly, the image of Wanda's lips ghosting your own refusing to fade away.

At the thought of the other woman you sit up once more, turning your head to look out of the window towards her house, blood running cold when you see her standing by her window staring in at you.

You're about to question her strange actions but the sight of her shrugging off her nightgown has you freezing. You watch as her soft skin is exposed, the lace bra from earlier and a matching pair of panties the only thing covering her body as she smirks at your reaction. Your eyes drift down her body, admiring the way her breasts practically spill out of her bra, the curve of her hips and then lower, only just about noticing the darker patch at the front of her panties and groaning to yourself at the thought of how wet she must be.

Her hand draws your attention as she slides it down her body, sliding a finger under the waistband of her panties before pulling out, a teasing smile engraved onto her face at the way you look so captivated by her. Her finger slides under the waistband again, this time her head lolling back a little, her mouth parting as you see her digit move under the fabric, most likely circling her clit.

You move to stand, ignoring the sharp pain that shoots up your leg and moving closer to the window, watching as she does the same. Her finger leaves her panties, moving to her mouth as she slides it in, sucking on it and groaning at the taste of her own arousal.

You can't do anything but watch her, your body yearning for her touch as she moves even closer to the window, a wicked smirk on her face. Your brows furrow once more as she winks at you, grabbing the curtains and pulling them shut, a sound of disbelief leaving your lips at her cruel actions.

After a moment of collecting yourself, you drag your curtains shut with a little more force than necessary, the frustration of the incessant throb between your thighs not helping with your unusual mood.

You make your way back to the bed, sliding the sports shorts down your legs and your team shirt over your head quickly before grabbing the shirt Natasha laid out for you, slipping it on. You enjoyed how it went to your mid thighs, covering up your most likely soaked panties as you crawled into bed, waiting for Natasha to join you.

Just as you were about to drift off to sleep, on the cusp of unconsciousness, Natasha's body slid in behind yours, her arms wrapping around your middle and pulling you closer. She pressed a kiss to your cheek before letting her head rest against her pillow, ready to let sleep take over her as well.

"I love you," she murmurs as you pretend to be asleep, not saying the words back to her and letting silence take over the room.

What have you done?

---

I've had this idea for a while now and thought why not turn it into a mini fic :)

This is darker than what I normally write so I hope it's ok

I hope you enjoyed ;)

Please leave any thoughts/comments/votes <3 I really appreciate them all!

#wanda maximoff #mommy wanda #eventual smut #wanda x you #wanda fanfic #dark fanfiction #dark fairycore #dark wanda maximoff #dark wanda x reader #marvel fanfiction #wanda x reader #natasha #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha x reader #natahsa romanoff #love and death

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hobiebrownismygod · 10 months

Text

StreetKid!Hobie x Fem!Reader

I recommend you read Part 1 HERE so you understand the story better <3

I posted these earlier on wattpad, the link is in my pinned post

~4.5k words

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Hobie's POV

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RINGGGGGGGGG

W H A C K

CRASH

Hobie opened one eye and groaned at the sight, his alarm clock shattered on the floor. 5th one this month. It wasn't his fault that he kept accidentally breaking them. The loud noises just always triggered his reflexes so this wasn't the first time he'd broken his clock on accident and it definitely wouldn't be the last.

He sat up, shaking his head and groaning, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes as he looked around, sight adjusting the bright light seeping in through the window. Well, it wasn't really a window. More of a large crack in the wall of the abandoned warehouse he was squatting in, but it functioned like a window.

He stood up right as the door opened, stretching his arms and back out before he greeted Riri Williams, his roommate and fellow superhero. "Mornin'"

She nodded at him in response, fidgeting with her watch in an attempt to show Hobie something. Suddenly, it made a beep noise and a small map appeared which she promptly shoved in Hobie's face. "Here's the route Karl said we should take."

"Huh?" Hobie looked at the map and then back at her, still half-asleep. "Wot route?"

Riri blinked. "The route? For the riot today?" Hobie blinked.

Silence.

"Oh! That riot! Yeah, sounds good Ri'" He said, smacking his forehead as he remembered what they'd planned yesterday. In his defense, he hadn't really been paying attention to what they'd been talking about. He'd been preoccupied thinking about other things. Thinking about her.

The girl he'd met exactly 9 years ago. He remembered the date perfectly. December 24rd, the day before Christmas morning. The streets had been full of people shopping and laughing, spreading Christmas spirit. At least, they spread Christmas spirit among themselves. Hobie definitely wasn't on the receiving end of this morale boost that day. Until of course, he met her.

The girl that'd given him her jacket and sent him towards F.E.A.S.T. shelter. The girl who looked like an angel and had a smile like one, with flowy hair and gorgeous eyes. The girl who helped him up, pointed him in the right direction and given him a kiss on the cheek on one of his darker days. He'd been on the brink of starvation and she'd saved his life without a second thought.

But he never saw her again.

"Dunce." Riri replied, zooming into the map. Her harsh words snapped him out of his trance and he rolled his eyes at her, peering at the watch's image. "Right then. Let's grab Karl and Kamala and figure this whole plan thing ou'"

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Two hours later - Hobie's Canal Boat/Headquarters

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"Alright gang, today is the day Osborne's right-hand-man, Captain Stacy, 's daughter comes back from her posh boarding school! They're having some sort of fancy ball in one of Osborne's mansions for it and that's where we strike!" Kamala Khan slammed down her mini figure onto the map Riri had printed out for them to use. "Sound good?" She asked, looking amongst the squad.

Karl nodded. "The rioters will start off in front of the house and after a little bit we'll let them in. Maybe even web up a couple of cops, eh Hobes?" Karl asked, nudging Hobie's side.

"Huh?" Hobie stuttered, standing up straight, his arms falling to his sides. "Uh. Yea, sure." He said quickly, biting the inside of his cheek.

"Man, what's going on with you? Something up?" Karl asked, leaning in towards him slightly, as if inspecting whether or not he was sick.

"No, no. Nothin's up."

"You gotta keep your head in the game, 'Bie." Riri shook her head at him before putting her own mini figure down onto the map. "I'll turn off the security cameras."

"I'll lead the crowd." Karl added, gently putting down his figurine.

Kamala put her elbow on top of Hobie's shoulder, which was fairly difficult considering how tall he was, and grinned at the group. "And the two of us'll deal with the insiders!"

Hobie looked down at the map and smiled, placing his own figurine down. "Kamala'll take care of the pigs doing security. I'll take care of the ones inside the ball"

"Wait." Karl looked at Kamala and Hobie curiously. "There's gonna be a lot of civilians. One of you is gonna have to take care of them too."

Kamala groaned, "All those civilians are fascists too. Besides, it's not like the riot is gonna turn violent."

"Unless Osborne gets violent first" Hobie added, a thoughtful look appearing on his face. "Y'know what? I'll take care of the civilians then. But I'm not gonna put m'whole focus on 'em, aye?"

The three nodded at him.

"So, Hobes..." Karl asked, his tone sounding slightly more somber. "You gonna be okay if those symbiotes are there?"

"Yeah..." Riri added, glancing at Hobie nervously. "I mean last time...you didn't really take them very well."

"I'll be fine." Hobie said quietly, giving them a glance that said I know what I'm doing. "Last time was a freak acciden'. Nothing more." During a riot only a few weeks ago, Hobie had been fighting Osborne's goons as per usual, when a new type of bad guy showed up. They called it a symbiote.

Hobie had known about Osborne finding some sort of weapon that he was planning on using for his military, but the gang had never expected it to be so...weird. It was like it had a mind of its own. The V.E.N.O.M., Oscorp's name for it, was a kind of gooey substance that would engulf its host, using and protecting their body while they fought.

These symbiotes were notoriously hard to kill. Hobie had run out of webs at some point during that riot and had been cornered by multiple of them, only barely escaping thanks to Kamala and her shapeshifting powers, which she'd used to pull Hobie out of the situation and shield him while he fixed his webshooters.

"Fine." Riri said, taking the map of the mansion off the table and folding it up. "Let's head out."

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Your POV

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"Harry!" You exclaimed as you practically collapsed in the young man's arms, pulling him into a hug. "Hi-" he gasped out, struggling to breathe as you squeezed him with all your might.

It'd been nearly two years since you'd seen Harry, your best friend, and four since you'd been back in London. In those couple years, you'd been at a boarding school situated in France, which many of the higher-class girls went in their teenage years in order to learn how to become 'proper ladies' as they called them.

At first, it'd felt like a waste of time to you, but over time you'd made many friends at that school and now that you were returning, you couldn't help but feel a little sad to leave. But this sadness was quickly eliminated by the sight of your best friend and the beautiful city.

Although beautiful was definitely an overstatement. In fact, the city looked to be getting progressively worse, with more and more giant consumerist signs and more and more smog filling the sky that had used to be a beautiful, clear blue. You wrinkled your nose at the smell, the air filled with smoke and dust.

"Its been a while" Harry said with a smile, looking down at you, his hands shoved in his pockets. "That it has. I'm so excited to be home!" You said with a grin, following him as he led you toward the cab, pulling your suitcases for you.

London wasn't what you remembered. Even if you disregarded the changing environment and the pollution, there was still something so different about the place. Maybe it was the abundance of crime that overtook the city after Osborne's presidency. But you couldn't say anything negative about him, especially considering the fact that Norman Osborne was your father's best friend. He'd practically raised you and when you were young, most of days of the week, he and Harry would come over for dinner to eat with you and your father.

Those were the days.

But there was something even more distinct that was different about London. You didn't realize what it was until you saw him swinging through the air in the distance, followed by a flurry of flashing cop lights. Spider-Man.

Or as the higher-ups called him, Spider-Punk. Even those in France knew about him and his strange powers and his even stranger suit. There were plenty of superheroes in London, like IronHeart, a young woman who wore a suit made out of metal, Captain Anarchy, a man with an unbreakable shield and Ms. Marvel, a girl with a very flashy suit who's limbs would elongate in a way no human's ever should.

But Spider-man was definitely a fan favorite.

With his snarky attitude, those quips he'd make around thugs, the way he fought, even his style were all very popular subjects among the inhabitants of Western Europe, his cries against the fascist dictatorship Osborne had implemented in the UK even more popular.

Most called him a hero. Some called him a vigilante.

But your family? A family full of cops and businessmen? A family built on consumerism and fascism? Spider-man was a villain.

But not to you.

No, to you, Spider-man was fascinating.

You hoped you'd get to meet him eventually.

____________________________________________________________________________

Later that evening

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Your POV

_________________

"Hold still, girl!"

You sucked in your breath as the maid tightened your gown even more, making it nearly impossible to breath. "I can't brea-" She began to tie up the silky lace quickly, ignoring your pleas for air. When she finished, she ran her fingers through your hair gently, moving it over your shoulders and turning you to face the mirror. "What do you think?" She asked kindly, smiling at you.

The gown was a beautiful baby blue, coming down to your ankles in a flowy manner. The neckline was shaped like a 'V' but wasn't too deep, with fluffy straps hanging onto your shoulders. "It's beautiful." You said with a smile, looking back at her before you looked at yourself in the mirror again.

Mr. Osborne had been insisting on throwing a celebration for your return to London, stating, "my son's best friend needs a proper welcome." After all, you'd been gone nearly four years and you were sure there would be plenty of people who'd want to meet you after all this time. Although it seemed Harry was more excited for this ball than you were.

He'd always been such a rich boy, with absolutely no regard for anything that wasn't his. It wasn't his fault he was so materialistic though, it was his father's. Mr. Osborne wanted the best for his son and although you respected him for it, he would often go overboard. He never let Harry go to anything less than a well-respected private school and wouldn't even allow him to go near any middle-class neighborhoods in fear of him joining a gang or worse.

But then of course, there was plenty in London to be afraid of. If you didn't count the thugs and criminals constantly patrolling the streets, there were also villains like the Green Goblin who were out to get you. The Goblin was a particularly nasty villain who was known for his horrific bombs and grenades.

Mr. Osborne himself could be considered a villain by many. After all, he ruled London like a dictator, with an iron fist protected by his army of super-soldiers powered by organic compounds called V.E.N.O.M., designed to protect their hosts and grant them extreme levels of endurance and strength. The V.E.N.O.M. soldiers were supposed to protect the streets of London, but really they just made everything worse.

And then there were the cops. Your own father, Captain Stacy, was a cop himself but you couldn't help but dislike the force. They were all shoved into the palm Mr. Osborne's hand, eating money out of it like filthy pigs while the rest of the civilians lived in complete oblivion. Disaster after disaster struck the streets of London and the cops did nothing but add to it.

But it wasn't all bad. London had Spider-Man to protect them, right? With his gorgeous guitar, that spiky leather jacket, and that snarky attitude, he was a proper hero.

"Harry's here!" your maid called out to you from outside your room. You grabbed your things and quickly left the room, fixing your hair in the process. Harry was standing waiting at the bottom of the steps for you while impatiently tapping his feet, wearing a sleek black suit. When he saw you, he smiled and gestured for you to come down.

"Long time no see" You said to him with a grin.

"I saw you a half hour ago." He rolled his eyes before reaching behind his back to hand you something. He pulled out a beautiful white rose, the thorns plucked off as to not prick you. You shook your head and smiled at him, taking the rose from him. "You shouldn't have."

"You're right. I should've given it to someone prettier." he quipped, giving you his hand. You took it with a scowl and the two of you walked outside towards the car waiting for you outside. You and Harry both sat in the back while the driver got ready to take you towards the function.

"God, it's been forever since I've been to a ball."

"Oh, father's made sure to make it as grand as possible. Honestly I think he's put more time into this return than into my own birthday." He said with a groan, looking out the window as the car began to move.

You gave him a kind smile. "I'm sure thats not true."

Harry tended to get bitter whenever his father planned something for you. It was obvious that Mr. Osborne liked you more than his own son, always being willing to host your birthday parties, buy you things and just acting more like a father to you than he did to Harry. Harry hated it. He hated being put second to someone who wasn't even related to him. Although you tried your best to play it off, it became difficult at times.

"Yeah yeah." Harry said quietly, still not making eye contact with you as he looked down at his hands, fidgeting in his lap.

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Hobie's POV

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Hobie was standing on the glass top of the room where the ball would be happening, his clunky combat boots leaving marks on what had been crystal-clear before he'd arrived. This was one of Osborne's multiple mansions, each of which he used to throw different parties and get-togethers. These parties were very exclusive, only being offered to Osborne's closest friends and business partners, and Hobie knew that by having a riot here, they'd be able to hit Osborn where it hurt. Maybe even cost him a couple partners or friends. Hobie's eyes glinted slightly as he smiled to himself, thinking about just how badly he wanted Osborne broken. He was everything that was wrong with this city.

A small crackle noise came from the earpiece embedded onto his earlobe. "Y'all ready for this?" Riri's voice could be heard from the microphone. "Protestors are gathering." Karl replied.

"I'm almost there! Just give me another second" Kamala said, her voice slightly muffled. It seemed like she was running late. "Where were you?" Hobie asked, searching around for where she would come from. "Oh...nowhere." She said quickly, brushing it off. Hobie could just barely see her coming in from the distance. She enlarged her fist to help herself swing up onto the rooftop, landing with her arms out in a t-pose before giving Hobie a cocky salute. "Reporting for duty!"

Hobie snorted and rolled his eyes at her, putting his hands on his hips. "A'right soldier. Let's get this party started." He and Kamala both began their entrance, searching around the perimeter for any way to get in without being noticed. Kamala pointed to a large vent on the outside of the wall and Hobie swung toward it, pulling it open and climbing through with Kamala behind him, closing it before she followed.

The vent led them to what seemed to be an empty dressing room. Everyone else was already out at the party, enjoying themselves. Kamala bade him goodbye as she left to go take care of the cops on the outer perimeter while Hobie launched himself onto the ceiling and began to crawl towards the ball. As he left the kitchen, he tried his best to stay inconspicuous, staying above the partygoers.

There were so many people that he knew. Mainly people that he absolutely despised. He recognized Otto Octavius, a famous scientist who, although at first had been a good, kind man, had been morphed into another one of Osborne's goons after being introduced to riches that no one but Norman could offer. That was how Osborne made allies after all. He paid them.

He also recognized none other than Captain Stacy. A man who he hated with every part of his soul. The man who'd shot at him numerous times when he was doing nothing more than peacefully protesting. The man who'd killed tens of rioters and innocent civilians while preaching that he was 'London's Protector'. Pathetic.

Hobie began to pick off the many cops standing near the doorways one by one, webbing them to ceiling to shut them up while he moved on to the next one. He badly wanted to give Captain Stacy a taste of his webbing, but he was in the middle of the crowd and Hobie wouldn't have been able to grab him without getting caught. So he stuck to the smaller officers that were farther from the rest.

"I've gotten all the one's on the outer perimeter. I'm gonna go join Karl. Let us know when you're ready" Kamala's voice could be heard on the other end of the ear piece. "Yes ma'am", Hobie replied quietly, keeping his eyes on the last cop near the doorway. He shot a web towards him, quickly pulling him up and slamming him into the ceiling, webbing him up before he could say a word, or worse, fall.

Thats when he noticed Osborne getting ready to go stand in front of the crowd, dressed in a black suit that was noticeably nicer than everyone else's. Hobie hung down from the ceiling, watching silently as Osborne walked towards the stairs and quickly walked up them, microphone in hand. "Hello everybody!" Cheers erupted from the half-drunk people at the bottom of the makeshift stage. "I hope everyone's been having a grand time!"

Hobie moved to a more discreet area in order to watch the rest of the speech. Once this was over, he'd be able to call the rest of the gang in with the rioters. "Now I'm hoping most of you know what this whole get-together was about. We're here to embrace the return of Captain George Stacy's lovely daughter from her long period of time spent in none other than the beautiful city of Paris. Everyone welcome back, Y/N Stacy!"

Y/N Stacy? Now who could that be? Hobie searched through the crowd, wondering who one of his rival's daughter could've been. And then he saw her. Long, flowy hair, her skin perfectly complimented by that beautiful dress...and those gorgeous eyes. How...? Hobie was awestruck. Could it be? That girl he'd met all those years ago. He felt his hand subconsciously go down to touch that patch on his vest where he'd sewn a piece of that jacket she'd given him all those years ago. It was her.

________________________

Your POV

________________________

"Thank you everybody!" You said with a smile, nodding as Mr. Osborne handed you a glass of red wine. "I'm so glad to be back! I've had a wondrous time in Paris, and I'm so excited to share it with you all!" After you gave a quick little speech and proposed a small toast, you returned to Harry who'd been waiting for you with a sly smile.

"Did you even prepare for that?" he asked with a laugh, eyes looking over your face as you returned. "Of course not." you replied nonchalantly, taking a sip from your glass. "Load of tosh anyways, half these people are only here for the food. I don't think I recognize more than four or five faces in that crowd."

Harry chuckled. "Well at least you're paraded around. Father doesn't mind nobody knowing who I am."

"Lets not get all gloomy now, Harry." You said, patting his shoulder reassuringly. "Enjoy the night!"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm gonna go grab more bread." He said with a shake of his head before he disappeared into the crowd, leaving you behind with your glass. You were in the process of mustering up the courage to go introduce yourself to everyone when you heard a noise from behind you.

Thwip.

You turned your head around and strained your ears to see if you could hear that noise again.

Thwip.

The box a couple feet in front of you was knocked over. You looked at it in shock for a moment before you slowly began to approach it to check what'd happened. Maybe it was an animal of some sort?

Thwip.

The noise came again, farther away this time. It was coming from the balcony a few yards away from you. Curious, you began to approach the balcony cautiously, eyes scanning over your surroundings in an attempt to see what could've been making that noise.

"Hello?" You called out quietly. The balcony was empty, as everyone else was busy talking with Mr. Osborne or eating something. As you stepped onto the balcony, you glanced over the edge for a moment. It was a calm night, the breeze just barely chilly and the stars gleaming down onto you, making your skin look like it sparkled.

Thwip

Suddenly, it felt like something passed right by your head. What looked like a string of spiderweb had shot past your right ear and landed on the edge of the balcony, right above where your arm was leaning against. "What the-" you were cut off by another thwip noise.

This time the web was shot onto your mouth. "Mmm!" You exclaimed, trying to pull it off. Then more web was shot towards you, pinning your arms to the railing. You watched in horror as a masked figure approached you, unable to escape due to the strength of the web holding you down.

"MmmMmMm!" You said, trying to convince him to let you out of this situation, although there was no way he'd be able to understand what you were saying.

"Calm down, darling. 'mnot gonna hurt you." His voice was deep, with a cockney accent to it. Very different from the posher accent you were used to hearing. As he stepped into the light, you felt a quiet gasp leave your mouth. Spider-man.

"mmMM?" You asked, leaning back slightly as he approached you. You flinched as he reached his hand out toward your face and you watched as he hesitated for a moment before he ripped the web off. "You-you-you" you stuttered, in shock at the man in front of you.

He stayed silent for a moment, as though he was in shock himself. "Hi. I'm Spider-man."

"I-I know." you said your eyes locked onto the white of his mask.

He stared at you for a moment longer, obviously wanting to say something. But then he shook his head slightly and looked away, hands shoved into his vest pockets. "Are you going to kill me?" You asked, eyes wide.

"Wot?" He looked back at you, taken aback. "o'course not! I wouldn't kill a peng like you."

You looked down at your tied up hands, prompting him to do the same. "Sorry about the webs, but t'was the only way for m' to make sure you didn't run away"

You nodded, still scared out of your wits. "You don't remember me, do you? Well o'course you don't remember me, I have a bloody mask on" he said quickly, turning away from you again. "dumbass" he muttered under his breath.

"excuse me?" You asked, feeling yourself calm down a little bit. He definitely wasn't acting like he was going to kill you. "Not you!" He said quickly, putting his hands in front of him. "Just uh-hi."

You raised your eyebrow at him. He shook his head, "y'know what? Lets start over."

He made a beckoning motion with his hands and approached you again. "What do you want from me?" You asked, looking up at him. He was intimidatingly tall, probably over 6 feet tall, but he was skinny, as though he rarely ate.

"Nothing. I don't want nothing." He said, looking at you. Suddenly, you heard a small crackling noise come from his ear. He placed his palm over his ear and took a step back. "Yeah, yeah I'm ready for you. Just give me another second." He said under his breath.

"Look, listen to me, a'right? Get out of here. Before you get hurt." he told you, leaning in more. "What? Why? What's happening?" You asked, a scared feeling beginning to brew in your stomach. "It doesn't matter. Just trust me and get out of here."

The same crackling noise came from his earpiece. The eyes of his mask widened slightly and he put his hand near yours. He ripped off the web holding you against the railing and took a few steps back. "Just trust me."

You were about to ask him something when he suddenly pulled himself over the railing, leaping off towards the ground. "Wait-" You started to say, but he was already gone.

Get out of here.

That couldn't be good. You walked back towards the crowd of people, unsure what to do. Should you warn everyone? Should you tell Mr. Osborne? Should you tell Harry?

"Hey, Y/N!" you heard a voice call your name. Harry. "Where were you? I've been searching all over for you-" You grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him closer. "Harry, we need to get out of here!"

"Woah-" he put his hand on top of yours, pulling you off of him gently. "What? What's going on?" he asked, looking down at you concernedly. "Somethings going to happen and I don't know what but I know we should leave-" you started to ramble, practically begging for him to believe you.

"Alright, alright" he said, putting his hands on your shoulders to calm you down. "I'll call up a cab. We can go."

"But everyone else-" you started to say.

The entrance doors opened abruptly. Standing in the entrance was a large group of what looked like protestors, holding signs and whatnot, slowly entering. They were led by a man in a red white and blue suit, not the Spider-man suit, but one that made him look more like a soldier. Captain Anarchy.

It was a riot.

You were about to repeat yourself to Harry when you felt him grab your arm and start pulling you towards the exit. "We gotta get out of here" he said quickly, gently gripping your hand. As the rioters poured in, the few cops left began to try to deal with them, pulling out their guns and their batons. "Oh god I can't watch" You said under your breath, looking away as you and Harry joined the group of people scrambling towards the exit.

You caught a glimpse of Mr. Osborne, calling for backup. He looked livid.

As you were pulled along with the rest of the crowd, you could hear shouting and screaming coming from behind you. The rioters and the cops were fighting furiously, the protestors being accompanied by numerous 'superheroes' and the cops being joined by the backup Osborne had called for. V.E.N.O.M. soldiers.

When you left through the exit with Harry, the last thing you saw was one of those 'soldiers' being smacked in the face with a certain guitar, catching sight of that same flash of red and blue, that same leather vest, that same mask that had had you tied against the balcony railing before.

Your not-so-friendly neighborhood Spider-man.

Tags:

@s6onder @therealloopylupin2099 @spiderrinn @l0starl @daydreaming-en-pointe @itsparis-07 @@vileviale @bubble787635 @hows-my-handwriting @puff-hugs

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emeryhiro · 2 months

Text

My Thoughts on TBOC SDCC Panel & Interviews

First off, I felt like a kid again watching Melissa and Norman on an SDCC panel for the first time and was overwhelmed by so many positive emotions ♡

Regarding what was covered during the panel and what I'll be sharing my thoughts on, in this post, I'm going to try to keep it brief and only talk about things that are new to me compared to what I heard during the Tribeca panel and in my thoughts post on it [here].

~~~~~~

Zabel on his responsibility with the show:

Firstly, Zabel is actually pretty funny, and every time he speaks about the show I find myself trusting him more and more and feeling more confident that he knows what he's doing. I especially loved how he said, and I quote:

"There is a responsibility to live up to the standards of The Walking Dead, the standards that Norman and Melissa had as actors creating these characters. So that's the part where you wanna make sure that you don't let anybody down, you don't let the fans down, you don't let the actors down, you don't let the history of the show down. You have to at least try to maintain the same standard and hopefully maybe even push it forward."

Melissa, on her return to the show:

It was wonderful hearing her speak about how much she missed Carol and how excited she is about, and I quote:

"getting to go forward in France, where [Norman] set the roots, thank you very much. I had some things I had to do"

and how France will be a catalyst for all sorts of changes for Daryl and Carol.

I love how much she said she enjoyed the role of an EP, and I have no doubt she's brilliant in it. My main thought here is that I really hope that, like Lauren and Danai, she also has the chance to direct an episode in season 3, because whatever she touches will end up being Gold.

Norman on Daryl and Carol's bond:

I loved how he described their bond as cosmic and beyond tangible. Carol can sense that there's something wrong with Daryl even from across an ocean and vice versa, which is so true to their characters. They don't need to say a single word for the other to understand everything they're thinking and feeling.

Also, when he said:

"He's starting to lose that feeling cause he's been there so long,"

Melissa's face and reaction had me laughing out loud. What do you mean, Norman? Can you please elaborate on that for us?

If I had to guess what he means, I'd say it links to Daryl's self-esteem and his idea of self-worth. As I've mentioned before, it's obvious to me that the longer Daryl has been away from Carol, the more he's regressing into his old self and habits, and I think this feeds into that. I think he doesn't believe he's worth being loved, searching for, or crossing the Atlantic for. And that sense of security and confidence that he'd built with his family in America is slowly climbing away.

In comparison, Carol has always been one of, if not the strongest, characters on the show. Yes, she is struggling without Daryl, but the moment she's told his life is in danger, she has this overpowering sense of motivation and strength that she'll do anything to save him.

Norman on his favourite scene (The Reunion):

The words he used to describe the reunion scene and how he felt about it really had me in a puddle... especially the comparison he makes at the end, and I quote:

"When we meet, when that finally happens, there's a build to that that happens, and we worked really hard to make that scene what it was, and that kind of was fireworks going off inside me"

This is the sweetest description of the scene, and I don't know if my heart can handle it.

Additional moments I loved:

I love how both Melissa and Norman keep checking on Louis to make sure he's okay.

Norman calling Melissa his partner in crime, describing how excited he was for her to come back, watching her work, and Melissa's reactions to his words 😭❤️‍🩹

Overall, I just love how they appreciate, support, and genuinely love each other so much ♡♡♡

~~~~

Thank you for taking the time to read this. We're so close to having them back on our screens, and I'm so overwhelmed by the excitement for the new season!!

I'd love to read all of your thoughts on the trailer and panel, whether in response to this post or a post of your own; I can't wait to read it ♡♡♡

#daryl dixon #carol peletier #the book of carol #twd #caryl #caryl positivity

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whatislovevavy · 2 months

Text

Tia Maria and Whiskey on the Rocks

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OC (Cherry)

Masterlist

Author's Note: hey y'all, apologies for the extremely late posting, I've been going through some life transitions and finding time and motivation to write has been difficult, but here it is now :) This is part two of Most of Freedom and Of Pleasure, and is apart of @thedroneranger 's Pick Your Poison Writing Challenge with the prompt being Espresso Martinis I'm glad I got to include one of my favorite drinks with one of my favorite songs with a character I love writing for <3 I'm most likely going to do a third part with smut in it, so let me know if that would be something you lovely people would like to read :)

Warnings: Mentions of Smut, Fluff, Alcohol, Pilots catching feelings

WC: 5.2k

All of my writings will be added to my writing side blog @sophs-writing-nook

This is an 18+ fanfic, so minors scoot pls. You are responsible for the media you consume. Do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate this fic without my explicit permission as it is my own creation.

Goddamn it.

You slid the end call button as Phoenix didn’t pick up, fighting with the raindrops that fell and streaked down your phone screen, and trying to keep your jacket secure around your frame that didn’t seem to be saving your red dress from being soaked by the rain. The overwhelming damp and cold feeling seeped into your scalp and made the floodgates that held your tears back crack and crumble all the more.

You regretted this date, much more than all of the others.

A shaky sigh left your lips, frustration, and anger forming its potent mix in your mind.

You tried to keep your eyes on your phone and to stay calm; you didn’t need the people eyeing you on the sidewalk feeling sorry for you. They had nothing to feel sorry for anyway. You were just a person that had a disaster of a date and was stuck out in the rain trying to get home. Absolutely nothing to feel sorry for. You huffed, tensing your jaw as you found cover under an awning of a bookstore. Trying not to look at anyone that gave you that characteristic look of pity as they walked by. Biting your lip, you contemplated calling the last number you wanted to be calling late on a Friday night.

Just get it over with, you thought.

You quickly tapped the call button next to the infuriating little contact icon. Biting into your lip harder, finding the puddle reflecting the San Diego city lights more appealing than attempting to meet any passerbyers gaze as each tone brought you closer to a ride home. Or the teasing of a lifetime. Maybe both.

“Cherry.”

That familiar silk laced drawl made you shut your eyes and wish anyone else had picked up when you called. But alas, here you were.

“Wasn’t expectin’ to hear from you. I thought you were busy entertainin’ what’s his name, Dylan? Derrick?”

The humor in his voice brought a hot surge of frustration to the tips of your fingers as you gripped your phone harder, jaw tensing.

“Look, I’m not in the mood for this right now…” Your voice losing its bite, but only by a little, “I’ve had a really shitty night, and,” you took a shaky breath, the frustration of the evening coming in full force on your psyche, “I need a ride home.” Jake's teasing grin wilted. You never would have called him, unless it was serious. He licked his lower lip, turning to look back at his friends finishing up a game of pool from the corner near the bathrooms, the steadily growing chatter in the bar making it more difficult to hear you as the seconds passed. He rubbed the back of his neck, swallowing. “Ok, sit tight, sweets. I'll come get you, you're still at Benny’s?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. That’s…odd. You never told him where you were going. The wind and rain made you pull your jacket tighter around yourself. The evening rain makes you shiver, jaw chittering. Taking a deep breath, “yeah, I'm outside,” eyes diverting from the passing traffic to the worn, gold tinged cursive on the window, “Clara’s bookstore.“Your eyes trained on the rain soaked overhead awning dripping to the sidewalk in front of your painted toes peeking from your heels as you waited for his response.

Jake's eyebrows furrowed, eyes diverting from his phone screen to the rain streaked windows facing the beach. That's a decent walk from where you ate, he thought, eyebrows raising. Must've been quite a guy to make you leave early. And in the pouring rain, no less.

“I'll be there soon, Cher. Are you somewhere safe? Somewhere out of the rain?”

If you didn't know any better, you'd say the insufferable, look-out-for-number-one-only, selfish, arrogant Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, who spent each free moment he wasn't peacocking around base, making your nerves burn and fray, sounded concerned about your well being.

As soon as Jake heard your dreary, evidently rain soaked confirmation, he opted out of the game, forcing Bob to take his place with little to no explanation besides that a commitment came up,” striding down the Hard Deck steps to his parked truck.

He's not ditching you. He wouldn't do that. You repeated what felt like mantras as the minutes ticked by. Hot tears started to brew at the corners of your eyes. You clutched your now soaked jacket over your dress, your toes sinking into the soggy faux leather of your heels as you leaned back against the concrete column of the closed store. The amber overhead lights making warped reflections in the puddles of the buildings and cars passing by.

Your breathing was ragged as you felt the familiar flames of frustration lick at your brain, something that had only stopped when Jake said he was going to go come get you.

You felt so stupid. Wearing this dress. These heels. Your smudged make-up that, at one point, looked presentable. You just wanted to go home and eat a pint of ice cream.

God, why hadn't Phoenix picked up?

You clenched your eyes in frustration, a rigid breath leaving your throat as you leaned your head back against the column.

The familiar hum of Jake's truck brought your teary gaze up to the almost barely visible silhouette in the driver's seat.

Jake's door flew open, jogging with a jacket clutched in hand. Your eyes widened as he got closer to you, wrapping you up in his jacket.

By the time he reached you, his hair was drenched, now a more dull golden hue. His charm remained, unfortunately, in the city’s downpour.

“Come on sweets, let's get you inside.” Your mouth parted slightly. The sight of his shirt clinging to his biceps and broad shoulders, and the subtle scent of sweat, his natural musk, and rain almost made you miss his statement.

His rich jade eyes traced the soft reflection of the street light off of your soaked hair, to your smudged make up, to the drenched portions of your dress and jacket to your slight shiver you were evidently trying to repress.

His lips curved into a slight frown. You didn't deserve to be treated this way on a date. Especially not when you looked so-

His eyes returned to your deep brown ones, undertoned by your smudged mascara, finding them already on his; sharper than a moment ago, daring him to pity you.

He carefully wrapped his jacket tighter around your shoulders, guiding you to the passenger door of his truck, headlights still blinding, and refracting with the incoming rain.

The car ride was silent except for the quiet sounds from the radio. Jake would take occasional glances your way at stop lights, but your gaze remained on the road ahead; head leaned against the side rest of his car, body still wrapped in his jacket. You had to stop yourself from unintentionally cocooning yourself deeper into it.

“You want me to drop you off at your apartment?”

You glanced at him, “yeah.”

His frown curved deeper. Your tone lacked the usual spitfire attitude you always bared him, instead replaced by a sense of accepted defeat. A few beats of silence passed before Jake cleared his throat. “This Dylan guy must've been some date…you want to talk about it?” Your lip quirked up a bit. His name was Derrick, but you didn't have the heart to correct him.

You adjusted closer to the side of the passenger seat, leaning your head on the window.

“Not really.”

There was that same defeated tone again, the one that made Jake's heartache in a way he had never felt before for you. Or for anyone for that matter.

Jake brought his truck from a coast to a stop in front of your apartment building. His comforting gaze settled on your face, gaze still avoiding his. “Thanks for the ride home.” Your cherrywood eyes met his, giving him a tight smile before grabbing your purse, soaked coat, and leaving his jacket on the leather seat. His frown deepened, jaw tensing a bit as he watched you open his truck door. How dare this pathetic excuse of a man bring you to this state, a complete 180 to how he saw you every day since he met you.

“Wait,” you looked back towards him, expecting some usual hangman-esque comment that would surely make you throw your soaked shoe at him. “Look, Hangman, I appreciate the ride home, but I'm not in the mood to sleep with you as a ‘thank you’.” His eyebrows pinched. Did you really think that low of him? And in that same defeated tone? “That,” he sighed, “that’s not what I was going to say,” he reassured, pushing his hair back with his hand. Opposing hand still on the steering wheel, watch gleaming in the glow of the radio.

“Let me buy you some food and a drink, I know you like the Cajun fries at that bar downtown.”

You were taken aback by the offer. Frankly, you weren't in the mood if this was a joke. “It'd be my treat,” he lightly pressed with a comforting tone. You bit the inside of your lip, examining his face for any sign of ill intent, but you found nothing in his warm sea glass eyes or the defined features of his nose and jaw.

Cajun fries sounded nice.

Really nice.

And a drink sounded even better.

“Plus, I heard your stomach grumbling so you can't lie to me.” A smile almost broke out across your lips.

Almost.

“I don't know, Hang,” you sighed. The thought of snuggling up on your couch in a warm blanket, with a pint of ice cream and watching some trash reality show sounded appealing. But you were hungry and you had yet to go grocery shopping. And you had no booze.

“I promise, I'll make it worth your while…”

You bit your lip, “a drink does sound really nice…”

His lips twitched into a smile, eyes twinkling.

“Don't make me regret this, Hang…”the familiar spark in your voice slowly returned, making his heart skip a beat, “let me just change shoes first.” You grimaced as you remembered just how soaked your shoes were as the rain finally let up.

“Wouldn't dream of it, Sweets,” he reassured as you left him towards your front door, a concealed smile on your face that cracked with each stride to your door. He let his eyes skim from your bare back to your concealed hips with an appreciative gaze as the red material of your dress flowed around your bare thighs. His view closed off as you shut your front door.

You let your eyes drift across the interior of the bar at your booth, leaning your cheek on your hand. Jake had left you at the booth to get you a drink. You tried to give him a request, but he left before he could hear you. At least whatever concoction he brought you would be free. You let your eyes drift shut, listening to the sound of the bar top and the music player in the corner.

“One Tia Maria Espresso Martini for the lovely lady, and the fries are on their way.” You opened your eyes to see the almost onyx colored elixir with a layer of frothy foam in the glass, a triage of espresso beans that looked almost weightless on the foam layer.

How did he know this was your favorite? You had never ordered them at Penny’s since she didn't have Tia Maria. You looked at him, eyebrows raised, expecting some sort of explanation for how he knew about this.

“I remember you tried to order one of these at Penny's and thought you'd like it,” he said with a subtle tone of shyness, like he was apprehensive that he had overstepped, making your eyebrows knit together.

“I don't fully understand why you like them,” he teased, stirring his whiskey on the rocks in his glass, an effortlessly charming smile beginning to form on his lips, “but it makes sense.”

Your eyes narrowed at his playful ones, “what's that supposed to mean?”

He leaned back against the booth, eyes tracing the pretty features of your face and caramel skin tone, the neon lights above your seat adding to the gleam of your wavy, soft, dark hair.

Taking a sip from his glass, you tried to focus on his face and not the subtle bob of his adam’s apple as he took a warming sip of the amber liquid.

“You're kind of an acquired taste,” he took another sip, “bitter, but have a sweet side deep down.” Your eyes narrowed, “I'm not an acquired taste, you're just annoying and insufferable 99% of the time, so you never see my sweet side,” you clipped, eyes slowly sharpening. His lip quirked. To anyone else it would seem like you hated his guts. But he knew better, knew you better. He playfully put his hand over his heart, “Oh, Sweets, annoying and insufferable? You wound me.” You rolled your eyes, a smile slipping around the rim of your martini glass. The bittersweet elixir flowing down your throat. His grin widened, “there's that smile,” he teased. Before you could quip him back, the root of your culinary desire was placed on the table with a soft tap and a gentle "enjoy" from the waitress. The savory, warm smell of the spices and fries almost made you moan, only now realizing just how hungry you were. You had left your date just as you were barely through your starting salad.

“Easy there, Sweets, don't want you to choke,” he teased, giving you a wink.

You rolled your eyes at the poorly disguised innuendo, “don't tell me how to eat my fries, Bagman.”

He barely held back his laugh at what was essentially a growl. He contemplated telling you that technically they were his fries, but he opted to keep them to himself. If having three sisters had taught him anything, it's to never get between a woman and her food.

A comfortable silence fell over the table as he glanced around the bar and back to you, still picking at your fries. Eyes tracing over the defined round edges of your sinful red colored nails that he tried to not think about how they would feel pressed into his shoulder blades, to your necklace that dipped teasingly between your breasts. The subtle rise of your chest. The sprinkle of freckles and gentle flutter of your eyelashes on your cheeks. The touched-up mascara on your eyelashes. The soft flush of your cheeks. The cute curve of your nose. The gentle slope of your lips.

“You listening?”

His eyes shot to your own, his face a bit pink after having been caught.

“Of course, Sweets,”

Your eyes narrowed as you put your fry down in the basket, scoffing.

“I asked,” you leaned forward, arms crossing on the table, his eyes doing their damnedest to not dart down to your cleavage, “why you brought me here, because I don't buy it was only because my stomach was making noises.”

Your tone wasn't sharp or accusatory, but it still put him a bit on edge.

He took a deep breath through his nose, trying to get comfortable in his seat. You had a habit of putting him on edge, but in a way that made him crave more. It was almost adrenaline inducing.

“Just wanted to treat you a little, that not allowed?”

His collected, charismatic answer made you narrow your eyes.

“You're not a very good liar.”

His lip quirked into a grin, diverting his gaze down to his empty glass before bringing his warm eyes up to your own again. His grin settling into a thin line. It wasn't exactly a lie.

“I didn't want you to wallow on your couch thinking about that Danny guy. You don't deserve to feel that way.”

Your eyebrows rose, lip quirking. That definitely wasn't the answer you were expecting and it was still the wrong name, again.

His eyes dart away from yours to the bar top. Clearing his throat, “you want another martini?”

You blink, breaking your thoughts, toying with the empty glass, “yeah, I'll take another.”

Your eyes followed the way his body moved under his button up shirt that exposed a delicious amount of chest hair, and his worn, rich burnt sienna leather jacket. The way his stride exuded a rare sense of carefree confidence. The broadness of his shoulders under his jacket. The thickness of his fingers around the delicate glass of your martini. The way his golden locks of hair reflected the overhead lights of the bar and various neon signs on the wall you both were seated at.

It made you almost forget that you knew what it felt like to have his bare skin against your own. It made you forget, for just a moment, that you’d been fucking this man with no strings attached.

“Here you are, Sweets,”His smooth drawl derailed your train of thought that would have surely made you clench your thighs.

He placed the martini on the table with an almost silent clank against the table, eyes bright and playful, the rich green color added by the neon cloverleaf above his head.

Your lip quirked, “thank you…. You know I don't like it when you call me, Sweets, Hang.”

A smirk grew on his lips, “I think it suits you,” his gentle gaze on yours.

You scowled, trying to repress the smile that threatened to break through. He didn't need more encouragement to call you these…you wanted to say demeaning titles, but that felt a bit cruel. It was more like a pet name, a source of teasing that wore your nerves down faster than any other trick he had in his well developed arsenal. He'd always been something akin to a wart. Once you caught him, he was hard to leave.

“Fries any good?”

You looked down to the near-empty basket to his teasing features. A small smile broke through as you gently pushed the basket to him. After all, he did pay for them.

You watched as he took a few and brought them between his perfect teeth, eyes darting between the sight of him dipping a few more in ketchup, to picking at your red manicured nails. A comfortable silence fell over the table and quiet conversation followed, from what plans were set for their work colleagues to hang out next, to whether Bob was going to ask Admiral Simpson’s new secretary out.

“I don’t think he’s gonna do it.” Jake said confidently as he leaned back against the booth, his arm over the back, his other hand holding his near empty glass of whiskey. Your eyebrows rose, feeling a bit more loose and warm since first sitting down, mostly attributed to the fact you were finishing up your third martini. You cracked a smile, eyes comfortably heavy, “you don’t know Floyd very well then.” His eyebrows rose, encouraging you to go on. You leaned forward, eyes bright and intense, just how Jake liked them, “you do know what Bob stands for don’t you?” His lip quirked, eyes bright and mirthful, “of course, baby on board.” You took a sip from your glass, rolling your eyes at his typical cocksure tone, “No, it stands for…” His brow quirked waiting for you to finish, his grin starting to form as he watched your eyes dance across the ceiling looking for the words in your impaired state.

You leaned forward closer across the table, putting your pointer fingers up, biting at the inside of your cheek, losing your battle with the grin that wanted to gleam on your face, “it stands for Big Ol’ Balls.” His own laughter bubbled up in his throat as he watched you crumble into near hysterics at what had just left your mouth.

His laughter settled while yours continued, failing to do anything else but just listen to the sweet noise. He had heard your laugh before, but he’d never had any significant part of bringing it out of you. He let a smile grace his lips at the sweet noise. As your laughter died down, he let his eyes wander to the jukebox in the corner and the thinning out crowd at the bar. He bit the inside of his cheek, the creases of his forehead showing as he listened to the song emulating from the speakers.

“Do you wanna dance?” Jake asks, not fully thinking about the question.

Your espresso martini almost did a full stop in your throat. Tonight had been a series of firsts with Hangman; sharing fries, him buying you drinks, and seeing you in your romantic element. Dancing together was an oddly intimate first. Sure, you’d both fucked each other’s brains out almost every other day, but dancing, well, dancing was something that seemed to be a step further than that. It didn’t involve a physical closeness attributed to taking your frustrations out on each other; it was two people flowing together, not trying to wrack each other’s physical resolve. It completely contradicted the original purpose of getting physically close to this insufferable, arrogant man; an outlet for pent up frustration through deeply satisfying, carnal escapades.

Before you could stop yourself, you nodded.

He rose up out of the booth first with a squeak, offering you his hand. Your deep brown eyes looking up at him, then darting to his outstretched hand, your lips parting.

This was new, uncharted territory.

“I promise I won’t bite,” he reassured with a smile. He tried to not think about the way your red dress hugged your curves so deliciously, or how your cleavage almost spilled over the top of your garment. You had already had three martinis, and were definitely feeling the effects of them. He didn’t want to make you feel pressured into anything that you both typically took part in when you were this close physically. But he still wanted to be close to you.

You bit the inside of your lip and, for reasons only God could tell you, you took his hand.

He led you to the corner near the jukebox that was otherwise mostly emptied out. The beginning of England Dan and John Ford Coley’s I'd really love to see you tonight flowed from the speakers as Jake settled his hands on your waist, your own apprehensively around his neck, keeping your body upright as you let the initial beats flow through you in your relaxed state. His evergreen eyes traced over your melted brown ones, admiring the subtle flush of your cheeks to your low, lidded eyes.

Hello, yeah, it's been a while

Not much, how about you?

Your eyes darted around his face, avoiding his eyes that seemed to solely focus on your own. His hands squeezed your hips. In attraction or comfort, you couldn’t quite tell.

I'm not sure why I called

I guess I really just wanted to talk to you

You should have felt more alarmed by the close proximity and unorthodox reason behind it, but, and you didn’t want to admit it, the proximity felt nice. Maybe it was because of the drinks? It had to be because of the drinks.

And I was thinking maybe later on

We could get together for a while

One of his hands left your hip to softly, ever so softly, to lift your chin up to meet his eyes. “What are you getting shy about?” The gentle smirk on his lips paired perfectly with his rich green eyes.

It's been such a long time

And I really do miss your smile

You swallowed, eyes trapped in a jade coated trance. “I think I just had too much to drink.” His lip quirked at your soft, almost whispered tone, holding you as you both swayed to the music. He knew you could hold more alcohol, but didn’t press.

I'm not talking about moving in

And I don't want to change your life

He brought you closer to him, resting his head against the side of your own. Savoring the soft smell of citrus from your hair and the warm skin of your lower back against the palm of his hand, and the silk texture of your hand in his own.

But there's a warm wind blowing, the stars are out

And I'd really love to see you tonight

This felt like the most alien and natural thing he had done with you. It almost made him forget that within only the last few hours, he was fucking you against the hunter green lockers, feeling you cum on his cock.

We could go walking through a windy park

Or take a drive along the beach

He tried to not ruin the delicate moment he was having with you, and he figured his dick pressing into you might make you forget about all the good the night has brought between you two. A larger part of him than he cared to admit didn’t want to go back to the no-strings-attached arrangement he’d had with you for the past few months.

Or stay at home and watch TV

You see it really doesn't matter much to me

He wanted more moments like this with you. But he could feel the apprehension that, as much as he didn’t want to admit, was mostly attributed to his reputation. In the months since first feeling you fall apart under him, he hadn’t slept with anyone else. Not even the desperate tag chasers in form-fitting maxi dresses at the Hard Deck. And that had to count for something.

I'm not talking about moving in

And I don't want to change your life

He couldn’t help the pang in his chest; you were definitely open to dating other men. Could he really change your mind about him?

But there's a warm wind blowing, the stars are out

And I'd really love to see you tonight

You had to admit, if someone had told you months ago that you would be slow dancing with Hangman in a nearly empty bar, and you wouldn't be trying to claw his throat out, you would have told them they’d been breathing in too much jet fuel. As much as you hated to admit it, it felt nice and, dare say, comforting being here with him.

I won't ask for promises

So you don't have to lie

The soft texture of his jacket, warm hold, and soothing scent around his neck made you sigh. It was different from his usual mix of jet fuel, sweat, bergamot, and cedarwood. A part of you really hated how anything looked good on him and that he smelled amazing in whatever scent wafted off of him.

We've both played that game before

Say I love you and say goodbye

“I’m sorry your date didn’t go well tonight,” You gently leaned back from his head, eyes meeting his own. Your eyes drooped comfortably as you looked over his face, trying to detect any sense of pity or ridicule. But all you found were warm, soulful, malachite eyes looking back into your burnt sienna ones under the neon lights. If your mind was clearer, you’d say it was romantic. But this was Hangman, and what he did best was no-commitment hookups in the dead of night. Not romance. It would take more than three martinis to make you forget that.

I'm not talking about moving in

And I don't want to change your life

“Yeah, me too,” you muttered before leaning your head back on his shoulder. He swallowed gently, afraid that the movement would disturb you.

But there's a warm wind blowing, the stars are out

And I'd really love to see you tonight

Jake continued to hold you close as slow songs continued to ebb and flow from the speaker, one after the other; trying to not let his mind drift to how this would play out tomorrow in your more sober mind, until he could feel your weight grow heavier against his body as you swayed gently.

“Hey, Sweets,” he whispered against your hair. You hummed, eyes fluttered closed. “I should get you home.” You hummed in agreement, not having the strength to fight him on the pet name. Your sequoia-colored eyes peeking open, making him smile.

He settled the tab, placing his leather jacket around your shoulders that wrapped you in warmth and the soothing smell of cedarwood and cinnamon.

He walked you back to his truck, opening the door for you and making sure you were settled before closing the door.

The car ride back was silent as you tried to stay awake, listening to the slow country song on the radio, your eyes drifting shut. The smooth stall of the truck made your eyes flutter open. Jake gently reached out to you, gingerly rubbing the knuckle of his forefinger against your exposed forearm to get your attention. You flinched at the unexpected, soft, almost non-existent contact, body tensing. “We’re here, Sweets,” his gentle tone letting your body ease back into the seat.

Before your mind thought to open the door, he was already on the other side opening it for you, and offering you his hand to step down. It was truly unfair how good he looked under the streetlights outside your apartment, with his unbuttoned shirt, sunglasses hooked in the front, and slightly disheveled hair. It made you wonder how you came to hate this man in the first place. But then again, hate was a strong word and maybe he didn’t deserve to have it placed on him. Maybe it was only because of the three espresso martinis he bought you, tinting your vision of who he was tonight.

Jake didn’t ask if you wanted him to walk you to your door. He held your hand gently in a way that seemed unusual for him as he walked with you up the stone steps to your front door. “Thanks for tonight. I really needed it.” His face broke out into a soft, sincere smile, “anytime, Cherry.” Your lips tugged into a smile, diverting your eyes to the house keys in your hand. His eyes couldn't stop drawing to the strand of dark hair that kept getting in your eyes. Your gaze shot to him as he let his forefinger sweep the hair behind your ear.

“You deserve to have fun every once in a while.”He murmured, eyes tracing over the fine features of your face and the rich color of your hair under the porch light. His soft eyes brought a certain warmth that you'd never experienced with him.

You gave him a smile, as you fiddled with your keys, fighting off the blush that threatened to break through.

“Do you think,” you swallowed, “that you could not tell anyone about my really shitty date?” Jake, putting on a small smile, nodded, “yeah, of course, Sweets. I mean, I think I did a pretty good job at rectifying the experience.”

His gentle, carefree smirk made your lip tip up into a small smile and shake your head.

You let go of his hand, resisting to admit that you missed the contact already.

“I’ll see you on Monday, Hang,” you bid farewell.

He watched with a gentle smile and warm eyes as you closed the door behind you, giving him a soft wave.

His lips pursed, morphing back into a smile as he walked back to his truck. The night seemed to fulfill him more than all of your trysts combined.

It had to count for something that you didn't ask him to never mention your... date? if he could even call it that...

You leaned back against your shut front door, a smile on your lips that he had never brought past your lips.

Maybe it was only because of the three espresso martinis and this haze would lift in the morning, and he’d go back to being Hangman.

Or maybe, just maybe, he truly wasn't as bad as you thought.

People who may be interested <3

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becauseicantthinkwritings · 11 months

Text

Nightfall (3)

Vampire! Billy Russo x Female Reader

Part 1 // Part 2

Warnings: Bickering, spanking, biting, consumption of blood, oral (M receiving), implication of dark themes (such as the buying/selling of humans for blood), reader goes undercover as Billy's 'pet'.

A/N: Overall, the themes are a little darker than I tend to write. I'll try my best to be as honest as possible with the warnings.

You shove him back, hand wrapping around his throat as if you could ever conceive of doing any real damage to him. His expression is blank, eyes pinned calmly on you.

"You filthy fucking bloodsucker." You hiss out through your teeth, contemplating the actions it would take to bury a stake into his heart.

"Keep talking. Makes me hard." He sneers.

You almost consider spitting in his face. He'd had the nerve to describe exactly how he'd buried his hand into Ethan's chest not a minute after you'd driven away from him last night.

"He was my friend." You grit out, hand tightening on the column of his throat, you reach for the dull knife on the coffee table beside you, bringing it up to his neck.

"Planning to tickle me with that?" He taunts as you shove him further back, until your full weight is propped onto the hand pressed around his neck, your thigh pressed right between his, forcing you to straddle his leg.

Unbelievably, you feel his hand grip your hips, holding you securely in place as if he wants you as close to him as possible.

"I can do some real damage with this." You warn, voice low and enraged, trailing the knife slowly down the column of his throat, "Don't you know dull knives hurt more?"

His lips part, his chest drops a little as if the breath in his lungs has escaped him.

"The only thing hurting me," he whispers, "Is that you're not naked."

You take the time to press the tip of the dull knife into his skin. It would take a lot more force to puncture his neck, but doing so meant you could shred his throat easily. You wonder if that would even slow him down.

Your mouth curls in disgust, pulling away from him and sliding off his body quickly. You ignore the little wet spot your cunt has left behind on his pants, still being dressed in just his shirt.

There’s a tense moment of silence, the smell of delicious chinese food in the air- he’d ordered it for you while you were asleep so that there would be food available for you not long after waking. You’d only been a few bites in when you’d asked about the last time he’d fed, and he’d revealed to you what you’d already known was true, that he’d left Ethan’s body in a dumpster, missing a heart.

“You’re sick.” You whisper, facing away from him. Ethan had been trained alongside you, saved your life just as much as you’d saved his, and Billy had killed him because he’d dared to touch you.

You feel Billy behind you now, not worrying to think about how fast he’d just moved.

You huff when you feel his hands glide over either side of your hips, fingers twitching as he holds you firm.

You try your hardest to hate it, to feel disgusted by his cold hands on you, but all you feel is flutters, in your chest, your stomach, and somewhere lower.

“From the minute I put my hands on you, I knew you were mine.” He says. You squeeze your eyes shut, mentally rejecting the words.

“I know you can feel it, the way I do when I’m not near you,” he continues, drawing closer till his voice is just in your ear, “Like there’s no air in the room, unless you’re here.”

“You’re deranged.” You gasp out, feeling his hands tighten on your hips.

“You call that boy your friend, but you forget that I saw the whole thing. You didn’t want him touching you, and he did anyway. Is that not a good enough reason to tear his heart out of his chest?”

“He touched me. Not you. It was my situation to handle.” You retort.

He’s silent for a long moment.

“You’re right. I let my anger get the best of me.”

“Thank you.”

He pulls you back suddenly, till you’re pressed against his front securely, his nose running gently against your neck, one of his hands rise to tug your shirt collar down, till his face is pressed to the scar of his bite on your shoulder.

“Don’t mishear me. I’m not saying I’m sorry. Believe it or not, but I’ve been in that position, and I guarantee you, that if it’s not you, it’s someone else.”

You feel him kiss your scar, tingles spreading over your body. You’re deep in your own thoughts, thinking about his words.

“You’ve been in that position?” You echo his words, mind fuzzy with his attention.

“Mhm,” He hums, open mouthed kisses roaming your neck, “Wasn’t as strong as you either. It’s why I’ll always stand up for those who can’t stand up for themselves.”

You suck in a deep breath.

“But you’re a vampire.”

He spins you around, arms gripping your shoulder, eyebrows pulled together.

“You’re still thinking like that?” He utters in disbelief.

“Well, you haven’t really given me anything else to work with.”

He huffs, taking your hands in his and pulling you back to the couch.

“Okay, come, let me explain.”

You follow easily, and when you try to sit beside him, he eagerly pulls you into his lap. You huff, rolling your eyes as you try not to grind your wet centre against his thigh. He watches you, as if he can hear every thought.

“Believe it or not, vampires are very much like people. There are good, and there are bad.”

When you open your mouth to voice your opinion, he grabs the back of your head quickly, pulling you into him to lay a scalding kiss against your lips. His body might be cool to the touch, but he makes you sizzle anyway.

Heavens, he kisses like sin, plump lips owning whatever parts of yourself were still unclaimed, now his fully.

“Why don’t you let me finish, and then you can ask your questions.” He suggests, forehead pressed to yours.

A smarter side of you would argue, protesting his need to feed you what was most likely a lie.

You swallow, nodding your head hesitantly, feeling your body heat up with the memory of the things he'd done to you last night.

You look away from him, trying to get your thoughts together.

"We don't have to, I can always just lay you back right here and lick you to my heart's content."

You groan, clenching around nothing, acutely aware that being this close to him is making your head spin.

"Shut up and talk, Billy." You say with a pained hint in your voice.

He raises his eyebrows, his lips pulling into a slow grin. Thankfully he doesn't comment on your contrasting words.

"Okay, so as I was saying, from a moral perspective, vampires aren't that much different compared to humans. Realistically, if we killed someone every time we fed, more people would know about us."

"That's still a parasitic existence."

"The next time you interrupt I'm going to spank you."

You groan, clenching around nothing for a second time.

He explains it to you like you're a child, carefully arguing that the creatures of the night weren't all monsters, that they were a still budding society trying to figure out the logistics of existing.

"You sound like children." You interject.

Billy doesn't hesitate to draw his hand back and slap your thigh, watching you hiss in pain, that then quietly bleeds into pleasure, to your embarrassment.

"For most of human history, the number of vampires have only been in the hundreds. Now, we might have hit only a couple of thousand. The number of people that humans have killed vastly outweighs the number of vampires that exist and you still want to accuse us? Can't you see that the way you've been taught to think about us is flawed?"

You huff.

"Why is it so important that I believe what you say?" You ask, and it earns you another loud smack to the curve of your ass. You shut your eyes for a moment to fight the urge to rut your hips on his thigh.

"I'm trying to show you who the real monsters are. The ones that hide in the shadows and pull the strings, the ones that sell their own kind to the highest bidder of ours. These are people you should be hunting, little girl, not the fledglings that want to dance in clubs and feed from unsuspecting humans."

You open your eyes, blinking at him.

"You're saying there's something bigger at play?"

His hand comes down on your other asscheek. He grins when you glare at him.

"Yes. Your organisation trained you to kill the first vampire you see, making us all out to be monsters, but it's just not that simple. I can show the real monsters if you want, and let you-"

He cuts off, and after a second, he grins at you.

You look at him quizzically.

"You're so wet, I can feel it soaking through my jeans."

A low groan of annoyance leaves you, and you raise your hips, in an attempt to get off of him.

He’s not having it, gripping your hips firmly and pulling you back onto his thigh. When you struggle, his arms wrap around you, bringing you even closer, one hand settling low on your back, and then tugging your shirt up to grip your ass tightly. He holds you in place till you find that you are unable to even move an inch.

You study him intently as heat flushes through your system, eyes tracing the scars that line his face.

His eyes are dark, decisive, your eyes flit down to his lips, the sweet curve of them making your tongue feel heavy in your mouth. The shape of his beard urging you to rub yourself against him, the memory of his mouth between your thighs coming to mind.

You let out a slow breath.

“As I was saying, I can show you the real monsters,” He says softly, the air growing charged between you, “And let you decide what you want for yourself.”

You could barely remember why you were even fighting him, the magnetism of his form was too strong for you to resist.

“I’ll think about it.” You whisper, tilting your head to the side, and leaning into him slowly.

At the very last moment before your lips touch, you pause.

“Wait.” You whisper, pulling back.

You feel his hands tighten around you.

“What?” He bites out, lips parted so you can see just the smallest hint of his fangs.

You try to ignore his snippy attitude, and resist rolling your eyes lest it get you into more trouble.

“The thing you said… about choosing mates? What’s that about?”

You watch his lips part, to take a slow breath in.

“It’s something vampires do. Sort of, like an imprint- a voluntary imprint.”

You blink at him, horror washing through your body.

“You- imprinted on me… willingly?” You try to draw away from him, and he resists your movement, hand tightening on your bare ass subtly.

It brings you back to where you are, half naked on his lap.

“Yes.” He grits out, “When I first tasted you, I claimed you as mine.”

You fight him harder now, pushing against his chest.

“Claimed me? Don’t I get a choice?”

Billy huffs.

“You came up to me in that club- or don’t you remember?” He says, and you can see the clear anger in his features.

“You didn’t even know me!” You protest, finally getting enough leverage to wiggle out of his lap and to a stand on shaky legs.

He grits his teeth, tilting his head and watching you move away from him.

“The imprint might be voluntary, but it doesn’t work unless we’re compatible.”

“You’re sick.” You respond quickly, not even thinking.

He closes his eyes slowly, rolls his neck. You worry for a moment that his need for you has just expired.

Would he kill you? If he didn’t get what he wanted from you?

You swallow, eyeing him steadily.

He stands, walking past you without a second glance.

“Eat. I’ll take you hunting tonight.”

“Wh- what if I want to leave?” You ask softly.

He stops at the doorway, looks down before turning his head to the side. You study the scar on his cheek.

“They’ll kill you if they catch you, just to get to me. And if they hurt you, I’ll scatter their body parts across the state.”

You gulp at the imagery.

It was more irritating to you that he was giving you space.

He’d gone from keeping you in his arms, to not touching you at all and it made you seethe with all the hatred you had for him.

You hadn’t left- because you knew your organisation, and you knew Billy was right. They’d try to kill you the second they found you, if only to prove a point. Especially now that you knew for sure that Ethan was dead.

You pause while applying your mascara, sucking in a deep breath. Someone had dropped off a small duffel bag of supplies for you at the door, and Billy had slid it into your hands, telling you to get ready, you’d be going out in an hour.

He’s checking his watch when you emerge from the bathroom, dressed in jeans that fit you surprisingly well and a baby pink crop top.

His eyes scour your frame, face stoic as he makes his assessment.

“Ready?” He asks.

You only nod.

The heat of the club was familiar to you, an abundance of bodies so close together in one small space, moving under the soft neon lights.

You’re following his large frame, trying to keep an eye on the olive shirt wrapped around his shoulders, fighting each dirty thought about him that crosses your mind.

He’d looked good, to your annoyance, and you were wondering how long it would take for him to touch you again.

The answer was not very long at all, because when the crowd gets too dense, he reaches behind, extending a hand for you to take.

His hand is rough in yours, cool to the touch, undead and owning it and you feel your heartbeat kick up at the casual way his hand grips yours.

You didn’t like him, definitely not.

You weren’t too distracted by him to notice some of the other vampires in the club. You catch them in your peripheral vision, eyeing you both up, no doubt your scent packing a metaphorical punch to anyone with an advanced sense of smell.

"Easy baby," Billy whispers into your ear, fully knowing that anyone could be listening in on your conversation, his hand smoothing over your shoulder and down to the small of your back.

"We'll have our fun soon enough." He continues, his voice in your ear sending sharp waves of want down your spine.

If he notices your response to him, he doesn't show it, simply guiding you to an open seat at a secluded booth in the club.

He'd briefed you in the car on the way here, explaining that the objective was to be invited into the back rooms where the questionable conversations happened. All he’d been hoping for, was an idea of where the location for the next big meeting might be.

“The real shady conversations don’t happen in nightclubs, they happen in the back rooms of libraries or secluded five star restaurants that cater to our specific… diet.” Billy had explained.

That had made your stomach twist into knots at the idea that there really was something worse at play, made you want to do anything possible to put a dent in it.

He sits at the booth, and like you’d discussed in the car, you sit quietly beside him, body stirring with thoughts of what he’d said he’d do next.

“I’ll put you on my lap, I need them to think you’re my pretty pet. They’ll do anything to try to convince me to share you.”

When he pats his thigh, you do what you know he wants you to. You move slowly, crawling into his lap, straddling his hips.

It brings you face to face with him, and there’s something of a silent conversation going on between you.

Though his hands are on you, gripping your body tightly, and very inappropriately for anyone to see, there’s a distance to the expression on his face that stings.

You study his scars, his eyes closing when your noses brush.

You think about the imprint he’d confessed to. You wonder what it really meant, that maybe you weren’t at his mercy as much as you’d initially thought.

After a moment, you roll your hips against his, body igniting when you manage to feel hints of his thick erection through your layers of clothing.

He pins you with his red eyes.

It sends ripples of pleasure through you.

You didn’t know what you wanted, not even sure if it was him, with his sharp jawline and thick hair, and the scars that sit on his face, someone’s attempt at making him less beautiful gone awry.

All you knew, that in this moment, you were searching for a higher purpose, a reason for being in your current position that wasn’t just because of him. Because what kind of person would that make you? If you genuinely enjoyed being with him after the things he’s done?

After a long moment of looking into each other’s eyes, he takes a deep breath, gripping the back of your neck to bring you closer so that his lips brush your ear.

“I can smell how wet you are. Is that all for me?”

He’d know if you were lying anyway.

“Yes,” you whisper, “I need you.”

He hums, the sound goes down, all the way to your aching clit.

“If only you’d worn a skirt,” Billy continues, “I could have had my cock inside you from the minute we sat down.”

You don’t suppress your reaction, sighing in need, clenching hard around nothing.

Although this was just a performance, you realise it’s not so hard to actually act.

You pull back a little, so you can look down at his mouth. You clench again at the memory of sitting on his face.

His fingers tighten on the back of your neck, warning you that someone is approaching, your debauched act finally prompting someone to come near.

“Pardon me,” The feminine voice says- a vampire you realise- and you resist looking over at her, “but I couldn’t help but overhear your problem, and would like to extend an invitation to our basement lounge to you.”

Billy pauses, seeming to ponder her words, you attempt to ‘encourage’ him by leaning in to place kisses on the smooth column of his neck.

You feel his hand tighten on the back of your own neck imperceptibly.

“Private rooms?” He asks.

You both already know the answer before she says it.

“Not completely, but more private than this.” She says, no doubt pointing out the wide open area of the dancefloor where anyone could see the both of you.

“I’m not sure if I’m interested.” Billy responds, making sure he doesn’t look too eager to follow her.

You keep kissing his neck, running your tongue up to his earlobe before continuing your kisses, feeling the vibration as the woman slides in beside Billy.

You pause for a second, looking over at the woman, makeup done perfectly, brunette hair falling gracefully as she moves, before Billy turns your head away, a silent urge that as his pet, his conversation was none of your business.

He’d warned you about it before, that people would speak about you like you weren’t there and playing along was necessary. You could do that, you’d played hundreds of roles before when hunting, this was just another character.

The character you were playing right now, was an empty, aching little hole. Someone eager and willing to go along with anything her partner says as long as it made him happy and got her ache satiated at the end of the night. You’d pulled inspiration from your own life for this role.

“She smells so sweet.” The woman says, to Billy in a soft voice, “Surely you don’t want to enjoy her here out in the open where you can get interrupted.”

“And I’m sure that following you is going to have a price of its own.” Billy murmurs, and you squirm on his lap a little to give off an air of impatience.

Despite your aversion to him, you’re forced to admit to yourself that you enjoy sitting in his lap. This role of needy girl coming naturally to you, because you wanted, and you wanted and you wanted him to give.

“Honestly, I’d love a little taste.” The woman confesses.

“Hear that, pet?” Billy hums, fingers sliding into your hair to pull your head back so that your eyes meet his, “This one wants a taste. What do you think?”

You think she’d look nice with a stake buried in her chest.

You flutter your eyes, giving him the look of eager obedience.

“Whatever you want, sir.” You mumble.

Billy’s dark eyes give nothing away.

“Perhaps I can share a mouthful with you, but on my terms.” He says, and you smile as he continues to look into your eyes.

He’d also warned you that he might have to bite you at some point. He promised he wouldn’t let anyone else.

You trusted him. You could see it in his eyes, that maybe the idea of letting someone else touch you had been out of the question from the very start.

“We have a deal.” The woman says, standing easily, and waiting for Billy to follow.

You’re wobbly on your legs, too drunk on your own lust for him, the way he holds your hand, silently pulling you along.

You almost forget the real reason you were here, lost in wondering how he would take care of you later tonight if you’d let him.

On the way down, the woman introduces herself as Petra, Billy gives his name, and no one even mentions you. It makes you a little irritated, that you were being treated as that much of an object, but it didn’t really surprise you. They were vampires after all.

You don’t ask where you’re going, following easily, memorising every hallway and door, making a mental map in your head.

She guides you down a flight of stairs, so narrow that Billy’s shoulders brush the sides of either wall. At the bottom, is a short hallway that stops at an iron door.

Three sharp knocks, and the door cracks open.

You can feel the pulse of the music, emphasised by the lighting in the room, it’s like a dull thrumming, echoing the need inside of you, much slower and more erotic than whatever is playing in the club upstairs.

Inside is like a large cavern, the walls give off an impression of being somewhere underground, with rough rock walls and lighting fixtures jutting out.

The room is filled with secluded booths, sheer drapes to hide the bodies within, the low light accentuating the writhing figures of people dancing inside, no doubt putting on a show for their partners.

“Nice place.” Billy says, he doesn’t scan the area like you do, using senses beyond your comprehension to make his observations. He gives six squeezes to your hand- one per vampire in the room.

Six, if you had to fight your way out, things would be a little complicated.

Billy slides into the booth easily, his fingers still laced with yours, guiding you. When he sits, you settle beside him. Almost instantly, his hands are on your hips, pulling you onto his lap, making you straddle him.

You look down, feeling a little vulnerable in this position, arousal settling warmly in the spot between your legs.

“She smells divine,” Petra hums, interrupting your debauched thoughts, sitting in the booth at a respectful distance away, “You promised me a taste.” She reminds him.

“Of course.” Billy says, but when she inches toward you, he raises his hand to stop her from moving any closer.

His hand smooths over the top of your head, your eyelids fluttering at his attempt to calm you, he grips your chin gently, tilting your head to the side.

You close your eyes, your neck tingles, your mind preparing itself for the pain of it.

There’s no fear, just acceptance. You’re almost eager, from the last time he promised he’d bite you.

He takes a deep breath at the crook of your neck, hands wandering to your backside to keep you still.

You try to relax your body as much as possible, knowing that resistance made it hurt more.

His tongue glides over your neck, and then his fangs press against your skin.

Billy somehow manages to find a way to be gentle about it, he presses in fast, keeping steady as his fangs penetrate your neck.

Delight floods your system for a moment, sparking through your body from where his mouth is latched to your neck. You can’t help the small hum of surprise that leaves your throat. Surely, bites weren’t supposed to feel this good?

It pinches next, and then it stings. You close your eyes and breathe through it, experiencing the pain, letting it move through every cell of your body.

Then, the throbbing begins.

Your neck pulses, as if your body’s suddenly noticed that it’s been breached, and is trying to process the intrusion.

You whimper in pain when he raises his head, freeing his teeth from your skin, the most painful part in your opinion.

His mouth remains latched to your neck, you feel him take one big mouthful of your blood, and swallows. His grip tightens on your ass and you can only imagine what you taste like to him. He only pulls away after he takes a second mouthful.

You watch, peeking through your closed eyelids, as he beckons Petra closer, his fingers under her chin as he seals his mouth to hers.

Something ugly rears its head inside of you. An anger that wasn’t there before, burning as you watch their lips lock, as he shares your blood with her.

She moans into his mouth, pressing forward, and you watch, with blood trickling from your open wound, as she glides her tongue into his mouth.

All you can feel is hate. When he finally pulls away after what felt like hours of watching them kiss, she chases his mouth, but he braces one arm on her shoulder to stop her.

You couldn’t figure out why you were so upset, it wasn’t like… like you wanted him. Right?

“I need more.” She says, leaning in, now red eyes flitting to you, and to the blood dripping slowly from your neck.

Billy keeps her at bay, glancing at you for a moment.

“Pet,” he says easily, moving his hand off your ass and fishing in his pocket for a hankerchief to present to you, “Why don’t you put some pressure on that for me.” He inclines his head at your wound.

You nod, taking the soft white material, and pressing down to stop the bleeding.

“Please,” Petra begs again, “She’s delicious, you need to bring her to an auction we’re having next week. You have no idea how much she’s worth.”

His eyes are dark when he glances at you, seemingly deep in thought.

“I really could use some more blood, I can’t feed from her all the time.”

She jumps at Billy’s admittance.

“Exactly, you could get ten bodies with the amount of cash you’d get for her.”

When she leans in further, Billy’s hand drifts to wrap itself around her throat.

You can see that she’s too taken with your blood to focus properly, her eyes are glued to your neck despite the hold Billy has her in.

“Where is this auction?” Billy hums, with a tilt of his head. When she doesn’t immediately respond, trying to fight to keep the secret for as long as possible, you entice her by pulling the piece of fabric off your wound.

You’ve long since stopped bleeding, but the cloth has enough of your blood on it to loosen her lips easily.

She speaks the time and place in a very soft breath, that not even you can hear, all you can see from the corner of your eyes are her lips moving, and after a moment, Billy nods in understanding.

“I’ll think about it. Now leave. You promised me privacy and you’ve already had your taste.” He pushes her away, releasing the grip on her throat.

She catches herself as she falls back, and with a sour look, she backs off, leaving you alone with each other.

Did you have to kiss her? You immediately want to ask, but with the knowledge that anyone can hear your conversation, you can only roll your eyes at him, and lean away.

You know that technically, you’re supposed to be locked into an intimate embrace with him, but you can’t bear the thought of kissing him after watching him kiss someone else.

You needed to find a way to make this believable on your own terms, and you also didn’t want to actually fuck him either. You’d had enough of being vulnerable for the night.

Without thinking too much about it, you reach for the button on his jeans.

His hands reach to stop you, a silent exchange passing between you. He raises his eyebrows in a 'What are you doing?' type of way.

You both knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt that you couldn’t very well just leave after getting the information you wanted, it would look too suspicious. Something had to be done, and this is what you’d decided on.

You bite down on your bottom lip, deep in thought, watching his eyes drift down to your mouth, and when you reach to undo his pants again, he doesn’t stop you.

You shuffle back, tugging at his jeans and working his boxers down until his cock is exposed to you.

He's almost at full mast, and his indecent exposure and the implications of that succeeds in bringing him to full hardness.

You feel something twist inside of you, a pleasure racing through your body at just the sight of him.

You wanted to do this, for yourself as much as for him.

Shuffling back, you keep your eyes on his, slipping easily onto your knees between his parted legs.

When your knees hit the ground, you watch his eyes flash red momentarily.

There’s nothing to be said between you. You can’t convey to him that you’re only doing this because any of the alternatives mean opening up to him, and that’s the last thing you feel like doing right now.

Right now, all you want to do is take from him.

So instead, you lean forward, and wrap your lips around the head of his cock.

His cock is so fucking good you have to fight the moans that rise so easily within you.

Your eyes flutter shut, leaning forward even more, tongue roaming over his tip.

You hear a sharp intake of breath, and you reward the sound by taking him deeper.

It feels so right to have him in your mouth, heavy against your tongue, the head of his cock is smooth, and you're intrigued by the sensation.

You reach for his hand, the one that's got a death grip on the soft cushion beside your head. He releases the couch on your insistence, and you encourage his hand to grip the back of your head.

He grunts out what you think is an expletive, and you pause, raising your head to look at him.

His eyes are dark, the scars on his face look downright devilish in the low light, and you want him to use you for his pleasure, so that you don’t have to feel bad about wanting.

You can tell he’s hesitant, for the very first time you see him pause in his pursuit of you, dark eyes unsure, that is, until you begin to lick gently at his tip.

Teasing him with small touches of your tongue, you watch the darkness grow and grow in his eyes, until he finally takes control- gripping the back of your head harshly.

Your mouth falls open at the sensation, obedient to whatever he wills. You move easily as he pulls your mouth back onto his cock.

He takes it slow at first, guiding the movement of your head up and down on his cock, pushing you down a little deeper each time.

You suck a little- because for all the control he has- you’re in charge here.

“That’s a good girl.” He hums lowly, guiding your head. You hum in response.

It feels good to give him this, feel him filling your mouth so rhythmically, your cunt weeping for the attention he gives your mouth.

You push farther than his hands guide, taking him to the back of your throat. Your body isn’t prepared for the intrusion, and resists, forcing you to pull away with a gasp.

Tears in your eyes, you look up at him in apology.

His lips are parted, licking at his bottom lip, he grips your hair harshly, and pulls your head up.

You grunt, scalp tingling for a moment as he pulls your body taut between his legs, leaning down until his lips are pressed to your ear.

“You have no fucking idea what I want to do to you, little girl.” He whispers in your ear.

You swallow, cunt squeezing around nothing.

You wanted to hate him.

You wanted him to use you however he wanted.

You don’t say anything, and when he pulls back to look at you, you make sure he can see the fire in your eyes.

All he does is smirk, and pull your head back down to his cock.

This time, he’s rougher with his motions, guiding your head faster, till your jaw begins to ache but you refuse to give up, wanting to taste his cum, the way he tasted your blood, to have a part of him, just like he had a part of you.

His hands tighten in your hair, a warning, you suck rhythmically, using your tongue to stroke the underside of his cock.

You hear his breath catch, before he’s pushing you down on his cock. You squeeze your eyes shut as he fills your mouth with salty cum, his cock pulsing against your tongue, and you do your best to take everything he has to give.

You don’t swallow immediately, pulling your head off of his cock, you look up at him, parting your lips and sticking your tongue out to show him the evidence of his release.

His eyes flash red as he watches you swallow his cum, appreciating the salty taste of him, before opening your mouth again to show him that it’s all gone.

You breathe deeply, gazing at each other for a long moment. His hand slips from the back of your head, cups your cheek gently.

“I can smell how wet you are. Let’s go home. The things I want to do to you I can’t do here.” Billy says softly, and you nod, getting out of his way so that he can stand and tuck his cock back into his pants.

When he’s done, he extends a hand to you, which you take easily, rising to a stand.

When he leans in to kiss you, you turn your head to the side to avoid his lips, still upset at seeing him kiss another.

He pulls away, a stony expression on his face as he guides you out of the secluded booth.

You grab the handkerchief with your blood on it, tucking it into your back pocket, making sure there’s no evidence of your blood left behind.

Billy nods at Petra on his way out of the room, and you keep your eyes fixed to the floor like the pet you’re supposed to be.

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