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pennyellee · 2 months ago

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𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐒

𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐒 | 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐉𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐀 𝐀𝐔 pairings: yandere mafia namjoon x barmaid f!reader genre: dark romance, smut, slight porn with plot, 90s word count: 19,7K beta read by @chaoticpuff17 (ily)

masterlist

summary: “You are something I can sin for” An anchor amidst the stormy seas of life — that’s what Namjoon is for you. But it wasn’t always like that. There was a time where you’ve resented Namjoon with every fibre of your being and every word that came out of his plump lips after what he had done to prove his power. Unfortunately, you will never know what life could be if Kim Namjoon was not in it.

warnings: minors dni 18+ | sexual tension, emotional distress, teasing, yandere behaviour, obsessive behaviour, manipulation, reader meets namjoon when she was young - nothing happenes until she's of age, forced engagement, kidnapping, graphic violence, death, murder, blood, explicit language, misogyny, mentions of feminism, alcohol usage, mentions of religion and God, church smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, oppa-kink and so on (i'll add some if i'll forget)

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain strong language, explicit content, obsessive behaviour, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, oppressiveness, which we do not condone.

a/n: So here we are! This is the story I've been thrilled to share as it unfolds almost simultaneously with Champagne Confetti. Y/N, alias Peaches, is my baby, and I cannot wait to write more for her and Namjoon after my current project wraps up, wink wink. I have drafts for other fics set in the same universe as my current work and the new one, Anubis. Step by step, my fairies ♥

I hope you will enjoy reading this piece I've kept to myself for a long time. The best thing about writing is that I get to build this world of imagination and live in it for months before it gets to you. Sooo, I'm very nervous and excited to push Anubis out as a second fic within this universe— which now I have decided is going to be called — 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟔. Without further ado, enjoy, fairies! ♥

1996

There's a soft whisper in your bones, each time you wake up in the morning. As your eyes flutter open, the room is dimly lit, shadows dancing on the ceiling. All your demons are staring at you from above. They have been there when you went to sleep, and they are still there when you wake up. You know them all too well—regrets, doubts, fears—they've become familiar companions in the lonely hours of the night. They whisper tales of your failures, amplifying every mistake, every misstep, until they echo like thunder in your mind.

But would it be any different if your steps turned the other direction? Would the cosmos allow you to be? Possibly. You, however, will never know what life would be without blood flowing down the stream, dirty money from all the sins you've watched being committed.

You will never know what life could be if Kim Namjoon was not in it. But the thought is fleeting, for you know deep down that he is as much a part of your story as the demons that haunt you. His presence has shaped you in ways both profound and subtle, leaving an indelible mark on your soul and your body. The agonising pain within still remains and all you can think of is how did you get to this point in your story.

"Bitches come and go, Peaches—" you recalled those words like it was yesterday they were uttered.

"—but you and him, love, you be for life."

An anchor amidst the stormy seas of life — that's what Namjoon is for you. But it wasn't always like that. There was a time when you resented Namjoon and every word that came out of his plump lips.

Kim Namjoon was trouble and the whole Bronx knew so. Heck, even the whole state knew what kin he came from. You were no exception. But whatever you did, you never managed to put distance between you two.

The world seemed both infinitely vast and impossibly small when the streets of the Bronx were your stage. You were young when you met Namjoon, a whirlwind of youthful energy and reckless abandon, there he is, so vivid in your memories.

Every time you'd help around Anubis, you could see his straying eyes. He had an aura of mischief that drew you in like a moth to a flame. You remember the way his gaze lingered on your skin, straying from the task at hand to fixate on you with a mixture of fascination.

Namjoon's reputation preceded him like a shadow cast by the noonday sun. Entirely impossible to overlook, yet you did. His name was whispered in hushed tones in the back alleys and dark corners where his influence held sway, and that was only the beginning. The magnitude he reached decades later is for another story.

You had heard the rumors—the tales of his involvement with the local gangs, the whispers of his connections to the underworld that lurked beneath the surface of the city. Certainly, you would have to be lying if you said that Anubis was completely legal. You were not that stupid. While it bore the façade of a legitimate establishment, its roots ran deep into the murky waters of the criminal underworld.

Mrs. Jung could smile as widely as she wanted and reassure you that all was fine and all was taken care of, but you couldn't ignore the whispers that circulated about Anubis. Yet she paid triple what you could get in any regular bar. Not like you could work at a regular bar at the time at your age. Survival often depended on turning a blind eye to the unsavory realities of life that you would never be able to face alone. Money was tight and you could not afford to lose such a good-paying job. Even if it took what it took.

"His eyes are hungry for you, Peaches—" said Mrs. Jung while toying with the little umbrella that was swimming in her Kamasutra drink you'd prepared just a few minutes ago. You envisioned your life in the city just like she had, Saint Laurent heels clicking loudly as you would walk down the streets of Manhattan. You admired your lady boss from her head to toes. Mrs. Jung was a symbol of pussy and power. Until she was not. The power was given to her and once she rejected to meet the expectations, it was taken from her.

"—But that's all he can do, at least for now."

She winked your way and then her attention turned to the approaching male figure. What she meant by that is loud and clear. You are underaged and Namjoon cannot make any move on you even if he wanted to. And you knew he respects you that much. Although something tells you that this would be the least illegal thing he would’ve committed.

You’ve met Mark Tuan on occasion when he stopped by the bar. She was not Mrs Jung at the time, yet the notorious life of your lady boss, confused you even then. The way she and Mr Jung behaved around each other gave you the impression that he is her lover and not the tattooed boy that fucked the brains out of her in the office upstairs.

You felt the pain that was reflected on Jung Hoseok’s face when he asked where is she and you had to answer truthfully. The only thing you knew about Namjoon was that he and the Jungs ran way back. Their primary, and to the upper world’s eye, legal assets were the distilleries that distribute whiskey and brandy which you were serving each night till early hours of the morning.

The moment he particularly chose to visit the bar only those evenings you’ve been around was a louder hint shouted your way. As if you haven’t already figured. There was something intoxicating about the way he moved through the world and the way he moved you once your eyes locked.

The way he spoke to you, listened to you so attentively, gave advice on occasion and provided a shoulder to lean on, was all pulling you to him even more. It made you forget about all the skeletons that were in his closet.

The air crackled with anticipation as he walked through the room each night, straight to you, his gaze fixing on you with a mixture of fascination and desire. But amidst the heat of the moment, there was a shadow of doubt that lingered in the back of your mind.

Mrs. Jung's sudden disappearance, Namjoon taking over the day-to-day operations of Anubis—it all seemed too convenient, too perfect to be mere coincidence. It gave him the opportunity to watch you, keep you safe. You were scared that he'd cut you off whenever you fucked up something. But he never did; rather the opposite, offering you a lifeline when you needed it most. There was a chemistry between you that defied explanation, a silent understanding that transcended words.

The way his muscular torso almost pressed against yours in the storage room took your breath away instantly. The faint scent of his cologne enveloped you as he leaned in closer, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. Surrounded by crates and boxes of expensive alcoholic beverages, the world seemed to fade away. His hand brushed against yours while he was lifting it, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins as you met his gaze. Reaching above your head to envelop his slender fingers around the throat of the bottle that you could not reach before, he slowly moved closer to hover above your lips. You trembled under his gaze on your lips that were slightly parted; you were panting at this point, reminding you of the dangers that lurked beneath the surface of your forbidden romance.

"Just a moment longer."

His voice was a low murmur, a seductive whisper that sent a thrill racing through your veins. Despite the warning bells that rang in the recesses of your mind, you couldn't deny the pull he had over you, the magnetic attraction that drew you closer with each passing moment, his presence overwhelming in the confined space of the storage room. You knew that this was wrong, and yet, as his breath ghosted over your skin, you couldn't bring yourself to pull away.

You would never deny it, but you could not accept it and return his affections the way he wished you would. This was temporary. You never planned to stay in Anubis for longer than needed. It was not where you belonged, and the criminal underbelly of the Bronx was not the life you had envisioned for yourself.

You could not understand what made him stay away from you for such a long time. But it certainly created an opening for you to re-think your next steps.

Somehow, being twenty-one did make you feel the anticipation of living a life. Almost twenty-two when you graduated from college that could be paid as your earnings in Anubis allowed so. Slowly, your little life in the farthest corner of Bronx would come to an end and you could move into the city. Get a job, maybe even a man and kids later. You wanted that white-picket-fence life and you knew that if you wanted to live it peacefully, staying here was not an option.

Your father was strongly against you leaving even though he never approved of the life you led in the dark of nights. He was not a saint either, his hands stained with the same sins that plagued the streets of the Bronx. There was no man in the whole New York City that would not know the name Kim Namjoon and your father was not an exception. Although, you never had the courage to mention his name and acknowledge that the man your father praises when he drinks his beer and plays poker with his drunkard old pals, is spending his evenings talking to you.

"I tell ya all, that Namjoon boy has got a head on his shoulders like no other," your father's voice boomed across the small kitchen.

"A real businessman, that one," a flicker of unease stirring in the pit of your stomach as you caught sight of the familiar glint of admiration in your step-father's eyes. Namjoon's name hung in the air between you, a silent reminder of the bond that had formed between you in the shadows of Anubis.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he ended up running this whole city someday, right, Peaches?" You forced a smile, a wave of uncertainty washing over you as you considered the implications of your father's words. Namjoon's ambitions were as vast as the city itself, his influence reaching far beyond the confines of Anubis and the criminal underworld it symbolized.

"That's Mr. Jung's place, dad," you shook your head disapprovingly but with a smile on your face. His comrades laughed and shared similar ideas as he did though.

"That would be a boy for your Peaches," one of his comrades chuckled, the sound echoing off the walls of the cramped kitchen as they continued to sing Namjoon's praises after you only silently smiled again and opted not to respond. Your father however scoffed. He praised him, yes. But would he approve of his only child being with such a man like Namjoon is?

"When are you leaving for the city, young Missy?" Old man whose name you've never known asked with a cigarette in his mouth, looking over his cards rather than your way.

"Don't even support her in that big apple bullshit." You felt a pang of disappointment at his lack of support, but you were not surprised. You glanced around the kitchen, meeting the eyes of the men gathered there, each one offering their own opinion on your future. Some nodded in agreement with your step-father, while others remained silent, their expressions unreadable.

"Don't listen to those old men, child—"

"You got dreams, girl. Don't let nobody hold you back from chasing 'em.”

Truth to be told. The job, white fence, man and kids were not your dreams. You did not really know what to dream of, being restricted in such a dark part of the world that Bronx was for many, you did not even know why you hate your home like that. And you certainly weren’t even sure what is it to have a dream. But you hoped you’ll create some once you step your foot down, somewhere else than here. It doesn’t have to be Manhattan in particular. Anywhere but here is fine.

"Peaches, love, be sweet and bring us another beer from the fridge on your way to work, would ya?"

The request snapped you out of your thoughts, bringing you back to the present moment. With a nod, you forced a smile, hiding the turmoil within as you moved to comply with his request. You were sure you'd be late to your shift at Anubis yet again, but you knew that Namjoon would turn a blind eye. He always did when it came to you.

But Namjoon was not present the moment you stepped into Anubis that night. As you made your way through the dimly lit interior of Anubis, a sense of foreboding settled over you like a heavy blanket. The usual hustle and bustle of the bar seemed muted, the air thick with tension as you approached the bar.

Mrs. Jung was still nowhere to be found and therefore, for a few months, Namjoon had replaced her. But tonight he was not here. He usually came around ten p.m. and stayed until you cleaned the very last table and closed the bar.

Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and set about your duties, determined to carry on despite the growing sense of unease that lingered in the air. But as the night wore on, the feeling of dread only intensified, leaving you on edge as you awaited Namjoon's return.

You watched the sun rising through the large windows that let the light come into the bar that was still beaming with a significant number of people of various ages. Despite your efforts to focus on your tasks, your thoughts kept drifting back to him. Where could he be? Why hadn't he shown up as usual? The questions nagged at you, fueling the unease that had settled in your stomach like a lead weight.

"Peaches?!" You heard the voice of one of the local and returning customers from the other side of the dancing floor. He was a friend. Or so you thought. He raised two fingers into the air and in a second you were already pouring the brownish liquid of Jung's Whiskey into the crystal-clear glasses.

You walked over to the table he was sitting at alongside a face you'd never seen before. Thanking you for the drinks, he pointed his thumb to the man sitting next to him.

"Peaches, Jinyoung—"

"Jinyoung, Peaches."

You offered a polite smile, acknowledging the introduction as you set down the drinks on the table. The unfamiliar man, Jinyoung, returned the gesture with a nod, his expression unreadable.

"Nice to meet you, Jinyoung," you replied, your voice tinged with a hint of curiosity.

Jinyoung's gaze met yours, his eyes dark and probing as if searching for something within you. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of discomfort under his scrutiny, a feeling that only added to the unease already gnawing at your insides. Something about him set off alarm bells in your mind, a primal instinct warning you to tread carefully.

"What's a beauty like you doing tucked in Anubis?" Jinyoung asked, his voice smooth and velvety. You glanced around the dimly lit bar, suddenly aware of the eyes that seemed to linger on you from every corner, not understanding why.

"I... I work here," you said, a sudden shyness prevailing on the surface. You never really engaged with other men apart from Namjoon. For some reason, each time a man approached you, all of them quickly backed out, opting to not even look your way. For a long time, you did not know what you did wrong to chase them all away. But you got to know that night.

Jinyoung's lips quirked into a knowing smile, his gaze never leaving yours.

"I can offer you a better job, beauty," his words dripping with a seductive allure, and in that moment, you decided you needed to get back to work ASAP. He sounded like trouble you did not want on your last days here.

"I... I appreciate the offer, but I'm quite content here," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

"You sure? I could have good use of someone like you, Peaches." Your heart pounded in your chest as Jinyoung's words washed over you. He played with your name on his tongue, and you had a hint that the job he was offering you would be something much worse than working in Anubis.

"Easy, Jinyoung, that's Namjoon's girl you're talking to." Jackson finally spoke up as if he heard your little begging in your head, but this was not what you expected him to say. Were you Namjoon's girl? Years went by and he merely brushed upon your hand with his own. There was no attempt to woo you directly. So how come everyone saw it this way—you as Namjoon's girl?

"I'm not Namjoon's girl—" you said, standing your ground for once. You saw Jackson's eyes widen and Jinyoung smirk at your remark.

"I'm no one's girl—"

"Nonetheless, thanks for the offer but I have to decline." Jinyoung's smirk widened at your words, his gaze flickering with amusement as if he found your defiance entertaining. A second later you were on your way back to the bar. He was Jackson's friend, but he was crude and he did not understand he ought to fuck off. The grip you suddenly felt on your upper arm was painful enough to make you wince, yanking you back as you squinted your eyes from the pain of his touch.

"What makes you say no if you're no one's slu—" your ears picked up his words before they were silenced. Forever. His last words were cut off by a deafening gunshot, leaving you frozen in shock. The sound of it still ringing in your ears as you turned to see the source of the chaos. There, standing with a smoking gun in his hand, was Namjoon, his expression unreadable as he stared down at Jinyoung's lifeless form. One side of Jackson's face was covered in blood that was his friend's, his shock mirroring your own. And you were scared to even move an inch.

Namjoon had just killed a man in cold blood, he shot him right in front of you. Without mercy. Panic surged through you as you realized the gravity of what had just transpired. The grip he had on your upper arm weakened yet remained even after his head fell down. It was a clear shot to the side of his head.

By now, half of the bar emptied, only those underworld rats stayed unfazed. Namjoon was always so calm, so collected. But now, he looked like a completely different person. The bar had fallen into an eerie silence, broken only by the sound of your own ragged breathing. You wanted to run, but your legs failed you, unable to move as the reality of the situation sank in.

"What—" your heart hammered in your chest as you searched for something, anything, to say, but the words caught in your throat, choked by the weight of the moment. Your whole body trembled uncontrollably, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. You reached to pull your hand away from Jinyoung's lifeless grip and while you struggled to do so, the scenery before you was not helping you to calm down. The side of his head blown up, you could see parts of his brain, immediately making you empty your stomach on the floor. The fact that Namjoon hadn't said a word since he literally came out of nowhere was not contributing to the situation either.

You heard his smooth voice but it was too muffled at this point. He was giving orders to Jackson, but you did not understand a single word coming out of his mouth. Your head was spinning and the room felt like a carousel.

"Why would you—" you began to stutter, your voice barely a whisper. The question died on your lips, swallowed by the overwhelming sense of dread that hung heavy in the air. Namjoon had just committed an act of unspeakable violence, ending a man's life without a second thought. Nothing will be the same ever again. You stayed out of all the illegalness that surrounded Anubis on purpose. What eyes don't see, heart doesn't hurt. What you don't know, can't hurt you. But now you eye-witnessed such brutality and he won't let you walk away to the other end of the rainbow.

You did not expect him to hear you nor even answer your remark, but of course, Kim Namjoon was always here to listen to you.

"He touched you."

The words hit you like a physical blow, jolting you out of your stunned silence. He wasn't just stating a fact; he was issuing a warning, a chilling reminder of the consequences of crossing him. Looking him in the eye, he looked like a possessive maniac, like someone determined to protect what he perceived as his.

"He didn't—" you began, your voice faltering under the weight of Namjoon's scrutiny. Yet you stopped yourself to think whether Jinyoung's intentions were harmless or not. You remembered the way Jinyoung had leered at you, his touch lingering where it shouldn't have.

"No one can touch you, Peaches."

You felt a chill run down your spine as the weight of his words settled over you. It wasn't just a declaration; it was a promise, a vow to protect you at any cost. But beneath the surface, you sensed something darker, something primal and possessive that sent chills down your body.

You were paralyzed by the intensity of his gaze, unable to tear your eyes away from his. Your mind raced with a million thoughts and questions, but you knew better than to voice them.

That night you started to hate each and every gaze he threw your way when you were working, all the men running away after uttering a single word to you, and all the remarks about you being Namjoon's girl.

But were you ready to be Namjoon's girl? To be part of his world?

You sit up, the sheets clinging to your skin like a shroud, and confront the spectres that linger above. Even after some weeks, you still cannot shake off the tremor you've experienced that night.

"Peaches?!" You heard your father's voice. You were hidden in the confines of your small room for days now, coming out only to take a bottle of water, and even that you managed to minimize by taking the whole six-pack. You couldn't bring yourself to respond.

The look in Namjoon's eyes, the sound of the gunshot ringing in your ears, the sight of Jinyoung's lifeless body—all of it was seared into your mind, haunting you like a relentless spectre. You needed some time. But it was running out quickly.

Lost in the labyrinth of your thoughts, you remained silent, grappling with the weight of the choices that lay before you. You packed your bag last night, all the cash stuffed inside at various places, just to be turned right back on your heel by two muscular men you'd never met before. The color they wore was emerald green, and you quickly understood that those were Jung soldiers, if you could call them that.

Your father was similarly confused. His eyes were darting between you and the soldiers as he struggled to make sense of the situation. So here you are, awaiting when he will decide to collect you. What is he waiting for? You knew that your time was running out; you just didn't know exactly when it would run out.

In that moment that night, you missed the Namjoon you thought he was. All you could see was a stranger, a dangerous man whose actions had shattered your illusions and left you reeling in their wake. Yes, you knew his line of work, but you'd rather not see it with your own two eyes. You'd rather stay oblivious to who he really was just to keep the picture of the Namjoon you knew hanging a little bit longer.

"You can't hide there forever." And you certainly did not plan to, but coming out to see your father's worried face after he sees how disheveled you look could wait for another day or so. You did not know what Namjoon intended to achieve by making you a prisoner in your own home.

Every fiber of your being wanted to hate Namjoon, but you did not know whether that was even possible with how smart that man was with his mouth.

This cage of fear and uncertainty made you uneasy. The wind that forcefully closed your window awoke you from your thoughts. You lived on the second floor of an old block of apartments. You moved toward the old rusted window, cautiously pushing it open again. The cool night air rushed to meet your cheeks, and you closed your eyes to feel it.

Peering down, you assessed the drop. It wasn't too high, and the fire escape just below offered a feasible route. Why had it not occurred to you earlier?

"Peaches, please, talk to me. They've been saying that you can't go out and should wait for sajangnim Kim."

Your father's voice was strained, a mix of concern and frustration. You hesitated, torn between the urge to reassure him and the pressing need to just run for the hills before it was too late for you.

What you realized in the moment, listening to his muffled pleas, was that this might be the last time you'd see him. You couldn't come back to the Bronx ever again. Nor New York. You weren't sure exactly what the magnitude of Jung's power was that Namjoon shared, but you had the hunch that wherever you'd hide in this state, he would find you.

"Dad?" you said softly, your voice barely a whisper. You felt a lump in your throat, the weight of the impending goodbye pressing down on you. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

"I'm here, Peaches," your father responded, his voice breaking slightly. "Please, come out. We'll figure this out." Tears welled up in your eyes as you clung to the closed door.

"It's no go, Dad."

"Please, just open the door." His voice was closer now, just outside the door.

You glanced around your room, grabbing your packed bag and slipping it over your shoulder.

"I love you, Dad. I'm sorry. Bye—"

With a final, sorrowful glance toward the door, you slipped out of the window, your feet finding purchase on the metal grating of the fire escape. You descended quickly, not daring to look back. The metal stairs creaked under your weight, each step taking you further from the life you knew. You needed to disappear.

You had no shoes on, and the white tank top clung to your skin, outlining your curves and breasts. The night air was cool against your exposed skin, a harsh contrast to the warmth of your tears. The metal of the stairs felt rough under your bare feet, but you pushed forward until you were all the way down.

Catching your breath and glancing around the dimly lit alleyway, the city felt oppressively silent, the only sound your own ragged breathing. As you took a step forward, a soft scoff resonated in your ears, leaving you standing there frozen. The man was totally invisible in the dark shadows of the alley between the buildings until he pulled out his zippo lighter to light a cigarette, illuminating his face. He exhaled a cloud of smoke, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Where are you headed, Peaches?"

The man who was casually leaning against the cold bricks wasn't unfamiliar to you. You, as a barmaid at Anubis, had the extravagant privilege to meet four out of the big seven. Kim Taehyung being one of them, standing here in front of you.

"Mr. Kim," you breathed, dread pooling in your stomach. You were on a first-name basis only with Namjoon even though they all scolded you, especially your lady boss, for being way too formal and polite, making them feel older than they actually are. Truth be told, you were putting some distance between them, but you utterly failed to do so with Namjoon, and here you are, on the run.

"I'm your family now, Peaches," Taehyung said, his voice dripping with mockery. "You should start getting used to that, so drop the mister finally."

You gritted your teeth, trying to steady your nerves as you faced Taehyung. "Taehyung," you corrected yourself, though the informal address felt wrong on your tongue.

"That's better, what a good girl you can be," he said with a smirk, taking a step closer. His presence felt suffocating, a reminder of the dangerous world you had stumbled into.

"Why are you here, Taehyung?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

"Why are you here, Peaches?" Taehyung countered, his tone filled with amusement. You bit the inside of your mouth, feeling the nerves tighten their grip on you.

"Getting some fresh air," you replied, trying to sound casual despite the knot of anxiety tightening in your chest.

Taehyung raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Ah, yes, because nothing says 'fresh air' like sneaking out of your window in the dead of night," he quipped, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his scrutiny bearing down on you. "I just needed to clear my head," you said, hoping he would buy your flimsy excuse.

"You are not planning to do anything stupid now, Peaches, right?" You paused, considering your response carefully. Taehyung's tone, though casual, carried a hint of warning that sent a shiver down your spine. You slightly shook your head to show dismissal.

"Namjoon-hyung said you looked pretty shaken up that night." You couldn't help but tense at Taehyung's mention of Namjoon, a surge of apprehension coursing through you. You had tried to bury the memories of that night deep within you, but they continued to resurface, haunting your every thought.

"I'm fine," you replied, forcing a tight smile. "Just had a rough night, that's all."

"It looks like you're about to have another one to me." Your heart skipped a beat at Taehyung's ominous remark, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. Despite his casual demeanor, there was an underlying tension in the air that sent a shiver down your spine.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the rising sense of unease.

"Unzipped duffle bag, dollar bills fell from it while you were going down, that looks like you were very eager to get that fresh air."

"I... I was just going for a walk," you stammered, scrambling for an excuse. Taehyung raised an eyebrow, his gaze unwavering.

"Without putting your shoes on?"

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of Taehyung's scrutiny bearing down on you. "I couldn't sleep," you admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I needed some fresh air to clear my head.” You repeat yourself, but you know that you can’t fool him no matter what.

Taehyung's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he shrugged, as if dismissing the matter altogether. "Well, you certainly know how to make an exit," he remarked, his smirk never faltering.

You forced a weak smile, trying to mask the unease bubbling inside you. "Guess I've always had a flair for the dramatic," you quipped, though the words rang hollow in your ears.

Taehyung chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "That you do, Peaches. That you do," he said cryptically, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and something else you couldn't quite decipher.

"You know, Namjoon doesn't like it when his... family goes missing," he said, the emphasis on 'family' making you flinch. He took a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke in a lazy stream.

You clenched your fists, feeling trapped. "I'm not missing," you said, your voice firmer than before. "I'm right here."

"I'd probably get a head start if I were you." Taehyung nodded slowly, as if considering your words.

Your heart pounded in your chest. "A head start?"

He took another drag, the smirk never leaving his lips. "I'm not a monster, Peaches. I'll give you a five-minute head start before I come after you."

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks. He was actually giving you a chance to run, but this time you would know someone was after you. You glanced around, calculating your options. The streets were empty, but you knew they wouldn't stay that way for long.

"Five minutes, Peaches. Starting now."

You turned and ran, your bare feet slapping against the pavement. The adrenaline coursed through your veins as you sprinted down the alley, knowing that Taehyung's smirk was etched in your mind.

You didn't know where you were going, but you knew you had to get as far away as possible. Everything blurred as you pushed yourself to run faster, the sound of your heartbeat drowning out everything else.

If you hide well, he can't find you, can he? You just have to find yourself a place to hide until morning and then you can wait till sunrise, get to the airport and fly to the first destination that will pop up.

You could feel the cold concrete scraping your feet, but the pain was a distant echo compared to the urgency of escape. You glanced over your shoulder, half-expecting to see Taehyung's figure emerging from the shadows, but for now, you were alone.

The five minutes neared their end, and you knew you couldn't stay hidden forever. You had to keep moving, keep putting distance between you and Taehyung. Peering through the leaves, you scanned the area, your mind racing through possible routes and hiding spots.

"If I don’t bring you back, he'll come instead, Peaches!" Taehyung's voice echoed through, taunting you.

"You don't want to anger him, do you now?"

You needed a plan, and fast. Glancing around, you noticed a narrow passageway between two buildings, just wide enough for you to squeeze through. It might lead you to a different part of the neighborhood, giving you a chance to lose Taehyung in the labyrinth of backstreets.

You bolted towards the passageway, your bare feet slapping against the cold pavement. The alley was narrow and dark, but you pushed forward, heart pounding in your chest. Every shadow seemed to move, every sound amplified in the stillness of the night.

"They all run at first, Peaches—" Taehyung's voice echoed, closer now. "You're cute thinking you have a chance to get away."

It was way too narrow even if you put your bag down from your shoulder and dragged it as you tried to squeeze through. Every shadow seemed to move, every sound amplified in the stillness of the night, and you were scared that he would get to you soon. You knew he was out there, somewhere, searching for you.

"Although, my mind is troubled. Why, out of all of them, do you run?" There was a pause, then a chuckle.

You pushed yourself harder, feeling the rough brick walls scrape against your skin. You needed to keep moving, but you also needed a moment to think. The airport was too far, especially when they were already looking for you. You thought you were clever to disappear through the window as if you were in some cheesy cliché movie.

"Namjoon-hyung was always good to you, wasn't he?" He was. Until the moment someone else's brain was blown up by him right in front of you, simply because of his possessiveness while he never made you two exclusive. Or at least you thought so, as it showed—you were claimed by him sooner than you actually realized. You felt the panic rising in your chest, threatening to overwhelm you.

"You have no reason to run, Peaches," Taehyung's voice was taunting, echoing off the walls. "Namjoon-hyung will be so disappointed when he finds out how far you've gone." You ignored the majority of his words, focusing on finding a way out.

You closed your eyes and tried to think harder this time. The old train yard—bingo—it was on the outskirts of the city. It was abandoned, a place where few people ventured. If you could make it there, you might be able to find a boxcar to hide in until morning.

"Family doesn't abandon family, Peaches!" You heard his voice again, this time more distant.

Emerging from the passageway, you found yourself in a small courtyard. It was littered with old furniture and discarded trash; the smell was awful, but you didn't have time to dwell on that.

You listened intently, straining to hear any sign of Taehyung. The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant hum of traffic and the occasional bark of a dog.

You stuck to the shadows, moving as quietly as possible. The train yard was a long way off, but it was your best shot at staying out of immediate reach. Or so you thought.

You couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Every rustle of leaves, every distant footstep made you jump. You forced yourself to stay calm, to focus on the path ahead. Panicking would only slow you down.

The city's edge came into view, the silhouette of the train yard looming in the distance. You quickened your pace, the sight of your potential sanctuary giving you a burst of energy. You crossed the threshold into the yard, the rusted tracks and abandoned cars offering a twisted sense of comfort.

An old boxcar with the door slightly ajar beckoned to you. You slipped inside, the smell of rust and decay filling your nostrils. You closed the door behind you, plunging the space into darkness. It was cramped and musty, but it was hidden.

Sinking to the floor, you allowed yourself a moment to breathe. Your body ached, your feet throbbed, but you had made it. For now, you were safe. You could only hope that Taehyung would give up the chase, or at least lose your trail long enough for you to figure out your next move.

The sound of gravel crunching outside the boxcar woke you up and consequently made your heart jump into your throat. You held your breath, straining to listen. The footsteps were deliberate and slow, echoing through the stillness of the night.

You held your breath, trying to remain as quiet as possible. The footsteps drew closer, each crunch of gravel sending a shockwave through your body. Your mind raced with possibilities. Was it Taehyung? Or perhaps someone else stumbling upon your hiding spot?

"I seriously don't understand why you didn't throw her over your shoulder and take her back to her room." The older male shot him a glare.

"Oh come the fuck on, you're one to talk." It was Taehyung's voice, laced with frustration and annoyance.

“I did not lose her, I gave her choice and she chose wrong, she’ll be back though, in no time.” The younger one scoffed and Taehyung quirked his brows, evidently amused by his brother.

"Well, at least that was my woman I lost and not our Hyung's." The tattooed heartthrob spat his friend's way when he heard his scoff.

"This isn't really my job. I'm only doing this because Namjoon cares about her too much to leave someone incompetent to watch her until he'll come back."

“Or you’re the only one without a woman, Tae.” You heard a little thump as if he jokingly punched him and the other voice chuckled. But first and foremost –

Namjoon's away. He did not come for you as he's away, and if away means out of the state, you have a bigger chance to make an exit than you originally thought.

Seeing him would only make things worse. Listening to his sweet melodies of words would make you doubt what Taehyung initiated—you have no reason to run. Apart from that, you do. He was deeply entrenched in the world of organized crime, his life a constant dance between power and peril. While his charming demeanor and enigmatic presence had drawn you in, you knew that his lifestyle came with its own set of risks and consequences.

He operated in the shadows, his actions dictated by a code of loyalty to his comrades and ruthlessness towards his enemies. At least that's what you heard people talk about the Jungs and their family man.

You didn't think there was room for innocence. But were you innocent? You had blood on your hands. Jinyoung's. You had been complicit in his demise. While it wasn't you who pulled the trigger, you were the motive.

As the voices grew louder, you strained to make out what they were saying. The sound of footsteps approached the boxcar, each one sending a jolt of fear through you. Were they getting closer? Were they about to open the door and drag you out into the open?

"I did not expect her to play the game that well, I have to give her that," Taehyung remarked, his voice tinged with admiration. Your heart raced as you listened to their conversation.

"Smart, just like he is."

The footsteps came to a stop just outside the boxcar, and you braced yourself for the door to swing open at any moment. Every nerve in your body was on edge, ready to flee at the first sign of danger.

But instead of the door creaking open, the voices began to fade away, the gravel crunching underfoot growing softer as they moved further away. Relief washed over you in waves, but you remained cautious, waiting until the sound of their footsteps had disappeared entirely before allowing yourself to relax.

You stayed hidden in the darkness of the boxcar, unsure of how much time had passed. Eventually, the adrenaline began to ebb, leaving you exhausted and drained. You were scared that they were waiting outside and the moment you decided to move places would be fatal for you.

The growl in your stomach was loud, echoing in the empty boxcar. You hadn't eaten in what felt like an eternity, and the gnawing hunger was beginning to take its toll. Despite the fear that they might be lying in wait, you knew you couldn't stay here forever or you'd die of hunger very soon.

Despite the fear that they might be lying in wait, you knew you couldn't stay here forever. Peeking through the small gap, you scanned the area. The night was still, and there was no sign of Taehyung or anyone else.

Slipping out of the boxcar, you kept to the shadows, moving quietly and quickly. You needed to find food, but more importantly, you needed to find a safer place to hide. If you couldn't reach the airport, you'd have to wait somewhere until you were considered off the radar. Would Namjoon lose his interest if he knew you were gone for good? You hoped so, but you also strongly doubted that. The man had had his eyes set on you for three years or so, without ever losing interest in you.

The city was vast, with many nooks and crannies where you could potentially evade capture, but you moved in the dead of the night cautiously. Slowly closing the distance between the convenience store at least ten blocks from your home, its lights were still on and you thanked the almighty, or more so the 24 hour market in front of you.

The store seemed deserted, only a shabby-looking man in his mid-thirties sitting behind the counter, half asleep. You slipped inside, quickly grabbing some food and water before leaving to pay at the counter. When the doorbell rang indicating that a customer entered the small store, you froze in place.

You ducked behind a shelf, hoping the dim lighting and cluttered aisles would conceal you. Peering through a gap between products, you saw a figure enter. You may be paranoid but you wouldn't take the risk when you had managed to not be caught for what seemed like hours. You knew better.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the sound of your heartbeat almost louder than the growling stomach from earlier. You clutched the food tightly, muscles tense, waiting for the perfect moment to quickly throw the few bucks on the counter and make your leave. You straightened a little.

It wasn't him. It was just a person that resembled him. With a rush of relief, you moved to the counter. The shabby-looking clerk barely glanced up as you placed your items down and reached into your pocket for the money. Just as you were about to pay, a hand slammed the money down on the counter in front of you. Your heart skipped a beat and your eyes widened.

You looked up slowly, dread pooling in your stomach. Taehyung stood beside you, his eyes locking onto yours with a cold, triumphant smile.

"My treat," he said smoothly, his voice dripping with mock politeness. You froze, your breath catching in your throat. The clerk, oblivious to the tension, lazily rang up the items and handed the change to Taehyung. He pocketed it without breaking eye contact with you.

You acted rather quickly after you regained your senses, but the exit was blocked by the man you saw earlier. How could you not recognize the famous heartthrob of this decade, Jeon Jungkook? Only a few people knew of his connection to the Jungs, Kims, and Parks.

"Going somewhere?" Jungkook's voice was smooth and exactly identical to the one you heard outside of the boxcar, but there was an edge to it that sent chills down your spine. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his dark eyes fixed on you with a predatory gleam.

Panic surged through you as you realized your escape route was cut off. You glanced around the store, searching for another way out, but Taehyung's hand clamped down on your arm, his grip firm and unyielding.

The clerk did not care to intervene; he knew their faces and what they represented. One girl was not worth the trouble for him.

"Let's go," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. You had no choice but to follow, your mind racing with thoughts of escape. As you stepped out of the store, the chilly night air hit you, a stark contrast to the suffocating presence of Taehyung beside you. You scanned the street for any potential way out, but Taehyung's grip on your arm tightened, steering you toward a nearby alley.

You stumbled slightly, trying to keep pace with him. The alley was dark and narrow, the perfect place for someone to disappear. Desperation surged through you, fueling your determination. You had to find a way out of this.

"You lasted more than I expected, Peaches. I have to give you that." You fought to suppress the shiver that threatened to run down your spine. Taehyung's voice, usually smooth and melodic, now held an edge of something darker, something sinister.

"But it's time to go home."

The weight of his intentions pressed down on you like a heavy stone. You did not know what home he was speaking of. Your home? Namjoon's home? You'd never been there; you couldn't know what home he meant. But something told you that wherever he'd take you, "home" would be a gilded cage, a place of confinement disguised as comfort.

You remained silent, your jaw clenched in defiance as you continued to walk, your eyes darting around the alley for any sign of escape. But every corner seemed to lead to another dead end, and the walls closed in around you like a vice.

Tears welled up in your eyes as the desperation hit your nerves. Taehyung's grip tightened slightly, as if warning you against any further attempts at escape.

"There was no need to run, Peaches." Wasn't there? You stopped to think for a minute. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

With a sudden burst of strength, you twisted out of Taehyung's grip and bolted. The sound of his shout echoed behind you, but you didn't look back. You darted through the maze of backstreets, your only goal to put as much distance between you and Taehyung as possible.

Reaching a dead end, you spotted a fire escape ladder. Without a second thought, you began climbing, your fingers slipping on the cold metal. You reached the rooftop, not daring to look back as you sprinted across the gravel. The cityscape stretched before you, a chaotic playground of rooftops and danger.

You leaped from one building to the next, each landing jarring your bones, but you couldn't stop. You heard Taehyung's voice calling your name, a mix of frustration and anger, but you didn't dare slow down. You reached the edge of a particularly wide gap between buildings and hesitated, just a split second too long.

A strong arm wrapped around your waist, yanking you back. You thrashed, but the grip was unyielding. Jungkook's face came into view, his expression grim. He was faster than Taehyung, and you knew your chances to outrun him were slight, but you still hoped.

"You can't run forever, Peaches," he said quietly, almost regretfully. You could hear Taehyung's leather boots stomping against the roof's concrete and his ragged breath in unison.

You struggled, kicking and clawing, but he held firm. Your heart sank as the reality of the situation set in. Just then, you heard the uncomfortable digital sound of the Motorola flip phone that was in Taehyung's hand once he stopped in front of you.

"Hmm?" Taehyung answered the phone and ended the gut-wrenching sound. You knew who was on the other side of the line. Jungkook still held you securely, his eyes never leaving yours.

There was a pause, and then he handed you the phone.

"Your Mr. Man wants to speak to you."

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of the phone heavy in your hand. With a deep breath, you brought it to your ear, steeling yourself for the inevitable confrontation with Namjoon.

"Hello?" Your voice trembled slightly, betraying the fear and uncertainty swirling within you.

"You're losing sleep, love," he said, his tone smooth but laced with a menacing undertone. You took a shaky breath.

"S-so are you." He chuckled. You bit the inside of your lip out of nerves.

"I'd sleep better if you came back to me like the good girl I know you are."

The mixture of his charm and underlying threat was intoxicating and terrifying.

"I can't, Namjoon," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I can't live like this anymore. I never wanted to live like this, and you knew that."

"Life is just about to begin for you, love—" he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Our life," he added, and your grip tightened around the phone.

"What does that even mean?" you demanded, a mix of anger and desperation coloring your words.

"It means," he began, his voice smooth yet chilling, "that whatever you fear, we'll figure this out together."

"Please, Namjoon," you begged, your voice barely a whisper. "Let me go. I can't. I just can't," you cried out.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and you held your breath, hoping against hope that he might relent. Your heart pounded with a mix of fear and helplessness.

"Freedom is an illusion, love," he said, almost gently. "The only freedom you'll ever have is with me. Now, come back. We'll talk this through, and I promise you, everything will be fine. Just trust me."

"Namjoon—"

"Peaches—" he quickly interrupted your attempt to plead again.

"Don't make me take harsher measures to ensure you'll come back to me." His tone grew colder, the underlying threat unmistakable.

"Wh-what are you talking about?" you asked, a tremor in your voice.

"You know what I can do. It would be a shame if the same thing happened to someone else you care about." His words hung in the air, heavy with menace.

You looked at Jungkook and Taehyung, their faces impassive yet resolute. They were ready to enforce Namjoon's will, no matter the cost.

"Why are you doing this to me?" you asked, voice quivering.

"We can talk about that once you come home," Namjoon replied, his voice smooth but unyielding.

"Namjoon, please..." you started, desperation lacing your words.

"Enough, Peaches," he cut you off sharply. "You know what's at stake. I expect you back within an hour. Hand the phone to Taehyung."

With a heavy heart, you handed the phone back to Taehyung. He took it, his eyes filled with a mix of pity, but you didn't think it was genuine. You felt Jungkook's grip loosen slightly, but not enough to let you go.

Taehyung listened to Namjoon for a moment, then nodded. "Understood," he said before hanging up. He looked at you, his expression resigned.

"Let's go," he said softly.

You don't even know how you managed to fall asleep in the car. They took your bag, draped a warm blanket over you, and sat you down on the back seat. You did not protest anymore, even though the thought of jumping out of the car went through your head briefly.

You thought of your father, your friends, and everyone you ever met and cared for when he took the ultimate move that would make you leave everything in a heartbeat. You don't want more blood on your hands.

At the same time, you could not understand why Namjoon would take such harsh measures. This wasn't the Namjoon you knew—heck, you don't even know if you ever knew that man.

The lavish room surrounding you was magnificent and screaming one name: Namjoon. Even his scent was clinging to every single piece of the room. The silk sheets clung to your skin, and you couldn't help but close your eyes again. The morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, casting a golden hue across the room.

You could hear the audible difference in your surroundings. The Bronx had a distinctive hum, a chaotic symphony of life and struggle. But this—this was different. The sounds outside the open window were unmistakably Manhattan. The distant buzz of traffic, the occasional honk of a horn, and the muffled chatter of people far below created a stark contrast to the quiet tension inside.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. Every moment spent here felt like a betrayal to the life you once knew, the people you once loved. But escape wasn't just about physical freedom—it was about breaking free from the psychological chains Namjoon had wrapped around you.

You did not know whether you weren't running for the hills now because this oddly feels like you are meant to be here or because you don't know if you should. You spent a lot of time rolling around and thinking about this. You had not come to a conclusion yet. You'd only decided that you would give him the courtesy to talk after all the years that he and his family supported you by giving you a job.

With that resolve, you climbed out of bed, feeling the weight of silk sheets slipping away. The cold floor sent a shiver up your spine, bringing you fully awake. You made your way to the bathroom, the reflection in the mirror staring back at you. You need a haircut, maybe even a new hair color.

The shower's hot water provided a temporary refuge, washing away the grime and tension of the past few days. After drying off, you dressed in clothes Namjoon had probably laid out for you—an unspoken reminder of his control.

You entered the kitchen, where the aroma of breakfast hung in the air. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the rich aroma of bacon and eggs, momentarily distracting you. You were starving.

As you moved further into the room, a sudden noise made you jump. Startled, you turned to see a figure in a white chef's uniform bustling about the kitchen. He looked up, his eyes widening in surprise as he saw you.

"Good morning, Misses Kim," he said with a polite nod. "I didn't expect you to be up so early.” The title he used sent a shiver down your spine. Misses Kim. It was as if the walls were closing in, suffocating you with the weight of an identity that wasn’t yours to claim. You overlooked yourself and your attire.

You could see your bra-less breasts and perky nipples through that white tanktop, but the chef was trained well enough to not look that way. He would most likely be beheaded by Namjoon if he would dare to look that way.

"Good morning," you replied, your voice tinged with a mix of nerves and hunger. You forced a small smile.

The chef, a middle-aged man with kind eyes, set down the spatula he was holding and wiped his hands on a towel. "My name is Seo Kang-joon, Misses Kim. I'm Sajangnim's private chef—" you figured that much. Of course that man has a private chef when he cannot boil a potato for the love of God.

"He tasked me to make you some breakfast and tell you he'll be with you shortly," he explained, gesturing to the array of food laid out on the counter.

You nodded, taking a seat at the kitchen island. Your stomach growled audibly, and despite the chaos in your mind, the food before you was an undeniable lure. You picked up a piece of toast, buttering it slowly as Kang-joon resumed his work.

"How long have you been working for Namjoon?" you asked, trying to fill the silence with something other than your own anxious thoughts.

Kang-joon glanced up from the stove, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "About three years now," he replied. "I've switched with my Appa; he was working for the Kims for two generations and now it's my turn—"

"That's a long time," you said, taking a bite of the toast, the warmth of the food providing a small comfort.

"Yes, it is," he agreed, his voice gentle. "Namjoon is a good employer, he's always treated us fairly. And he cares about you a great deal—"

"I've seen you before, didn't I?" you interrupted, suddenly recalling a moment that had slipped through your mind like sand.

"At the private party last month. You were serving food, right?"

Kang-joon nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yes, that was me. I remember seeing you there, although you were quite busy too—"

You were supposed to be waitressing the tables, plural, yet you only waitressed one table that night. As per usual.

"Yep, that was my reality, I guess," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Before all of this."

Kang-joon's expression turned somber, and he stopped cooking momentarily.

"Namjoon doesn't let anyone near you, but I've seen how happy you make him. He's different around you." Of course he thinks so. You don't blame him for his inability to see through this. It's not his place.

You fell silent, pondering his words. The chaos of Namjoon's life and the dark undercurrents that surrounded him felt suffocating. "But at what cost?" you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

"He means well—" he paused his thought and got silent, and you knew that means only one thing.

"I appreciate your loyalty to him," you said, forcing a smile that felt brittle on your lips.

"Good morning, love," he said, his voice deep and commanding. His eyes darted between you and Kang-joon, who stood with a spatula in hand, caught in the moment. "I hope you're both having a pleasant chat."

Kang-joon bowed slightly, and you could see the way he was careful to keep his composure, even as the atmosphere shifted with Namjoon's presence. "I was just finishing up breakfast, Sajangnim," he said politely. "Miss Kim and I were discussing your—"

"Thank you, Kang-joon," Namjoon interrupted, his tone suggesting a mixture of gratitude and an underlying tension. "I can take it from here."

The air felt thick, heavy with unspoken words. You looked at him, wanting to scream, wanting to run, wanting to demand answers.

"Did you sleep well?" Namjoon asked, his voice softer now, as if he was trying to breach the walls that had begun to rise between you.

You nursed your coffee in the black ceramic mug while you shrugged, keeping the answer with spice in it for yourself just yet. His brow furrowed, and for a moment, you could see the cracks in his façade when you didn't answer.

"I see... silent treatment," he gulped down, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. Pouring himself a cup of coffee too, he leaned on the counter right in front of you. You took his appearance in. He got a buzz cut, creamy satin shirt tucked in leather pants. A few of the buttons were undone, giving you a perfect view of his toned chest.

"Is that really how you want to start the day?" he provoked. You set the mug down, the clink of ceramic against marble echoing in the tension-filled kitchen.

"Did you ask yourself the same question when you threatened me?" you shot back, your voice rising slightly as the memories flooded back. The anger surged within you, igniting a fire that had been smoldering since the moment you woke up in his penthouse.

Namjoon's expression shifted, the warmth in his eyes replaced by a flicker of defensiveness.

"Well, you for some reason seemed too adamant that you needed to patrol the streets of Bronx by running away from me. I know you too damn well, Peaches; I know where you were headed."

The words stung, each syllable laced with accusation and an unsettling truth. Your heart raced, the anger bubbling just below the surface.

"You know fucking shit, Namjoon—"

"Oppa," he jumped in, his voice firm, yet tinged with a note of caution.

You inhaled sharply, the familiar term slicing through the tension like a knife. It reminded you of the intimate moments you once shared. "You've lost that honorific the moment you decided to threaten me and kill that man right in front of my eyes!"

Namjoon's jaw clenched, and you could see the conflict brewing beneath his composed exterior.

"You don't understand the kind of world I'm in. We protect ours."

"Protect?" you spat, feeling the heat of betrayal wash over you.

"I'm a person who deserves to make her own choices—" He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing.

"What choices are you making? Running off into the night like it's some kind of adventure? You think that's brave? I refuse to let you get hurt because you're unhappy with my decisions."

"Oh yeah, like something would happen to me—"

"You are my woman, and people know that you are, Peaches!" he declared, his voice rising with intensity, as if the weight of his words was meant to command respect from the universe itself.

Your heart raced at his proclamation, a mix of anger and something softer twisting in your gut.

"The fuck you're talking about, Namjoon?" You snapped, your voice echoing off the sleek kitchen walls. Anger surged within you, fueled by the sheer audacity of his claim.

"Not fucking once did you say that we ought to be official one day—" you shot back, your voice dripping with disbelief.

"You act like I'm some sort of possession, something you can just claim without any conversation or commitment!" Namjoon's expression hardened, a flicker of frustration flashing in his eyes.

"You need to stop pretending like we don't have a future because you're scared of the past," he said, smashing the mug down on the counter. Namjoon's jaw tightened, and the conflict in his eyes was palpable.

"Since we met, not fucking once have you made your intentions strictly clear, Namjoon! The fuck am I doing here then?!" The words burst from your lips, raw and unfiltered, echoing in the tense space between you.

He ran a hand over his face, visibly struggling to keep his composure.

"I thought you knew. I thought you felt it too," he replied, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "I thought it was understood that it was a matter of time."

"Understood?" you scoffed, incredulity seeping into your tone. "You think that just because you've made me a part of your life, I should automatically know my place? That's not how it works!"

"I was waiting till you'll—"

"Age of consent is eighteen in this state, Namjoon, keep that bullshit to yourself." Namjoon's expression darkened at your words, and you could see the frustration simmering beneath the surface.

"So you would rather be wifed and knocked up as soon as we met, am I right?"

The air crackled with tension as Namjoon's words hung in the space between you, a provocation that sent shockwaves through your body. You felt your breath hitch, a mixture of shock and anger coursing through you.

"So that's the plan now?" you lowered your voice.

His expression softened for a moment, and you could see the conflict etched across his features. "I thought you'd want that kind of future with me, Peaches. I thought we were on the same page from day one."

Despite Namjoon's willingness to talk, the remnants of fear and frustration churned within you, threatening to spill over. You took a deep breath, trying to ground yourself. Your heart raced, the urge to flee growing stronger. He reached out, grabbing your wrist gently but firmly.

"I love you, baby."

Your heart pounded in your chest at his words, a tumultuous blend of emotions crashing over you. You stood up from the stool you were sitting at, calmly aiming for the door. You didn't know what you were doing with this lame attempt to flee.

"Hey—" he shouted, but you did not stop. You could feel Namjoon's gaze burning into your back as you moved toward the door, his loud steps right behind you making you speed up the process.

You couldn't stop. The need to escape overwhelmed you, propelling you forward. You flung the door open, the sharp sound echoing in the silence that followed.

"Peaches!" he shouted again, his voice rising with urgency and desperation. The door rattled on its hinges as he leaned against it, trying to process what had just happened.

"Damn it!" he cursed under his breath, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He knew he had pushed too hard, but he couldn't help it.

You trembled under him, still facing the door while his arm was outstretched, palms on the door, blocking you from opening it again. Your breath quickened as you stood there, the cool metal of the doorknob biting into your palm. You could feel Namjoon's presence behind you.

"Let me go, Namjoon," you demanded, your voice steady but wavering just slightly. The pounding of your heart felt like a war drum, urging you to flee, to escape this suffocating moment.

"You would come back to me nonetheless." You turned around to face him, your expression a blend of defiance and vulnerability.

"What makes you think I would?" you shot back, turning slightly to glance over your shoulder at him. The intensity in his eyes made your pulse quicken, a mixture of anger and confusion swirling within you.

"Because you love me back—" He leaned down, not giving you time to argue, and seized the chance to crash his lips down on yours for the first time.

His hands grabbed onto your hips, pulling you closer, the heat from his body seeping into yours. Your heart raced, the adrenaline coursing through your veins as his tongue danced with yours in a heated embrace.

Namjoon's fingers dug into your skin, his grip firm yet tender, as if he was trying to brand you as his own. The kiss was raw, primal, and all-consuming, leaving you both breathless and wanting more.

Namjoon's eyes locked onto yours, the fire within them burning brighter than ever before. With a low growl, he pulled you close again, his lips crashing down on yours once more as the world around you continued to spin.

As the kiss broke, Namjoon pulled away, his eyes burning with intensity.

"I'm not done being angry," you said, your voice low but unwavering. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and it both thrilled and terrified you.

Namjoon's brow furrowed slightly, surprise mingling with the intensity in his gaze. "I know that," he replied, his tone shifting, becoming more serious.

"Good," you spoke right to his lips, your heart still racing from the kiss. The mix of confusion and desire swirled within you, and you struggled to keep your composure.

The cognac brown couch was very comfortable, its soft cushions inviting you to sink in and relax. A glass coffee table with sleek chrome legs stood in front of it, its surface adorned with a stack of art books, a few scattered magazines, and a vintage crystal ashtray. So Namjoon.

A large, floor-to-ceiling window occupied one side of the room, offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline. A Persian rug, with intricate patterns in deep reds and blues, covered the polished hardwood floor, adding a touch of warmth and history to the contemporary space. Again, so Namjoon.

He was crouched down by the fireplace that dominated the place, his back to you. The fire cast a warm, flickering glow across the room, its light dancing over Namjoon's broad shoulders. He started the fire because he saw you shivering. But that had nothing to do with you being cold, and deep down he knew that too. He seemed lost in thought, his fingers idly tracing patterns on the floor as he stared into the flames.

You walked over to him, your footsteps silent on the plush rug. As you approached, Namjoon turned slightly, his eyes meeting yours. You sat down next to him.

"So, how do you imagine all this working?" you asked, your voice gentle yet tinged with the underlying frustration you felt.

Namjoon sighed, rubbing his temples with his fingers. "Just like it did till now."

You frowned slightly, shaking your head.

"So I'm gonna go back to working in Anubis and you are going to keep shooting everyone who gets closer to me?!" you said, a bit harsher than you intended. Namjoon's eyes flashed with a mix of frustration.

"You are not coming back to work in Anubis, let's start with that," he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument.

"My oh my, now you want to take the source of my income too." Namjoon shifted slightly, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. There was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes.

"You're my woman, Peaches. You don't need to work for money anymore," he started, his voice steady and filled with conviction.

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "You can't be serious."

"Women in our clan don't work for decades, my woman is not gonna work either. At least not like that—" You narrowed your eyes, feeling a mixture of disbelief and intrigue at his declaration.

"That's not who I am, Namjoon." He leaned in closer, the firelight casting a warm glow over his chiseled features.

"Baby, I'm not asking you. I'm offering you the life you always deserved." He sighed, running a hand through his hair, frustration evident on his face.

"I've always been able to take care of myself."

“So now let me take care of you, sweetling.”

Your mind raced as you considered his words. The allure of a life without the constant threat of violence, without the stress of making ends meet, was tempting. But was it worth giving up your autonomy?

“You can still pursue your passions. I’m not taking that away from you,—” Namjoon paused, his expression softening.

“But no Anubis,” he took your hands into his.

“What do you want?” You asked quietly. He held your gaze, the firelight flickering across his face, illuminating the resolve etched in his features.

“I think I made my intentions strictly clear today.” He chuckled and exhaled slowly, his breath warm against your skin.

“I’m not just talking about safety and comfort, Peaches. I’m talking about us. About building a life together.”

You searched his eyes for any sign of insincerity, but all you found was determination.

“You want me to be your… what, exactly?” You knew, you just still didn’t want to believe it.

Namjoon leaned back slightly, still holding your hands, his thumb brushing against your skin in a soothing rhythm. “I want you to be mine—”

“Mind and body, heart and soul.” Namjoon's voice was low and earnest, each word weighted with sincerity.

You swallowed hard, trying to process the depth of what he was asking. “You mean… you want me to commit completely? To be yours in every sense?”

“And I’ll be yours.” He nodded, his eyes unwavering, filled with a mixture of affection and intensity. You felt a rush of emotions—a blend of excitement and fear.

“I can give you a life where you don’t have to look over your shoulder, where you can focus on what truly matters to you—your dreams, your passions, us.”

The promise of safety and love hung heavy in the air between you, and while the thought was tempting, a part of you still clung to your independence. It would be nice not to work long night hours in a bar full of drunk people to make ends meet. Not walking home with keys in your hand in case someone would jump you over or worse. Not living in a small old rusty apartment with your father who barely brought any income home.

The fire crackled softly, and you could feel the warmth radiating from it, mirroring the warmth blooming in your chest.

“I need time.” Namjoon’s expression shifted, his jaw tightening slightly as he processed your words. But he didn’t let go of your hands. Instead, he brought them to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, his gaze unwavering.

“Time,” he echoed, the word almost foreign as it left his mouth. “You already had plenty of time.” The firelight cast shadows across his face, emphasizing the intensity etched into every line.

“You think time will change how you feel? Or how much I want you?” You felt a tremor run through you at the weight of his words. It was suffocating and yet strangely comforting, like a trap laced with silk, binding you softly but securely.

“No, Namjoon, I’m just—” Namjoon’s fingers brushed along your jawline, tipping your face up so that you met his gaze directly.

“I get that this must be overwhelming for you, but the time you are asking for is already up and done—”

“I didn’t know it was ticking,” you began, voice barely more than a whisper. Namjoon tilted his head, studying you, his lips quirking into a small, almost understanding smile.

“No more hidden exits, no more plans to escape. I want you here, with me, committed… without looking for a way out. And in return, I’ll take care of you and your father. That’s my promise to you.”

The warmth in his eyes almost made you believe that he meant well, that beneath the possessive intensity was a genuine desire to protect and love. Yet a lingering voice inside you warned that this love would be an all-consuming fire—one that would consume every part of you until there was nothing left to call your own.

Your mind was racing for the answer. If you say yes, you may as well forget who you were, but perhaps you will find yourself where you always wanted to be. Someone. But what if you say no?

“What if I won’t agree, Namjoon?” You asked, scared for the answer. Namjoon’s gaze darkened, the softness slipping away as his grip tightened just enough for you to feel the control he had over the situation. He leaned in, his lips grazing your ear, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Peaches, let's not pretend that you really have a choice here." His tone was calm, as if explaining something simple, obvious, like the inevitability of night following day.

"Your father," he began slowly, each word dripping with calculated weight, "he's in no position to take care of himself, is he? Without you, what would he do? You've been carrying his burden for years, haven't you? Always working to support him, protecting him, making sure he's safe…"

His voice lowered, softening almost to a whisper, but it was filled with a quiet menace. "But if you refuse me… well, who do you think is going to keep him safe then?"

You felt your heart hammer in your chest, dread creeping into every corner of your mind as you took in his words. This was the second time he was threatening your father.

"What is wrong with you?" You said coldly, staring daggers at his pretty face.

"What's wrong with me?" he echoed, voice laced with a faint, mocking laugh. "I'm doing what needs to be done, Peaches. I'm making sure you understand the lengths I'm willing to go to keep you by my side. You think I'd just stand by and watch you slip away? Again?"

He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch featherlight but loaded with a silent threat. "I know you love your father," he murmured, voice a dangerous purr. "And that's why I'm reminding you of what's at stake."

You felt anger and fear twist inside you. He let his hand fall, watching your reaction with unsettling calmness, as if daring you to resist. Namjoon had you cornered, and he knew it. Every ounce of control you'd thought you held slipped further from your grasp, his quiet threats carving invisible chains around you.

"Why would you put me in this position?" He sighed, his lips curving into a faint, almost pitying smile as he tilted his head, studying you.

"Because I've been loving you for years, and when I can finally have you, you are trying toplay feminist."

The words hit you like a slap, raw and stinging. You swallowed, unable to look away from the intensity in his eyes. That faint smile on his lips held no warmth; it was twisted with something darker, something possessive.

"Play feminist?" you echoed, your voice wavering with anger and disbelief. "Namjoon, wanting to make my own choices doesn't mean I'm defying you or 'playing' anything. It means I'm a person, with my own will—"

He cut you off, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he shook his head slowly, almost as if you'd amused him.

“Peaches, you still don’t understand, do you? I’m offering you a world where you’re safe, where you don’t have to fight every day to survive. You’d rather keep struggling, keep pretending you’re content living in that cramped one bedroom apartment while your father brings home beer money when you are fighting off every hardship, and here I am, ready to give you the life you deserve.”

His fingers gripped your chin firmly, forcing you to meet his gaze as he leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper but laced with conviction.

“You think you want freedom, independence. But freedom isn’t safe, Peaches. Freedom won’t love you like I do. It won’t sacrifice or protect. It won’t give you everything at the cost of its own soul.”

He released you, letting his hand fall away, his gaze darkening. “This isn’t some game, and it isn’t about principles. It’s about us. And if that means you have to surrender some of that so-called independence, then so be it. I know what’s best for you, Peaches. You just need to stop fighting and see that.”

Namjoon’s gaze shifted to something darker, more resolute, as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box. The firelight glinted off the soft pink morganite stone, antique piece that must have been in his kin for decades, its delicate beauty a stark contrast to the intensity in his eyes. He held it up, his jaw set, the unspoken command clear in the way he presented it to you.

“Peaches,” he murmured, his voice dangerously calm, “will you marry me?”

Before you could even think to pull away, he took your hand firmly, holding it in place as he slid the ring onto your finger. It was cold against your skin, the weight of it foreign and heavy.

“Say yes.” His voice was low, steady, a dangerous edge lurking beneath the calm exterior. His eyes bore into yours, unwavering, challenging you to defy him. “Say it, Peaches. Agree to be mine, completely, or I’ll make sure you lose everything you’ve been holding onto.”

You felt trapped, his hand tightening around yours as if to remind you of his control over the situation. Your heart raced, your throat dry, as the words hovered on the edge of your lips, unable to escape. But he didn’t let go, his fingers pressing into your skin with an unyielding determination.

“Say it,” he repeated, his voice firmer this time, the softness slipping into something harder, more commanding.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, a feeling of resignation sinking deep into your chest as you stared at the ring, its delicate beauty now a symbol of your surrender.

“Yes,” you whispered, the word barely escaping your lips.

A smile spread across Namjoon’s face, slow and triumphant, as he released your hand, the weight of the ring now settling fully onto your finger. He cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that had slipped free, his touch gentle yet possessive.

“There,” he murmured, his voice soft but laced with satisfaction.

“That’s my good girl.”

"Where's my bag?" you start sharply the moment Namjoon walks in, shrugging off the coat from his so-called 'business meeting.' You were obviously not allowed to sit in because women here do not work once they have a ring on their finger. Not like you are dying to be a part of a criminal syndicate that has its roots deeply set in this society. The air between you two is thick, a palpable tension that crackles like static before a storm.

"I looked everywhere, but I cannot seem to find it—"

Successful distilleries may be carrying the Jung name, yet other family members have their own shares of the money capital of the clan, Namjoon not being an exception. His name is presented on each brandy bottle you have had the chance to pour from. But what actually lies under the façade of crystal-clear bottles of whiskey and brandy remains unknown to the upper world.

When you met Namjoon, you didn't see a crime lord. You saw a man with ambition, with a drive that matched yours. But somewhere along the line, his ambition became chains around your wrists, tying you to a life you never chose. That's when you decided that working in Anubis would be only a "college" solution before you would leave the city.

He raises an eyebrow, his expression a mix of surprise and annoyance. "What bag?"

"You know exactly which bag," you snap, stepping closer. Namjoon's eyes darken, his jaw tightening.

"How about we start on lunch?" he suggests, trying to ignore your pleas.

"No," you insist, voice trembling with anger. "I want my bag. I want my money."

"I thought we had settled this last night, didn't we?" he says, his voice low and dangerous.

Your blood boils at his dismissive tone. "Settled? You think you can just placate me and everything will be fine? That money is mine, Namjoon. I earned it."

He steps closer, his presence intimidating but you hold your ground. "Peaches, you ought to be my wife, what's mine is yours. You don't need that money."

You stand firm, not backing down. "Need it or not, it's mine. I worked for it, Namjoon."

Namjoon's eyes narrow, a dangerous glint in them. "You think you can just walk out with that money? You think you can use it to just leave?"

"No, I—" Namjoon steps forward, his eyes cold and calculating. You feel a surge of anger, your hands clenching into fists. "I earned that money, and I deserve to use it as I see fit."

"If you want to spend money, we can go shopping—" His presence overwhelming and oppressive. His words angering you even more.

"SHOPPING?! Are you fucking serious? This isn't about buying things, Namjoon. This is about my life, my choices."

Before you can continue your rambling, he grabs your wrist and pulls you close, his grip like iron. His lips crash onto yours in a bruising, dominating kiss, meant to remind you of his power over you. You struggle, but his hold is unyielding, leaving you breathless and dizzy.

"If you're gonna drop that honorific one more time—" Namjoon's eyes blaze with fury as he keeps you close, his grip almost painful.

"I won't—" you spit out, defiance still burning in your eyes despite the fear gnawing at your insides. "If you give me my money back. I have a right to it." Namjoon laughs coldly, shaking his head.

"Let's just have lunch, Peaches, before I lose my patience completely—" he says, his voice dripping with condescension. You glare at him, refusing to back down.

"Not until you give me my money back." His expression hardens, the cold amusement vanishing.

"You really want to push this, don't you?"

"Yes," you say, your voice unwavering. "Favor for favor, isn't it the mantra y'all go by?" A smirk playing on his lips when you finish the sentence.

"Everything you need, I provide." You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

"I worked for that money, Namjoon. I deserve to have control over it."

He steps closer again, his eyes dancing with amusement as he looks down at you. "Control? You want control? Fine," he says, his voice dripping with condescension.

"I've deposited them into an account I opened in your name, joint with mine, naturally," he says, his words carrying that same cool, possessive edge.

"What?" you gasp, your disbelief palpable. "You what?"

"I will give you your black card," he repeats, his lips curling into a taunting smile "—once you prove not to be a flight risk, baby." Namjoon tilts his head, the smirk never fading. This, in essence, means that every single transaction will be noticed. You will withdraw the money from the card—he will know. You will attempt to transfer them to a different account? He will fucking know. The implications hitting you like a gut punch. Your blood runs cold as his words sink in.

"I'm not stupid, Peaches. I know that we gotta work on our relationship." He steps even closer, his gaze intense, pinning you in place. "Let's work on that trust first, and then you can have money at your disposal."

Your heart beats in your throat, the frustration boiling beneath the surface. Trust? The word feels like a cruel joke coming from him.Trust?

"I'm not one of your assets, Namjoon," you spit out, your voice thick with defiance. "And I won't be treated like one." His towering form casting a shadow over you, and for a moment, his eyes soften, as if he's pitying you.

"You don't have a choice, baby." His tone shifts again, dripping with that same chilling calm.

"When you prove you can stay and play nice, then maybe, just maybe, I'll let you have some freedom with your own damn money." And just like that, he's already begun dictating the terms of your life again, his grip on you tighter than ever before.

The missing duffle bag with your money was among the least of your worries when you realized what else the duffle bag possessed.

"You have my passport, Namjoon, how can I run away?" Namjoon's eyes flicker, the amusement fading slightly, but his smirk doesn't falter. He's been expecting this—he always expects everything.

Namjoon's smile is slow, deliberate, almost cruel. "I've taken what I need to keep you close." Namjoon leans in, his breath warm against your ear, his voice low and dangerous.

"But I am not underestimating your spirit."

You're nauseous, the implication of his words settling over you like a weight you can't shake off. He is holding the strings to everything, but that only made you realize that you had a hell of a lot of thinking and plotting to do to get out of here. And the most intrusive thought back in your head, where you consider staying here and embracing this finally official relationship, has to go—quickly.

"So, what now?" you ask, voice trembling despite your best effort to keep it steady. "You plan on keeping me locked up forever, Namjoon-oppa?" Namjoon only smiles, cold and confident.

"No baby. But I will keep you very close, until I can trust you." Your skin prickles where his fingers brush, but you don't pull away. You can't. The need to stay composed, to not give him the satisfaction of seeing you break, fights against the rising tide of rage and fear in your chest.

"And what do you want me to do to earn it, Namjoon?" you ask, your voice steady despite the turmoil roiling inside you. "Beg? Crawl? Pretend everything is fine when it's not?" He tilts his head, studying you like a puzzle he's piecing together in real time. The silence that follows is thick with tension. He stands so close now that you can feel the heat of his body against yours.

"So, lunch it is then?"

His tone is mockingly light, but there's a sharp edge beneath it when he tries to abandon the conversation, the kind that makes you feel trapped.

The black Mercedes hums smoothly along the Bronx streets, its sleek exterior reflecting the gray clouds above. It's going to snow any day now. Inside, the air is thick with tension, an unspoken understanding between the two passengers.

You sit in the backseat, your fingers nervously gripping the edge of your dress, the smooth fabric barely registering under your touch. Your sunglasses hide the unease in your eyes, but the tightness in your chest is something you can't disguise.

Today feels different.

Namjoon sits beside you in the backseat, his gaze fixed ahead, while his hand is warm on your thigh. You are staring at your shoes. Isn't this what you wanted? To ride in an expensive car, wearing Saint Laurent pointy-toed heels? A form-fitting dress with a high neck reveals your figure subtly, and the hungry look Namjoon gave you when you stepped out of the wardrobe did not go unnoticed. Something feels different, as if you're playing dress-up. The allure of the life Namjoon offers, it all feels strangely distant.

You eye him carefully—his black turtleneck is tailored to fit perfectly, sleek and minimalistic. Over it, a black suit jacket, structured but not overly stiff, gives him a commanding presence. His black slacks match the simplicity and power of his look, polished and clean.

The cold air bites against your skin, and you instinctively pull your coat tighter around your shoulders, trying to shield yourself from the chill that seems to creep through the thin fabric of your dress.

"Thank you for letting me see my father," you whisper, your voice barely audible, yet heavy with meaning.

"You don't have to thank me—" he says quietly, his voice low, almost intimate. His gaze doesn't soften, but there's something in the way he stands, commanding yet calm, that makes your heart race. The chill of the early morning seems to deepen, pressing in on you, yet you're acutely aware of the warmth of his presence, the heat of his body just a little too close.

"I couldn't have kept you from seeing him," Namjoon continues, his tone flat, as if he's simply stating a fact.

"But keep in mind that this is a privilege—you misbehave, you won't see him." His eyes lock with yours, not with malice, but with a cold certainty that makes your heart flutter uncomfortably in your chest. The last thing you want now is to provoke him further, to find out just how far his power reaches.

"Engaged?!" disbelief and shock etched into the features of your father when you sat down at the kitchen table after you collected some of the things you wished to take with you. You nod, your heart racing.

"Yes, Dad. It just happened. I wanted you to know first." Your father's gaze shifts to Namjoon, his face a storm of emotions—anger, disbelief, worry.

"Peaches, do you know what you're doing? This man is nearly a decade older than you," he whispers your way, his voice trembling with concern.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "It's not that big, Dad. I know it's a lot to take in, but Namjoon and I—we're serious about this." You never knew how good you were at lying until today. Your father's eyes narrow, his gaze flicking between you and Namjoon.

"When did this relationship even happen? Is he holding you against your will?!" he demands, his tone a mix of frustration and disbelief. Your smile freezes for a moment, and you try your best not to give yourself away.

"No, Dad, that happens only in movies," you reply, attempting a light-hearted tone to deflect his suspicion. Maybe this is what Namjoon meant by earning trust.

Your father's gaze remains hard, but he doesn't push further. Instead, he turns to Namjoon, his voice cold and edged with protectiveness. "You better take care of her, Namjoon. If anything happens to her, I won't forgive you."

Namjoon smiles proudly at you, almost missing your father's harsh words. His confidence in you seems unshaken.

"You have my word," he replies simply, and you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, staring at the shiny peachy morganite.

You were never religious enough to step foot in a church after you were christened as a baby. Your parents were indifferent to faith, more focused on the struggles of daily life than spiritual obligations. But your now husband-to-be came from very religious kin, and he himself was a God's worshipper. Ironic enough when he managed to break the Ten Commandments before sipping his morning coffee.

His family, deeply rooted in tradition and devout faith, expected nothing less than a grand celebration steeped in religious customs. The thought of walking down an aisle, flanked by stained glass and the scent of incense, felt foreign and overwhelming.

The morning sun poured into the grand church, illuminating the ornate stained glass that depicted scenes of devotion and reverence. As you and Namjoon stepped through the heavy wooden doors, a wave of warmth enveloped you, mingling with the scent of polished wood and candle wax. It felt like stepping into another world, one where faith and family intertwined seamlessly.

You could see familiar faces sitting on the wooden benches. Kim Taehyung smirking your way when he glanced at your hand interlocked with Namjoon's. He was sitting next to Mr. Jung, whom you recognized by his mullet, and the next seat was occupied by the one and only Mrs. Jung, whom you hadn't seen for a good amount of time. There were also some faces that you did not recognize, yet they still felt familiar to you. You couldn't help but notice the way the Kims and Jungs interacted, the warmth of their bonds evident in the way they smiled, laughed, and shared stories during the prayers. Their camaraderie was infectious, and for a fleeting moment, you found yourself longing for that sense of belonging.

As the service began, the congregation settled into a peaceful quiet, the sounds of rustling papers and shifting bodies fading into the background. The priest took his place at the altar, his voice echoing through the high ceilings as he began to speak about love, commitment, and the sacred bonds of marriage. Each word resonated deeply within you, pulling at your heartstrings as you thought of your impending union. As it was explained to you, this Mass was held as the announcement of your engagement—one of many traditions they had.

Namjoon sat beside you, his presence a constant reminder of the promise you had made. You could feel his gaze on you, intense and unwavering, as if he were silently urging you to embrace this new chapter of your life. But the weight of that ring on your finger felt heavier than ever in this moment.

"Love is not merely a feeling; it's a choice," the priest's voice boomed, and you glanced at Namjoon, catching the flicker of expectation in his eyes. "It's a daily commitment to one another, a promise to uphold each other through trials and triumphs alike."

You shifted in your seat, feeling the heat of his gaze on you like a physical presence. You wondered if love really was a choice—or if, in your case, it was a bargain made under duress. Namjoon's grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly, a subtle reminder of the hold he had over your life.

This was the first time he took you out of the penthouse since the day you woke up in his bed for the first time. He simply did not trust you enough to go out in public with you just yet. Hence, his hand remained on yours in a very obsessive manner, as if you were to fly away at any moment.

The priest continued, "Marriage is a sacred bond, one that should be approached with reverence and care. It's not merely about sharing a life together but about supporting and uplifting one another, about being the anchor when the storms come." He paused, letting his words sink in.

Your mind wandered back to your father, the struggles he faced, and how Namjoon had used that vulnerability to secure your loyalty. The contrast between the priest's idealistic views on love and your reality felt stark. How could you ever find true happiness in a union that felt more like a transaction than a partnership? You were feeling heavy.

"And today," the priest announced, raising his voice slightly to draw everyone's attention, "we gather not only to worship but to celebrate the union of two souls destined to walk together."

Your breath caught in your throat, and a mix of emotions surged through you. Murmurs of congratulations rippled through the congregation, and you felt the weight of countless eyes on you, some filled with excitement, others with curiosity. Namjoon's grip on your hand tightened, his eyes gleaming with pride.

You could feel your cheeks flush as the reality of your situation sank in deeper. The ring on your finger felt like a shackle, the promises made a binding contract that left little room for your own desires.

"I—" you started, but the words felt stuck in your throat. "I need to go to the restroom, Namjoon."

His expression shifted, a flicker of concern crossing his face. "Now?" he asked, voice low enough that only you could hear, but firm enough to convey his displeasure. "We're in the middle of the service."

Namjoon hesitated, weighing your request against the backdrop of the ceremony. Finally, he released your hand but leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Make it quick, baby."

You nodded, grateful for the small bit of freedom. Your Louboutin heels clicked against the marble floor, each step echoing like a drumbeat in the otherwise quiet sanctuary. The sound felt amplified in your ears, a reminder of the attention you were drawing as you navigated through the rows of wooden pews. You could feel the weight of curious gazes following you, some filled with anticipation, others with judgment. It was as if the congregation sensed the tension between you and Namjoon, the unspoken power dynamics playing out in real time.

You pushed open the restroom door and stepped inside. The fluorescent lights cast a stark glare, highlighting the contrast between the serenity of the service and the storm swirling within you.

Leaning against the sink, you took a moment to catch your breath. The reflection staring back at you was a mixture of uncertainty and defiance, a girl caught between two worlds.

"Why am I still here?" you whispered to your reflection, the question echoing back at you. You thought of the life you had envisioned for yourself, one filled with love, laughter, and independence, not one governed by fear and obligation.

"I fucked up." After a few deep breaths, you steadied yourself. You needed to return before he would throw a tantrum, as he loved to do whenever you were away from him for longer than ten minutes. Paranoid bastard. You glanced at your watch and noted that only a few minutes had passed. With a resigned sigh, you turned to leave, determination flooding your veins.

As you exited the restroom, you found Namjoon leaning against the wall outside, arms crossed and an expression that mixed concern and annoyance. His posture was protective, yet the underlying tension in his demeanor sent a shiver down your spine. He pushed himself from the wall only to walk towards you, making you take a few steps back into the restroom. His eyes never left yours even when he closed the door and locked it from inside, the sound echoing ominously in the small space.

The reality of your situation pressed down on you, an oppressive weight that made it hard to breathe. He moved closer, his eyes dark and intent.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he replied when you asked him why he wasn't upstairs, his tone both soothing and authoritative.

"You know how important this day is, right? I can't have you slipping away from me."

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure. "I'm fine. I just needed a moment," you insisted, but the way he watched you made it clear he wasn't convinced.

"You can be honest, Peaches," he said, his voice dropping to a lower, more serious tone. "You're in a room full of people celebrating our engagement, and yet you're out here trying to escape."

His words struck a nerve, and you crossed your arms defensively. "I'm not trying to escape," you shot back, though the lie tasted bitter on your tongue.

"Okay," he said calmly, staring intensely into your eyes, as if he was trying to read you. A small smirk played at the corners of his lips, but the tension in the air remained thick. You did not expect him to drop the topic that quickly.

"I just needed to collect my thoughts," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Okay," he murmured again. He stepped closer, closing the distance between you even more, his body radiating warmth that both comforted and unsettled you. He was standing there, inches away from you, yet he was not taking any action.

"W-why are you so calm, what are you doing, Namjoon?" you asked, trying to grasp his demeanor which you yet again did not understand.

"Waiting—"

"Can we just go back to the ceremony?" you whispered, your voice barely audible. Namjoon's smirk widened, and he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"Not yet, my love," he whispered back, his voice low and husky. Namjoon's fingers traced the curve of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "I longed to show you just who you belong to for years."

"You're fucking stunning, Peaches," he murmured, his lips brushing against your earlobe. Namjoon's fingers trailed down your chest, stopping just above your breasts. You felt a jolt of electricity run through your body, and you knew that you were in trouble.

"Namjoon," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "We can't do this here, we're in a church." You tried to push him away.

"You are something I can sin for," he whispered back, his voice low and seductive. You tried to pull away, but Namjoon held you firm, his grip unyielding.

"Namjoon, please," you whispered, your voice trembling with desire and apprehension.

But Namjoon was relentless, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin that left you quivering with pleasure. "You're mine, Peaches," he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck.

"And I'll do whatever it takes to keep it that way."

Namjoon's lips found yours, and he kissed you with a passion that left you breathless. His tongue danced with yours, and you felt your body respond to his every touch. As you kissed, Namjoon's hand slid between your legs, and he began to caress you through your dress. You gasped softly, your body arching into his touch, trembling with the sudden pleasure.

"Namjoon," you whispered urgently, "we have to stop." Your breath hitched as he pressed you against the mirror after he lifted you onto the counter, plunging himself between your legs.

"No, we don't," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "Not until I've claimed you as mine."

The church's silence seemed to amplify the intensity of the moment, and you felt like you were teetering on the edge of a cliff. His fingers traced the contours of your body, exploring every curve and crevice.

"What if someone hears?" you breathed again, desperation lacing your voice.

His lips paused just above your collarbone, and you could feel the heat radiating from him. As if the universe was playing by his rules, the choir started to sing. He chuckled.

"You're mine, Peaches. I won't let anyone take you away from me—not today, not ever." He captured your lips again, his kiss deepening with a fervor that ignited every nerve ending in your body.

His hands were exploring the curves of your thighs, lifting the hem of your dress higher as he pressed you firmly against the cold surface of the counter.

"Namjoon," you breathed, a mix of excitement and fear knotting in your stomach. "We can't…" you continued your protests.

"But we will." His fingers danced dangerously close to your most sensitive spots, teasing you with the promise of pleasure. You felt your resolve begin to crumble under his touch.

"I've waited too long for this," he murmured, voice a velvet whisper that wrapped around you like a lover's embrace.

"Namjoon," you gasped against his lips, torn between the heady rush of desire and the urgent need to pull back. But with each kiss, each exploration of his hands, your inhibitions began to melt away, surrendering to the intoxicating pull he had over you.

"Just let go," he urged, a soft growl escaping his lips as he pressed his body into yours, making you acutely aware of the hard length that pressed against your core.

"Trust me."

A wild, reckless part of you craved this intimacy, this connection that felt both exhilarating and terrifying. Your mind took you back to all those moments you shared that made your heart flutter and belly tight when you did not know why he made you feel that way.

You hesitated for a heartbeat, the weight of your reality pressing heavily on your conscience. His fingers found their way beneath your dress, inching higher until they brushed against your most sensitive skin. You gasped, arching your back involuntarily as pleasure surged through you, igniting a fire in your belly.

"Namjoon!" you cried out, a mixture of pleasure and panic lacing your voice.

"Shh, baby," he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck as he continued his teasing exploration. With a deft motion, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, sliding them down your legs and tossing them aside as if they were nothing more than an afterthought. The cool air kissed your exposed skin, heightening your senses and making your breath hitch in your throat.

The air in the restroom felt thick with anticipation, each breath you took mingling with the scent of sandalwood and the faint musk of his skin.

“You’re breath-taking,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with desire.

His fingertips traced closer to where you needed him most, teasing you with the lightest of touches. You bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan that threatened to escape, the heat pooling deep within you almost overwhelming.

“Namjoon…” you whispered, half warning, half plea, torn between your desire for him and the reality of your surroundings.

“—and so wet for me.” He breathed against your skin, his breath sending sparks dancing along your nerves. His tongue danced with yours, a heated exploration that deepened your need for him. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you and the intoxicating chemistry that crackled between your bodies.

His fingers pressed against you, expertly coaxing soft moans from your lips as he slid one finger inside, filling you completely. You bit down on your lip to stifle your cries, but the pleasure was overwhelming, radiating out from the point of contact and pooling low in your stomach.

His eyes sparkled with a predatory intensity, relishing in your reaction. He watched you as if he were savouring a fine wine, taking his time to appreciate every detail of your response.

“Namjoon,” you gasped, your voice a fragile whisper, barely able to maintain any semblance of restraint.

“Oppa.” He growled. The way he said it—deep, possessive—made your heart race faster, each beat echoing in the stillness of the restroom. Namjoon’s fingers moved with a deliberate rhythm, curling inside you in a way that sent your mind spiralling.

“Tell me how good it feels,” he commanded, his tone a mix of sultry and demanding, eyes never leaving yours as he watched you unravel under his touch.

You hesitated for a moment, your breath coming in quick gasps as pleasure washed over you. “It feels… amazing,” you managed to whisper, the confession slipping past your lips like a sweet secret. You can regret this later.

“Good,” he murmured, the smirk on his face growing wider. “I want to hear every sound you make.”

His fingers moved faster, building the tension to a near unbearable level, each thrust sending you closer to the brink. The world around you faded completely, leaving just the two of you entwined in this stolen moment of passion, lost in the depths of one another.

“Namjoon. I can’t—” his hand smacked your ass and he deliberately slowed down.

“It’s oppa for you. Don’t make me repeat it again.”

The playful sting of his hand against your skin sent a rush of warmth coursing through you, mingling with the heat pooling low in your belly. His voice was firm, but beneath that authority was a hint of something deeper—a promise that ignited a wild excitement within you.

“Oppa,” you whispered breathlessly, the word slipping from your lips like a spell meant just for him.

He smiled, satisfied, and resumed his movements, fingers working expertly inside you again. The pressure built anew, the delightful tension sending electric shocks through your body.

“Good girl,” he praised, his breath hot against your ear. “I want to hear you, Peaches. Let me know how much you need me.”

With that, he quickened his pace, thrusting his fingers deeper, curling them just right. The overwhelming pleasure began to blur the edges of your consciousness, leaving only the sensations that centred on where he was buried within you. The heat intensified, building towards a sweet, dizzying peak, and you couldn’t help but surrender to it.

With a final flick of his fingers, he found that sweet spot inside you, driving you wild. Your body responded in kind, the sensations intertwining with your every thought. You could feel the tightening in your core, the unmistakable signal that you were teetering on the edge of bliss.

“Namjoon-oppa, I—” you gasped, words failing you as the pleasure escalated.

“Shh, just let it happen,” he murmured, his voice deep and soothing, anchoring you in the moment. His lips met yours in a heated kiss, swallowing your cries as the waves of ecstasy crashed over you.

"Oppa!" you cried against his mouth, unable to contain the raw need bursting forth from within. Your body trembled, the climax washing over you in a torrent of sensations, enveloping you completely as you surrendered to the bliss. The choir's distant hymns created an almost surreal backdrop to this heated encounter, mixing innocence with your burgeoning desire.

As the pleasure receded, leaving you breathless and dazed, Namjoon held you close, his arms encircling you like a protective cocoon. You leaned into him, heart racing and body tingling, reveling in the aftershocks of your release.

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" he teased, his voice low and playful, a wicked grin spreading across his lips. "To be mine."

Your blurry eyes lifted to look at him, taking him in while you were still panting from the rollercoaster of emotions he made you feel. Flickering down to his bulge covered by the fabric of his black suit pants from Ralph Lauren, your breath hitched again. Enough for him to move his hands to his belt, being absolutely ready to take you. Finally free of his belt, he pulled down his zipper. The fabric of his pants fell open, revealing the outline of his desire, bold and unmistakable.

The urgency of the moment wrapped around you like a tight embrace, making it hard to think straight. You glanced around, the restroom feeling impossibly small, every sound amplified.

"Oppa, please…" you breathed, your heart racing as you tried to pull away, but the undeniable hunger in his gaze anchored you in place. You could see the determination etched on his face, the way his jaw tightened with lust. He had a plan, and it made your pulse quicken. You were not sure what you were begging for—to stop or to continue?

If not for the soft knock on the door, he would have taken you right there, on the church's restroom counter. It jolted you both, pulling you back to the reality of your surroundings. A rush of panic surged through you, and you instinctively glanced around the cramped restroom, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Oppa," you whispered again, this time a plea laced with desire and uncertainty.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Just a little longer," he promised, his fingers finding their way back to your thighs, gripping you tightly as if to keep you anchored to the moment.

"Just one more time," he urged, his voice thick with need. "I need to feel you—"

"Hyung, I know you will kill me for this, but you need to come back upstairs." The voice—familiar and insistent—cut through the haze of desire that had enveloped you both.

Namjoon's expression flickered from lust to annoyance, his grip on you tightening slightly as if to remind you that this moment was still theirs, even if the world outside was intruding.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his frustration palpable. The intensity in his gaze shifted, but it didn't fade. Instead, it turned into something more predatory, a simmering heat that promised this wasn't over.

"We'll be right there!" He shouted back to the voice behind the door. His eyes slowly returned to watch you and your disheveled form after he fingered the fuck out of you.

He leaned in, his lips capturing yours once more, and it felt like time stood still. The world around you blurred, and for that moment, it was just the two of you—lost in a whirlwind of passion that defied the reality waiting outside the door.

His forehead remained pressed on yours when he whispered to your lips. “Next time, we won’t be so rushed, I promise.” Pecking your lips, he quickly pulled his pants back up, securing his belt with a swift motion, yet the heat of the moment lingered between you both.

The calm shattered in an instant.

The heavy church door burst open with a deafening crash. Armed men in tactical gear stormed in with raised weapons, their shouts filling the air. Namjoon immediately pushed you behind him, his eyes scanning the chaotic scene with deadly focus.

The thunderous crack of gunfire echoed off the stone walls as the air filled with the acrid smell of gunpowder. Namjoon drew a gun from beneath his jacket—like several other family men in attendance—his movements swift and practiced. He returned fire, the muzzle flash illuminating his determined face in bursts of light.

Your heart pounded in your chest like a drum of terror and adrenaline. Huddled behind an overturned pew, you clutched your ears against the deafening noise, eyes wide with shock and fear. Namjoon, breathing heavily, scanned the room one final time before turning to you, his eyes softening for a moment.

"Stay down!" he shouted, his voice barely audible above the chaos.

"Jungkook, get them out!" Namjoon barked, his eyes fixed on the fight.

He reached your side, pulling you up by the arm. Jungkook's grip was firm yet reassuring.

"Come on," he urged, his voice a steady anchor amid the storm of violence. He led you through the chaos, his body shielding you from the worst of the gunfire.

Just as you neared the side door, a sharp pain exploded in your side. You stumbled, a cry of agony escaping your lips. The world seemed to slow, the sounds of battle muffled by the roaring in your ears. Looking down, you saw blood spreading across your dress, the pain intensifying with each heartbeat.

"Peaches!"

𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝

©pennyellee. please do not repost

tag list: @hecateslittlewitchling - @ratprincessnr1 - @originalbiscuitfiredreamer - @mggv97 - @urlovelily - @ilys00ga - @beautifulcloudfestival - @herareila @mar-lo-pap

Don't be a silent reader, let's be friends chummers! ♥

see you next time, love, p.

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amberlynnmurdock · 1 year ago

Text

Blind Faith (Ch. 15)

Chapter Fifteen: Sunday

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: You and Matt wake up on Sunday and talk about what's happened and where to go next.

Warnings: 18+ content, smut, unprotected sex.

A/N: Thank you all for being here since I started this fic in July. This has been my favorite Matt Murdock fic I've written because of the time and planning I put into it. If you've left a like, or reblog, or a comment on here, THANK YOU. It means the world to me to write fanfic and share it with people who want to read <3 Here is the final chapter of Blind Faith. I hope you like it!

Ao3 Link

Hell’s Kitchen

You stayed with Matt the whole weekend, and the whole weekend seemed to go by just as fast as it had come. One moment, you’re on your way to a date. The next, you’re blacked out and waking up in your savior’s apartment which actually turned out to be your boss’. Yeah, you could say you’ve had a long weekend.

Your body felt fully recovered from the drug’s side effects, but it was your mind that still needed healing. Despite being saved from that terrible nightmare, you now were taking what you experienced with you everywhere. If it wasn’t you who poured a drink, you wouldn’t have it.

Sunday.

Bright and dry. Unlike the previous day’s weather of wet, stormy, and dark.

And of course, the breaking news on Saturday morning.

You didn’t want to spend more time than you needed to on him, but when you saw the breaking news flash across WHIH’s channel, your heart dropped. Zack was found by police and arrested for illegal drug possession. It occurred to you that you hadn’t seen him since the start of that dreadful night, so to see the footage of him knocked unconscious and bloody, tied to his dining room table, you froze. As soon as the image came on, Matt shut the TV off.

Now, Sunday, you lay in Matt’s bed, with Matt beside you. Sunlight shone through his windows and onto the bed, lighting up the bottom half. You stretched under his silk blankets.

Your legs felt sore from all the sex you had with Matt, which was going to be quite unforgettable once you’ve left. You looked around his living room through the half-opened sliding door and put it to memory: the brown, ratty leather couch. A mismatched dark blue chair. A light gray patterned rug. The brick walls. This bedroom that you’ve committed to memory of how soft his silk sheets felt on your skin just as you’ve committed to memory of the way he kissed your entire body.

You felt your heart flutter at the memory of Matt pulling you roughly against his body the night before. His hands tangled in your hair and pulled gently for his lips to find their way to your neck. Matthew, whispering in your ear that he’s wanted this for so long—he’s wanted you for so long.

And there he was, doing it all over again.

“Come here,” he murmurs half asleep, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close.

He didn’t leave your side once this weekend, and you didn’t want him to. Mostly because you weren’t sure if you’d ever have another weekend like this. A weekend with him. Being with him in general.

It was a question the two of you were avoiding after that first night: where do we go from here?

You’ve certainly spent most of the time thinking of this. And you were afraid too much had happened for you and Matt to take things any further. But you haven’t said this to him…because you thought you wouldn’t be able to get the words out.

You’re damn near close to tears even thinking of it. And you know Matt can sense them in the air. He doesn’t ask you why you’re crying. He just pulls you even closer to his chest and kisses your head. He brushes his fingers through your hair. And you want him, just one more time. Once more, before Sunday is over.

Matt slowly drags his fingers down your back, slipping under the blanket. He traces over your ass and presses one finger on your wet pussy, a way to ask permission.

You nod your head against his chest, gripping his shoulders.

Matt gently pushes a finger inside your velvety wetness, feeling your pussy tighten around his finger. He pushes deeper inside you, wiggling his finger to find your sweet spot. He knows he found it when you squirm in the bed and shudder against him.

“One more time,” you whisper.

You’ve wrapped your legs around Matt’s waist and straddled him in one swift movement. The silk blanket slips off your body, exposing yourself in front of Matt again.

Matt gasps as he feels your wetness coat his lower abdomen, not quite where he needs you most. His cock is swollen hard under the sheets, and he can hear his own heart beating hard in his chest. You lower your face and kiss him deeply, letting his tongue enter your mouth and lick your teeth. He places a hand on your neck and you place yours on top of his, encouraging him to squeeze lightly, and he does. You move the same hand over your right breast, and he feels how hard your nipple is against his palm. He moves his hand in a kneading motion.

Matt can feel and smell your wetness in the air, it makes him feel an intense need in his chest. You slowly inch your way down and rub your soft pussy over the length of his hard cock. Matt rocks against you and grabs a fistful of your hair, gently tugging.

You reach for his cock and line it with your pussy. Bracing yourself for the pain, you slowly inch down the length of him, feeling his size stretch your tight pussy until you were completely wrapped around him. You feel full and feel a familiar tightness in the pit of your stomach.

“Oh, God,” you whine as you feel Matt’s cock fully inside you. You begin to rock back and forth on his cock, the more you do, the more you need to feel him all around, like an itch needing a desperate scratch. Matt bucks his hips up into you, bucks his cock hard into your pussy, feeling you clench his hardness.

“You feel like heaven,” Matt breathes out, letting you bounce on his cock fast and then slow. You slowly lift your pussy off before coming back down hard and feeling the tip of his cock touch that spot deep inside you. And you keep doing it again, and again, and again, bouncing as much as you need to feel him.

“Mm,” you moan feeling your pussy clench tightly around Matt’s cock. You tilt your body backward and Matt reaches his hands to cover your breasts. He kneads them and bucks his hips into you, pushing his cock deeper.

“That’s it,” Matt says in a guttural voice.

He knows you’re about to come by the way you’re moaning and breathing so fast, so fast he almost doesn’t hear you asking him to come inside you again.

“Matthew,” you say breathlessly as you keep bouncing on his cock.

Matt places his hands on your waist and rocks you back and forth on his cock for you, as you’re losing pace from going too fast. You come all over his cock and moan so lightly, it causes Matt to finish at the same time, filling you with his hot come, and feeling it gush inside your pussy. He holds you still as he feels his cock pump come one, two, three, four times so deep, you shiver and fall against his chest.

“God,” Matt moans against your ear, feeling your pussy squeeze his cock for one last drop inside you. It feels so good to come in you, to feel that tightness in the pit of your stomach, to feel Matt’s warmth fill you. It leaks out a lot, you spread your legs and feel Matt slide out of you and the familiar empty feeling of his size leaving you. You practically collapse on the bed again and watch as Matt finds a towel to clean you with.

You’re shivering in the bed from your orgasm, and Matt takes no time in holding you against him again, as you come down from your high.

“Was this all a good idea?” You find yourself asking breathlessly against his pillow. Matt’s next to you, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“What?”

“What we just did.”

“You mean, what we’ve been doing all weekend?” He smirks. You want to wipe it off, but you feel a shiver down your spine as you imagine him covered with a black mask. It was still strange that it was him.

“Yes,” you say. You’ve come to peace with Matt being your savior, but you weren’t sure it was something you could live with. Perhaps, now was the time to ask Matt: where do we go from here?

“Doesn’t seem like it was necessarily a bad idea,” Matt says lowly, referring to your wetness. You move to lay on your back, staring at the ceiling.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have found out what we would miss,” you simply say.

Matt’s gaze moves to you, his brows furrowed. He reaches over to caress your chin, to guide you to look at him.

“What do you mean?” He asks. But deep down, Matt knows exactly what you mean.

“Tomorrow is Monday, Matthew,” you state plainly. “Tell me, do Karen and Foggy know you’re Daredevil?”

“Yes,” he answers.

“Do they know I didn’t know?”

After a small pause, he nods. “Yes.”

“How in the world do you expect me to walk into work tomorrow after a weekend like this? After they find out about us?”

“They won't think of you differently,” he shakes his head. “They’ll think of me differently.”

“Matt,” you bite your lip, looking at his hazel-brown eyes. There was a time you were dying to know what his eyes looked like behind those dark red glasses. There was a time you were dying to know who he was behind that mask. “Think about what’s happened—what I’ve been through. We’ve been having this affair since the beginning of summer. We didn’t talk for a month, except at work, before I knew you were you. Friday, I was drugged and you saved me.”

Matt clenches his jaw at the memory of Friday night. It makes him want to bring you closer to him again. But he doesn’t.

“Then, I find out the man I’ve been seeing in secret was right under my nose all along,” you explain. “This is a lot for me. I can’t just pack it up and move on,” you reach over and gently run your fingers along his jawline, because this may be the last time you’ll ever be this close to Matt Murdock.

“So what does that mean for us?” Matt asks, although he knows the answer inside.

“It means, after today, that’s it. I’m going to resign from Nelson & Murdock tomorrow. I’ll write Foggy and Karen a letter and say—“

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll tell them.”

“They should hear from me,” you gently argue.

“They will. But I will tell them everything.”

“Okay,” you sighed, “that saves me the awkward part of telling them I’ve been hooking up with you.”

Matt smiles a little, but it quickly fades as your words echo in his ears. After today, that’s it.

“Is it really over?” Matt asks. “After I finally reveal myself and we have this weekend, that’s it?”

“Think about what it took for you to finally reveal yourself, Matt,” you whisper. “Look at how we ended up here.”

As much as it pained him, it was true. What right did he have, after everything he’s put you through?

“Okay,” he nodded. “If that’s what you want.”

“It’s not that I want this to be the end,” you said in frustration, wishing he would understand what you were trying to say. “You’re all I’ve wanted this entire time.” You covered your face with your hands, feeling tears brimming your eyes. Why did it have to hurt so much, to make a tough decision like this?

“I just—I don’t have the same faith I once did before,” you cry softly. “And I want you so bad. I want more weekends like this, I want to be with you, but—“

“Too much has happened,” Matt finishes your sentence, trying to remain composed. “I understand. You don’t have to explain yourself. It’s okay.”

“Then why am I still crying? Why does it feel like this?” You wipe your tears away and look around his room again—your safe haven for the weekend. You didn’t want to go.

“Because what I did to you wasn’t fair,” Matt says softly. “I ruined what could’ve been for us. I have to live with that. Not you,” Matt reaches over and places his hand on your cheek, urging you to look at him. He wipes a tear away with his thumb, caressing your cheek. “Not you.”

⠋⠁⠊⠞⠓

After your conversation, the two of you lay in his bed for a few more hours until you decided the longer you stayed, the harder the goodbye would be. You took a shower in his apartment and changed into the clothes his nurse friend left for you. When you finally gathered your things, Matt was waiting quietly on his couch.

“Ready?” He asks.

“You don’t have to take me home, Matt,” you said, sucking in your tears. “I think it’s best I get a cab.”

“I want to make sure you’ll be safe.”

“I will,” you promised. “Please, Matt. Don’t make this harder for me.”

Matt nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Let me walk you to the door, then.”

You wanted to smile at his attempts, but it only hurt your heart even more. With every step to his door, you slowed down your pace. Just as you reached for the knob, Matt did too, and your hands touched for a brief moment before Matt is taking your hand and gently pushing you against his wall.

You close your eyes and let him do what he wants, because you want this, too. He leans down and gently presses his forehead against yours, the tips of your noses touching. Matt’s strong hands are on either side of your waist, and you’re taken back to all those times he’s held you on your roof, under a black mask. His lips ghost over yours, and it takes you to gently nudge him for him to fully press his lips onto yours.

Matt holds you still as he kisses you deeply, more deeply than he ever has before. He takes this moment to remember your scent, your heartbeat, your breathing because he’s not sure when he’ll be able to be around you again. This is all he has to remember you. This moment that having blind faith has led him to—both of you. He kisses you again and holds your face in his hands. He pulls back to kiss your jaw, to kiss behind your ear, to kiss your neck. Matt will never forgive himself for this.

“I love you,” you whisper. “I have to go.”

“I lied to you, that one night,” Matt says with pain in his voice. “I do love. I love you. And I don’t want you to leave. But if it means anything, it’s the most intense feeling I’ll ever have to hold on to be left by you.”

And with one last kiss, you’re out the door, out of his apartment, out of his life for a long, long time.

When he hears you get inside a cab, Matt charges up his phone that’s been out of battery the entire weekend and calls Foggy to tell him everything that’s happened.

TAGS: @starry-night-20 @sumsytee @queerqueenlynnn @mattmurdocksstarlight @marvelcinematiquniverse @hailey-murdock @yeonalie (please let me know if I missed you!)

P.S. There will be an epilogue!

#matt murdock #daredevil #charlie cox #marvel #matt murdock x reader #blind faith #matthew murdock #daredevil born again #daredevil: born again #charlie cox x reader #the defenders #foggy nelson #karen page #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fan fic #matt murdock x you

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spaghettificationandpretzels · 2 years ago

Text

The New Bartender

Mayans MC Masterlist

Contains: Smut, MFM threesome, fluff, friendly rivalries. No beta read, probably full of mistakes I can't see.

4K words

Out of desperation, Bishop hires a real bartender.

Thank you to @burningtacozombie for the gif.

You looked over the ad, "The pay's alright but I don't think I'm going to gel well here, the poster I picked up didn't exactly say I would be working at a biker clubhouse."

Bishop swallowed and shot a look at Hank; you were the most qualified person they had spoken to all week, and the drinks you had whipped up were to die for, "We realise not putting the location on the ad wasn't the best idea but we're desperate. We can't keep people long and well, we're bikers, we like to drink."

You nodded, "Yep and I've been there and done that, I'm not interested in spending my night being disrespected. At least in a bar, I can get the fucker kicked out."

Hank held up his hands, "If you wanna toss someone, you can. The girls that are left could really use a hand. I promise we're nicer than we look."

You sighed, "Fine, a two week trial, you do sound desperate. But I ain't putting up with any shit and don't think I'm not going to take someone's keys from them."

Bishop smiled and stuck out his hand, "Done, you're hired."

You shook it and sighed before shaking Hank's hand too, "I have a feeling this is going to be an interesting two weeks."

That was two months ago, and aside from a few growing pains and walking out with all the other women in the middle of a party after a particularly rude Mayan took it one step too far, things had been amazing.

"I'll get an old fashioned please." You mixed the drink in a flash and slid it across the bar to Bishop, "Thanks."

You smiled, "Don't mention it. I know I've asked you this before but have you considered broadening your horizons? Maybe try something a little different."

Bishop sighed, "What do you recommend?"

You ran a finger over the liquor bottles, "You ever had a dark and stormy?"

He shrugged, "Probably."

"Ok then, when that's drained, you can give it another go." Bishop walked away with his drink and Guero and Bottles filled the space.

Guero gave you his trademark smirk and you handed him a beer, "What do you want? I know that look."

He chuckled, "Who do you like more, me or Mr Magoo?"

The question seemed to roll off Bottles' back, "I'm not going to answer that."

Bottles smiled, "Nah, we want to know."

You shook your head, "No, and if you keep this up, I'm cutting you both off."

Guero looked you up and down, "That's what we like about you y/n, this take no prisoners attitude is very hot."

You huffed, "You've both made your attraction pretty clear and it's not happening, I'm not going to be your tool to show up the prospect."

"Maybe we're just going to ask you to have a drink with us." Bottles hadn't yet developed the charm that some of the patched members had and if it wasn't so cute, you might have felt sorry for him.

"Come on y/n, I wouldn't be showing him up, we'd be helping the poor boy. You see how shy he is." You rolled your eyes but Guero continued, "All this flirting we've been doing has to go somewhere, just say yes and we'll show you a good time."

There was no denying they were attractive, and if the rumours you heard around the clubhouse were true, they knew what they were doing, "I'm not going to have sex with Bottles because you wanna torment him about it, that's really gross dude."

Bottles smiled, "That's not what it is, he's got a big mouth and I want to prove him wrong."

You blinked, you had no idea where his sudden confidence came from, "What fucking cave did you two crawl out of?"

Guero raised a hand in placation, "It ain't like that, we like you and we want to show you a good time, if you'll let us."

You sighed, "Fine, but no fucking bullshit and this doesn't mean I'm getting passed around." You held up a finger as the smirk grew on Guero's face, "Any fuckin bullshit and I'm putting you both out on your asses, understand?" They both nodded aggressively, "Good, I'll see you at my place tomorrow at six and bring food."

****

You rubbed your face as they fought over the last spring roll, "I swear to shit, cut it in half or I'll eat it." They stopped like little boys caught in the middle of roughhousing and did as you asked, "Thank you."

Bottles shifted in his seat and pushed up his glasses, "Thank you for agreeing to this."

You smiled, "You're both very handsome and I'm hoping to have fun too, it's not a big ask."

The corner of Guero's lip ticked up, "Oh, you're going to have more than fun."

You rolled your eyes, "If you keep bragging, I'm going to think you're overcompensating for something."

"Oh trust me, I'm compensating just the right amount." Sometimes his smug tone made you want to punch him.

Bottles shook his head, "You don't need to worry about that with me, I'm secure."

"You know, it might serve you to be this confident all the time, I like this side of you." He positively beamed at your praise. Guero kicked him under the table and you slapped his chest, "None of that, be nice to him."

Bottles smiled, "Yeah, be nice to me."

Guero's jaw ticked, "You are so in for it Prospect."

You shook your head and stood up, "I'm going to fix up the bedroom, I expect my kitchen to be clean by the time I invite you into my bed." Guero would have taken the chance to make Bottles do it had you not stopped him, "Both of you. You don't want me thinking you're lazy would you?"

Guero shook his head, "I love cleaning."

"Sure you do, you got ten minutes." With that, you headed to the bedroom and left them to rile each other up for the upcoming fun.

At eight minutes, you walked out of the bedroom and back into the kitchen, looking around before smiling, "Great job, shall we?"

Guero slapped Bottles on the back and grinned, "We shall."

You followed them into the bedroom and Guero flopped himself on the chair by the bed while Bottles stood in the middle of the room, "You're not taking part?"

Guero's tongue darted out and licked his lower lip, "I'm alright with watching, I'll step in when he can't do the job right."

You ignored him and stepped closer to Bottles, taking his glasses off his face and handing them to Guero without looking at him. "Are you sure you're alright with this? I don't want you to do anything you're not one hundred percent into."

He laid hands on your cheeks and smiled, "I'm really alright with this, trust me." He leaned in closer and bumped your nose with his, "Can I kiss you?"

You nodded, "Yes, I would like that." His lips were gentle when he pressed them to yours, holding a quiet confidence that made your skin burst out into gooseflesh.

One hand left your face and made its way down your body to unbutton your top before sliding it off your shoulders, "Holy shit."

You could feel Guero eyes on your body as he took in your bare skin, and you broke the kiss, "It's just my back dude."

He chuckled, "Yeah, but I can tell you got a hot bra on, and the Prospect's too busy kissing you to appreciate it."

Sure enough, when you turned back, Bottle's eyes were stuck on your lace covered breast, "It is a nice bra."

You nodded, "Yeah, you wanna take it off me?"

Bottle's hands rushed to remove it as his lips found yours again, "Wow Prospect, I thought you were a virgin but the way that bra came off makes me think we might be alright yet."

You broke the kiss again and shot a look at Guero, "You did crawl out of a cave, virginity isn't real."

Guero chuckled, "Sorry, continue."

Bottles' lips moved to your neck when you turned back this time, that same quiet confidence coming through as his hand moved to your breast to play with your nipple. His hand went to your ribcage and pulled you close as the other moved down to the zipper of your jeans, "Can I?"

You nodded, "Yes please." The zipper came open and a warm hand slid inside before settling over your covered core to cup you through your panties.

"You gonna take her jeans off Prospect? It ain't fair that you're keeping her all of yourself." Again, there was something in Guero's tone that made you want to punch him, he was clearly enjoying the power.

Bottles pushed your panties aside and his fingers grazed your bare flesh, "How about you come over here and do it yourself, I'm busy."

Guero hopped up with a skip in his step and took two long strides over to the middle of the room. His hand were warm as he ran his knuckles up and down your sides, getting lower and lower with each pass before finally going low enough to pull your jeans down your legs, "Did you dress up for us?"

Bottles' calloused fingers finally making direct contact with your clit made it hard to reply, "I think she did, but unlike you, I'm grateful for it."

Guero went to reply, but you mustered your own, "I did it for me, I like nice lingerie. As far as you know, I could have been wearing something like this four nights a week."

Bottles swallowed and flicked his eyes to Guero who smirked, "Our bad, apologise Prospect."

Bottles didn't respond, and your panties went next while he gathered wetness from your entrance before sliding two of his thick fingers inside you. Guero stepped back, flopped on the bed, and pet the spot beside him, "You two wanna join me?"

You whimpered as Bottles pulled his fingers out and stepped backwards towards the bed, sitting on the edge as Bottles stepped between your legs, "You're both overdressed."

You reached out, pulled Bottles' belt free and yanked his jeans down while he removed his shirt and then a bare chest was being pressed against your back and Guero's lips grazing your neck, "Hey, fuck off, it's my turn."

Guero sat back, propped up on the headboard and smirked, "Sorry man, you were just taking forever."

You shook your head in disbelief, "Do I get a say in any of this you fucking troglodytes?"

Bottles suddenly looked very smug, "What do you want?"

You heard Guero's jeans coming off as they waited for your answer, "I want you to fuck me."

Bottles grinned and leaned over, forcing you to lie back, "I can do that."

You made your way up the bed and settled on the pillows and Guero bent over to take you into a kiss. His hand found your cheek and he pulled back while his thumb stroked your skin, "You want me to fuck you too or are you going to make me sit here and watch?"

Eyes got wide as you watched Guero's hand slide down his body to take his dick out, "Holy shit."

Guero chuckled, "That's not an answer."

You blinked, "That thing is fucking huge, what the fuck do you want me to do with it?"

Guero shrugged, "Whatever you want, I'm not fussed."

Bottles tapped your hip gently and drew your attention back to him, "Well you can decide later because I want to make you feel good, can I do that?"

You nodded, "Yes please."

Guero stroked his dick lazily, "So polite, who knew you had such great manners. Did you know about that Prospect?"

Bottles was looking at you like he wanted to eat you alive, "She's always sweet to me, it's not my fault you're an asshole."

"Can someone please do something before I have an aneurism?" No reply came from either of them as Bottles made his way all the way up the bed and hovered over you. His lips touched yours, the kissed deeper this time as his free hand rubbed your outer thigh and you placed one hand on his side and the other reached out to grab Guero's cock.

Bottles grabbed your wrist and shook his head, "Don't."

"But I want to." Your tone was far more desperate than you intended

Guero looked for you to Bottles and chuckled, "Yeah Prospect, she wants to. Are you going to deny such a beautiful woman?"

You could see the wheels turning to Bottles head before he let your hand go, "Alright, only because you've been so good."

Guero wrapped his hand over yours and placed it over his dick, moving in a barely there stroke, "Like that yeah?"

You nodded, "Ok." He smiled and leaned back, enjoying the sensation as he watched Bottles' lips return to your skin.

You slid your hand from Bottles' side and removed his boxers and his hard cock sprung free, "Well look at that, the Prospect's packing too. Who knew?"

Bottles chuckled, "Yeah, and unlike you, I know how to use it."

You huffed, "Can someone please fucking do something instead of just bickering, I could have gotten myself off five times by now."

Bottles smiled and nibbled your neck as he made his way to your breast, and Guero's hand wrapped over yours again as he tightened your grip slightly before pulling away once more. Bottles lips wrapped around your nipple as his hand came up to play with the other but Guero slapped it away, "You don't get to have all the fun, I've barely touched her."

Bottles took the chance to take to the hand that was on your breast and place it back between your legs, and you took in a breath as he went right back to where he was before, with his fingers sliding inside you.

Guero's finger moved in broad, teasing circles, his fingertips bearly touching your breasts as he moved closer to your nipple. Bottles, however, was kissing your flesh like it contained the answer to the universe. Before you could relax into the feeling, Bottles was pulling away and kissing down your body to your core.

Guero picked up the slack, his hands becoming more insistent as he had more room to work, and Bottles' fingertips crooked upwards to brush your G-spot as he used his other hand to lift your legs over his shoulders. He lifted his head and made eye contact with you before giving you a soft smile, "Can I?"

You nodded and wove your hand into his hair, "Please." His lips sealed around your clit and Guero shuffled down so he was lying next to you before taking your face in his hands and pulling you into a kiss. Guero swallowed your moans as Bottles worked you closer to the edge, all the teasing and stopping finally catching up with you as the orgasm rushed towards you like an oncoming train.

You bit down on Guero's pillowy lower lip and he let out a feral grunt as your hand tightened around his cock. You pushed Bottles head closer and ground yourself on his face as your clenched around his fingers and Guero broke the kiss to watch as pleasure overtook your body, "Fuck, that's so fucking hot."

Bottles pulled back and wiped his face with his palm and kissed back up your body, taking your chin in between his fingers and pulling your head away from Guero and towards him as he took you into a kiss. Guero's breath caught in his throat, but before you could act on it, Bottles grabbed both your wrists and pressed them into the pillow by your head, "Keep them there."

Guero was taken aback but recovered quickly, "I was going to complain but this might be better than the handjob."

Bottles removed his hands from your wrists and slid them down your body and bent your knees so he could slot himself in the space between them, "Condoms?"

"Top drawer." Guero twisted himself around and reached over, rifling through the drawer with a smile before pausing to look at something.

A smirk grew on his face as he pulled out a bullet vibe, "What's this?"

He and Bottles shared a look but you shook your head, "Next time."

"Alright, next time it is." Guero shot Bottles a pointed look and when he stayed quiet, the box of condoms was lobbed at his head, "You got something stuck in your throat? She's saying there's going to be a next time."

Bottles' brain caught up with his dick because he was grinning, "Hell yeah, I can't wait."

He picked the condoms up from where they had landed and pulled one out of the packet before opening it and sliding it over his cock. His hands ran up and down your legs as you threw them over his waist and he rubbed his cock up and down your slit and looked into your eyes in a request for permission, "Please."

He slid inside you slowly, biting back his moan as he bottomed out. Guero rested his hand on your cheek and turned your head towards him for another kiss as his hand returned to his dick. Bottles rocked his hips slowly, working up to a steady pace as he held himself above you on his elbows.

You pulled your hands off the pillow and wrapped them around his body, Bottles making no move to stop you as his hips picked up speed. Beside you, Guero tutted and slapped Bottles' shoulder before pushing him slightly, "Have you forgotten something man?"

Bottles hips barely slowed as he shook his head and Guero rearranged himself so he could slide his hand between your bodies to rub your clit, "The fucking basics man."

It took a few thrusts for them to get the rhythm but before long, the sensations overwhelmed you, "I didn't fucking forget man."

Guero smirked, "Ah I see, if you can't handle it I can take over."

"No, please don't stop." That only spurred Bottles on as he picked up speed, and then he was the one batting Guero's hand away as he took over. There was more light shoving as Guero pressed his lips to yours, and Bottles kissed your neck, giving you no time to warn with as the second orgasm swept over you.

Bottles' pace faltered, and they swapped places as he climbed his own high. Through the haze of pleasure, you were vaguely aware that Guero was nibbling bruises into your neck, but before you could protest, Bottles' breath shuddered, and he pulsed inside you.

Your hips twitched as Bottles pulled out and rolled off you with a chuckle, "Sorry."

Guero huffed, "He's not sorry, look at him." He rolled you over onto your side facing him and took your head in his hands, "Don't worry y/n, I'll be nicer to you."

Bottles settled behind you with his chest pressed against your back and ran his hands up and down your body while he pressed his lips to your upper back, "Do you believe him?"

Guero was brushing your sweat stuck hair from your face with a gentle smile, "I do."

There was a rush to find the condoms and Guero paused like he was deep in thought as he held the little square package, "What is it?"

He smiled, "I'm thinking about whether I should go down on you first, it's no fair that the Prospect gets all the fun."

You thought for a moment, "I think that might be a bit too much, my brain feels like it's swimming in maple syrup."

Guero smiled, "Maple syrup, are you a secret Canadian?"

You shook your head, "No, I was worried if I said chocolate syrup you'd leave us to get a hot fudge parfait."

Guero chuckled and pecked your cheek, "I wouldn't dream of it and that's alright, I'm happy to skip to the main event." He rolled the condom down his dick and lifted your leg over his hip before running his cock up and down your slit, "You wanna keep going? You don't need to say yes, we can do something else if you're done."

You smiled, "No, I want to keep going."

Bottles chuckled behind you and reached over to shove Guero lightly, "Who's denying the beautiful woman now?"

Guero snorted, "Hey, I'm being a gentleman." He sighed and his lips met yours as he began a slow, steady slide inside you. He paused for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his ample size before slowly rocking his hips, "You good?" His voice was tightly, clearly feeling the outcome of his own delayed pleasure.

You nodded, "Yep."

Bottles pulled you away from Guero and you twisted towards him like a pretzel so he could kiss you while Guero's hips picked up speed, "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Guero exhaled sharply, "You wanna say that again?" Guero's fingers found your clit in an instant and he flashed a grin at Bottles, "I don't forget." He rolled his hips into you and Bottles swallowed your gasp as Guero brushed your G-spot with each forceful stroke.

Your breath caught in your throat and Bottle's lips turned gentle on yours, the mix of rough and gentle intensifying the sensations even. Bottles didn't let you pull your lips away to warn Guero of your oncoming release and you swore you could hear something break in his brain as you clenched around him, "Fucking fuck."

Guero yanked you away from Bottles and pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that left your head spinning as he followed behind you, taking his hand from your clit and gripping your hip hard enough to leave bruises.

Guero rolled away from you and you flopped onto your back, unable to move much more without rolling onto Bottles, "Fuck that was amazing."

Guero chuckled, "You said it Prospect."

You sighed and pushed yourself up, "I really need to go have a shower, I'm all sweaty."

Bottles followed, looking helpful as always, "We can join you, I had a look at your shower and it will fit all three of us."

Guero shook his head, "What are you talking about Prospect, I'm going to help y/n clean up and you're going to change the sheets."

You crossed your arms over your chest, "Nope, I'm going to shower all by myself and you're both going to change the sheets, they're in the drawers under the bed and there are spare pillows in the cupboard." Guero glared at Bottles and you held up a finger, "No fighting or you'll be sleeping on the porch."

Bottles eyes went wide, "I wasn't fighting, it's all him."

You shook your head and turned on your heel, "Don't think I can't see how you rile him up. I'll be out in ten, that should be enough time."

Thankfully, when you came out of the bathroom, there were fresh sheets on the bed and they were getting along. They took turns in the bathroom and Bottles was thoughtful enough to bring you a glass of water while Guero glared at him.

You stretched and yawned then climbed into bed, Geruo and Bottles following after you, "So, who do you like more, me or Bottles?"

You shook your head, "I like you both equally now can I please get some sleep, I'm worn out."

Bottles chuckled, "That's my plan but I get the feeling that he's going to want to talk."

Guero reached over you and shoved him, "Do not, I know when to shut up, unlike you."

You huffed and climbed over Guero to turn off the lamp, "Goodnight, both of you."

They got the message because they arranged themselves so they could touch you, with all your legs entangled in a mess, while placing their arms strategically over you. Guero pressed his lips to your temple, "Goodnight y/n."

Bottles went next with his lips falling on your cheek, "Goodnight, thank you for tonight."

Guero kicked him softly, "Show off."

Fin

Y'all want this to become a thing? I'm not above making this a thing, where's there's I love yous and non sexual cuddling.

#mayans mc #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc fanfic #guero smut #guero fanfic #guero fanfiction #guero #guero mayans mc #bottles #bottles mayans #bottles mayans mc #alex barone #andrew jacobs #guero x reader #bottles x reader #guero x reader x bottles

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atomic--peach · 2 years ago

Text

Her Grace's Handmaiden Pt.18

(Cersei Lannister x Fem Reader x Sandor Clegane: Tw: Death, Pregnancy, Joffrey being Joffrey)

AO3 Version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48276340

Both You and Cersei were pale as death and silent as the grave on the carriage ride back to the Keep.

That could not have gone worse if it tried.

Now not only would they have to contend with Stanis and Renly, but the entirety of the North would be howling for the Lannisters' blood.

When the carriage stopped, you were escorted by Kings Guard past rows of gathered courtiers who no doubt had already heard the news.

Wide and curious eyes watched them, but your mind was still on the steps of The Great Sept.

Lady Sansa's wails

The cries that filled the crowd when Illyn Payne drove the blade of Stark's own Valyrian steel sword through his neck.

The way Ned Starks head dropped from his neck with a rush of gore only to be presented to the crowd like a trophy.

"Remember uh-" Cersei blinked as if struggling to keep track of her thoughts. "Remember to go see Pycelle."

"Oh," it had been the furthest thing from your mind, "Yes, Your Grace."

Pycelle listened carefully as you explained everything.

"I can inspect you if you like My Lady" he sighed, "But it sounds to me like you already know the answer"

"All the same" You nodded, "I need to know for sure."

_______________________

Three months.

It was just an estimation, of course. But an educated one.

It didn't feel right to tell anyone today.

You were on strict orders to avoid riding, lifting heavy objects, and bathing in hot water.

"Keep drinking the tea I gave you" the old man insisted, "it is important to keep the body in a constant state of balance."

Balance, you now understood, was in preciously short supply.

Sandor found you sitting in the window of your shared quarters.

He waited patiently for the news, but when none came he nodded.

"We can keep trying, Love" he assured you, "There's no rush."

"I'm 3 months in," you corrected him. "at least we think"

Sandor withheld his smile. "You're worried"

His wife nodded slowly.

"I thought I would be bringing my children into a better world than mine was" you gazed through the thick glass window pane, dark eyes stormy like the sea. "but, now I am wondering if I've just made things so much worse for them."

"Do you mean what happened at the sept?" Sandor scoffed, "My love, you had no hand in that."

You turned to look at him with hard eyes, your soft lips drawn into a hard line as you tried desperately to communicate something you hadn't the words for.

Sandor frowned, a tight knot twisted in his stomach as he searched your face.

"Y/N," he said your name in a slow, firm voice that commanded respect. "You had no hand in that. Yes?"

You looked away, body trembling as Sandor covered his mouth with his hand, trying to make sense of this.

"What did you do?"

Tears began to spill over your face, "I'm so sorry"

"Fuck sorry" Sandor growled, "you need to tell me exactly what happened. Now."

"It was Essence of Nightshade" you whispered, "in his wine skin. It was supposed to be a quick death but..."

Sandor paled and covered your mouth

"NO. Not another word" he hissed, "who else knows about this?"

"Lancel, his squire." You whimpered, "I gave him the bottle. He said he threw it away in the King's Wood so no one would ever find it."

Sandor was shaking, both with anger and with terror.

He needed a moment, just to breathe.

"Stay here" he growled lowly. "Stay right here, do NOT leave. And never in your life speak another word about this to anyone. It never happened, is that clear?"

You could only nod, if she tried to speak it would only come out as sobs.

You had ruined everything, you knew that now.

War was coming.

-------------------------------------------

Lancel had never known fear as he had felt it with the Hound looming over him.

"Please, ser" he whimpered "Please, don't-"

"I don't want to kill you, boy" Clegane growled.

The Kingswood was dark and lifeless at this time of night. Not a soul would have heard his screams.

"Please believe me, I won't ever speak of word of it to anyone. I swear that by all the Gods, Old and New"

"I know you won't" Sandor was a black shadow in the darkness. "Because here is what's going to happen. Tonight, right now, we are going to go see Kettleback, and he is going to knight your idiot ass. After that, you are going to write your lord father and tell him you are ready to marry anyone, and I mean anyone, to get you out of the capital. You're going to leave, get married, and never, in your life, speak of this again."

Lancel was shaking with horror but nodded as he felt like he should get out of this ordeal alive.

"Tell me you understand, or I will bury you in these woods boy."

"I understand. I do."

"Good."

_____________________________

Sandor said nothing of it when you woke the next morning.

When you'd finally fallen asleep, you'd been alone, wondering if you would even have a husband when the sun rose.

But when the dawn came, you found his form pressed against yours and your heart flooded with relief when you realized he had not left you.

At least not yet.

Neither of you spoke as you dressed for the day, but your eyes flicked back to him constantly, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"I've been thinking." He finally said as you made your way to the great hall.

"Yes?"

"It might be better for you to spend the rest of the pregnancy at Clegane Keep." He posited the idea more as a fact than a question. "It's quiet there, and smaller so you won't be on your feet as much. I'd feel more comfortable if I knew you were somewhere safe."

You gawked.

You hadn't been outside the Keep alone since you were a child. Clegane Keep was in the far west, last even Lannisport.

Your heart clenched.

He was sending you away to be rid of you. You had made a horrible mistake telling him, and now he thought you were a monster and wanted nothing to do with you.

"If you think that's best." You breathed, "I will go."

"We'll need the king's blessing first. Courtiers aren't allowed to leave court without clearance from the monarch." He explained, "It should be easy enough if he's in a good mood."

"I should tell the queen." You breathed. Cersei would not take this well. Perhaps she would fight for you to stay.

"Not yet," Sandor shook his head, "Wait until we get the go-ahead."

You looked at your feet and nodded.

Sandor sighed and lifted your chin to look at him, making a concentrated effort not to look angry.

"This isn't a punishment, my love." he assured you, "War is coming, we both know that. And I want you as far out of the crosshairs as you can get."

This made you feel better, even if it was a lie.

The Hall was mostly empty, occupied by a few King's Guards stationed around the Iron Throne, and Varys.

"Ah," His face perked up when he saw you enter, "I hear congratulations are in order."

"The dear Grandmaester talks too much, I fear." You forced a smile, biting back the urge to scream I Told You So in his hairless face.

"Well, all my prayers are with you Lady Clegane." The Spider assured you. "But I expected you to be resting in your condition, whatever are you doing here?"

"Mind your business, Spider." Sandor snapped and Varys reeled back in mock offense.

"His Majesty, The King, and the Queen Mother." A Herald announced and you perked up.

The boy king was all a glow in red and gold brocade, tailed by his mother dressed in a matching style with her golden locks gathered atop her head.

The collective of underlings bowed respectfully as Joffrey ascended the throne.

"Alright, let's get this over with." He grumbled, readying for his first audience as king "Bring the interesting ones first."

"If it please, your grace." Sandor cut in, "I have a request I fear is rather urgent, if you will hear it."

Joffrey looked interested.

He couldn't recall a time when his loyal hound wanted anything more than to kill someone.

"Please." The boy sat up a little straighter.

"As your grace has likely been told, my lady wife is pregnant. I would like your leave to send her to Clegane Keep for the remainder of her term."

Joffrey shrugged and opened his mouth to grant this request, but Cersei cut in quick as a flash.

"Don't be ridiculous," she said too earnestly. "I mean, such a trip would be too strenuous for a pregnant woman."

"I will ask the Grand Maester to give his clearance before going ahead," Sandor eyed her challengingly.

Cersei smirked knowingly, Pycelle was her creature through and through.

"Let us ask him then. Lord Varys please summon the Grandmaester, won't you?"

Pycelle arrived with surprising speed for a man his age, bowing and scraping as usual.

"Grandmaester, " Cersei began prodding. "We were just discussing the possibility of Lady Clegane residing in the Westerlands for the remainder of her pregnancy. "

"Ah." Pycelle nodded, "Yes I had suspected such action might take place. I did conduct a thorough exam of Lady Clegane in anticipation of this."

"And would you not say a trip so long might be hazardous in her condition?" Cersei's eyes flashed, making the old man squirm like a worm.

"Well, I would say that in these circumstances, it would be ill-advised to travel within the first and last few months." He nodded, "I'd advise around the 6-month mark, it would be alright."

This was not the answer Cersei wanted but it was already out in the court.

Sandor's skin prickled with irritation but he nodded, "Six months then. If it pleases the king."

"It does." Joffrey had grown bored with the subject. "Let us move on to more interesting topics."

"Y/N, my love."

Your heart caught. Cersei never referred to you by your first name outside her quarters. It was too personal. Too Familiar.

"Yes, my queen."

"You've been very quiet." Cersei nodded, staring at you deeply with eyes full of expectation. "What do you think of all of this?"

You swallowed hard and your mouth went dry. You didn't want to disagree with anyone, least of all Cersei.

"I-" You croaked.

The pressure of a large hand taking yours calmed you a moment, enough to allow you to reply.

"I want whatever is best for my child, your grace."

Cersei's face was friendly but cold, and her eyes shifted to Sandor, narrowing. "Very well, 6 months."

-----------------------------------------------

You stayed for the rest of the king's court hearing, but The Queen insisted you sit rather than stand.

Lords and Ladies come forward with petty requests, mostly solidifying that the things they had asked for under Robert's reign would remain as they were.

Next came the common folk to petition for safer lives, more food, and less taxes.

None of those would come, but it would be good to at least let them make the request.

Next came sentencings.

Under Robert, sentences for criminals would be announced to the court but carried out in private.

Joffrey had a different method.

The first was a gang of thieves who had been robbing the wealthier residents of the capital just outside the Keep walls.

They were sentenced to death by hanging, and you had expected them to be dragged out to the gibbet.

You hadn't expected a rope to be thrown over a beam and the criminals hanged in open court.

A few courtiers explained in horror, but most had the good sense to remain silent as the grave.

You looked to Cersei who was maintaining an iron front the whole time.

You must do the same, you knew.

You were a killer after all, weren't you?

Your methods had been less direct, but some died all the same and you had meant for it to happen.

A few petty thieves lost their hands.

A rapist his manhood.

And a singer his tongue.

The whole time, you remained silent and tried to look without actually seeing.

Sandor was right, you realized, he wasn't sending you away as punishment.

You needed to get out of there.

#cersei lannister x reader #sandor clegane x reader #game of thrones fanfiction #her grace's handmaiden

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nightmare-dreamt · 2 years ago

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Hello! I saw ur request are still open! I hope u don't mind this since I've never requested something like this before-

Could I get a fic for an welcome home fandom where the cast meets reader from our world or their world.

(I hope I don't get this wrong- ty for writing it! If I do-)

Welcome Home, Puppet Show Request!

If enough people enjoy this I'll make a part 2 or even make it a series :)

It was definitely a shock when the news hit about your great grandmother and her unknown passing. She was alone in her house during a stormy day. People say her body was found up in the attic right beside her desks writing a letter to her grandchild. You. When her body was found, the letter was sent and you were quickly on the next plane ride to her town, needing to know what happened and what caused her to- our of nowhere.

Yes, your grandmother was at a high age, but nothing was wrong with her. Everything about her was healthy and pure, no sickness, no pain, nothing. Yes, she was an adventurous woman and tended to forget about her old age, but everytime she did she still found a way to overcome that problem and move on so… how did she die?

"Here we are," Y/n whispered, staring at the wooden house that used to be filled with happiness but now instead was filled with sorrow and dread. Rushing over to the front door, Y/n unlocked the door trying to get out of the rain, not wanting to get soaked anymore then they already were. Y/n signed, shutting the door behind them, "I haven't been here in ages, the place still looks the same."

Setting their things down, Y/n began to investigate around remembering all of the memories that they had when visiting with their parents. Heading into the kitchen, Y/n went to get themselves a drink when the sound of a loud crash was heard causing them to jump and spin around. Y/n swallowed the lump in their throat, "What was that?"

Peeking their head out from the kitchen entrance, Y/n stared down at the hallway seeing the stairs to the attic opened. Goosebumps grew on their skin and shivers blew down their spine, Y/n knew that the stairs weren't opened up when they first entered the house, but now they were. Y/n gulped, moving towards the hallway, "How did that open up? I swore that it was closed when I passed by it earlier…"

Standing in front of the stairs, Y/n looked up and saw the dark room of the attic that gave a strange feeling to them, making them not want to go up it anymore. Going to shut the door, the sound of a soft meow was heard behind them, causing Y/n to turn around and see a small black cat that sat behind them. Y/n signed, "Apollo, you scared me. I was wondering where you went, have you been left alone this whole time?"

"Hey wait!" Y/n yelped, when the cat stood up running underneath their legs up the stairs to the attic. Y/n widened their eyes, "No… Apollo, please don't make me go up there." When no noise was heard from the creature, more chills ran through the body causing them to shiver as the first step was taken to the attic and then the text. Soon enough, it was in the dark attic where a bunch of boxes were stacked upon each other filled with junk from their past.

"Apollo! Come out, I don't want to be here anymore," Y/n called out to the cat with a scared tone to their voice. Not seeing any sight of the cat, Y/n began walking around the attic trying to find the creature when the sound of footsteps were heard behind them. Y/n jumped back, "Who's there!"

"Meow!" Apollo said, Y/n spun around, "Apollo! There you are, come on let's head back down." Not listening to them, Apollo jumped up onto a small desk that seemed to have an old television on it that had a black screen. Sitting down in front of the screen, Apollo began to clean himself waiting for Y/n to come over. Y/n signed, "You are the worst cat ever."

Following the cat towards the television, Y/n went to scoop him up when the sound of the television turning on was heard. Stumbling back with the cat in their arms, Y/n widened their eyes at the screen that now had what seemed to be a television program playing with a kids title playing. Y/n stared at the screen confused, "What the

"Welcome Home Puppet Show!" The narrator started, "The show every kid is watching, come along and let's see what our fellow neighbors are doing." Tilting their head, Y/n sat down in front of the screen with a confused look wondering what was playing on the screen in front of them. Holding the cat close, Y/n saw the screen switch to an open field with a tree that showed a canvas with some light colors on it.

"It seems one of our fellow neighbors is painting, let's go see who it is," The narrator continued with the camera zooming in on the painting equipment "Look it seems Wally is out pairing, let's go see what he's painting"

"Oh I didn't see you there neighbor, how is your day? Wally asked with a bright smile on his face. Y/n stared at the screes, "Wally..."

"Darling, Wally Darling," He smiled, holding the paintbrush delicately in his fingers painting light strokes on the canvas. Y/n shock their head, "How did he…

"His it seems like the rest of our neighbors are waking up, shall we go see them neighbor?" Wally asked. Y/n yelped, "Apollo" Turning away from the show, Y/n watched the cat try and head back down stairs but was quickly grabbed by them. Y/n signed, "You're going to be the death of me."

"Don't go."

"Hm? What was that?" Y/n hummed, looking around the room. The voice was heard again, "It's been forever, please… don't go." Spinning around, Y/n tried to figure out what the noise was, clear confusion on their face at the unknown voice. Y/n called out, "Who is there? This isn't funny, I'll call the police."

"I'm not joking, I missed you, we all missed you and now you're back," The voice started now having a sort of distant tone to them. Y/n growled, "I'm not going to ask again! Who is there?" Silence. Screaming, Y/n ducked when the sound of static was heard from the tv causing their heartbeat to start beating faster. The voice started again, "You left for a long time and now you're back… I don't think I can't wait that long again… I'm sorry but I can't let you leave again... neighbor."

"Neighbor?" Y/n repeated, glancing up at the screen seeing the bright blue hair puppet staring right at them through the screen. Y/n sat back moving away from the television, "Impossible."

"It's good to see you again Y/n, now I can't ever let you go," Wally stated, "We'll be together soon, and now you'll finally be a part of the neighborhood…"

"No…" Y/n turned, about to head back down to the main floor when a bright light shined throughout the room. Blinding them, Y/n shut their eyes holding on tighter to the cat and when their eyes opened they were met with bright buildings and joyful noise.

"Where am I?" Y/n gasped, looking back and forth concerned at what had just happened. Apollo glanced up, meowing in their hands, "Meow."

"Welcome to the neighborhood!" A familiar voice greeted, causing them to turn around and meet his gentle eyes, "My name is Darling… Wally Darling. I'm glad to have you in our neighborhood, neighbor."

#x reader #headcanon #request #welcome home x reader #welcome home #wally darling

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majesticwren · 11 months ago

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due to high demand - me. I'm high demand. this entire project is being written entirely for my pleasure, be warned I'm being extremely self-indulgent - I've decided to write a little prequel to the events that take place here. this is set in 2018 and is the beginning of Fletch x OFC. billy will have his own little prequel at some point. enjoy. a/n: please don't come for me I am heavily lingering into the angst and the toxicity and the drama only for the pleasure of it and this is my testimony be warned because we'll dive head first in it folks.

Trigger Warning/s: OFC is her own trigger warning she is damaged goods and slightly toxic and emotionally unavailable, kyle is a little baby, mark is being overprotective and extremely toxic sorry not sorry, alcohol consumption, mention of addiction, mention of heroin abuse, mention of sex, mention of trauma, mention of intentional overdose, swearing, smut!, unprotected sex (this is a fic, don't do this at home kids, know your sexed!), loss of virginity (Kyle's a baby, as already said), OFC is slightly dom, angst, mainly friends to lovers/impossible relationship dynamics.

nuclear season: part I -> | part II -> | part III -> prequel: <- part I | part III -> | part IV -> Masterlist

“I tell you,” Kyle chuckled, “you should have been there. I fell off the stool from laughter. I have never seen anything like it before in my life,”

They laid close to each other in a nest of covers and pillows on her bed in her messy hotel room. Music played in the background. Erika looked at his features, getting inebriated by the naïve, sweet look he had on his pretty face. His blushed cheeks and the lack of focus he had due to being tipsy were getting her drunk more than the alcohol.

“Well, then,” Erika raised the half-full bottle of tequila in a cheer, “I suppose that requires a hooray!” giggling to herself, she let her head fall heavy on the nest of pillows. She wasn’t even sure what they were talking about anymore.

She had tried so hard to stay as far away from heavily drinking for so long, that she almost got back to being able to feel tipsy and enjoy it. She hadn’t been completely clean, but she hadn’t gotten drunk in months. Until tonight.

Sobriety would have meant for her to have a clearer mind to take sensed, thought-through decisions, considering a whole lot of consequences and people involved. But that also meant she was supposed to face her emotions, which Erika had no intention of doing. Not after she had to face Mark’s words.

If her brother didn’t believe in her, what chance did she have?

She tried to escape her past, but it was just as her brother had said. A tiger wouldn’t lose her strips. She would have never become anything better than who she was. Forever branded like the unreliable troublemaker unworthy of the benefit of the doubt or any hope.

She had been so stupid for believing anything could change. That she had a chance to become something better.

And then there was Kyle. She didn’t even want to think about how heartbroken she was. It hurt so much to want someone so desperately and knowing so well she’d never have him. It hurt too much for her to bear. If she had been given the chance to be someone different from her past, maybe she would have thought she could make it. Maybe she would treat him well, give him the affection he deserved and trust him to give her the respect she needed. But she wasn’t different. She was the same girl she left in Australia, only lived in the United Kingdom and pretended to be someone else for kicks.

And now, she just knew she was going to break Kyle’s heart. It was a conscious decision she had made.

Instead of considering her options, Erika decided to take the familiar route of drowning herself in a bottle of tequila and making bad decisions. It was easy enough to forget about her dreams and expectations. And the more she fell into her drunkenness mess of incoherent stormy emotions, the more she became erratic and unpredictable, spiralling into a dark void. She was stuck in an ouroboros where she became the thing she feared the most to escape it.

And now, she was ready to stand by the rubble of everything she was going to ruin.

Before Kyle could grab the bottle from her grasp, Erika retrieved it to her chest, sending him a teasing look, challenging him to come and get it as she drank more of the bitter liquor herself. She hid her grin behind the bottle, chugging down a big gulp. No salt. No lime. No shame.

The liquid felt hot as it slid down her throat and into her stomach. Its warmth spread quickly through her and into her mind, making it difficult to focus on much more but Kyle’s lips.

“You are so pretty,” she whispered, deciding to push herself to break the distance between them and tracing his jawline with her fingertips. “Beautiful, actually.”

Kyle’s face became red all over. “Not like you,” he dared and then stole the bottle off her grasp and hid his timidity behind it.

She felt every inch of her skin itch to be touched. The small distance dividing them was so painful to endure. She felt the need to feel him. To have him. Hanging between their words and in their crossed gazes there was everything she tried to deny herself from feeling and all the space he allowed her to have, respecting her wishes. The difference was she was done being mature. She had taken her decision. Trying and act like the bigger person, getting away from everything toxic in her behaviour, didn’t bring her anywhere. So why keep fighting?

That was her last chance to make a sensible decision before ruining everything.

Fuck Mark.

She thought impulsively, getting distracted from Kyle.

Fuck him and all his empty promises and his pretended love. He didn’t deserve her to try. He didn’t believe she could, anyway. So, he wasn’t going to have the best version of her. He ripped her hope away and threw her in the dark. So, she was going to hurt the only person he cared about. And she had every intention of liking it. Kyle would have been delicious; she just knew it.

“I am so glad you are here,” she didn’t need to lie about that. She was aware of what she was walking into and what she would have done. But she truly liked him.

This time, she traced her fingers to his chin, close to his lips.

Kyle popped a timid smile, as he looked at her face. Words didn’t come out of his mouth. He was fiddling with his hands. So nervous and pretty, made her smile widen. Delicious.

Erika was naturally prompted to move to him, placing a hand on his chest. “What is it, baby?” She wondered in a low purr, pushing herself closer to him. “You are so nervous.”

“I didn’t think you’d call; you know?”

“No?” Erika decided it was time to get rid of the bottle of tequila, which she leaned over to leave on the bedside cabinet, before quickly going back to snuggling by Kyle’s side. “You haven’t noticed how I look at you?”

“I have. I do. I hope that you’ll notice me all the time,” he admitted, “but you made it clear you need distance, and that’s what I gave you.”

“And I appreciate that,” Erika wasn’t lying. Nothing of what she felt for him was constructed. She was truly enjoying spending time with him and wanted so much more from him that it felt difficult to breathe; even though she did ask him to join her only because of her quarrel with Mark, to prove a point, and was determined to break both their hearts.

If she was supposed to end up suffering, she was gonna do it in the sweetest and most prohibited way possible.

“I don’t want to have distance anymore,” Erika suggested, her eyes crossed Kyle’s face, soaking up his sweetness. She decided to encourage him to follow her queue by grabbing his hand and gently guiding him to place it on her stomach. He watched her do it holding his breath in his chest.

His touch was extremely attentive. Kyle laid his large hand flat on her abdomen, not daring to move. His skinny fingers were spread across her, feeling the soft material of the extra-large t-shirt she was wearing above a simple pair of booty shorts. Then, his hand moved ever so slightly, feeling her body underneath his touch.

A shiver crossed her. They were barely touching and she was already on fire. A soft sigh left her as the pleasure of his touch, even just so small, was already enough to make her stretch under him. She desperately wanted him to touch her all over and to feel him everywhere. She was ready to beg and had to bite her tongue not to. Not yet. That simple caress wasn’t enough – not even remotely.

Erika kept her hand on his, pushing him down into her belly, making him feel her. She needed him to explore her. She wanted him to desire to feel her just as badly as she did. Her other hand was still on his face as she was carried away by his timid look as he followed everything she did. There was uncertainty behind his eyes, but it was the edge of expectations he hung on that attracted her the most.

“Tell me what you are thinking,” she pulled his chin, making him look back at her. “I need to know what’s going on behind those beautiful eyes.”

Kyle tried to hide behind a chuckle, but his blushed cheeks gave him away. “What do you think I am thinking?” He wondered, trying to outsmart her.

Except Erika wasn’t playing. “I hope you are wondering what I look like when I am naked.” She dared, not stopping at how he choked on his breath. “And I am hoping you are going to put those pretty hands and lips into use soon.”

“God, Erika,” he whispered, trying to escape her gaze.

He hissed when she didn’t let him get away. “Tell me. Please, baby, I need to know. I need you.”

The way he shivered made her body react. Warmth flooded right through her, charging up her nerves and making her belly ache and her abdomen feel heavy. God, nothing about her desire needed to be forced in any way, Erika truly liked him and had been wanting him for a long time now. Only she had stopped hiding it away. Now it was her time to be selfish.

“Me too,” he admitted, leaning closer to her, enough to press his forehead on hers. “I want you so bad it hurts.”

She smiled victoriously and decided she was done waiting around. She pushed herself closer to him, brushing her lips on his.

Kyle took another few moments to warm up. He was awkward and uncertain, but surely ready to follow her queues, because, as soon as he battled with his shyness, he dived into her lips, kissing her with a hunger and desperation Erika was more than ready to match.

It had been so long since they kissed and she had missed his lips ever since.

There was a force pulling her towards him. How did she believe it possible to fight against her deepest desires?

She was such a fool.

Erika’s hand cruised across his neck and around his shoulders, pulling him down on her. She avidly studied the slim edges of his body, admiring the feeling of every muscle and bone she found, desiring to feel more. She needed his naked skin. His warmth. His everything.

Kyle weighing on her as they made out was so sweet and ravaging. She was already pretty unhinged and self-destructive, but now, nothing was stopping her.

Erika bent her leg and slid it around his thin waist, branching around him like ivy. She then guided his hand from her belly to her thigh, needing to feel his fingers on her naked skin. This time, Kyle was more courageous and took the initiative, squeezing her soft flesh into his hold. The soft moan he released, pushing himself against her, further into her arms, sent her ballistic.

Erika pushed him down on the mattress and hopped over his hips, straddling him. This time, lowering herself back down, she pushed her face into the crook of his neck, avidly kissing his skin and adoring feeling him tensing up underneath her, his choked breath was music to her ears.

Kyle took a few long seconds before feeling confident enough to wrap his hands around her hips. But then, he rewarded her by letting his hands explore her body, feeling dauntless enough to cruise up her spine and down one leg.

Erika pulled herself up sitting back into his hips and enjoying every inch of his body she felt underneath her. He was aroused. She felt his trapped erection poke her through their clothes. And, God, that was enough to make her head spin. Not thinking too clearly, she pushed her hands in between them, reaching for his belt, feeling the need to touch him.

However, before she could even realise her desires, Kyle froze and was quick to stop her. His hold on her was gentle but firm as he grabbed her hands and pushed them off him.

Erika sat back up on him, frowning. “What is it, baby?”

“Nothing,” he huffed, avoiding eye contact, “I just- would like to take it easy, for a moment.”

Looking down at him, she suddenly felt slightly uncomfortable with the idea that he may have not wanted the same thing she did, despite his clear arousal and desire for her. Though there was something in him, in his quickened breath and pink cheeks, and in the way his eyes were drawn away from her, that intrigued her even more.

She slipped a hand of his grasp only to grab his chin and pull him to look at her. “What is it, Fletch?”

“Nothing-” he choked. His entire face was becoming red.

Erika leapt into his eyes. “No. That’s not nothing.” She leaned in, brushing her lips over his softly, “Tell me.”

Kyle hesitated, looking at her for a long moment and then, with a defeated sigh, he shook his head. “I think I need a minute before we start doing stuff.”

“Ok,” she nodded, understanding and encouraging, not forcing herself on him. “Why? Are you ok?”

“More than ok,” he nodded, “please, don’t think I don’t want this. You.” He released her hand only to place his around her hips, giving her an encouraging squeeze. “Because I do. More than the world.”

“Then what is it?” She wondered softly, kissing gently his forehead and then cheeks, loving the way he moulded into her like a cat bumping his little face into her.

“I-” he choked on a secret.

“You can tell me,” She encouraged him softly, sliding her hand across the back of his neck and up his shaved hair, gently cradling him. “You can tell me anything.”

“I may not have as much experience as you think I do,” he revealed speaking quickly.

“That’s ok,” Erika pulled a gentle smile, willing to make him feel at ease. She had suspected it by the way he was attentive and soft and, if anything, it only made her more feral.

Though Kyle still shook his head. “No, you don’t understand.” He took a deep breath like he was trying to gather all his courage. “I’ve never done this before.”

Erika was stricken.

She froze on the spot, looking down at him.

However, her shock was soon gone. She was quick to cup his face into her hands, holding him ever so gently. “Are you a virgin?”

Kyle quietly nodded, face still red all over and puppy eyes so sweet her heart couldn’t take it.

Her chest was quick to warm back up and fill with a feeling so strong it made it hard to breathe. It was respect. It was affection. It was straight-up devotion, the second she realised the meaning of his words. And then it ripped her apart, as she realised he wasn’t only a sweet-looking boy she fancied. He wasn’t only a prohibited fruit she wanted to defile to prove a point. He was so much more than that. He was everything she wanted. What she felt rolling out of her chest, made her have to bite her tongue not to tell him how deep she was falling for him.

She attentively caressed his cheeks.

That wasn’t going the way she had planned. She had planned to do what she was used to, which was charming a boy into bed with her and watching her world burn. But now all of that was gone in the back of her mind. Now there was only their moment.

“Would you give it to me?” She wondered pulling his chin up, brushing her lips against his.

Kyle nodded without a second of hesitation. “Yes. Yes, please. I have thought about this so much. I just need you to go slow on me.”

“Oh? You thought about this?” Kyle whined and nodded in her hold, only attracting her attention more. Erika kissed the sides of his mouth, “When?” she wondered in a whisper, “touching yourself?” He whimpered, and then nodded again, only prompting her to pull his chin softly. “Use your words, pretty boy.”

“Yes. I did.”

Erika rewarded him with a soft kiss. “Thinking about me?”

“Mh- yes, it’s always you.”

“Fuck, Kyle,” she hissed as a shiver crossed her back, making her skin ripple in goosebumps.

There, right at that moment, as they both stood over an edge there was no coming back, Erika decided there was no past or future. They were only a boy and a girl who liked each other. There were no consequences, no regrets. Only what they felt and what they wanted.

And she desperately wanted him to be hers. Only hers.

Erika pulled him up in a kiss, starting with her plan by taking his lips. He melted underneath her, now wrapping his arms fully around her, caging in a hug and holding onto her like she was a lifeline.

This time, he was the one taking the initiative. He traced her chin with his lips and down her neck, pushing her to bend in between his arms, assaulting one of her most sensitive spots, tasting her skin.

“Yes,” she cooed with a proud smile on her lips, enjoying feeling his mouth on her. “I like that. Keep going.”

Kyle followed her words gladly, taking a liking to nibble on the sensitive skin under her ear only to feel her shiver and sigh in his arms. She whimpered when his hot tongue passed over the spots his teeth marked.

“Did you ever have a girlfriend, before?” she wondered breathlessly, sliding a hand through the longer hair on top of his head, feeling the need to grab on something.

“I am not that naïve,” he pointed out, looking up at her with a small grin, “I did stuff before, only not everything.”

God, he was breathtaking with his puffed-up lips, blushed cheeks and glimmery eyes.

“Oh, yeah?” Erika brushed her lips on his forehead, “what stuff?” She found it so arousing for no reason in particular, if not that he just became a thousand times more delicious to her. She wanted to eat him up.

Kyle went red again. “Everything else but sex.”

“Everything?” She kept wondering, tracing circles with her fingers across the back of his neck. “Like what? You had a little girlie who showed you how she liked to be touched? Or more than one girl, maybe?”

“Are you taking the piss out of me?”

“No.” She simply said looking down at him. “It turns me on. Tell me, I want to know.”

“Just one girl,” he sighed, giving her exactly what she wanted, “We were high school sweethearts, we were together for a little over one year, though it didn’t work out as soon as I started travelling with wrestling. It’s been some time now.”

“Was she pretty?” Erika causally played with his hair.

She wasn’t jealous. She had never been jealous once in her life, her ego was big enough to give her the confidence to know there was no competition with her. When she wanted something, she simply would have it. There was no other way about it. But she was proud, arrogant even, and she needed to know; she needed to hear it from his lips.

“Yes,” he nodded, “she was a pretty girl. Too pretty for me. But nothing compared to you,” Kyle didn’t disappoint her. “But you know that, don’t you?”

She pushed her index under his chin, making him lift his face. “I like to hear how pretty you think I am.”

“Breathtaking,” he revealed. The way his honest eyes glimmered, as he traced the soft lines of her features, gave her a shiver. “You look like you came out of a dream. But it isn’t only your smoky hot body or the way I’d fall on my knees every time you smile. It’s your eyes. When you look at me, I feel seen. I feel important.”

“You are seen,” Erika slid her hands around his face, making sure to be as close to him as possible, “You are important to me, Kyle.”

She shouldn’t have said it. She was well aware. But there were worse things she wanted to say just as badly. She wasn’t only falling for him; she was already there and had those three words on the tip of her tongue. She couldn’t keep it in anymore, her heart was leaping out of her chest and pouring straight into his. Erika had no control over the emotion that just overwhelmed her. But she forced herself to silence.

He may never know it. She had never been no one’s before, but she was his now. No matter about tomorrow or the consequences of all those damned choices they were making in that bed. A piece of her just left her and he had it to keep forever.

“I want to take off your clothes,” she instructed softly, her hands sliding down on his chest, hinting at her words. “Would that be ok?”

Kyle nodded quickly, only prompting her to reach for the helm of his t-shirt and pull it up and over his head. She then gave him a gentle push, hinting for him to lay back down under her. Kyle followed her queue obediently and let her feast on the view.

She saw him shirtless all the time while they worked. Sometimes around the house too. It wasn’t news. But it was entirely different now when she had his consent to study, tease and taste every centimetre of his exposed skin.

Her fingers followed attentively her gaze across his torso. His skin was soft and warm under her touch, feeling thinly stretched over his slim body. She followed the edges of his thin pecs and down the sternum to his abdomen. As she teased him, tracing her fingers lower to his belly button, Erika enjoyed seeing how his breath trembled in his belly. It gave her a hot shiver that crossed her spine and nested right into her abdomen, giving her the primal need to lower herself and leave a deep bite mark on his belly. Before she could get distracted over, her fingers cruised back up across his sides and ribs, feeling every bone under her fingertips, counting them.

Erika leaned down on him and, before he could move his arms to reach for her, she gently interceded him and made him bend them over his head. A confident smirk on her lips as she looked at him as she crossed his wrists and pinned him down, looking at him like he was his most precious possession.

“Do not move. Can you do that for me, Kyle?”

“Yes,” his voice was bent in a whimper that made her thoughts fog up.

“Good boy,” Erika rewarded him with a kiss on the lips and then moved on his neck. Her hand clawed around his jaw, pushing his head up, making him expose as much of his throat as possible just so she’d have free access to it.

She kissed and nibbled over his soft skin, having to assert the utmost control over herself so as not to leave visible marks. Even though marking him was the only thing she could think about. It was possessive, maybe wrong even, and yet, she wanted his skin to present the traces of her nails, teeth and hickeys.

Kyle moaned and stretched underneath her, bucking his hips up at her, trying to find some kind of release, as she sucked his soft skin into her mouth. It was enough to send them both insane. Erika passed her tongue from the base of his neck up to his chin. Feeling his Adam’s apple move under her muscle made her growl like a feral animal.

She then moved down across his body. Her lips moved to his shoulders as she nibbled on his collarbones and down his chest, where she enjoyed toying with his nipples, licking and sucking, only bringing him to arch underneath her and huff, blinded by pleasure.

“You need to stay still for me, baby,” she hinted as she moved down on him, crossing his abdomen with the tip of her nose.

Kyle still arched underneath her, extremely reactive to her touch.

God. And she hadn’t even got to his cock yet. She wondered what kind of little whimpers he would have offered as soon as she did.

Her hands moved across his hips and followed the edge of his jeans, moving slowly to the buckle of his belt. She looked up at him, making sure to study his reaction so she could stop if he froze again.

He didn’t. He hissed instead, arching and throwing his head backwards, letting her have a perfect view of his stretched-up body caged by the invisible chains of her will.

“Give me permission to take your pants off, baby,” she begged.

Kyle looked down at her, looking pretty and desperate, lust glimmering through his beautiful light eyes. “Yes,”

Erika started to undo his belt; her savvy fingers had no trouble with the buckle. “And then,” she started, looking back up at him, “I want to take you into my mouth. Would you like that, baby?”

Kyle let his head fall back, his chest trembled in a small whimper.

“Use your words, pretty boy,”

“Please, Erika,” he whispered, still keeping his hands above his head like he was tied down. “Yes. Do whatever you like to me.”

Erika acted frantically like her life depended on that moment. She opened his jeans and pulled them down on his hips, not letting herself look at him. Not just yet. She wanted to savour it. She pulled them down his legs, helped by him lifting his waist. They giggled innocently to each other.

Finally, once he was naked under her, Erika slid her hands across his thighs, feasting on his body.

A proud grin crossed her plump lips as she shamelessly looked at his erection. “What a nice surprise,” she teased, biting down on her lip, “such a big pretty boy with a big pretty cock,” she spaced her words willingly, adoring seeing him hang from her lips.

Kyle was flustered, red all over his face and neck, and breathless, but didn’t hide from her. There was a certain level of expectation and ego hiding behind his curiosity. He wished to be praised. “All yours.”

His words crossed her like a spike, hitting her straight into her lower abdomen, and making her tremble. She felt her inside squeeze under the desperate pressure of feeling him inside of her. She had never experienced desire quite like that before.

“Mine.” She agreed.

His virgin skin was milky pale, making her feel the savage need to bite down on him, nibbling along his leg and up to his hipbone. A desire she gave into and responded to Kyle’s little whimpers with moans of her own.

She looked up at him, making sure he was just as lost in the moment as she was, as her lips traced across his lower abdomen. Erika was attentive as she rolled her hand around his cock, allowing Kyle to settle down into her touch. He flinched, but almost immediately relaxed under her, releasing a pleasureful sigh. Erika gently squeezed him in her palm, rolling her hand across his length.

A sharp smile crossed her lips. “Did I get your dick wet?” It was a rhetorical question. He was, in fact, wet, so to speak. But she still wanted to see him nod for her. “You are so fucking desperate; I haven’t even done anything yet.” Her hand followed her words across his cock as she dared to kiss its base, feeling the need to have a little taste of him.

Kyle moaned shamelessly. “I-” he tried to formulate words that only escaped him, mixing with whimpers.

She had never heard a prettier sound.

“What, baby?”

“Please, Erika, I can’t take it anymore,”

She was the one who whimpered now. Having him begging under her made her go feral.

Erika looked up at him, nodding. “I want you to do something for me,”

“Anything,”

“You are free to move your hands now. I want you to grab my hair as I suck on you. And I want you to pull it. And I want you to push me down on you anytime you want to go deeper into my throat.”

“Fuck-” he choked.

“Can you do this for me, baby?”

“What if I choke you?”

“God, baby,” she flicked her tongue along his length, stealing another moan and all of his focus out of him. “That’s the entire point. I want to choke on your cock.”

Kyle sounded like he could cry and she was done wasting time.

She knew well he wouldn’t have lasted long. And she was intentioned to milk every drop of the pleasure of his first time out of him. But she also wished to take it as slow as possible, just like he asked.

Erika traced his length, base to tip, with her tongue and then, she gently took him into her mouth, again allowing him to get used to the feeling of her hot mouth around him. Kyle moaned loudly, not losing a second to slip both his hands into her hair, grabbing on it more to brace himself than to control her movement. As he looked down at her, his mouth was open, pretty lips puffed and wet, his face bent in pleasure.

When she started sucking on him, Kyle was completely gone. He let his head fall backwards on the pillows and arched underneath her, whimpering and softly moaning to her every movement. Erika slid her hands up his chest, digging her nails into his skin, as she took him a little deeper into her mouth with every thrust.

Kyle followed his instinct, Erika’s lips closed around the base of his dick and he, holding her head firmly in between his hands, pushed himself as deep as possible into her throat. A shiver crossed as she felt him so deep inside of her. She released a suffocated moan that slipped right through him, shaking Kyle too.

“Fuck, baby I’m-” he gasped for air, “so close.”

Erika pulled back, releasing him and catching her breath. Looking up at him, she whipped out another sharp grin. “Do you want me to stop?” she wondered only pretending to be innocent. She had no intention of stopping.

“Not a chance,” Kyle then surprised her. He grinned too and, pulling on her hair, he hinted to her to climb back over him. “You are still wearing clothes,” he whispered as soon as she was close enough for him to kiss her.

Kyle took over. He moved her hair out of the way and kept a hand dug deep into it. She started to suspect he liked it to hold her like that. And Erika had no complaints about it. Erika threw her arms around his shoulders, enjoying his initiative. With his free hand, Kyle guided her to go back straddling him and then wrapped his arm around her hips, pushing her to sit as close to him as humanly possible.

His erection pressed on her hot core, making her head spin. It was the first moment she realised what kind of mess she was already. Her pleasure had been forgotten for a second, but now, she realised she had soaked her pants. Erika released a soft moan into his mouth as she rubbed herself against him, only giving him a hint of what to expect. She wanted to drive them both insane.

Kyle’s fingers squeezed the material of her large t-shirt, he then tugged at it and pulled it up on her figure. Erika helped him remove it and then welcomed how he moved on her with a giggle. Her body moulded on him as Kyle kissed her neck, down to her collarbones and shoulders, and lower again. His warm hands were quicker to cup her breasts, squeezing them; he followed quickly, not losing a second to suckle on her tits.

Erika’s head fell heavy as his tongue played with her hard nipples. Her stomach was invaded by a heavy wave of pleasure that slipped through her, making her skin feel tight as she stretched against him, looking to find release. A louder moan escaped her lips, only prompting him to grunt on her.

“Look at you,” she whispered brushing her smile on his forehead. “Little virgin pretty boy knows what he’s doing, uh?”

Kyle shamelessly bit her nipple, in return to her words, and then offered a cocky smirk. “I know some stuff.”

“Clearly,” she smiled, pushing a finger under his chin making him lift his face. “Can I fuck you, now?”

He trembled under her touch; his fingers squeezed her hips as he softly nodded. “Yes. I’d like that.”

“Yes, you would, baby.”

Erika downed on his lips, trapping them into a kiss. She caged his head between her arms and squeezed him against her as if she could push him into her chest and never let him go.

Kyle’s fingers hooked on the band of her booty shorts and pulled on them, teasing her. To which Erika reacted moving her hips, rubbing herself on him.

She broke their kiss, trying to catch her breath and think clearly, even though common sense still escaped her. It was too hot, he was too sweet and inebriating, and the tequila didn’t help.

“Ok,” she huffed, “do you know how it’s going to work?”

“I have access to the internet, babe. I’ve seen porn before.”

Erika smirked, shaking her head as they both blushed. “Ok, little smartass, don’t get an attitude with me,” she poked his chest, “or I’ll make you regret it and beg until you apologise to me.”

Kyle smiled, so smitten as he looked at her. “You like having control, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do.” That being said, she pulled his hair, making him bend his head for her. “I’ll give you a pass because I am about to take your virginity,” only thinking about that made her stomach tremble, “but remember it next time. A brat gets punished.”

Kyle still smiled, testing her. “Careful, I might decide to punish you, one day.”

A shiver crossed her. They had no future, she was aware, and yet she hoped for it. She wished that one day, he’d make her whine and moan desperately under his control. “Let’s see if you can take it from me, pretty boy.” She decided she rather keep pretending that was only the beginning for them.

Erika pushed him down on the mattress and then got rid of her shorts, throwing them somewhere in the room. She was quick climbing back on him and, as soon as she did, she grabbed Kyle’s cock, massaging it into her palm and silencing whatever he was going to say. “You are so hard for me, baby.”

Kyle hissed, nodding as his hands cruised on her thighs. He bit hard on his lower lip, looking so pretty underneath her, it was insane. Erika pushed him against her bare core, rubbing herself against him and immediately was shaken by a wave of pleasure, feeling how hot and heavy his flesh was. “Do you feel how wet you got me?”

He whimpered softly, looking down at their bodies meeting. “Fuck, Erika,”

Every time he called for her name, she felt transported to another dimension.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. God, yes.”

“Come here, baby. Sit up for me,” she suggested and was ready to catch him as soon as he did as she asked. She rolled an arm around his shoulders, keeping him as close as possible. She needed it. She had no intention of having an inch of space in between them as she took him deep inside of her. “I want you so bad.” Erika brushed her lips on his chin, accompanying her words rubbing herself against him once more.

Kyle trembled under her and then hissed, nodding. “Me too. Please, just fuck me.”

She didn’t let him ask her again. She was done waiting and teasing. It was time and there was no going back. She was already his. And he was hers. Only for that night.

Erika lifted her hips and positioned herself on him. She looked straight into his eyes, getting lost in them as she slowly lowered herself on his erection, taking him inch by inch as slowly as she could. Pleasure shot through her immediately, connecting her to him on a deeper level. She mirrored his expression as Kyle opened his mouth, welcoming feeling her squeezing on him and taking his virginity with a silent moan. She wasn’t quiet. He was shaken by a shiver as pain and pleasure mixed through him.

Erika sat still on him, giving him the time to process how it felt. He stretched her nicely, making her feel breathless. A proud smile quickly followed as she nodded, encouraging him. “Good boy,” she whispered, kissing the sides of his mouth, hugging him. “Pretty, sweet boy. All mine.” Erika kept lulling, getting lost in their moment.

When she moved on him, she watched him take a deep breath and hold it in his chest. Pleasure was slipping through her, making it so difficult for her not to get selfish and just take what she wanted.

“Tell me how it feels, Kyle.” Her words were accompanied by another slow thrust.

He rolled his eyes in the back of his skull as a small whimper shook his chest. “You feel-” his words were choked, “Hot. And wet. And so damn tight I can’t breathe.”

“Good?” She wondered brushing her lips across his forehead and down his nose, enjoying how he moved under her, responding to her naturally.

“So, so, good, baby.”

Erika hid her proud smile into his lips, kissing him deeply.

“I will go faster now, is that ok?”

“Please,”

Erika proceeded to ride him, bucking her hips up and down his cock with increasing speed, following the pleasure quickly mounting into her lower abdomen and spreading through her as he stroked her most sensitive spot inside of her. She didn’t care about being quiet anymore. On the contrary, she was as vocal as possible. She wanted him to hear exactly what he was doing to her.

She held onto his shoulders as her pleasure only grew, making her fingers claw. She dug her nails into his flesh, willingly leaving marks across his back.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good,” she cooed to his ear, enjoying the little noises he made in response.

“I am so close,” he whispered sounding so desperate it sent her feral.

“Do you want to come, pretty boy?” She wandered making him look at her.

Kyle nodded, letting her see how the pleasure of being lost inside of her shaped his face.

Erika pulled his hair, making him bend his head backwards and riding him mercilessly, determined to take what she wanted. Every drop of it. “Then let it go,”

He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing his fingers on every inch of skin he could grab. He pulled down on her hips, burying himself as deep inside of her as humanly possible.

“Kyle,” she welcomed him with a moan, letting her head fall backwards. She felt him in her stomach. He choked the breath out of her chest and she loved every second of it. To the point, she started wondering how she could have got back to normality.

Kyle quivered underneath her. His breath was shaken and broken, as he erratically mumbled her name, chanting it like a prayer. And then she felt him get stiffer as pleasure shook him. He found his release quickly and violently, suffocating a loud moan into the crook of her neck and letting himself go in between her arms.

Erika felt him unload inside of her; she felt every inch of him shake in waves of pleasure, that crossed straight into her flesh, pushing her over the same edge. Her pleasure caught both by surprise. She didn’t count on coming. Not the first time anyway. Instead, her orgasm mounted violently inside of her just a moment after him. Erika came calling his name in a soft whimper, praising him and cradling him into her arms. Her quivering body squeezed him into overstimulation, making him extremely reactive to her spasms, as he gifted her with small, pretty whines, not daring to push her away but letting her ride her high.

“Fuck,” she whispered, trying to catch her breath, “you are pretty good for a good, little, virgin boy.” Erika pressed grateful kisses on his forehead and cheeks, not hiding her proud, lovestruck smile.

“I can be even better,” Kyle looked up at her, so devoted she felt his gaze into her heart. His hands cupped her face as he pulled her into a soft kiss. “You know,” he began, stroking her softly, “what I feel for you, don’t you?”

Erika had to fight against the need to hear him say it. She knew. She knew so well. Her heart sang for him. She didn’t need his words to know that if she was ready to fall he’d be there to catch her. But she couldn’t afford to hear it. Erika pressed her fingers on his lips, gently shutting him up. “Whatever, you know? Don’t say it, Kyle.”

“Why?”

“Because if you say it, I’ll have to say that I do too. And that won’t be fair.”

“We just had sex. You were my first. And somehow this is worse?”

“No. Not worse,” Erika kissed his lips softly, “I can deal with sex. I know sex. I don’t know feelings. Don’t say it, Kyle, please.” She sounded so desperate.

“Ok,” the look he sent her was just as intense, “Whatever.”

Later, that same night, Kyle laid heavily on her, fast asleep. He passed out pretty quickly after their third round. Which was another surprise he had in store for her, just like the amount of pleasure he was able to give her. He was a quick, eager learner.

She wouldn’t have forgotten that night easily. Surprisingly, the good sex her little virgin pretty boy gave her wasn’t the only reason.

Erika was lost in the quietness surrounding them. Time had slowed down. She listened to his soft snoring and softly played with his hair with one hand and stroked his back with the other. His head was nested on her chest, arms caging her under him.

It was pretty good, she thought. It was something she so desperately wanted to get used to.

Maybe, she should have revised her entire plan. Maybe, she could have stood up to her brother and faced the consequence of accepting to be in love with that sweet boy. It could have worked. She could, maybe, deserve to be happy. If only-

Erika brushed her lips softly on Kyle’s forehead. “I love you,” she whispered ever so softly. A secret no one else could know.

The bright sun flooded the room. The morning was well started as birds sang outside, traffic flowed on the road by the hotel and people walked up and down the rooms, closing doors and dragging suitcases.

But the same couldn’t be said for the occupants of the bed. Erika was oblivious. Lost in her lazy slumber, drowning in soft pillows and even softer arms. She had woken a couple of times already but had decided to roll over and ignore responsibilities, only finding Kyle’s arms ready to hug her and pull her in a deeper, warmer hug. Why would she ever consider waking up when the alternative was that sweet?

A singing maid pushed her wonky trolley through the corridor. Erika vaguely heard it creak as it moved. But it was when it got slammed carelessly against the wall just outside her door that she was finally startled awake.

As Erika jumped up, Kyle too moved, rolling on his back and taking a deep breath in. Senses came back slowly to her at first; she had a second to recollect her memories, the room looked just as messy as she was used to having it, but she knew she wasn’t home, she was in a hotel somewhere in England. Essex maybe? Or Suffolk, it didn’t matter much. Then Erika was hit by a massive headache that weighed her head down. She felt it in her teeth. Behind her eyes. Under her ears. Into her fingertips and toes. Her stomach twisted.

“Ugh,” she hissed, letting herself fall back on the mattress, covering her eyes with her arm.

“’orning,” Kyle mumbled, stretching on the mattress next to her. “Did you sleep well?”

It took her a second longer to remember everything else. Mark. Kyle. The sex. The feelings. Panic started to set inside of her, making adrenaline fire up in her veins, giving her the familiar fight-or-flight feeling she was so used to dealing with running.

“Shit,” she kicked her sheets off, jumping off the bed looking for something, anything, to wear to cover herself up.

Kyle sat up, frowning, rubbing his hands on his face.

Erika took a moment to look at him, not even realising she had stopped only to think how pretty he was just awake, skin kissed by the sun. Or maybe it was everything they shared that made her want to drop everything else, slip back into bed and let him know how much she had no intention of letting him go, ever.

“What is it?” He wondered, leaning his head to the side, puzzled.

Erika got shaken back into reality and went back to her hasted movements. “You weren’t supposed to sleep here all night,” she warned directly looking at him.

“OK? So?”

“Get up,” Erika threw his t-shirt back at him. “You went M.I.A. all night, you know what that means? Mark has probably lost his mind by now.”

Kyle shook his head. “I don’t care, I am an adult. He’ll be fine.”

“No. He won’t.” Erika shook her head, “Trust me, Kyle. He won’t. Not about this.”

Kyle shook himself awake, trying to connect her words to a deeper meaning, even though his face remained only puzzled. “Slow down,” he hinted, moving to the edge of the bed to grab her by the arm and stop her erratic moving around. Kyle pulled her closer to him, and, against her better judgment, she let him. “Explain what’s going on to me, please?”

“I am kicking you out.” Erika sighed sadly. “And Mark can never know this happened,” she pointed in between them, “He won’t forgive me, ever. He doesn’t want me to be with you. He made it pretty clear last night.”

“Is that what happened at the pub? Why you left?”

“Yeah,”

“Erika,” Kyle tried to catch her gaze, “I don’t care what Mark thinks, I want to be with you.”

“No. You don’t. I have a past. I did terrible things. Mark knows every single one of those things. He knows better what’s good for me. You might be good for me, there’s hardly a person you wouldn’t be good for. But I am not good for you. He’s right on that.”

“Do I get an opinion about this?”

Erika looked up into his eyes, silently begging him to stop. “Please, Kyle, don’t go there.”

“Hey, hey,” Kyle cupped her face, making her look at him, trying to scoop her out of her panic. “I don’t care about all of that. Whatever you were before I met you won’t change the girl I fell for now. You don’t want to tell your brother? Fine by me. Just tell me you are ok.”

“I’m,” Erika was ready to slip off his hold and yet, somehow, there was something in his gaze that hooked her. “I’m ok,” she whispered leaning in to give him a quick kiss, “But you need to go.”

“Ok,” Kyle still pulled a cheeky smile, pulling her into a kiss. Then, he hopped off the bed and back into his clothes. “I’ll see you at breakfast?”

“Food. God, yes. Let’s hope we’ll be on time for it.”

He still hung by the door, looking back at her. His lips were bent in a stupid smile, his gaze, as he looked at her, was completely smitten. “For what is worth, I am glad we did what we did.”

She stood by a forked road; she was looking at her options and felt like both led to ruin. One represented something sweeter, that would have hurt so much more when everything would have gone up in flames. The other was jumping into the void now.

Erika was well aware of what she had been telling herself all night. She knew what she was supposed to do. What she thought was the best course of action. And yet, now, standing there, she was just a lovestruck girl, looking at a boy she liked so much her chest hurt only thinking about it. It was hard to breathe. She told herself she would have been able to shake herself back to normal. She was convinced she could have scratched that itch for him and then go at breaking his heart as if nothing mattered. Except she lied.

Her itch to scratch was only becoming bigger. About a lifetime size, right now. How would one shake that?

“Me too,” she admitted, pulling a soft smile. “Now go, you idiot,” she chuckled, hinting at the door. “I’ll see you later.”

As soon as Kyle left the room and Erika was left alone, her despair and torment took over her, stripping her of every good feeling and intention that was giving her a shred of hope.

She wasn’t going to be able to make him happy. Maybe for a few weeks, it would have worked, but not for long. She wasn’t enough for him. She would have never been enough, and when Kyle realised that too, it would have been the end of her. She was addicted to how he made her feel, now, because he didn’t know who she had been before and made her feel so good about everything she was and did. But what about when he’d look at her with regrets and resentment, realising he had made a mistake trusting someone like her?

Erika forced herself to shove those thoughts to the side and got in the shower, doing her best to delay the panic attack she felt mounting into her chest.

Breathing in the steam and getting lost in the soft smell of her fresh shower gel that always reminded her of a shower took in the evening after a long summer day spent at the beach was reassuring. She let the hot water run across her skin. It was a compromise between the sadness of washing away the traces of the night she spent with Kyle and the relaxation her tensed nerves found.

By the time she was done with the shower and brushed her teeth, it was almost ten o’clock and Erika had barely time to dress up and ran out of her room if she wanted to catch the breakfast. She needed it. She realised that besides a few chips and the tequila she drunk last night, she had been fasting since lunch the day before. She needed to eat some solid food, to drink a coffee and possibly some orange juice. God, she hoped to find some.

Erika entered the restaurant on a trot, welcoming the familiar smell of the breakfast canteen every hotel seemed to have with a soft smile. Most tables were being cleaned up. Most food from the buffet was gone, like the fresh pastries. But she made it. Nothing else mattered. She could see the filter coffee pot on the side and thought “life is good”.

She turned over, looking into the room, finding both Mark and Kyle sat at a table by the window. The table was a mess. Mark sat in front of Kyle, he had several stacked-up plates in front of him, already empty, probably from a while, and was enjoying some coffee, while Kyle was deep into his full breakfast. They were chitchatting joyfully, big smiles on both their faces. And Erika took a moment to just enjoy seeing them like that. She wished she had her camera on her. They were both so beautiful and without a worry in the world.

Her chest ached.

As soon as she moved, Kyle caught a glimpse of her and his eyes didn’t leave her. His cheeks immediately blushed softly as his bright eyes glimmered. There was something, in his gaze, that couldn’t be mistaken. He looked like someone who’d seen her naked. He gifted her a large smile as she approached the table.

“Hey,”

“Good morning,” Erika avoided eye contact, pushing her damp hair behind her ear as if that could mask the guilty look she had on her face. She knew Mark was looking at them, she felt his eyes suspiciously moving on her.

“Saved you the last croissant,” Kyle pushed the little plate with the golden pastry cooked to perfection closer to her.

Erika wanted to smack him, and at the same time, everything she wanted to do was to kiss him and express her utmost devotion to his sweet concern. She had to bite her tongue not to. Not when Mark was there.

They had no chance of trying to hide anything from her brother.

“Thanks,” again, she ignored Kyle as much as she could. Clearing her voice, she finally looked at Mark, finding him waiting. He read right through her. Erika immediately looked away, regretting every decision she took in the last twenty-four hours. “Ok, then, I’ll go grab myself some coffee.”

She turned over, leaving them both and went hiding at the buffet counter, weighing her options.

She could have made a run for it; the door was just to her left. Maybe there was a way to never face the consequences of her actions. Cowardice, for sure. But also, she felt it could have been easy to pack her stuff, drop her job and disappear. After all, how many times did she think about it before?

Erika made herself a glass of orange juice and gulped it down and then made another.

No. That was ridiculous. She could never do that.

Fake even when brought up in front of the crushing evidence that she was, in fact, in love with Kyle and nothing could erase what they did last night? Yes. That was better.

Erika poured herself a cup of black filter coffee, wondering if it would have tasted just as disgusting as any other hotel breakfast buffet filter coffee.

“The fuck is up with you two!?”

Mark’s sudden interruption startled her enough that she almost dropped her cups. “Shit, mate, you scared me.”

He casually poured himself a cup of coffee, even though Erika suspected that was just an excuse to get closer to her. “Don’t deflect, sis. What did you do?”

“Nothing,” she lied, shrugging.

Mark grumbled, shaking his head, so disappointed in her he didn’t even need to say anything to hurt her. “The way he looks at you it’s not nothing. And since when you are fucking shy!? C’mon, cut the crap.”

“What do you want me to say!? If I look at him you come at me because I do. And if I don’t you still-”

“Hey,” Mark pointed a finger in her face, “you think I am an idiot? I know you. What did you do!? Are you trying to stand up to me or something, playing with him in the process?”

Erika put her cups down and decided there and then that she was done. She wasn’t a coward who’d run away so easily or ignored the situation forever. Not anymore.

Anger flooded straight through her, firing up her nervous system, and making her squeeze her fists. “You think so little of me?”

“I think I know you. I think I’ve seen enough of your little whims and games. I think I don’t want to see you play with him and end up ruining him, just like you do with everything.”

“Mark,” Erika gasped, hit deeply by his words, shaking her head. “Do you hear yourself?”

“Can you blame me, sis?”

“You are supposed to be in my corner,” she was the one pointing at him now, openly confronting him. “You are supposed to support me.”

“Not with Kyle, I don’t. We both know you’ll get tired of him so quickly. As soon as you are done getting your ego fed by how differently he treats you, you’ll go back to seeking the thrill like you always do. Just leave him alone.”

“Say it,” she hissed. “Say how you think a good-for-nothing, junky, slut like me will never deserve someone like him. I fucking dare you.”

Mark huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ll never say that to you.”

“Well, you already did. You are thinking about it. Might as well use the real words you are thinking, uh? Have the guts to go all the way, at least.”

“Fine,”

Erika gasped, feeling the air being taken out of her chest. She hoped until the end he wouldn’t agree with her. She gave him the benefit of the doubt, grasping on her last shred of trust in her brother, that he’d never go so low. And yet, she was wrong.

Of all the people in her life, even Kyle, Mark was the one most capable of destroying her.

And he just did.

“Fuck you,” Erika fought back her tears, not intentioned to give him the satisfaction to see how deeply he just hurt her. “Anything that will happen now it’s your fault. I want you to know. I want you to feel it. And regret it.”

“Erika,”

The second he tried to hold her, she pushed him back, spitting in his face. “No. You fucking bastard. You don’t get to annihilate me and shit all over everything I have done in my life, the good and the bad, in one minute, and then feel better about it.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? What are you going to do?”

“Break his fucking heart for one. I could have made him happy. Maybe,” this time she didn’t hide her tears. “But you had to happen to me. I hate you. And then I am going to shoot some heroin,” Erika smiled maniacally, “Hope to die in the process and stay on your fucking conscience forever,”

Pushing Mark off again, Erika stormed out, too shaken to even consider staying, too distraught to remember about her hunger or dehydration. Who cared about those things? They weren’t important anymore.

She needed to think. She needed space. She needed a smoke so bad.

“Erika, wait,”

“Kyle, get fucked,” she hissed, not stopping her march through the lobby.

“Baby, hold on,” he caught up on her easily and tried to grab her, only for Erika to immediately fight him too.

“What!? What do you want from me, Kyle!?”

Her harsh tone clearly hurt him. Part of her wanted to apologise and hold him and let him hold her and give her all the love and support he had in him. But the rest of her didn’t allow it. She wouldn’t have allowed anyone to hurt her like Mark did. She couldn’t trust anyone, ever. It would have made her only vulnerable. Weak.

Hurting Kyle got rid of the problem. He was the only person left who saw something in her. She sure didn’t anymore. And hurting him would have hurt Mark, just like he deserved.

It didn’t matter how much it would have hurt her. She was already in hell by that point, reliving everything she had done, everything she was and wondering why she ever tried to become better when there was no chance for her.

“I need to make sure you are ok.”

“Well, I am not ok. Do you know why? Because of you. Do you want to know what!?” She burst out, “I didn’t want to say anything before because I didn’t want to hurt you, but I want nothing more to do with you. We had sex, it was fun, thanks, I needed it. And now I got what I wanted and you lost your shine to me.”

“You don’t mean that, I know you don’t.”

“Watch me meaning it.” She turned over, walking out of the hotel, only to grumble when she realised Kyle was still there. “Stop following me around like a lost puppy,”

“Erika, stop for a second, will you?”

“Why?” She did stop. And she did face him. Ready to regret everything she was going to do from there to a minute time. “So that I can look you in the eye and tell you I don’t want to see you anymore? I’ve got everything you had to give and I am done now?” Erika’s conviction in the terrible things she was saying was so true all her lies seemed real. Even to her, for a second. Enough for her not to feel her chest being ripped apart by her own hands. The world was going up in flames around her and she was ready to dance in it. “I don’t need a lost little boy who still has to learn everything in my life. I need myself a man.”

“I-” he stumbled in his own words, genuinely hurt now.

“Make everyone a favour and go back to your silly little life, playing pretend on rings in small gyms in forsaken places around the country, and leave me alone,” she dismissed him turning around, digging into her hoody pocket in search of her cigarettes. “Go back to Mark.”

She knew it took him some time to decide to retreat back inside and when Kyle finally did leave her alone, Erika felt free to let her pain slash through her. Her shoulders bent under the weight of the rubbles of her crumbling world. Hope was lost. And she found some sort of comfort in her despair. It was something familiar that she welcomed like an old friend.

She cried quietly, hiding behind a corner, finishing her cigarette, hanging desperately on the nicotine fix like it was her only lifeline. When she was done, she immediately lit herself another and waited. She wasn’t enjoying it. She wasn’t taking the moment in and soaking under the morning sun, enjoying the warm air smelling of spring. The only thing she wanted to do was to run. She was only taking a second to gather her nerves up and make a plan.

Maybe it was time to disappear. Maybe it was time to go home. Who did she think to fool? She wasn’t so strong as she thought. She would have never escaped her past. It would have always ended up that way.

#kyle fletcher #kyle fletcher smut #kyle fletcher x reader #kyle fletcher x ofc #aew fanfiction #kyle fletcher fanfic

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aylacavebear · 11 months ago

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Stockroom Antics - Chapter 10

Maria had changed jobs numerous times over the last five years, more to keep herself safe than anything else. Her mother had told her she was a fairy but she thought it was just her mom being weird. Honestly, though, she had no other way of explaining what had happened to her that stormy day before she'd gone into a coma for two weeks.

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will probably be 18+ I haven't decided yet!

Word Count: 1603

Pairing eventually Dean Winchester x OC

Warnings: Angst

A/N: This one's written a little differently than my last one. Let me know what you think. It's the first time I've tried this type of writing. Chapters will alternate viewpoints as well. I also looked into an actual area so this one could feel more realistic. This one is taking on a life of it's own in a turn I hadn't anticipated, so adding a new tag.

----------------------------------------- Stockroom Antics Chapter 10

Dean had read the information she had found to his brother. That was when they realized just how dangerous it would be if Crowley got his hands on her.

They both felt bad for the situation she’d been thrown into. When Dean saw the defeat in her eyes before she went to her room, something inside him pained. He grabbed himself and his brother a beer before he rejoined Sam in the library.

“She’s gonna get settled,” Dean told Sam, taking a drink of his beer.

Sam popped his open and sipped it, “Guess it’s a good thing she’s not evil,” he chuckled dryly, glancing toward the hall she’d gone down.

“We need to figure out what we’re gonna do though. I’m not sure if her coming into her powers is a good thing or a bad thing. Plus, we have to deal with Crowley,” Dean somewhat groaned.

“We could always summon Crowley. Wouldn’t be the first time. Maybe try to get him to back down,” Sam suggested.

Dean mulled that over for a bit. It wouldn’t have been the first time they’d summoned Crowley. His main concern was that she was now at the bunker and whether or not it was even safe to have both her and Crowley in the same place.

“She should be told, at least, what we know before we do it though,” Dean stated.

Within half an hour, she came back out and joined them at the library. Dean noticed how she’d also changed her clothes. Although it was still jeans, a t-shirt, this one had a cat on it, and she had a dark blue flannel pulled over it, unbuttoned. Her hair was also down, and she was only in a pair of socks.

“You two look guilty,” she told them, somewhat seriously, looking between them.

Sam sighed, “We know who’s after you, and now that we know what you’re capable of, it makes more sense,” he explained, unsure of another way to say it than just being blunt.

She raised an eyebrow, but when Dean spoke, she turned to him, “His name is Crowley. He’s the King of Hell. Don’t worry, though, he can’t find you here.”

They watched as she sat there, seeming slightly stunned by the revelation of information. Her breathing was somewhat shaky, and her gaze had drifted toward the table, although it seemed far off.

“Hey, we’re not gonna let anything happen to you,” Dean tried reassuring her, placing his hand on her shoulder.

She looked up, into his eyes, “How do you plan on getting the King of Hell to leave me alone?” she asked, then chuckled, which Dean didn’t understand why. He hadn’t found anything amusing about the situation.

“Sorry,” she said, chuckling again, “I know that this isn’t a laughing matter. It’s just ironic, in a way. Here I am, sitting in an underground bunker with two hunters, and the King of Hell wants me for some nefarious purpose. It’s just ironic to me. I don’t even know what state we’re in.”

That made both brothers chuckle a little. They’d also forgotten that she’d slept most of the drive after she’d eaten. Dean noticed that she looked younger than she had the day before. That was still intriguing to him.

“Fair. By the way, you’re in Lebanon, Kansas,” Dean told her, still amused at her prior statement, “When it comes to Crowley, we can summon him.”

“We’re just a little leery doing that with you here,” Sam interjected before his brother could continue.

Dean glared slightly at his brother before looking back at her, “We have a safe way of doing it, so he couldn’t hurt you.”

She tilted her head, mulling over their words, “It might be the only way to find out why he wants me,” she replied, almost sounding curious.

The brothers shared a look, with Sam nodding. He then got up and left the library, heading through the map room and to the left. She watched him walk away before looking back to Dean, her question evident in her expression.

“He’s gonna get the ingredients together for the summoning spell,” Dean explained, uneasy with this decision.

Her face turned to that of understanding, mostly, “You can summon the King of Hell?” she questioned.

Dean chuckled, finding her somewhat adorable, “There are all sorts of summoning spells, Sweetheart.”

“Huh,” she mused, “Can I be there when you summon him?” she asked, still seeming curious.

“You sure you want to? I mean, he’d know where you were at that point,” Dean said, feeling uneasy again.

She tilted her head, “He knows about this place?”

He sighed, realizing he had to explain much more to her than he originally wanted to. So, he gave her a very short history of their dealings with Crowley, but enough so that she understood. He couldn’t completely read her but could tell she was beginning to understand.

“Can he get in here any other way?” she asked, still seeming curious.

“No, not with the warding this place has,” Dean answered.

“Then I want to be there,” she said, determined.

Dean sighed, rubbing his face, somewhat frustrated, “I can’t talk you out of that, can I?”

“Nope. I want to know what it will take for Crowley to leave me alone,” she stated, with more confidence than he’d seen from her since two days prior. “Did you and your brother put that sigil on you somewhere?”

That made him look at her, and he almost felt bad, “Yeah. It was a precaution since we didn’t know enough about you or your powers,” he sighed, looking away and drinking his beer.

“Now that you know, are you gonna keep the sigil on?” she asked, still seeming curious.

“I don’t know…” he trailed off just as his brother returned to the library.

“Spells all set up. So, whenever you’re ready,” Sam told his brother.

Both she and Dean stood up, making Sam give his brother a questioning look. Dean just shook his head as they followed Sam through the map room, down the far hall, and into the archive room that held the dungeon.

She leaned against the wall near the opening, looking around while the brothers went over to the table where the spell was waiting. Sam lit the match, dropped it in, said something in Latin, and a man appeared in the center of the devil's trap.

“Moose, Squirrel. It’s been a while, hasn’t it,” Crowley told them, pretending he had no idea what they wanted. His eyes soon found her leaning against the far wall, and he raised an eyebrow. “Well, kitten, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Crowley,” Dean said in a low growl, “What do you want with her?” he decided to get straight to the point.

“It’s above your pay grade,” Crowley answered, not amused anymore.

“We could just keep you down here indefinitely,” Sam told him, trying to keep his frustration to a minimum.

“You’ve been sending your demons after me since my accident. What do you want with me?” she asked Crowley bluntly, taking several steps toward him.

“Kitten, my demons caused the accident. I’ve been tracking your bloodline for centuries,” Crowley admitted, enjoying seeing his words get under the brother's skin.

She tilted her head a bit, “Why didn’t you take me then?”

“I didn’t need these two keeping you from me. If I’d taken you off the get-go…” he paused, glancing at the brothers, “I’d probably have ended up here far sooner. Huh, boys?” he asked rhetorically.

Dean was fuming at this point, “So why do you want her?”

Crowley smirked, “Squirrel, got feelings for her already? That didn’t take long,” he mused, “She’ll ensure my reign. Keep the angels and hunters from interfering. There, happy. Now you know.”

Dean glared at Crowley, telling himself that it was just because she was the one he had to protect. That his feelings didn’t go beyond that. He barely knew her; how could he feel anything more than concern for the situation she was thrown into?

Neither of the brothers fully believed him. There had to be more to it than that, “Can’t you just let her live her life?” Sam asked, mostly calm.

“Boys, I’ll make sure she’s comfortable. Even keep her safe. She stays with the two of you, and she’ll end up dead, just like everyone else who relies on either of you,” Crowley pushed, with just enough emphasis to piss them off further.

Dean’s jaw clenched, and anger flared in his eyes, but at the same time, he worried that Crowley might have been right. They had lost those who got close to them or tried to protect them.

Neither of the brothers noticed how she looked at them before she looked back at Crowley, “For now, I’ll take my chances with them.”

Crowly chuckled, finding her very amusing, “Your choice, love. Offer still stands. They know how to reach me, when you change your mind.”

And with that, Crowley disappeared, confusing her. Sam began cleaning up the spell as she headed back toward the library. Dean rubbed his face, frustrated.

“Do you actually have feelings for her?” Sam asked while he cleaned things up.

“She’s an innocent. That’s as far as it goes, just like with every case we have,” Dean answered, even though he was beginning to question that. He hoped that it only had to do with being around her before they’d found the sigil to keep her powers from affecting them. So, that was what he told himself; it was just her powers.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 11

Link to the series Master List

A/N: If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, leave me a comment, and I'll make sure to tag you.

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pitvipcrs · 1 year ago

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( anson mount. cis man. he + him. ) ⸺ 🐏 greetings, bighorns ! walking around campus, sporting a lean and hungry look, we’ve spotted WAYLON FORD, a forty - five years old who contributes to our thriving community as a CHIEF GUARD. according to our intel, he’s been around the sanctuary for nearly three years and what we know about him, aside from the fact that he does agree with the decision to close the gates, is that he is a wayfarin' stranger with a strong southern drawl and a stronger affinity for graphic violence. Everything he was or could have been is dead. Ask him what he used to do for a living and he'll tell you he was a bartender if you get that far in conversation, but his demeanor says somethin' different. Lastly, don't touch his goddamn horse— doesn’t that make them fantastic ? we think it does, and that’s why we appreciate him so much, grateful for what he gives to our community.

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖑 legal name — waylon thomas ford name meaning — land by the road; courageous fighter nicknames — wiley, sir age — forty-five date of birth — april 11th, 1978 ethnicity — white home town — vicksburg, mississippi current location — uec occupation — head guard

𝖗𝖊𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖕𝖘 parents — thomas william ford (deceased), anne-marie louise ford (deceased) siblings — n/a partner — n/a. children — molly rose ford (daughter, deceased) other — lucy pauline brandt (ex-wife, deceased)

𝖕𝖍𝖞𝖘𝖎𝖈𝖆𝖑 face claim — anson mount eyes — blue-green hair color — dark brown shot through with grey height — 6'1" tattoos — daughter's birthday in roman numerals over his heart, military cross backpiece. scars — a pretty gnarly burn scar that starts from his right shoulder down to his belly button, old knife scar on ribs, scarring across his knuckles.

𝖍𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖞 content warning: war mentions, murder, death 𝖞𝖊𝖆𝖗 𝖔𝖓𝖊

Where was he when the world ended? Not with the boys runnin' and gunnin', that's for goddamned sure. No, he's running a rag over the beer-splattered counter of the bar he'd bought with a few buddie — a double investment in boozin' and retirement like he'd had a choice in it.

He moves to start sweeping peanut shells off the floor and taps Tanner Greely on the shoulder to rouse him from his drunken stupor. "I'll give you a ride back to your motel. Reckon Jessica would kill me if I let you drive yourself."

"Thanks, Wily," the other man mumbles, holding his head in his hands. "Damn, I didn't think I was gonna drink that much."

Waylon tries not to bristle at his old nickname, stormy gray eyes cut in something akin to guilt because in all actuality he could have cut him off after the fifth drink. To his mind, it seemed as though Greely had traveled all this way for a reason, check up on him maybe? This ain't no Vah Beach, no whinin' ring of a phone he can never not answer. No swishin' BDUs, no shit-talking in the locker going through their kits.

"S'alright brother, you know I've always got your six."

"Even if the Lord ain't willin'?" Tanner mumbles, opening bleary, alcohol-glossed eyes.

"Even if the creek don't rise." Waylon responds out of habit as he dumps the contents of his dustpan in the trash.

He's just about done, nose full of stale beer and celery salt and sweat. Just about to start flipping light switches with Tanner swaying just behind him, mumbling half-sentences about missing Grayson; his entire reason for coming the teammate that had fallen. Anniversaries. Death dates. About done and the phone starts trilling on the wall and Waylon's eyes fly to it, a sense of dread forming a heavy ball in the pit of his stomach.

It's habit.

Luce had Molly, they were in Georgia spendin' time with the new husband's—

"'—he's a real estate agent. He sticks around."

Family.

He answers.

"Hey, Wiley. Turn on the news, man," Bradbury, exhausted and jittery. Waylon hadn't spoken to his CO since—

Horror unfolds in the jump of static across the screen.

"What is this?" He's fumbling for his keys, his wallet, thinking. Lucy. Molly. Dad. Uncle Court.

"I don't know brother, but we can't stop it. Get here if you can, man. We're going to need you." 𝖞𝖊𝖆𝖗 𝖘𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓

He's alone now and has been for a while. All the ghosts lined up at either shoulder like a macabre procession as he plods over the Wyoming state line with all the grace of a drunken line dancer. There are two promises in his ruck and one emblazoned in the forefront of his mind. Despondent, head bowed, he appears only dimly aware when a few highwaymen come up from a culvert and surround him and his horse.

"You passin' through here, you gotta pay a toll, man." Their speaker is caked in road dirt and hard-living, squinting up at him and patting his Colt Python against Bailey's flank. "You hear me?"

Waylon does not respond, head bowed and eyes half-lidded. "Hey motherfucker, you hear me?" The would-be raider attempts to tug Waylon out of the saddle and then…then it just…happens.

Waylon lifts his head, eyes finally opening as though he had just been awoken from a deep slumber. Not a word left his lips as he calmly raised the Glock and scrambled the offending party's brainpan without so much as a tic of the jaw.

And then he levels it at the others.

As he leaves them to twitch and froth blood he turns his face to the dull warmth of the cloud-covered Wyoming sun, a glob of spittle landing on the first of them to die. "Yeah," he says finally. "I fuckin' heard you." Colorado, here I come.

𝖞𝖊𝖆𝖗 𝖙𝖊𝖓 Every day he wakes up same as so many others, the clutching hands of nightmares threatening to rend what little is left of his sanity —decency havin' taken a long walk off a short pier. Don't rightly know why he stayed, still carryin' that damn letter like some lovesick soldier clutching an unread Dear John. But that ain't what it is, is it? Every day he startles awake, drinks a cup of coffee, the only real hazard is listening to his younger co-workers wolfin' breakfast and pepperin' him with guesses 'bout what he done in his old life. "Used car salesman!" One shouts, spraying chunks of egg. He fixes 'em with a dead-eyed stare. "Anybody e'er tell you t'keep your damn mouth closed when you're chewin' your damned food, son?""And no, I weren't no used car salesman.""Well, you weren't a bartender either." This is what life is now. Ain't stopped, ain't started either. Just a long kind of pause, the kind y'take after a long run. Palms bitin' into the tops of your thighs, calves burnin' like a sonovabitch. The bottom will inevitably fall out. Will he be around to watch?

#endureintro #[ 𝖜𝖋 ] ── * 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖗𝖔 { plant my feet and bitterly breathe up the time that's passing }

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everglow-synth-archive · 2 years ago

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"You got it; one Dark 'n' Stormy, comin' up!" With that he started to gather the ingredients, getting to work as though he hadn't been out of a job for a few months. It didn't take him very long, with him setting the glass down on the bar in front of them, adding a slice of lime to the rim of the glass.

"Here ya' go~ One Dark 'n' Stormy for a fellow tall, dark and lovely~" He says with a wink, just trying to be a bit playful. He then gets to work making another small drink, this time a Rum and Coke for himself.

"So, it's been a while. What've you been up to since I've been away?"

"Heh... yeah, let's just say we had to do a bit of emergency remodeling, and uh... well, it took us a while, but we're back on track." he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "May have left me out of a job for a while, but I found ways to keep myself busy in the meantime."

As he talked, he started to get up from the small stool he had behind the bar, grabbing a glass from under the counter. "Well, our stock's pretty much the same as always. What can I getcha? My treat today."

He was trying his best to keep quiet about the fact that the place was straight up bombed; while he figured they would hear about it eventually, he felt it best to keep them out of the whole hero ordeal for as long as possible. Even without that however, he was here to do a job, and that's what he was going to do.

#the27percent #;burning brightly (ic)

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mik3ysprincess03 · 3 years ago

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Bonten’s Princess | Baby Trapping 🎀

★ Chapter 2/?: Come As You Are

Please Reblog if you enjoy (づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ♡

AO3 LINK: here WC: 4,684

Read chapter one here!!

Synopsis: A month has passed since you were gang banged by the Bonten members, your period is late so you decide to take a pregnancy test. All of the executives gather at your place in anticipation of the results. The results don't surprise you, Mikey takes matters into his own hands to control you further. After all, you are Bonten's property.

Listen to the Spotify playlist here for Bonten's Princess

Warnings: 18+ content, minors leave. Reader is a female with a vagina, mentions of drugs, drinking and violence. This is a dark content based story.

A/N: I've been gone for so long, lmao. Uni is busy and I have an awful professor, I am hoping to get back into writing on my blog. This chapter is mostly setting the plot up. Comment to join the tag list. I really hope you enjoy this second part as I am trying to build more bonds between you and our bonten boys. <3 Sending love always! - saigey. WOW, I’ve come back from the dead months later to continue this. I’m so silly.

NOW PLAYING: Come As You Are by Nirvana

`` ~ ୨୧ ♡ ·

A few weeks had passed since you were last gang banged by Bonten, you had also lost part of your sex drive temporarily aside from the occasional time of being fucked or playing with one of the members. Everything was fine and dandy until you realized your period was late, the first few days were not so alarming — your period has been late before, who cares? What’s a few days without it?

That mentality went out the window as it had now been over a month since your last period, approximately late by a week and a half now. This had you on edge, you felt extremely nauseous, you had some spotting in your panties with a small amount of blood but no period. Something felt off… ‘It’s nothing (Name). It will come.’

You woke up on a humid Friday afternoon in mid June to the sounds of thunder, booming throughout your private penthouse. ‘Damn seriously? I’m scared of thunderstorms this sucks.’ You thought to yourself, whimpering as lightning flashed throughout the window, illuminating the dark and stormy sky.

You swiftly grab your phone off from your night stand, dialling up Ran, he always comforted you. It only took a few rings for him to almost answer the phone immediately, of course turning it on speaker phone.

“R-Ran, I’m scared. Can you come to my place please?” Your voice squeaked in a shaky manner.

“Hi sweet girl. Aw, thunderstorms got you scared again? I’ll be there in 15.” His soothing voice reassured you that everything would be okay.

That is when a lovely wave of unwanted nausea hit you.

“Thank you so much! I- shit! Hold on.” You jumped out of your comfy and warm bed to rush to the bathroom across from your bedroom, barely making it to the toilet as you lifted up the seat and threw up.

You had been feeling like this for a few days now. This was no good…

The Bonten executives had been worried about you, Mikey was particularly suspicious that something was up. Mikey had no shame in the gang bang he ran on you. He enjoyed playing with you like you were some sort of toy meant to be owned, due to Mikey’s past his trauma of clinging and taking total ownership over you was important to him. Takeomi being a big ol’ pervert who tracked your cycle definitely knew something was up. It was almost like you were hiding something?

You had avoided drinking alcohol, or partaking in smoking joints and hitting up on molly. Maybe that was unintentional on your end. Though you were a cautious young woman when it came to drugs and smoking; being mindful not to do too much of it, it made specifically Sanzu and Koko wonder why you couldn’t go out to the casino with them to have drinks and gamble? Speaking of not going out, why you were now always at home not going out to deal with any of Bonten’s work? Interesting.

You laid your chin on the side of the toilet, feeling relief from the waves of sickness passing. That felt disgusting. You washed your hands before rushing back to your phone.

“Baby? You there?” You heard Ran ask worriedly. “Are you okay?”

“I got sick and threw up…” you grunted with annoyance. Finally, two and two clicked on your brain. “My period is late too, Ran!” You began to panic.

“I see…” Ran spoke back after a short pause. He had noticed that the last few weeks you had been avoiding your favorite foods, getting more mood swings than usual, as well as your complaints about being sick. “I’m on my way. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“I might be pregnant. I don’t know what to do, I’m freaking out. Please hurry.” You we’re practically begging to not be alone in this moment.

Would the guys be happy that you are pregnant? It made you wonder what would happen if you were really pregnant, it was too dangerous of a field to work in with a baby on your hands. Prostitution, drugs, crime. You having a baby would make you an easy target.

“Okay. I miss you.” You responded before hanging up the phone before cuddling up underneath your plush bedding yet again.

You wore some comfy black PJ shorts as well as a oversized shirt Takeomi gave you. You certainly didn’t look your best, but it was still pretty dang cute.

Ran arrived at your place and as he entered the room he found you underneath the bed covers sobbing. This situation was a flood of emotions.

“Come here, darling.” He gracefully lifted up the covers to cradle you in his arms. “You’ll be okay. Talk to me, yeah? We don’t know for sure if you are pregnant so how about we take a test tonight?” The man suggested as you nodded your head in agreement.

Your head was spinning as thoughts of overthinking filled your mind. “It’s just the potential of a baby being inside me right now is a little scary.” You gulped, it felt like there was a lump in your throat.

“I understand. I love you. I’ll call all the men and Mikey tonight to meet here and you can take a test, we will take it from there.”

“I love you too, okay.” Your watery eyes gazed into his charming orbs, before letting Ran make the call to the other guys that you might be pregnant and to come over to your place tonight while you take the test.

You were a priority to all of the men, so of course they’d come.

The door bell rang, as you walked over to the door from your kitchen Takeomi was the first to greet you. Followed by Ran, Rindou, Kakucho, Kokonoi, Sanzu then Mikey himself.

Mikey was acting as stone cold as ever compared to the other men who were more vibrant and visibly excited for the potential of being a dad!

Sanzu was the one who got two pregnancy tests from different brands. “I sure hope I got the right thing.” He hissed under his breath, it was definitely Mikey who told Sanzu to go find some tests for you.

The men made themselves comfortable in your penthouse as some of them began to request drinks from your personal bartender as they took a seat on your couch.

Ran spent the day with you and he had managed to cheer you up enough with cuddles and affection, getting you dressed up in some sweat pants and a tight black camisole tank top, with your down.

You stood in front of all of your lovers as you took a deep breath “I’ll go take it now” you quivered as Takeomi stood up to follow you, grabbing the bag with the two pregnancy tests in them.

“I’ll go with her. We will be back in 15 minutes.” His voice was blunt.

Meanwhile the rest of the executives had decided to make their bets on if you were pregnant and if so, who the father was. Taking this as a time for ‘boys to be boys’ by bickering about who’s sperm was the weakest.

Takeomi followed you into the spacious bathroom with you, the scent of cigarettes lingered off of him as he was wearing some black basketball shorts and a black tee shirt, the scent of the tobacco colliding with his light undertones of cologne. “Why are you following me? Are you interested in watching me pee?” You asked quirking up an eyebrow with a smug expression as you shut the bathroom door.

He chuckled, “no, not really. I just figured I could at least lend you my support with me being here. I’ll look the other way while you take the test.”

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” You slyly replied.

You sighed a heavy breath, your heart rate began to go up, your legs felt shaky. Why were you so nervous? It wasn’t like you were unfit to be a mother, you felt ready in a few ways, you had multiple men to take care of you. You took the pregnancy test and read the instructions. Before taking the test out to pee on the test, that was the easy part.

Takeomi leaned against the back room counter glancing over as you took the test before reverting his eyes back to gazing at your bathroom counter, he was trying to be clam which he was. To him, it didn’t really matter if you were pregnant with his kid or not. He liked the sound of that idea. He was older than you, so he felt it was time to have some kids in his life.

You placed the two tests on the counter with a light thud after you flushed the toilet, then washed your hands. “15 minutes then we will find out.”

In the other room the rest of the Bonten executives were arguing.

“You think we can still have sex with her if she’s pregnant?” Sanzu popped the question.

Rindou grinned “yeah it’s safe. Not for you though with your fucked up kinks.”

“The fuck? If it’s safe, I don’t do anything malicious anyway you clown. BDSM is more common than you think. I want her whenever I can get her.” Sanzu darted back.

Koko snickered at the men as he shuffled a deck of cards, “we can hit up the casino tonight and do some gambling on who the father may be. I highly suspect our angel is pregnant. Besides, I think being a dad would be fun. (Name's) pussy sure is damn irresistible."

“It’s definitely me if someone had to be the dad, I doubt it would be fuckin’ Takeomi with his old dirty cock.” Rindou’s eyes sparkled in the low toned lightning as he playfully laughed.

Ran rolled eyes his at the pink haired man’s comments while swirling his drink around, the ice melting by now, the cold on his hands. “Right, and you were the one who was hired for snuff films and red room videos. You take things to another level, man.”

“Says you, sadistic fuck.” Sanzu sneered.

“Blah blah blah.” Rindou mocked Sanzu childishly.

Kakucho remained fairly quiet during this “debate” as he rolled his eyes, sipping on some rum and coke. “Here we go again.” He grunts under his breath.

“Stop bickering, men. (Name) is probably very anxious, don’t make this harder on her than it has to be. If she is pregnant…” Mikey started, the men glance up to see Mikey standing by one of the windows, looking out into the dark night — the rain starting to downpour again. Followed by thunder.

“If she is pregnant then what?” Koko asked pressing on.

“The baby’s safety is most important. It’s up to her what she wants and doesn’t want… She just can’t leave me.” He mumbled the last part to himself, practically inaudible to the others.

“How the hell would we even find out who the dad is?” Ran questioned, well, obviously nobody in the room knew.

Mikey paused as he raised an eyebrow, “we will figure that out at the doctor’s office if needed. I request, none of you treat her differently. We all did this to her so we must protect her with our lives.”

The 15 minutes had passed as the alarm on your phone went off, the seemingly bright and cheerful ringing felt more like a ring tone of horror in your current situation.

You were sitting on the edge of your bathtub then stood up and walked all the way to the other counter, you took a hold of Takeomi’s hand as your other hand reached to turn off the noisy alarm on your phone.

Now it was for the moment of truth, you turned over the two tests.

Those two red lines were as clear as day on each test, you were pregnant. There was no mistake.

“I-I’m pregnant.” Was all you could say in shock with a gasp, Takeomi’s protective instincts took over as he pulled you in for a hug. His chin resting on your head as he caressed your cheek with his hand.

“Congratulations, sweetie pie.” He too was overcome with emotions, the potential of being a father. He wanted nothing more than to protect and cherish you. He was at a genuine loss for words.

Hell, he did not even know if you wanted a kid yet. You were still so young.

“Ready to go out and tell em’? Get it off your chest. You know the guys all love you, we can make something work.” Takeomi’s raspy yet comforting voice spoke softly into your ear.

You didn’t know how to feel… How were you supposed to feel? Is this what you wanted? Was this fate?

You gave yourself a moment of internal pep-talk before opening the bathroom door to fiercely walk out and announce your pregnancy. Your eye’s met Manjiro’s as soon as you entered the living area. Takeomi following behind you.

As soon as you glanced around the room from Mikey, to Kaku, Koko, Rindou, Ran, Sanzu, back to Takeomi you began to sob uncontrollably as you realized; the father of your baby was in this room, looking back at you. The pregnancy test fell to the floor as you dropped down to your knees and began to cry, “I’m pregnant!” You sobbed loudly.

Mikey’s eyes lit up for a brief moment. It felt for even just a second that there was possibility for him to get a second chance at life. A life where Shinichiro didn’t leave him, where Draken and Emma were still by his side. All Mikey had ever wanted was a real shot at having a proper family. Those flashbacks and initial shock made his obsidian and stone cold eyes watery. This was now all thanks to you.

A few of the Bonten executives gasped in surprise, others clapped and cheered in excitement.

Mikey slowly walked over to your position on the floor, picking up the pregnancy test. It was indeed positive. Manjiro wrapped his arms around you. “My princess.” He whispers into your ear. Despite his slight warmth in his words, his presence was cold and dark.

The men in the room couldn’t believe it, all of the Bonten executives were flooded with new emotions that have never been felt before. Kakucho and Ran had a few teardrops fall down their silky soft cheeks. While the others were too hesitant to show their reactions based on your breakdown.

“(Name), this is an important question babydoll. Do you want to keep the baby? It is your choice and we will support whatever you want to do. Though I am hoping you’d like to carry one of our children.” Kokonoi spoke to you being careful not to say anything to upset you. “Right.” The other men in the room responding in agreement and nodding their heads.

Mikey embraced you in his arms, hoping you'd give him the answer he needed. You could never leave him, you'd be a useless bitch to leave such a wonderful man like him. Even if he was tainted.

It is true, if you did not want to pursue the pregnancy they would support your choice. You lived a risky life.

You thought for a moment. Lately, the idea of having children sounded fun. Buying baby clothes, diapers, bottles, making the perfect nursery for your baby sounded wonderful. You wanted to bring a baby into the world, to give them a good life and let them explore all the joys and adventures life has. A little version of you to adore and cherish. You wanted the baby.

You looked up from the floor, tears streaming down your red face that stopped momentarily while your nose was runny. “I want to have the baby, I’m sorry. It’s just I didn’t really expect this to happen so soon.” You softly spoke with a small crack in your voice. “I just didn’t want you guys to leave me.”

"I knew you'd come around." Mikey replied before standing back up, hands in his pockets of his black skinny jeans.

“Aw, sweetheart. It’s okay.” Takeomi cooed as he leaned down beside you to wipe your tears, grabbing some Kleenex out of his pocket to wipe your nose. “C’mere darlin’” he spoke as he lifts you off from the ground and carried you to the couch, sitting you on his lap, your small hand being held by his larger and warm hand as you came down from your dramatic crying show.

“We’d never leave you, you know that, doll.” Kaku praised.

“The difficult part is, we have no idea which one of you is the father. We’d have to get a paternity DNA test.” You said as you bit down on your lower lip.

“We need you to see a doctor as soon as possible, I’ll send you to one I trust tomorrow.” Mikey’s voice broke the awkward silence. You could tell, he was pleased in your choice of keeping the baby. It felt like he was finally getting some luck.

“Thank you Mikey. I guess I can’t help but wonder who the dad is and if I’ll be having a little boy or girl.” You softly smiled.

“I’d love to have a daughter.” Koko smiled looking at you “she’d be as beautiful as you.”

Sanzu chuckled “I sure hope it’s my kid.”

“As long as the baby is mine I’ll have a child to raise to be even more financially successful than I was at a young age.” Koko responded. Of course, each man here who had potential to be the father would carry amazing opportunities for your child to have.

“It would just be nice to have a child in general. I’d love to be a father if I’m being honest.” You looked up to meet eyes with the graceful Kakucho. It made you think of how loving a father the man would be.

Ran smiled, “well ya know, I also can’t help but sincerely hope for the dad to be me. Whatever the gender may be, I just want a healthy baby for you.”

“I’m so proud of you (Name), for carrying our child.” Rindou wiped his eyes from the tears.

"This is some sappy bullshit, chill out." Sanzu snapped at Rindou.

The hard part of the night was now over, you finished your conversation with the men about getting ideas for a nursery. You had discussed about how two Bonten members will be staying with you at all times, Ran and Sanzu this week. It was mainly a safety precaution. Kokonoi and the rest of the guys headed out to the casino to gamble and make bets on who the father was.

You decided to stay home and spend the night with Sanzu and Ran in your penthouse. You had a long and emotionally draining day, so naturally the right thing for Sanzu to do was request the chief to cook steaks for you three, as well as some bruschetta on the side and a brownie for dessert. The evening was as pleasant as it could have gone for you, even being spoiled with a bubble bath with both Sanzu and Ran with you in your large bathtub with jets built in.

You made sure you had it your way entirely with bath salts, bubbles and a sweet scented, pink bathbomb.

It was now the following day...

A few of the executives had some business to tend to so Ran decided to escort you to your doctors appointment for the baby, it was only the first appointment so the other members planned on attending the next appointment. He was given strict orders by Mikey to take you to a specialist — one of the best doctors within the Roppongi district and within all of Japan.

Whatever Mikey wants, Mikey gets.

Luckily your morning sickness wasn’t so bad today which you were thankful for. For the first time in two weeks you finally were able to get out of bed and put some makeup on. You put on a (favorite color) sundress, some sandals and left your hair down. You looked adorable.

You took the elevator downstairs from your penthouse all the way to the lobby to meet Ran, who was dressed in a white dress shirt and black dress pants with matching designer shoes.

“There’s my girl.” He greeted you as the doors opened and he hugged you, wrapping your arms around him in return. “You look very pretty, is that a new perfume?” He asked as he inhaled your scent in.

“It’s just the new Givenchy one you gave me.” You giggled with a small smile as you went on your tippy toes to kiss his lips.

“Good girl. You ready to go?” You nodded your head as you followed him out where a car was waiting for you two. Ran opened the door for you as you entered the back seat, before he went around to the other end of the car to enter and sit beside you.

Once your chauffeur had driven you all the way to a large and tall white building, Ran got out first as he came to your side to open the door and help you out.

You both entered the building before taking an elevator up to the 12th floor. The woman at the receptionist desk greeted you with a kind smile. “Ms. (Last Name)?” She asked and you nodded your head, “please come with me.” You nodded your head as you followed the woman to a vacant room as you sat down on the parchment paper covered medical bed while Ran sat on a chair beside the bed.

You waited for approximately two minutes before there was knocking at the door.

A doctor came in and she asked you to take another pregnancy test to confirm the pregnancy, unshockingly which came back as positive, as well as taking measurements of your height and weight before asking questions about your symptoms.

“Are you the father?” The doctor kindly asked Ran and he paused unsure of how to respond.

“There is potential of other men possibly being the father.” He confessed which you embarrassedly turned red.

“I see” the medical professional said, “are you in contact with the potential fathers? We will have to do some testing later on in the pregnancy for a DNA test. Don’t worry, we do not judge here.”

You nodded your head “yes we are in contact, it’s the possibility of 7 men being the father… so it’s a lot.” You gave a nervous chuckle as you glanced around the room.

It was very sleek and clean inside, no wonder Mikey sent you here. It had some of the best medical equipment in the whole country, quiet and no lines either, a great doctor’s office for the filthy rich in Japan. There was only the sound of a ceiling fan in the back room, no loud or noisy sounds that you’d usually get an average medical clinic.

“Congratulations you two! It looks like you are around 4 almost 5 weeks pregnant! Here is a list of foods to avoid eating, I will send you a few prescriptions of women’s vitiams for pregnancy and any other supplements you may need. Please come back for a monthly check up next month and we will take a look at ultra sounds! Then we can discuss finding out who the father is of your baby Ms. (Last Name).”

You and the taller Haitani brother smiled, thanking the doctor as you got off from the medical bed. Once picking up from papers from the front desk and booking the next appointment you two made your way home.

“Are you excited to be a mommy? My sexy girl.” Ran devilishly smirked.

“Mhm, I am. Are you excited to be a daddy?” You giggled as you straddled his lap.

Sanzu turned his head to face you two, licking his lips in hunger as he watched your figure on the bigger male's.

"Pretty lil thing, aren't ya?" Sanzu cooed.

His eyes trailed down your body, looking at how pretty you looked in your sundress you had on from earlier. His thoughts running wild about your belly swelling up, your breasts growing, the pregnancy glow was already starting to hit you. He just desired you even more. You couldn’t help but let out a whine just from his eyes on you.

"Just cannot fuckin' wait to see how pretty she looks with a baby bump. We did a good job at breeding that fertile hole." Sanzu chimes.

Ran used his thumb to make you look up into his eyes as he kissed you, forcefully pressing his lips onto yours as his tongue entered your mouth — colliding your tongue with his as you embraced him.

“Master” you let out softly. Those hormones were hitting you, needing to be touched by Ran.

“Hm? Use your words and speak properly.” Ran spoke, you pulled down on his tie.

“Please master, you make me horny. So fuckin’ needy for your seed again.” Your fragile voice begged.

The purple haired man's hands slid up your skirt, rubbing against your tummy as he caressed your hips and itty, bitty waist. He looked so fucking sexy, his purple suit that only enhanced every bit of his masculine aura, it put you into a dreamy state of craving his cock even more.

You wanted his baby so badly.

"N I just wanna see what's between those legs again." Sanzu watched your eyes gaze into his.

“Need master to eat your out? How badly does your pussy need me?” He loved to tease you.

Goddamn, the thought of being eaten out right now sounds incredible. Your mouth was practically watering at the thought of Ran’s head in between your legs.

Your phone rang, the buzzing was vibrating against your coffee table as you rolled your eyes in annoyance. What a fuckin’ buzz kill. “Ugh!” You groan out as Ran chuckled.

You saw the screen and saw it was Mikey calling.

“You better take that. You know how he gets pissed when you do not pick up.” The pink haired man informed you as he pointed to the buzzing cell phone.

You got up off of his lap as you reached to pick up the phone off the coffee table. “Hi Mikey. What’s up?” You asked through the phone raising it to your ear.

“(Name), come see me right now at the usual casino I go to. I need to see you. I’d like to talk about things.” His voice leaving no hints about what he wanted, yet it seemed like it was going to be a talk about your baby.

You paused “I’m with Ran and Sanzu. Can they come?”

“Sanzu will take you to me. I’ve sent the driver to come get you. Come now. Tell Ran I sent him a new email about a client wanting a hitman.” His voice was stone cold, you hung up the phone before he could say anything else.

Ran gave a slightly annoyed look as he could tell by your expression you weren’t happy. “So, what did the boss want?” He huffed as he leaned back against the couch.

“He wants me to meet him at the casino to ‘discuss things’, he already sent the chauffeur to come get me. He doesn’t want you to come, he told me to tell you to check your emails, Sanzu is supposed to take me,” You frowned furrowing your eyebrows.

"Come on! Be happy to be with me, or are you too scared?" Sanzu teased.

"We will continue this later when you come back home. I will escort you to the car." Ran offered as you wondered why Mikey had taken such an interest in speaking to you one on one now, which was different than usual.

Though Mikey felt some relief in trapping you to stay with him so your thoughts would never dare travel to leaving this lavish life style he gave you, he did not feel much emotion towards the child or you. Or so it felt.

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A/N: Sorry if my portrayal on y/n taking a pregnancy test isn’t 100% accurate, I have never needed to take a pregnancy test yet, so I don’t know for sure haha! I did not want to make this chapter 14k words again so it is a bit shorter so I can add some dirty nsfw next chapter!

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