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domesticgoddess22 · 24 days ago

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wish upon a cowboy

chapter 4: guilty as sin? - Joel's POV

pairing: raider!joel miller x fem!reader

Summary: A rugged raider takes you under his wing after hunters leave you for dead. The two of you form a team and you quickly grow attached to him–mumbling, grumbling, protective Joel Miller. When you divulge your wishes to experience life before the outbreak, Joel decides to make them come true. All of them.

warnings: age gap (early 20s/mid 40s), praise kink, breeding kink, daddy kink, unplanned pregnancy, unprotected piv, canon-typical violence, light choking, dom!Joel, angst word count: 4.6k words (chapter 4) rating: 18+ explicit MDNI masterlist here

Joel knows he doesn’t have a soul left inside his body, that he should be feeling distraught over the damn deer just like you are, but he doesn’t really give it much thought. His mind is occupied with how your tits looked this morning and he knows he’s going to hell for it.

He’s been stiff since the second he saw you, and it took every ounce of self-control in his body not to take you right then and there. But he didn’t, maybe because there’s still humanity left in him after all, but damn did he want to fuck you. Badly.

These thoughts whirl around in his mind as he paces around in the middle of the woods. He’s been alone for so long, the last time he even had a good fuck–before he had you–was probably half a year ago. Once he had a taste of you… fuck–he needs to have more.

Doubt and uncertainty cloud above him whenever he thinks about his self-restraint capabilities. He’s a man, you’re an attractive young woman–so much so that his instincts are becoming fucking hard to ignore. He’d already slipped up once, pumped an entire six month’s worth of his seed into you. He isn’t a good man and he knows that, he’s done a lot of things that aren’t right, but he could sure as hell blame the alcohol for that last bit.

Tommy would surely be disgusted with what he’d done, sleeping with someone half his age. His brother was never able to look at him the same after the hunts. Joel can’t imagine Tommy would even be able to look at him at all for this. Not that he’ll probably ever see his brother again…

Tommy always had remnants of the man he was before and it showed. Joel didn’t have anything left, and even so, back before things went to shit, he wasn’t excatly a stand-up guy. He was young when he had Sarah, had to raise her all on his own so he did what he needed to. Stole–not cars but other things–and he lied a lot. Cheated his way through life just to make sure his kid had food on the table and a roof over her head.

Eventually, his contractor business became more stable so he didn’t have to resort to being an asshole, but he did do other things he knew weren't considered by the general public as polite behavior. He had women to keep him company whenever Sarah was at school or sound asleep. He’d sneak out and get laid by some chick in cowgirl boots and a miniskirt that he picked up at the bar--and then he wouldn’t call them back. The next night, rinse and repeat. He’d done it so many times that he'd lost count of his score.

That was another time, but the truth is, Joel still isn’t a great guy. If anything, he’s even worse now.

Yet, he still knew up from down and right from wrong, even if he didn’t choose right, he did feel like he took advantage of you, a vulnerable little thing. Needy. You’d probably do anything for any guy that took care of you like he does given the circumstances. Compared to Joel, most of your life you’ve been pretty sheltered and he could tell. Never had to kill anything when you lived in the QZ, only lasted two days outside of it by yourself, and ever since then you’ve had him to do everything for you.

You’re in the tent, sleeping like a little lamb and he’s a big bad wolf on the verge of losing his fucking mind, his dark eyes boring into the zipper of the tent. He remembers the soft cushion of your breasts against his arms, the way you felt up against his chest while he showed you how to hold the gun, how your moans sounded when he was driving his cock into your wet folds.

Joel wants you. Now.

A sinful smile curls at his lips when he thinks about how his spend dripped out of you that night, his mind wanders further into the lustful abyss, fantasizing about your belly growing swollen with his baby.

He’s practically in a lustful trance right now, wanting to fuck you, fill you, make you his.

Joel finds himself deep in the woods now, close enough to hear you call if you need him, but far enough away for him to have privacy. The bark of a chestnut oak tree is digging scaly patterns into his left palm. His belt is loose, the buckle is swinging around his thigh, jeans sagging around his crotch as he bucks his cock in his hand, furiously stroking it with the slick from his spit.

It’s like he’s a damn twenty-something again, imagining you in that sexy pink bra of yours– and with a thong to match. He’d unhook your bra with ease, just as he’s done a million times, and then he’d watch in awe as your perfect tits were on display for him, groaning as he sucks on your perky peaks. Fuck your breasts were so full lately, maybe it was his carnivorous mind playing tricks on him, but he felt like they were just begging for his attention.

He’d press you up against the tree, spread your legs, and hook one of them around his waist.

Then he’d slide your panties to the side to make room for himself, not bothering to take them off. Your pink pussy would be dripping, all wet and ready for him and he’d slip out a curse or two at the delicious view of your cunt.

The big head of his cock would line up at your entrance and then he’d press in, one inch at a time, slow and steady in his movements like he was holding his rifle and waiting for the perfect moment to pull the trigger. The feel of your walls constricting around his head would knock the breathe out of his lungs, again, and he’d bottom out with a loud groan. His rhythm would start off paced, giving you some time to adjust to his size, and then he’d pound into your little pussy, balls kissing your folds and his tongue tangled with yours.

Joel liked the way you tasted, fresh like summer rain with a hint of honey. You tasted so sweet.

Needy girl, fuckin’ soaked on my cock. You like that? You like that, baby? Yeaaah, you like that. Lemme hear your little moans–tell daddy how much you like it.

Your moans were the sweetest sound, a song he was hearing for the first time at just the right pitch–the perfect cadence for him to come. Joel, Joel, Joel! Harder, please, please, more, ahhhhnn, Daddy!A mess of his spend decorates the dirt at his feet and the guilt seeps in as he looks at what he’s just done–and what he thought about did get it done. Yeah, he’s disgusting and he knows it but the pietist in him died at seventeen when he told his ma he wasn’t going to church anymore and just about kicked him out of the house.

This isn’t the first time he’s jerked off to the thought of you in the last month–and it sure as hell won’t be the last. It’s the only thing keeping him from actually laying his hands on you. He’s replayed this same scene and–many others–in his head that he’s starting to run out of ideas.

He’s chased his own release at the thought of himself buried deep inside of you, over and over again. But it was never enough–he was hungry. And it was becoming impossible for him to feel satiated by his hand alone.

Back at camp, the venison is still cooking over the spit, the meaty smell permeating the air, surely making both of your mouths water. Joel’s eyes land on you, rummaging through your bag, frantically digging through each pocket like something was missing.

“Hey. You’re awake.” His low, grumbling tone sounds grumpier than he means for it to be. He’s still getting used to having someone around. At having a woman around to soften his nature instead of one of his old raider buddies he’d boss around or tell them to go to hell whenever they wouldn’t shut their yappers. “How are ya feelin’, darlin’?”

“Better. Just a little hungry now. How long til the meat is done?”

“That ain’t gonna be done cookin’ until dinner, darlin’. Help yourself to whatever you can find in there.” Joel points to the crate he built that’s packed with foraged goods and the spoils of your scavenger hunts in town. He drags his gaze back down to your hands, fingers digging into the muddy fabric. “Som’ wrong?”

“No.” Your lips pucker up whenever you’re cross with him, and he knows you’re up to something but he can’t help but fight back a smile at how pretty you look when you’re about to get sassy.

“Ya holdin’ on to that thing so tight, your nails are about to pierce through the damn denim.”

“Did you take anything out of my bag?” Your eyes snap to his.

Joel laughs through his nose in disbelief, and then he licks the back of his teeth and says, “And why would I take anythin’ out of your bag?”

“I dunno, maybe cuz I was sleepin’ and you thought it’d be funny?”

“No, I did not take anythin’ outta your bag while you were sleepin’. You’re welcome for carryin’ you back.” His voice is dry and even, not bothering to hide his lack of amusement.

“Ughhh… Sorry Joel. I’m just missing something important and I’m still a little out of it after fainting earlier.”

He adds a few sticks to the burning fire, eyes watching the meat cook. “You should drink some’n, stay hydrated. I uh-brought some fresh water from the creek. Just need to let it boil.”

“Thanks.”

“So what was it?” Joel says after you crack open a box of frosted mini wheats, a cloud of sugar and cereal bits explode when tear open the ancient plastic wrap.

“What was what?”

“The thing you dropped.”

“Oh.” You swallow down the dry miniwheat with a big gulp. “It was just stupid stuff–a pad.”

Joel narrows his eyes at you. “You just about ripped my head off over a damn pad?”

“They’re rare ya know?”

“Well let’s go back out and find it then.”

“No, no, no. It’s gonna be all dirty. There might be bugs on it and all that, I can’t use it now.”

Joel rubs his beard in thought, watching the fire dance in your big, beautiful eyes. Normal your face is so expressive, lit up with a sort of eagerness to live. But not lately. Something was different. It was subtle, but he’s taken notice of how your light has dimmed, how your once frequent chatter has been replaced with an eerie quietness. Joel starts to wonder what he’s done to make you upset. Making you accuse him of stupid shit he ain’t even done. He’d start to remedy the situation by acknowledging the events of today and apologize for the stupid shit he did that made you puke your brains out.

“I threw ya to the wolves ‘n I shouldn’ve done it. Just thought–I thought maybe you’d learn quicker that way.” He clicks his tongue, reflecting back on the horrors from earlier. “Next time we’ll start off with trappin’, start nice ‘n slow, then work our way up.”

“It’s all my fault that she suffered like that, isn’t it?” There’s a dazed, far-off look in your eyes as you gaze into the fire.

Joel is quiet in thought, not sure what to say to bring you comfort. He wasn’t built for that. Comforting people, that is. Not with words. All he knew how to do was protect… and kill. So he says the only thing he can think of to put you at ease. “The world is crueler now than it’s ever been ‘n ya can’t let it get to ya.”

There’s so much you haven’t had to experience yet, it makes you somehow innocent, almost untainted by the horrors of the world. He loves that about you, wants to protect your delicateness as much as he can for as long as he can. Shield you from anything that dares to corrupt your sweet soul–which is why he has to keep the dark side of himself a secret from you. The things he’s done, the people he’s killed, the torture he’s inflicted on countless individuals is something he knew you’d find downright disgusting.

Yeah, you knew he was a hunter, but he never filled you in on the gritty details of what that entailed. How he was so much worse than those hunters that left you for dead. Didn’t tell you that his brother abandoned him because he was a monster. If you found out, you might be scared of him, run away from him even. And he can’t have that. You're safe with him at your side and so this little secret of his is just to protect you, that’s all. You don’t need to know about his past or what he’s capable of.

Joel knows what’s best for you.

“It’s gettin’ cold now ‘n we need somewhere warm to stay soon.” Joel begins, cutting through the deer's breast with his knife. “Was thinkin’ we could head back to that cabin you liked so much.”

“Nah,” you say with that same distant look in your gaze and he had absolutely no fucking idea what was going on in your head.

“Alright then. We could find another farmhouse, somethin’ more secluded than the ones we’ve been passin’. Think we might be able to find som’ nearby, near the creek ‘n the town.”

“Yeah, maybe,” you’re practically in a trance and Joel’s not even sure you’re actually listening, but he keeps talking to fill the silence–something you normally do.

“I’ve got a hoodie you can wear, it’ll be a little big on ya but it should do the trick ‘til we find ya som’n else.” He’s scrambling for words at this point. It isn’t in his nature to be the one driving the conversation,

“Mmkay.”

Joel rests his elbows on his knees, folding his hands together. “‘S everythin’ alright, sweetheart? You’ve been quiet.”

Eyes lidded, you look up at him. “Still feeling tired is all.”

“Get som’ore sleep. We can head into town in the mornin’ and get whatever you need. Maybe there’ll be pickled goods in one of the markets. Oughta be good for your stomach.” Joel is attentive to the fact that you have a sensitive stomach. First, it was the tuna, then you had a few instances where your nose would scrunch up in disgust if he tried to get ya to eat, and then the vomiting earlier today, all telltale signs that you were a delicate little thing.

He’s convinced that pickled goods will solve this little stomach issue of yours.

***

His hoodie looks good on you. He likes the way it’s too big for you, but despite that, he can still see the outline of your curves. After an hour of walking on an incline up into the town, you shed your layers to keep the heat at bay and Joel does everything he can to keep his eyes off your plump tits, barely held in place by your bra and spaghetti strap tank top. Were they always that plump?

He licks his lips and shakes the thought away. Getting a hard-on would be troublesome to hide from you, especially since the jeans he’s wearing today are a little tight.

Joel realizes that he isn’t interested in just sex with you, like all of the others he’d laid with. There’s something about you that he’s drawn to. Something that lights a flame in the dark chambers of his heart and gives him a purpose, a reason to live. Your enthusiasm and excitement for the world make him feel alive again, and it’s exactly why he’s so adamant about making sure he finds a way to knock out as much of your bucket list as he can.

These feelings that are developing toward you also explain why he feels an ache beneath his ribs when he sees how unwell you’ve been. Whether it’s the sickness you have or something else, he doesn’t know for sure, just knows it’s been dimming that beautiful light in your eyes and he’d give anything to make them shine again.

Up ahead, there’s a crusty sign that says Welcome to Taylor. You dip into the first convenience store that comes into view. Joel’s hand is on the small of your back as he ushers you in, carefully closing the door once both of you are inside.

Joel’s made it a habit to look for Twizzlers at every stop. “Sorry, darlin’. Looks like they’re all outta stock today.”

“It’s okay. I was actually in the mood for chocolate. See any around?”

“Chocolate huh? Never heard ya say that before. It’s usually all Twizzlers, gummies, and bright-colored candies that do it for ya.”

“Yeah, well I’m just in the mood for chocolate today.” You close the distance between you, hands resting on your hips, neck cranked up to look him in the eye. “That alright with you, cowboy?”

There’s a cocky smirk on Joel’s face as he looks down at you, a little thing with a big sassy attitude and he’s glad to see that it hasn’t changed. He notices the rosy pink color of your lips and the thin layer of shine on your cupid’s bow that he can’t take his eyes off of. “You can do whatever you want, angel. I ain’t stoppin’ you.”

“Good. Let’s get moving then,” you say nonchalantly, heading for the door. Joel had already grabbed the last two jars of pickles and an old box of saltines that were hidden in the back of an old shelf. “There’s nothing else here that’s worth our time.”

“Ain’t true. There’s these,’ Joel argues, holding up a couple of composition notebooks and ink pens with what’s probably their last drops left to spare.

“What do we need with old notebooks and pens?”

“There’s an old community college down the main road,” Joel begins, awkwardly fumbling to finish the sentence as if completing it would admit something about what he feels toward you. “So you can go to school.”

You stop in your tracks. “Last time I ‘went to school’ I puked.”

“We’re gonna take it down a notch or two. I’ll show ya what school was really like back in the day.”

Maybe it’ll put a smile on your face. Make you forget about all this shit.

Joel smiles when he sees how your face brightens up at the sight of the old college, bricks still red and distinct, nature not claiming it just yet. You both do a sweep through the main building, careful not to make noise and alert anyone or anything nearby, but the coast is clear.

“First class of the day: Film Studies,” Joel says, unstrapping his gun and kicking his feet up on a dusty wooden desk, hands tucked behind his salt and pepper curls. “First thing you oughta know is George Lucas made the greatest films of all time: Star Wars. Completely transformed the film industry as we knew it. Nobody had dared to even dream of making some’n like this series before. Spaceships, blaster guns, entire fuckin’ planets we ain’t even seen before, right there on the big screen.”

“So it was about aliens?”

“Yeah, som’ like that. ‘S bout a galaxy far away, and all the inhabitants in it. Humanoids, Wookies, Droids, and Jedi Knights. The first movie came out in 1977, Star Wars: A New Hope, and tells the story of Princess Leia, her brother Luke who’s a Jedi, and Han Solo, a badass motherfucker–pilot of the Millennium Falcon. They’re tryin’ to save the galaxy from the big evil Empire.”

“Kinda like how we’re trying to save the world from the big evil Clickers?”

“Yeah… som’ like that… Except this is more fun cuz the good guys always win.” Joel tucks his legs under the desk and straightens his spine. “You takin’ notes?”

“Yes Mr. Miller, I am taking notes on your class about Star Wars.”

“Good, cuz I’m gonna give ya a test on this later to make sure you were listenin’.”

“I’m listenin’ just fine,” you say, resting your cheek on your fist and biting the butt of the pen.

The rusted metal legs of the chair screech against the tile as Joel stands up, pacing the classroom now as he dives further into his lesson. Joel wasn’t a film junkie back in the day, if anything he was just an average guy that went to the movies now and again, but he had his favorites of course. He tells you everything he knows about cinema, mostly raving about what his favorite movies and shows were, but he shares as much as he can remember about film history, including some of the classic film directors like Alfred Hitchcock and Blake Edwards.

His knowledge was limited, but he knew that what he had to share was more than enough to paint the picture for you. The light was back in your eyes and it warmed Joel’s soul.

“I like when you tell me about the stuff you liked back then. Wish you’d always tell me more about yourself like this,” you say, nibbling at your pen and looking up at him through thick lashes.

“Mmm,” Joel hums, and that’s about all he manages to say as his gaze is fixated on the window to your left. He looks back over at you. “Think maybe we should start heading back. ‘S already gettin’ dark.”

A gunshot rings in the distance and both of you snap your attention to the window. “There’s people here. What do we do?”

“Lay low. We’ll go out the back and find a quiet place nearby to stay for the night.” Joel’s voice is low but commanding as he straps his rifle back into place and waves you to follow him. “Come’on.”

***

The quietness after the gunshot feels eerie and unsettling. There’s an odd sense of safety in being alone nowadays, so the fact that someone is nearby means danger lurks. Joel scans the street for signs of life, his brain racing, gears turning as he tries to determine which house would be the safest, the one least likely to be broken into with the most convenient exits if the worst case scenario did happen and you both had to make a run for it in the middle of the night.

Not that running was really his style. If anyone came in at night, if anyone hurt you, he’d put a bullet to their head without remorse. He’d shatter their skull until they were utterly unrecognizable by their face alone, and he’d leave the rest of them untouched as a warning to any of their friends that if they fuck with Joel, they die.

“This one,” he points to a yellow house with white shutters. The front door is covered with debris and vegetation, but there are two adequate back exits on the east side of the house by the kitchen and on the south-facing side that leads to the once was garden.

Male voices in the distance keep both of you on your toes. Joel thinks they’re at least a block down the road and tells you he doesn’t think there’s anything to worry about just yet.

“What happens if they find us?” Your voice is riddled with fear.

“They ain’t gonna find us,” Joel says confidently. “No one saw us, no one heard us, ain’t no one lookin’ for us.”

“But what if they do?”

He sighs, rubbing his beard in thought. “I’ll fuckin’ kill them.”

“What if they kill you first?” Your brows knit inward with desperation.

“That ain’t how I operate, sweetheart.”

“But what if?!” Your chest is heaving now, your eyes are wide, hands trembling as you reach to hold onto Joel’s shoulders. “I-I can’t fight Joel–can barely shoot a gun, you know that. How are we gonna take ‘em? What do I do if somethin’ happens to you?”

Joel squeezes your shoulders, pulling you an inch or two closer to him, eyes serious, brows furrowed as his eyes bore into you. “If anythin’ happens to me, you run. You got that? You run and you don’t look back.”

“No, I can’t leave you behind–I need a gun–I need–I need you. You don’t understand. I can’t make it without you–”

Joel hisses your name, teeth bared in a snarl. “No! If I’m down, you run. Understand?”

You nod your head rapidly in obedience. Joel can feel your little heart pounding away, and he thoughtlessly lets his thumb glide across the smooth surface of your skin, just above your heart before releasing his tight grip on you.

“Upstairs,” Joel commands, and you follow. The first step creaks under Joel’s boot and he turns to you, a finger to his lips.

Joel checks all the rooms, dusty, littered with crap, but good enough for the night. There’s one last bedroom to check before the two of you can safely stay there. Joel doesn’t like it when you go off on your own, and when he sees you twist the knob on the last door before he’s even finished his sweep through of the third bedroom, it takes every ounce of strength in him not to yell.

The knob twists with a little squeak and then the little white door with peeling mint green paint swings open with a creak. You gasp, mouth agape at whatever lies beyond the doorframe, out of Joel’s view.

“What?! What is it?!” He rushes to your side to see and before you can even answer the question, he answers it for himself.

Inside, the main wall is painted with a faded yet still colorful rainbow with a bouquet of balloons on each end. The ceiling is decorated with paintings of smiling clouds, and at the center hangs a lampshade shaped like a sun with golden strings holding little rainbow and star ornaments. They sway gently from your touch, making a melodic tinkling sound as they stir.

Below the lamp sits a beautiful wooden crib ornately carved with hummingbirds and little flowers. The entire scene feels like something you’d read about in a book, a world where people lived vibrant, happy lives and painted childlike illustrations on their walls. It was as if someone captured happiness and sunshine and trapped it in this room so that all who walked in would feel a rush of joy, love, and warmth.

“A nursery,” you say in a gentle whisper, fingertips brushing over the little hummingbirds

Voices stir in the distance, growing louder with each passing second. Joel’s calloused palm clasps around your delicate wrist. “Baby, ‘m gonna need you to hide.”

You ignore him, continuing to look fondly at the crib.

“Are you listenin’ to me?” He tugs at your arm.

You turn to him, eyes glistening with tears. “Joel. There’s something I gotta tell you.”

He swallows, voice hushed. “Can it wait?”

You shake your head and tears cascade down your cheeks like a river that’s just burst through a busted dam. Joel’s chest feels tight and his stomach is doing flips at the sight of you crying and he has not a single clue how to stop it, he just knows that there are men out there who could hurt you and he doesn’t have time for this. Your lips part, a shaky breath of wind escaping from your lungs before you compose yourself and finally say what you’ve been keeping to yourself for some time now. The secret you’ve been keeping frozen and locked away from him is now thawing, melting away the once-hidden layers of secrecy, and Joel was on the edge of his seat to finally find out what has been making you act so strange.

“I’m pregnant.”

~~~ au: Today is my birthday so I wanted to treat everyone and upload a few chapters here today! Enjoy <3 masterlist here

#joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel miller x you #joel x reader smut #joel x you #the last of us #fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfic #unplanned pregnancy fic #raider!joel

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flowerandblood · 7 months ago

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The Lost Haven (3/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: kissing, incest obviously, smut, the angst, description of cruel physical violence, bad, bad things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Song used in this chapter: Don't You (Forget About Me) by Simple Minds.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

For the next few days, he felt that he was functioning like a well-oiled mechanism without thoughts or feelings, without experiencing or reliving anything within himself. His mind was filled with complete emptiness: he preferred this state of affairs, because whenever a part of him hidden deep in his darkness started to come to the fore, he felt the need to write back to her.

Thank you.

She wrote it to him the next day.

He often went back to that message and looked at it for long minutes, maybe even hours, asking himself the questions his fingers wanted to tap out on the keyboard of his phone.

Who did this to you?

What were you doing there?

How do you feel?

He felt uncomfortable with the thought of how much it had affected him. Their reunion years later was shocking to him, and by virtue of him being the only person who had really experienced this reconciliation, there was something intimate and mysterious about it.

He rubbed his fingers against each other, feeling a shudder at the memory of how soft her skin was beneath his hand.

He swallowed hard, closing his eyes and tilted his head back, trying to control himself.

"Rough night?" Alys asked, sitting next to him at the bar, like him waiting for the club owner, clearly also having some business to attend to.

They fucked several times, from his perspective to simply get off: there was no finesse in these acts, but some kind of mutual understanding − they both just wanted to relax and didn't expect anything more from each other.

They spoke several times afterwards and he found that he actually liked her: she was a direct and confident woman, teasing and calculating, just like him.

Looking at her he felt he was looking in a mirror and it was an interesting experience.

He knew from his co-workers that Alys also liked women and he often saw her hitting on young girls in clubs.

She at least didn't slip rape pills into their drinks, he thought regretfully, taking a sip of his whisky as he tried to focus, the loud music around him made him feel like his head was about to explode.

"In a way." He muttered reluctantly, looking around, feeling an unpleasant squeeze in his stomach at the memory of her numb body lying in that toilet.

Vulnerable, forsaken, helpless.

"I heard about your heroic act. Apparently, you carried a little girl out of the Heavenly Beach before anyone had time to get into her panties." She sneered, taking a loud sip of beer from her bottle. He pressed his lips together, hearing the loud hiss of bubbles as she set it back down on the countertop. "Since when are you so caring?"

"It was my niece." He replied coolly, wanting to cut off the subject, drinking his whisky to the end in a deep gulp.

Alys furrowed her brow and laughed, stroking her chin, intrigued.

"So you're a good uncle, huh?"

"Fuck off."

"Why are you upset? Do you like her a little too much?"

She hissed as he grabbed her hard by the arm and jerked her, making her almost fall off her seat. He stopped, breathing heavily through his nose when he felt her pocket knife between his thighs.

"You'd better watch out, my friend, if you ever want to fuck anyone again."

He let go of her and she stepped back, massaging the sore place on her arm, looking at him angrily.

"You're fucked up."

He stood up, furious, heading for the back of the club even though he should have waited for someone to come out to him, figuring he couldn't stand to be in this place for a moment longer.

He felt like he was suffocating and wanted to leave already.

Her sleeping face as a child lying next to him on a pillow and her sleeping face then, in his car, leaning against the window, merged into one in his mind.

He realised with horror that only thinking about her made him feel anything.

"How much longer do I have to wait? You think I don't fucking have anything better to do?" He growled to one of the bodyguards, who grunted loudly, shifting from foot to foot, terrified.

They'd all heard about his scar and artificial eye, and they all knew what he'd done to some men who hadn't paid on time.

"I'll ask the boss if he's done yet." The man muttered.

He rolled his eyes as he heard the distinct, almost animal-like moans of two men from behind the door. After a moment, a young boy, all red and welted, walked out of the room, throwing him a look from which he felt discomfort, staggering with difficulty.

Tyland Lannister sighed heavily, standing in the door frame, looking at him disapprovingly, all sweaty.

If it wasn't for the fact that he and his brother dressed a little differently, he wouldn't have been able to tell them apart.

The fascination towards boys was apparently also inherited by both of them, he thought with a sneer.

"I said I'd come soon." He said.

"I don't have time for your soon."

"Jason gave you half the money last time, as agreed. I have to earn the other half, I need more time."

"Your time is up. I told him that you have two weeks, not a day more."

"Come on, we'll get along, after all…" He didn't finish as his fist slammed into his face − Tyland staggered backwards, falling to the floor of the room, and he closed the door behind him, leaving his stunned, big bodyguards behind.

He knew they wouldn't do anything to him.

It was his grandfather who ruled this town.

"Tyland." He said calmly, walking towards him with a lazy step – Lannister began to move backwards on his elbows, holding his swollen cheek with his hand, a trickle of blood dripping from his nose.

He crouched in front of him, pulling out his pocket knife, sliding the blade out.

"− n-no − please −"

"− which one do you choose − left or right? −"

"− please − please, I promise I'll have the full amount for tomorrow, I promise −" He mumbled, choking on his own tears, looking like a big, bearded, helpless, pathetic child.

He tsked, shaking his head, a smile of amusement on his face that didn't reach his eye.

"− we agreed for today − do you think I'll want to come here tomorrow and look at your face? −" He sneered, his voice on the verge of a dangerous hiss indicating that he was losing patience. Tyland nodded, his hands raised in a pleading, submissive gesture.

He looked like a dog who was laying on his back to prevent the other one from biting him.

"− I understand − I'm sorry − I'll think of something right away, okay? −"

"− now −"

"− y-yes − yes, I'll call one place − alright? −" He muttered.

He lifted his pocket knife up, grinning broadly, showing that he was able to wait another moment.

Lannister quickly took his phone out of his trousers and, with trembling hands, dialled a number. After a moment, someone on the other end spoke up.

"I need a quick loan. Twenty thousand. I know, I know I already owe you, but it's very, very important, do you understand?" He mumbled in a breaking voice.

He thought with disgust that he looked pathetic.

What did he expect?

"− please − please, help me −" He muttered, but his caller hung up.

He sighed heavily, spinning his pocket knife between his fingers.

"− time's up −"

When he returned to his flat the first thing he dreamed of was taking a shower. He watched impassively as the red-tinted water ran down his body, washing him of his sins like Saint John in the Jordan. He closed his eyes, trying to tell himself that God was forgiving him.

He had no choice.

He distanced himself from what his hands were doing, as if it wasn't his body, as if he was being directed by someone else. As a result, he felt no remorse, because he felt that he wasn't the one doing all those terrifying things.

It wasn't him who had done it, it was his dark shadow, the same one his niece had feared at night.

The thought of her made him feel an unpleasant sting in his chest. He pressed his lips together in an attempt to restrain himself, leaning his palms against the cold tiles, but his mind showed him her peaceful face again anyway, sleeping in his car.

She was so close he could smell her.

The smell of vanilla.

The next day his mother called him saying they needed to talk.

"Your father wants to throw a big party to celebrate his sixtieth birthday." She said, her voice trembling for some reason, as if something about this fact bothered her.

"Let him do what he wants." He hummed, pouring Vhagar's dog food into her bowl.

"He wants to invite Rhaenyra and her husband. Their children." She said, and he froze and cursed, seeing that he had poured too much, and some of the brown balls had spilled onto the floor.

"− fuck − has he completely lost his mind? −" He asked, running his hand over his face, feeling his heart begin to pound like crazy.

The possibility of meeting her while she was conscious made him feel his mind go into a state of panic.

He wasn't ready.

He couldn't.

He wanted so desperately to see her again.

"− he had already called her and she had said yes − Aemond, things are getting worse with him −"

"− I can just hear −" He growled, walking around the flat, feeling his emotions buzzing inside him.

"− I mean it − he's seriously ill −" She muttered, and he stopped in place, once again feeling the emptiness in his head.

"− what? −"

"− only me and your grandfather know about it − he asked not to tell you − he thinks it might be his last birthday −"

To his despair, his father demanded that everyone come to his birthday party, apparently wanting to put together in some pathetic way what had long been shattered.

Neither his grandfather nor his mother succeeded in dissuading him from this idea − his father rented a large banquet hall in a country manor house, an hour's drive from their town, and decreed that the whole event would be held there.

The manor also had rooms where they were to stay overnight, but he had no intention of remaining there any longer than necessary.

For the next few days, he would wake up in the night drenched in cold sweat, dreaming again and again of cutting her face with a pocket knife despite her screams and cries, her terrified eyes and lips parted in terror, leaving him no peace.

He was afraid of himself and what he was capable of.

He was afraid he would do something to her.

He was the last to arrive, the few missed calls from his mother indicated that everyone was waiting for him. He sat in his car for a long time, looking at the sun setting in the distance, thinking about that evening, that day, hearing the sound of the sea.

He tried not to think or feel when he got inside, all tense, his heart beating so hard in his chest that he felt like he was dying.

He was immediately struck by the loud 80s music − Don't You (Forget About Me), Simple Minds's song playing in the background, made him feel like a child again.

Won't you come see about me? I'll be alone, dancing, you know it, baby

Tell me your troubles and doubts Giving everything inside and out and Love's strange, so real in the dark Think of the tender things that we were working on

Slow change may pull us apart When the light gets into your heart, baby

Don't you, forget about me Don't, don't, don't, don't Don't you, forget about me

He felt a sense of discomfort hearing this lyrics, looking around at the crowd of people, his father's acquaintances, friends and business partners − he knew most of them, now laughing with drinks in their hands, doing disgusting and terrifying things on a daily basis, just like him.

His breath froze in his chest when he suddenly spotted her silhouette sitting at one of the tables.

She was looking at him, dressed in a simple, elegant, knee-length matte dress with long sleeves and a white collar, her long, dark hair loose.

He thought she looked like a miss from a good home, educated, full of culture and familiarity with the world that he lacked, feeling a sting in his chest at the thought.

Don't you try and pretend It's my feeling we'll win in the end I won't harm you or touch your defenses Vanity and security, ah

Her hands clenched into fists at the sight of him, something pleading in her gaze, as much as in her parted, sweet lips, looking so luscious, so soft.

She made a movement as if to rise from her chair, but he turned suddenly, panicking, walking towards the table where his brother was sitting.

"− where the fuck have you been? −" Aegon asked him, he, however, heard him only partially, his gaze returning to her: he swallowed hard when he saw that her seat was empty, but he did not see her either among the dancing couples or anywhere else.

Fuck.

"− are you listening to me? −" He asked, and he nodded.

As you walk on by Will you call my name? As you walk on by Will you call my name? When you walk away

"− there was terrible traffic −" He lied.

He lied constantly.

Lying to himself and others was so easy.

It helped.

It helped him live with what he did.

Who he was.

Aegon and Helaena were talking amongst themselves, he, however, was unable to focus − all he could think about was the fact that he couldn't calm down and needed a cigarette.

He pretended not to hope at all that she had gone out into the garden, that he would meet her there, that he would be able to look at her lips again.

At her eyes.

Her terrified face, the blade of his knife sinking into her skin above her brow.

God, make it stop.

"− where are you going? − you just got here −" His brother called out after him seeing that he was about to leave again.

"− I'm going for a smoke − I'll be right back −"

He stepped outside, feeling the pleasant evening breeze again, and looked around feeling his heart in his throat. He stopped when he spotted her sitting silhouette in the darkness at the end of the pier that overlooked a small pond.

He stared at her for a moment, feeling the urge to run away again, but some part of him that terrified him told him to approach her.

So he did.

Step by step he moved closer to her, as if to something inevitable, his death, his doom.

She turned, hearing him − her eyes widened in shock, her lips parted again, but this time in disbelief. She stood up from her place and he stopped a few steps away from her, pulling a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket.

"− what were you doing there? −" He asked, but it seemed to him that it was not his mouth, not his throat that left those sounds, cold and dry.

She blinked, as if she didn't understand what he meant, playing with her fingers in a nervous gesture.

"− what do you mean? −"

He slipped the cigarette into his mouth and leaned over, lighting the lighter, the warm flame making its dark tip begin to smoke. He took a drag, feeling that his hands were shaking, that although on the outside his posture was stony, on the inside everything in him was quivering.

"− what were you doing in that club −" He explained. "− looking for a new experiences? −"

She furrowed her eyebrows at his words but did not answer him, which frustrated him.

"− I don't like to ask twice −" He said more sharply than he intended. He saw that she swallowed hard, looking at him with fear and something else he couldn't define.

Her gaze was both terrified and warm at the same time, making him feel a familiar tickle in his lower abdomen that he hadn't felt in years.

God, no, he thought.

"− I wanted to find out how my father died −"

There was a long, uncomfortable silence between them, which was broken by his mischievous laughter. He tapped his finger on his cigarette making the ash fall to the ground and took another drag, its tip turning red.

"− and what did you find out? −" He sighed, letting the smoke out through his nose, looking down at her.

"− that your grandfather killed him −" She whispered in a trembling voice.

His hand froze in mid-motion before he laughed out loud.

"− who told you that? − Larys Strong? − was he the one who dragged you there? −" He sneered as if he was speaking to a small child, seeing with every word by her face full of pain and disbelief that he was right.

He walked closer to her, towering over her, feeling some sudden, strange surge of confidence, his heart pounding like mad with anticipation.

It seemed to him that he was dreaming all this, that he was about to wake up in his bed in his flat.

"− it was Larys who reported him − after the death of his father and brother, all the fortune fell to him − my grandfather just passively looked on −" He said, taking a drag on the remains of his cigarette, looking with interest at her pale face.

He thought her eyes seemed even bigger than they were then, surrounded by a fan of her dark lashes, her eyebrows arched in disbelief, her puffy lips shiny with glitter, probably from some kind of lip gloss, parted in a heavy, drawn-out breath, as if every word he said caused her pain.

"− did you know about this? −"

"− everyone knew −" He replied. "− he passed sentence on himself when he started talking with the police − his days were numbered anyway −"

She surprised him when she moved suddenly in front of him and passed him, bursting into a loud sob, walking back towards the building. For some reason he felt a cold shiver run along his spine, his mind seeming to scream.

Not yet.

He grabbed her aggressively by the arm making her voice stuck in her throat, her body slamming into his as he pulled her violently towards him. They struggled for a moment, his hands tightening around her waist, not allowing her to pull away.

He wasn't done yet.

Not yet.

She squirmed and whimpered, tears running down her red face as he grasped her cheeks between his fingers, able to look at her closely at last, pressing her body against his with his other arm.

Their breaths were heavy and broken when her body finally stopped resisting him, his face bent over hers so that the tips of their noses were almost touching.

"− don't you miss your favourite uncle anymore? − hm? −" He gasped, for some reason wanting to watch her suffer, wanting to punish her for seeing other men, for perhaps fucking other men, for perhaps daring to love them while he thought only of her, her, her.

She swallowed hard, her fingers clenched helplessly on the material of his leather jacket, her warm, soft cheeks all wet with tears under his fingers, her eyes big and shining, staring at him, only at him.

"− I don't recognise you −" She mumbled in a breaking voice. She closed her eyes, tears one by one running down her face again. "− God, I don't recognise you −"

He looked at her feeling his whole body tense up, his heart stopped in his throat − his lips tightened into a thin line as his grip on her cheeks grew stronger, making her cry out quietly in pain. He wanted to say something but was unable to − he just stared at her, feeling himself begin to tremble all over, a burning, embarrassing wetness gathered under his eyelids.

He knew he would be a disappointment to her and that was why he never wanted to see her again.

He didn't want to hear those words.

I don't recognise you.

"− good − because I don't fucking recognise myself either −" He hissed in a hoarse, trembling voice.

He pressed his forehead against hers, wanting to hide, wanting to be close to her, wanting her to forgive him, to tell him that everything would be all right, that she would come to him at night just as she had then.

He waited for her words, but all he heard was her loud breathing, her trembling fingers from his jacket rose slowly to his neck and jaw, her thumbs stroked his cheeks.

Something akin to a soft moan and sigh left his throat as her plump, moist lips ran slowly over his, merely teasing him. His cock responded immediately with an aggressive pulsing at the thought that her lip gloss tasted of strawberries, his eyes closed in delight as his tongue licked her upper lip, letting her know to keep going.

A wonderful, tickling heat rippled across his chest and lower abdomen as she mewled softly, opening her mouth a little wider, finally joining him in a shamelessly sticky, wet, loud kiss full of their slick, warm tongues.

The grip of his fingers softened, still holding her securely while his lips sank again and again into the wonderfully fleshy, silky structure of her skin, her scent, her hot breath, the softness of her body were wonderfully familiar, wonderfully safe.

He embraced her as she threw her arms around his neck, her body pressed against his − she moaned in embarrassment into his throat, letting his tongue invade deep between her teeth as she felt his swollen, throbbing erection on her stomach.

"− it's your fault − it's your fault −" He panted between greedy, aggressive, deep kisses that took his breath away, his wide hands clamped down on her back on the material of her dress, wandering up and down, closing finally on her plump buttocks making her fingers tighten on his short hair.

"− mghm −" She babbled between one lick of their tongues and the next, their lips joined and separated with loud, sticky clicks of their saliva, his hips rolled back and forth, rubbing his erection hidden in his trousers against her body, holding her in place.

This heavenly, shocking pleasure was violently interrupted for him when they heard someone's voice in the distance.

"− are you sure you saw her here? −" He heard Daemon's voice and moved away from her, looking at her in horror, her eyes big, her mouth open wide as if she couldn't believe what they had just done.

Oh my fucking God.

"− yes, I'm sure −" Jace said.

"− I'm here − I'm coming −" She called out to them, running towards them, leaving him alone amongst the evening chill, uncomfortably enveloping his body hot with delight and desire.

Only after a moment did the adrenaline begin to leave his veins, and the thrill was replaced by rage and shame. He groaned loudly, kneeling down and closed his face in his hands, bursting into loud, uncontrollable sobs for the first time in years.

He still loved her.

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vanilleandclove · 7 months ago

Text

rings of fire | prologue

ser erryk cargyll x targaryen! reader | prologue: the realm's craving

In honor of Queen Aemma's labors beginning, King Viserys the First and his two twin daughters, Rhaenyra and Y/n, host and sponsor an heir's tournament. The Realm's Delight was a title owned to Rhaenyra, rider of Syrax and the King's cup bearer, the older twin. Though Y/n wore the title: The Realm's Craving, rider of Nymeria and wielder of Blackfyre; Y/n made her reputation known for being the princess whom was outspoken and untouchable, wielding the conqueror's blade just after Jaehaerys.

word count: 2.4k | warnings: reader is described to have pale white hair and to look like visenya (plus largely endowed in the chest…), graphic descriptions of violence, y/n is otto's biggest opp, viserys you fool, slight misogyny. | author's note: welcome back! i fear i will not get over elliott tittensor as ser erryk, i hope you enjoy this series and it will be much longer! also, i took the liberties to spice up the reader. - i will update the meadow in which you lay soon!

"Since the dawn of our birth, father has exceedingly taken an interest in marrying us both off to a Valyrian house dear sister" you teased to your sister just before you saddled onto your dragon mounts, "And solemnly for us, Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys have only one male child".

Nymeria was a pale purple dragon, reminiscent of your eyes that passed down through generations of Targaryen lineages, your sister's eyes were painted blue, just as your mother's and father's. The townsfolk all spoke of your appearance in great detail in the days they ever saw you. "The favorable yet quieter and fiercer twin", "The twin with more Targaryen than Arryn in her", "The Princess with the mounds of Valryia", "The actual Dark Sister", and your personal favorite, "*King Maegor as a consort".

"I love our father dearly but I do not wish to be married off… especially to someone of father's tastes" Rhaenyra spoke as she pet Syrax, earning a light coo from the dragon. Nymeria was larger than Syrax though smaller than Vhagar due to age, the Dragonkeepers all spoke of Nymeria being the dragonseed of Meraxes or Vhagar.

As your sister and yourself took off on riding into the skies of King's Landing, jesting one another into a race. Nymeria outshined Syrax though both dragons were quite fond of one another, sisters though did not share an eggs hatch. If Rhaenyra were to be the daughter of Westeros, you were the daughter of the dragons. Though your father was staunchly disagreed with your attitude and the lack of conformity both you and your sister paraded, he wished you both to be near silent and seen sisters, rather than heard.

The clouds felt soft against your skin, your hair braided strategically and your dress flowing in the wind, the fabric straining against your body leaving little to the imagination of what you were gifted with when you came of age. Your father always ordered your clothes to be modest, fearing the great houses and his council were to mistake you for a whore he would say, though you defied him endlessly, giving the king no ounce of rest. The high-born folk and townsfolk were the same when it came to you and commenting on your bodice, horny men clutched to their belts in restraint and shifted in their seats or stance whenever you were present in court, jealous women who were displeased by your body as their husband's had lack the respect for their wife, it was not your problem you told yourself. It was nature's design to be given a body like yours, your mother tiredly reassured you, being of Targaryen and Arryn lineage, your body was evidence of years of warriors. Though, she refrained from calling you what everyone else did, "Visenya's twin".

You did not see being compared to Visenya as an insult, though not your direct ancestor, Visenya was still a beautiful woman- who's beauty matched her brain. She is the reason your father has a Kingsguard by his side, the reason Daemon now has Dark Sister, the reason for your own beauty. You wore it as a badge of honor rather than a distasteful insult, often wondering if Daemon did not stain and smear your family name with his unfiltered temper that aged well before you and Rhaenyra were birthed, if you were to be named Visenya as well. Daemon's temper was compared to that of Maegor and his mother's, when you came of age of six-and-ten with Rhaenyra, your father once joked, "Now we must wait and see whom Visenya will be, and whom will be Maegor". His eyes landed on you at the instance of saying Maegor's name; you remember viscerally crying in your chambers that night, questioning if your father saw you as a nuisance of the family. Twins only meant that one child was not planned, and Rhaenyra was the older twin.

They used to speak of Aegon's feats as a soldier and warrior, though never of him being a husband or a father. Rumors and tales were spoken of Targaryen men, they are either fierce knights, or wonderful fathers. You'd wager your father was neither, but only under your breath you'd say such a thing. They would also speak of Aegon's love for his wives, for every one night he'd spend with Visenya, he'd spend ten with Rhaenys. They'd also speak of Visenya's unfaltering fidelity to Aegon, but how there were whispers at court that Rhaenys took younger men to her bed on the nights Aegon would be with Visenya. You almost felt pity for the woman, her son abused and neglected whilst her sister's sired kin were cherished and respected. Underneath it all, Visenya was still an amazing queen and consort, even with the wicked feats of Maegor, that was still her baby, even so as she waged the revenge of her younger sister's death. Though you were technically younger than Rhaenyra, you were her Visenya.

"We should see ourselves back, to check on mother" you spoke up to your sister, shouted as she was a distance away from you. She nodded at your advisement, both of you delving down into the ground, racing once again. Upon reaching the ground, met with Ser Harold and the dragonkeepers, along with a carriage that revealed Alicent. You were never too fond of Alicent, though she was your sister's dear friend and lady-in-waiting, your fondness resided in Laena, forming an inseparable bond as she rode Vhagar and you rode seemingly, Vhagar's closest kin.

"I am taking you are here for the tourney our fathers are planning Alicent?" you questioned as you removed your gloves and slid off Nymeria's mount, petting your dragon once more before touching her with your forehead in order to bid farewell as she was taken by the dragonkeepers. Walking up to the Lady before looking back to see your sister dismounting from Syrax. Alicent only nodded at your question, you could barely earn a few words from Alicent, often wondering if it was because you were the second daughter to the king, yet still a higher-born daughter than any great house of Westeros. Or if it was due to the desire her brother held for you, though you always shut down his advances, it was insult to you that he felt the privilege to speak to you, the eldest son of the second son to a noble but not great house. You'd never soil your family's name and heritage to wed a Hightower, it was not your taste.

As you walked off, Rhaenyra and Alicent engaged in conversation, you mounted yourself on a horse before looking at Ser Ryam, you were fond of him though, wildly attracted to his newly appointed kingsguard, the Cargyll twins. Tall lads they were, only two-name days older than you and your sister, their hairs match each other's short and disheveled but strategically disheveled, almost as if they both wanted to appear more desirable. Though your desire for the new brothers did not blind you of the health of Ser Ryam, noticing his energy and will to live deplete as the days pass.

"Will you follow me to the castle Ser Ryam? You look awfully tired" you asked, earning a nod from the knight, before he was named Lord Commander once again, your father had him as your sworn shield for several years. As you rode back to the Red Keep, taking sparing glances back at Ser Ryam, just as you wondered into the woods just before reaching the Keep, slowing down in order to conversate with Ser Ryam.

"Anything on your mind dear princess?" Ser Ryam questioned, his horse taking small gallops.

"Do you believe me to be inept?" you asked for his opinion, "I am taunted with the fact that I am in the body of a woman, yet I decline every Lord's hand, including the handsome Stark boys, though the only man to ever catch my intrigue…" you nearly spoke too much yet too little.

"Is bound to another?" Ser Ryam questioned in confusion. You looked up at the sky in defeat, sighing before shaking your head, chuckling in the depravity of your mind.

"Bound to oaths" you then broke the pregnant silence, "Ser Erryk makes a fine knight, does he? Seeing that he and his brother were sworn in just under a year of training. He is quite the handsome man the townsfolk yelp about" you bit your lip, allowing yourself to vent to the knight.

"He may not take a wife I am afraid, my princess" Ser Ryam begun, only earning a somber look from your face, "I too loved a woman before being knighted, she had gone off to marry one of the Tully lads due to my oath. I see her once every blue moon, my love never faltered or betrayed me. I do not blame her for going off to marry, she deserved to be loved in more ways than words, stolen kisses, and nights".

"Do all members of the Kingsguard follow the vow of chastity?" you questioned further.

"We do. Granted I was not in a sticky situation being that of equal ranking to the maiden, though her honor was one I did not want to take lightly. I do pity her husband, it should have been him to be the one to take her maidenhead, not a kingsguard besmirching both her's and I's honor. Our vows are sworn under the seven, as every woman is a picture of the mother, no matter how much we wish it to be individual" Ser Ryam answered honestly, "I am to guard your secrets as well my Princess, any words spoken in this moment are under the eyes of you and me. Though I do advise you, being unmarried puts you at odds if you fall pregnant".

You laughed at the knight's comment, "It is only a crush I am afraid; I am too socially inept to talk to him more than the simply escorts to and from my chambers in the morning and eve".

As you and Rhaenyra walked into the chambers of your mother, being met with kisses on your forehead. You quickly made way to apply warm towels to your mothers' legs as they were swollen, kissing your mother's forehead before moving her hair out of her face as the sweat led it cling onto her skin. You did not envy your mother though she was carrying the burden and joy of life in her. It was you and Rhaenyra who held royal wombs, as your mother would say.

"I will be in the council mother; I will see you in the eve" you told her before dismissing yourself. You never could stomach seeing your mother in agony, Rhaenyra knew it, your mother and father knew it.

As you were met with the knight of your dreams, you smiled carelessly, "May you escort me to the council room, Ser Erryk? I find myself craving conversation to someone who isn't completely eager to marry me off". The knight offered his forearm for you to hold, escorting you to the council room across the Keep and floors down.

"Are you enjoying the preparations for the tourney Princess?" Ser Erryk asked you, both of you never were sure of what to talk about.

"I do wish I were involved in combat I must say, I envy you men for being able to succumb yourselves to violence for a day" you jested, earning a soft smile from the knight, "Are you and Arryk participating? Perhaps I can bless you both with my favor or offer you to hold Blackfyre".

Erryk was stunned greatly of your offer, Blackfyre was a noble sword, the Conqueror's no less, "You honor me more than I deserve princess, though yes, Aryk and I are participating, hopefully we do wish to not have to face your uncle, the prince".

You scoffed silently, smirking at the knight, "Which is why I offered Blackfyre" you instigated the knight as you made your way through the halls. "Daemon wields Dark Sister and I envy him for it, it is an easier fit for a woman's hand. Though, Blackfyre was sworn to me instead of my father by Jaehaerys himself".

Once you made the way to the council room you dismissed Erryk before stating once again, "If you wish to take upon my offer, you can meet me in my chambers tonight" the bold words flowed out of your tongue as if it were familiar to you.

The knight nodded, hand finding purchase on the small of your back as you stepped onto the stairs that led into the council room. You bit your lip once again, holding his eyes for a bit too long before Ser Rickard Thorne took notice, clearing his throat in the process. As you straightened your back and bid him a farewell in a glance, moving your body to enter the council room. Noting the heat that electrified between you and the loyal knight. Only choosing to distract yourself with the bland conversations held at your father's table before Rhaenyra made her way into the council room, only then you found yourself amused once again. Tomorrow will be the heir's tournament, a babe outshining you and Rhaenyra, though you hoped to the god's that tonight, the knight of your dreams finds himself taking your offer.

taglist: @wolvestitches

#hotd #house of the dragon #game of thrones #ser erryk #ser arryk #ser erryk cargyll #ser arryk cargyll #rhaenyra #rhaenrya targaryen #alicent hightower #house of the dragon fanfiction #ser erryk cargyll x reader #erryk cargyll #erryk cargyll x reader #angst #smut

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cherienymphe · 2 years ago

Text

Basic Training X (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | divider by @whimsicalrogers

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

“Alright. Time’s up, pretty girl.”

You pouted a bit as Peter’s words reached you, signaling to you that you’d been outside long enough and that you’d have to help get breakfast ready soon. You longingly stared at the pond as you stood up, hating how little free time you were allowed. Unlike you, the other women didn’t need someone standing over their shoulder whenever they stepped a foot outside. Clearly Steve or Peter thought there was still a chance you might try and make a run for it.

That opportunity had long passed.

You straightened, brushing some dirt off of your dress before making your way to Peter. The dark-haired man took your hand with a smile, leaning in and brushing his lips over your cheek as he walked you back to the house. Peter did that a lot more as of late. Taking your hand, kissing your face, just touching you in any small harmless way. You didn’t know how to feel about it at first, seeing it more as the price you had to pay to keep Peter so close.

…but just like his presence became a comfort, so did the feel of his hand in yours.

Steve was standing at the back door as you both neared the house, and you held Peter’s hand tighter. You relaxed only slightly when Peter squeezed your hand, and you did your best to avoid Steve’s gaze. Sometimes you wished that you were capable of what Steve clearly thought you were. At least then all of his scrutiny wouldn’t be in vain.

Truthfully, you didn’t know what he expected from you. You were weak. He’d said so himself that day in the basement when he’d decided you couldn’t even last another day. You were nothing like Natasha or even Margaret, something that was a great source of discomfort for you.

“Why do you think you need to be more like Nat?” Peter had asked you one day when you brought it up.

You’d shrugged.

“I just feel…really…pathetic, sometimes,” you’d mumbled, playing with your fingers and avoiding his gaze.

Peter had taken your face into his hands, looking almost sad as you voiced your insecurity. You both knew why you wished you were more like the beautiful redhead, but Peter didn’t say anything about that. He’d simply pressed his lips to your forehead, keeping them there as he talked.

“You’re you, and that’s why I like you,” he’d whispered against your skin. “If I had wanted anyone else… If I’d wanted someone more like Nat, I would’ve swiped her before Bucky had the chance to.”

That was when you learned that like Jane and Thor, Bucky and Natasha had known each other before this too. Such a thought hurt your heart, and you couldn’t imagine the betrayal she’d felt. Peter had mentioned something about them knowing Natasha since she was a kid, her having grown up in this town too. That level of betrayal had clearly made her heart harden against Bucky in the beginning instead of having some softness for him, leading to her being down in that basement for literal months.

It also explained why Bucky had seemed very upset when he mentioned it.

Natasha was still quiet around you these days, but you couldn’t help but notice that ever since she’d learned the truth about how you were taken, she wasn’t so…harsh. Before, where you could tell that she was that way for your own sake, just wanting you to fall in line for your benefit, now, you could see the patience and understanding in her eyes. They all seemed much more careful around sharp objects, now, having clarity on that incident in the kitchen with the blood.

You didn’t know how to feel about that either.

On the one hand, you didn’t feel so alone anymore. It’s not like you talked about it, but it felt good to be surrounded by people who not only knew what you’d been through, but who also cared. The silent support did make things a little easier. On the other hand, though, you didn’t think that you liked being pitied. You weren’t the only victim in this scenario, and you felt wrong being treated like the only one.

What about Jane who’d liked Thor before he kidnapped her? Or Natasha who’d grown up in this town, who’d grown up with Bucky and the rest, and was betrayed by a man she thought was her friend? Several men that she thought were her friends. To you, their situations seemed just as traumatic.

Even Margaret, whose origin with Steve you didn’t know, still had to live in a perpetual state of fear of being brutally raped by that man for all to see over the smallest of infractions. You helped Laura in the garden as the other woman walked around the property with her daughter. She cooed at her and looked as happy as could be, but you often wondered how much of it was fake for the sake of survival or how much of it was real as a conditioned way of coping? There were many times you leaned towards the latter…

…and there were many times you worried that would be you.

As if you’d conjured him up with your thoughts, you felt familiar hands on your shoulders just as Laura glanced up.

“Hello, Peter.”

The almost robotic way in which they’d all greet Peter anytime he joined you in some household task was almost frightening. Peter allowed you to be so casual with him, and you were reminded of that day he’d snapped at Jane in the greenhouse. It was a reminder that these women probably knew Peter much better than you did. Some of them had lived in this house with him for years, and they knew a whole other side of Peter that you didn’t.

“Laura,” he evenly greeted. “What are you and Y/N planting?”

“Just squash seeds,” she replied. “A personal request from Sam.”

She chuckled as she recalled when Sam had run into you both earlier. He’d seemed very enthusiastic about growing the vegetable, and Peter hummed at that. You felt him rest his chin on your head as you knelt, and if Laura was uncomfortable with his presence, she didn’t show it. You’d kind of gathered that it wasn’t normal for any of the men to be so involved with activities that had been dubbed as something solely for the women in the house.

Peter was just very lenient and accommodating with you.

You didn’t need to be a genius to know that Steve didn’t like it very much. If the blond had it his way, you would’ve been in the basement several times over by now, and any whiny request you made of Peter would’ve been answered with a spanking. That train of thought had a spark of gratitude flowing through you, and absentmindedly, you reached up to cover Peter’s hand on your shoulder with your own.

Laura glanced over at the action, but otherwise said nothing.

“Happy Birthday, Y/N.”

Those were the words you woke up to a few days later, eyes blinking open and face twisting in confusion as Peter’s face materialized before you. He hovered over you, one hand pressed into the bed at your side and the other resting on your stomach, playing with your fingers there. You stared at him in silence for an embarrassingly long amount of time. You heard what he said, but you couldn’t quite make sense of the words.

It was your birthday?

You paused to think back on how many months had passed, and with shock, you realized that Peter was right. It was certainly your birthday month, and while you didn’t keep up with the days as well as you would have liked—they all blended together now—Peter had no reason to lie. In fact, you were sure that Pepper had mentioned the date the other day, and you hadn’t even made the connection that your birthday was fast approaching.

The thought made you…sad.

This time last year, you’d been planning that trip with Wanda and MJ and Pietro. You’d been excited to look back on the memories on your next birthday, probably even planning another one. This time last year, you’d been free and cutting a cake that your mom had baked and cleaning up a mess after Pietro had smashed your face into the icing.

Now…

Now, you were in a prison. Your friends were dead, your mom was alone and probably stressing herself into an early grave over you, and you were staring into the face of the man who’d made it all happen. You were celebrating your birthday in a house that you didn’t want to be in and surrounded by people you didn’t want to be near. The thought made your eyes water, and Peter noticed, his face falling as he straightened.

“Hey, hey, what’s the matter?” he quietly wondered, touching your chin. “Why are you crying?”

You tried to hold them back, but your tears spilled over against your will, and your lips trembled.

“I shouldn’t be here…”

Realization hit Peter as he sighed.

“I’m supposed to be with my friends,” you tearfully told him. “…and my mom.”

“I know,” Peter breathed, moving closer and pulling you into his arms.

You pressed your face into his chest, trying to hold in your sobs, but it was no use.

“…but I’m here…and you don’t have to lift a finger today…”

Peter’s voice was soft, hopeful, as he tried to cheer you up.

“We can stay outside as much as you want,” he told you, stroking your back. “…or we can stay in here all day. Anything you want.”

You knew that ‘anything’ had limitations to it, but you still pulled away at the mention of being outside all day. Ever since you could, it was all you really wanted to do. Peter’s smile told you that he could see it in your eyes, and he reached up to wipe your face.

“The girls are going to cook your favorite,” he continued, gently cleaning your face. “Doesn’t that sound nice?”

It did…and it didn’t, but you nodded anyway.

You were having the hardest time accepting that it was actually your birthday. Even as Peter ran you a bath, something that wasn’t unusual, you still stared at the flower petals in the water in disbelief. When you made it downstairs only to be greeted with well wishes and birthday congratulations, it still didn’t feel real.

Each of the women—and Thor—hugged you, while the rest of the men only cheerfully wished you a happy birthday. It was jarring to see a smile on Steve’s face, and even now, you couldn’t tell if it had been genuine or forced.

You were one year older…and so very far from wiser.

Peter was content to lie in the grass with you by the pond. It was all you really wanted to do, just bask in the fresh air and savor this day before you had to return to household chores and allotted outside time. You could feel Peter playing with your hair and your dress as you laid there, staring at the sky and thinking on how drastically your life had changed in a year.

“What are you thinking about?” Peter asked you. “When you’re not crying or asking me to hold you, you’re so quiet…and I always want to know what you’re thinking.”

You blinked, frowning a bit.

“Just how different things were last year,” you whispered. “I feel like…it’s finally hitting me…that I’m going to be here the rest of my life.”

You didn’t sound or feel particularly sad as you said it. Truthfully, you didn’t know what you felt, but you knew that it felt strange. You were lying on the grass with your captor, talking to him like he was a friend while he played with you. The man responsible for your captivity was the same one you confided in. That was something you grappled with every day, and with each day that passed, that fact felt less and less weird.

“I told you…it doesn’t have to be a bad thing,” Peter whispered back, his hand on your face. “I’m going to make you so happy.”

You didn’t want Peter to make you happy…but the only other alternative was to live out the rest of your days miserable and angry and scared. You felt like you were being so ungrateful to think like that, noting just how much worse you could have it. Compared to any of the other men, Peter was a Godsend, but he was still the same man responsible for your kidnapping.

You turned to watch him as he sat up, and you watched him reach into his pocket.

“When I went to check on your mom all those months ago…I also got this…”

You didn’t sit up, just watching him as he held a small jewelry box in his hands. The sight of it made your heart jump for multiple reasons, and you didn’t really know what to do as he opened it. As expected, a ring was inside, but it strangely didn’t look like a typical engagement ring. You figured that one would come into play eventually, and you hated how casually that thought passed through your mind.

It was more of a band, yellow gold and dainty. It reminded you of a tree branch—or vine—twisting and curving into a shape. There were golden thorns that caught your eye, reminiscent of a rose bush, and you felt frozen as Peter took your hand. He was careful in sliding it onto your finger, and you soon understood why.

When Peter pulled on it, the thorns dug into your skin, and you hurriedly sat up with a hiss.

“I had this custom made,” he murmured, turning your hand over and admiring the painful piece of jewelry. “You can’t take this off without scratching up your finger and possibly leaving behind a bloody mess.”

He gently played with your fingers, admiring it some more before his dark eyes lifted to meet your gaze. Peter’s expression was entirely serious as he threaded his fingers with yours, bringing your hand up to kiss the back of it, his pink lips soft on your skin.

“You’re mine,” he whispered without breaking his gaze. “…and I want you to be reminded of that every single day.”

He rested his chin on the back of your hand.

“Just like I am every time I look at you…”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you took a deep breath.

“You understand…?”

You struggled to swallow, hesitating when he squeezed your finger, pressing the metal thorns into your skin, and you winced.

“Yes,” you told him, breathless. “I understand.”

Peter’s entire demeanor changed at that, a smile dancing along his lips as he leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Good,” he whispered, kissing your cheek, now. “Happy Birthday, pretty girl.”

You sat at the table as everyone around you sang.

The cake that Jane and Sharon baked was so pretty. Beautiful even. It looked like something you would’ve seen online and begged your mom to buy before she ultimately decided to just make it herself. It had the appropriate number of candles, and you stared into the flames as the song came to an end.

You felt Peter’s lips at your ear as he urged you to make a wish.

You blinked, eyes burning as you thought about the one wish you knew wouldn’t come true. The ring on your finger felt like a weight was tied to it, a reminder of just who you belonged to and the circumstances surrounding how you’d gotten here. You stared into the candle flames with tearful eyes, wondering what on earth you could possibly wish for.

Freedom was out of the question. There was no doubt in your mind that that would never happen. You considered wishing for happiness, but like earlier, you thought that you didn’t want to be happy with Peter. At least, you didn’t think you did, but living out the rest of your life in misery sounded like hell, like the worst thing that could ever happen.

…and yet, with tears in your eyes, that was what you wished for.

The other women clapped, cheering for you, but you could hear it dying down when your tears spilled over. You didn’t mean to start crying, and like every other time before, embarrassment filled you. You could feel Peter’s hands on your shoulder as he stood behind you, and when you glanced up, your eyes caught familiar green ones. You didn’t miss the concern on Natasha’s face as she eyed you.

You really did try to keep it together, even just for your own sake, but it was harder than it was supposed to be, and when everyone else grew quiet, you didn’t even need to look over to know that Steve’s hard gaze was on you. You wiped your face, but the tears just kept coming, and you heard Peter sigh.

“Here,” you heard Margaret say, her chair moving. “Let’s cut you a piece of-.”

“Sit down, Peggy.”

Steve’s cold voice was loud and clear in the otherwise quiet room, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at anyone. It was your birthday, and it was nothing at all like you expected it to be. Never in your wildest dreams would you have ever predicted your birthday—any of your birthdays—being spent surrounded by a household that you were taken and forced into.

When you finally glanced over, you were unsurprised to meet Steve’s cold blue gaze.

“Jane and Sharon spent so much time on your cake…”

You looked down at that, and you felt Peter’s hands tighten on your shoulders.

“You rested the entire day, as you should because it’s your birthday…and you’re crying…?”

“Steve-.”

“You let her get away with too much, Peter!”

You jumped as Steve raised his voice, and you hesitantly looked up as the blond stood. His handsome face was taut, jaw ticking as he looked between you and Peter with anger.

“Tantrums, crying fits, holding her hand with every single chore,” Steve continued. “After everything you—and I by extension—have allowed her to get away with…and she’s still ungrateful…”

Your eyes met Steve’s then, lips trembling as he turned his venomous gaze onto you.

“You still have the audacity to cry like a spoiled brat and for what? Because your birthday isn’t at all what you expected it to be, what…a year ago?”

More tears spilled over at that, and your eyes widened as Steve strode towards you.

“You’re never seeing your friends again, you’re never seeing your family again…”

“Steve,” Margaret murmured.

“It’s high time you accepted that and stopped crying like an overindulgent child.”

With every word that left Steve’s lips, you could only manage to cry harder, and you could hear Peter saying something to him, but it was impossible to make out over the sound of your sobs.

“No, she could have it a lot worse,” you managed to catch. “You’re too lenient, too accommodating, and for what? She’s not in charge, you are.”

You could feel Peter helping you stand, and you stumbled as he pulled you against him.

“If she belonged to me…you know exactly what I’d do to straighten her out...”

The thinly veiled threat had you shuddering, more tears falling as you recalled the memory of Steve and Margaret in the yard that morning. You clung to Peter at Steve’s words, and the brunette held you close.

“Maybe you should remind her of just how bad things could be.”

Steve’s parting words still echoed in your mind when Peter brought you back to your room. He was quick to shut the door behind you both, and no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t stop crying. Steve’s harsh words combined with the surrealness of your birthday being celebrated in captivity was sending you into a downward spiral.

The worst of it all was that Steve was right. Jane and Sharon had spent so much time on that cake, and it showed. Peter did let you get away with a lot, especially in comparison to the other men, and it could be so much worse for you, but that still didn’t make your situation better.

Nothing about any of this was good.

You could both hear and feel Peter trying to calm you, but it was of no use. Your forehead rested on his shoulder as he rubbed your arms and back, soothing sounds leaving his lips, and the sound of his voice made you flinch for some reason. Pulling away from him, you reached for the ring, hissing when it only served to dig into your skin.

“Y/N, stop- what are you doing?”

Peter’s hands were on yours, stopping you, and you only cried harder.

“Get it off,” you shrieked. “Take it off, take it off!”

“No,” Peter spat back. “You’re mine and-.”

“I don’t want to be yours,” you screamed, descending into a fit of sobs. “I want to go home, and I want my friends, and I want my mom.”

You pressed your hands into your face, stumbling away from Peter.

“I want my mom,” you cried.

The other man was quiet as you sobbed, chest heaving and aching. You scooted back towards the headboard, wiping your face as Peter stared at you with an expression that was unreadable. You couldn’t stop shaking and crying, and you bit your lip when Peter stood. His dark eyes drank you in, glinting with something unknown to you, and you watched him take a deep breath.

“You don’t want to be mine…?” he slowly asked.

You pressed your lips together, looking away.

“You don’t have a choice, pretty girl.”

Unlike all the other times, the term of endearment wasn’t dripping with sweetness. There was an edge in Peter’s voice, and you sniffed as he reached for your hand. He squeezed the ring, making you wince, and Peter softly chuckled to himself.

“Steve was right, you know… Things could be so much worse for you.”

“I know,” you tearfully replied, trying to get your hand free.

“I could take you like some animal for the whole house to see like Steve…” you blinked back tears. “…or maybe I should be like Tony and make you wear a leash when I decide to punish you.”

“Peter-.”

“I’ve been nothing but sweet to you…haven’t I…?”

He looked between your eyes, and you reluctantly nodded.

“…and yet you don’t want to be mine.”

He was still holding your hand, and his free hand came up to rest on the back of your neck. Peter was leaning in, nose brushing yours as he studied your face. He suddenly sighed, his expression falling.

“This was supposed to be a happy day for you,” he murmured, frown deepening. “It’s your birthday…and I spent it with you, they made you a cake… You were supposed to be happy, today.”

You didn’t know how to tell Peter that nothing about this day could be happy. If anything, it was sadder than any other day you’d spent here. It was your birthday…and you were so far removed from the people you loved.

“…maybe it still can be…”

You didn’t really understand Peter’s words until his lips brushed over yours. It took you by surprise, and you jerked, but Peter didn’t seem to mind as he kept kissing you. His hand on the back of your neck kept you from moving anywhere, and when he deepened the kiss, you gasped. Peter took that opportunity to taste the inside of your mouth, and your free hand pushed at his chest.

“It’s your birthday…you shouldn’t go to bed angry on your birthday,” he murmured into your skin as he kissed along your jaw.

“Peter-.”

You cut yourself off with a gasp when you found yourself on your back, Peter’s frame covering your own. The dresses and nightgowns you were made to wear were thin, and you felt every bit of Peter as he pressed himself against you. It wasn’t quite registering what was happening, and you felt almost removed from your body as Peter’s hands ran up and down your frame, lips lingering on your neck and jaw and lips. It was only when he started to push your nightgown up did the tears finally collect in your eyes.

“Peter…Peter, wait… Please,” you tearfully pleaded, pushing against him.

He ignored you, fighting against you to get your nightgown off, and your panic only grew as he struggled to undress himself too. One of his hands tangled at the nape of your neck, pulling your head back and baring your throat to him. He grazed his teeth over it, and you shuddered.

“You may not want to be mine…but you are,” he whispered, lips grazing your ear.

His bare chest brushed against your own, and he quietly kept telling you that it was okay as you cried.

“…and accepting that will make things so much easier for you…will make you so much happier.”

You shrieked, nails pressing into his arm and the other hand twisting into the sheets. He was pushing into you, slow and torturous, and it took your breath away, making your chest burn. When Peter was fully settled, fully sheathed into you, filling and warm and throbbing, he took a slow deep breath, like he was savoring the moment and feel of you.

He had you completely pinned beneath him, and you didn’t even try to hold in your sobs.

“Happy Birthday, pretty girl.”

#dark!peter parker #dark!peter Parker x reader #dark peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #peter parker fanfiction

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 9 months ago

Text

Yandere Coworker (part 10)

Tw: afab reader, Cyprus has some fucked up exes, mentions of violence, pretty much just some boring exposition about our resident stimky

Masterlists, Part 1 , part 11

Cyprus furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head. "No. We are going home. These fucking animals can't control themselves today. Come on." He snatched your wrist and dragged you away from the table, the food hadn't even arrived yet and he was leaving.

"Wait, we're sorry!" One of them piped up, making you and Cyprus turn around. You saw that all the men at the table were standing up, ready to restrain him. "Look, Cy. We're just... We fucked up, we get it. We're sorry." Another one continued.

"We're just happy you found someone different, we didn't mean to scare the shit out of your girl, It's just so new and-"

You interrupted their apology by asking what they meant by someone "different". You could never get used to all seven pairs of eyes on you instantly, feeling like you almost had a heart attack with the sudden blast of attention on you.

"Sweetie, you're worlds apart from Cyprus and the women he usually chooses." Said one of the girlfriends with a coo. The three of them stared at you adoringly, smiling and leaning toward your particular direction. You wonder what they saw you as.

You looked back up to Cyprus, he seemed frozen in place. His lips were tightly pursed and his steely eyes glared at his friends.

"Sit down with us for a while, and we'll tell you what you want to know about your loverboy." Purred another one of the women. You returned your attention to them, now completely interested in this topic. Wrenching your hand away from Cyprus's loosened grip, you hastily returned to your original seat. Which prompted a cheer from the six of them, the men roaring and clapping in encouragement, while the women sang praises and giggled gleefully.

They turned their attention to Cyprus. "Come on, Cy. At least wait till your girl is fed before hitting the road."

You can see him clench his fist momentarily before marching right up to you. But he didn't take a seat, instead lifting you up by the waist and swiftly plopping you down on his lap. Cyprus protectively wrapped his muscular arms around your smaller form, letting his pecks and leather jacket engulf you.

The other patrons spared your table a glance, they didn't seem to care about the commotion Cyprus's friends were causing in the pub.

Cyprus didn't have anything to say, allowing you to freely converse with the men and women at the table, whom you still haven't learned the names of.

They watched you eagerly to open up the conversation that you wanted to have, but you were nervous. It felt like you were presenting in front of the entire world, these people will remember every blunder, every social faux pas, and every cringeworthy moment that may be birthed from your anxiousness.

You cleared your throat and shifted until you felt comfortable and cozy enough to continue. You felt his soft lips brush against your hair whenever you moved, only when you were relatively stable did Cyprus properly kiss you on the back of the head. Subconsciously, you're sinking deeper into him and shrinking yourself, his friends are as intimidating as a pack of laughing hyenas and you're a piece of fresh meat for them to tear into.

"I'm right here, baby." He whispered, squeezing you assuringly after noticing that you froze up. Somehow, that comforted you enough to relax your tensed shoulders.

The woman closest to you must have heard him, as a very audible and visceral "Aww!" left her supple lips. Cyprus whipped his head to the side and snapped at her to shut up. They laughed at his attempt to control the situation, which still confused you; making you wonder if they even saw Cyprus as a threat. Or if they were just comfortable enough to continuously disrespect him like that.

You gulped as you mustered all your courage to ask about what they meant about you being different, wanting to know in what sense. You then went on to ask if they think you're "different", as in, you're considered abnormal or an outcast of society- perhaps that statement opened old wounds from the past as you felt a strong feeling of dread and nausea wash over you.

"No, nothing like that!" One of the men exclaimed seemingly alarming the rest of the group that they might have offended you. The teasing smiles on their faces dropped and their expression morphed into that of concern and surprise. This sudden change spooked you, what did they see to make them drop their usual carefree attitude? Why did they care about your feelings this much when it's somewhat established that Cyprus is a player and cycles through his flings like laundry?

Eventually, the atmosphere calmed enough for one of the boys to clarify what they meant.

"You are nothing like his batshit crazy exes. You're nice and shy, Cy genuinely likes you too." Again, with the usage of 'shy'. You were curious enough to ask them what they meant by 'shy' and why it is used frequently when describing you.

He stammered, flabbergasted that you were asking the obvious, "You are! I don't know what else to tell you- you're just shy--" His words were cut short by another one of his buddies.

"What that dumbass is trying to say is, you're not loud. Not acting like a total bitch and nothing like Cyprus."

You took a few seconds to stew in his words. So they think Cyprus is actually unpleasant to be with?

"Yeah." One of the girls nonchalantly sipped on her beer after responding. Followed by the rest of them agreeing. Cyprus simply huffed and rolled his eyes at their admittance.

You then asked about why are they still friends with him.

They shrugged, all almost simultaneously. They giggled among each other until one of them spoke up again. "He's not that bad. Cyprus sucks sometimes, but he's a real good guy and we like him."

"He keeps us alive."

"He bailed me out of jail."

"He's the dad of our friend group."

"If it wasn't for him, our lives would be all fucked up."

"Yeah, he sets us straight."

"I owe him money."

"He owes me money."

The boys continued raving about how great a character Cyprus is.

"But his exes though... no thank you." The girls had a grimace on their beautiful faces. "They're horrible, the worst. 'EWW' personified."

It appears that the girlfriends are especially disapproving of his past women. You decided to press on, you could try and shake Cyprus's abhorrent interest in you by mimicking the behavior of these people he dated.

"Oh, honey. They're the worst. Ugh."

You asked how so.

"Where do I begin-"

"Oh my god, tell her about the girl who literally poisoned us because she didn't like how we looked at Cyprus."

"Yeah! And the girl who thought it was cute to spread some fake rumors about us infecting the whole town with some STD. I almost got fired from work because of that!"

"And, and, the girl who got into a nasty fistfight with the boys because she didn't like our jokes... It was impressive how she won, though."

"And the girl who sucker-punched me in the face and fucked up my nose." She pointed at her sniffer, which you now notice was slightly crooked.

"And the girl who sucker-punched Cyprus in the face and caused a pub brawl. You just had to be there to see the bloodbath, she actually got us banned from the last place."

"And the girl who totaled our bikes and cars because she didn't like how Cyprus had a life and friends."

"And the girl who stalked Cyprus, broke into his apartment, burnt it down, and left each of us a box containing dead, mangled rats. That was why Cyprus quit his last job and moved away- don't worry though, she's behind bars now."

"And the girl who literally stabbed Cyprus in the leg because of an argument about how he shouldn't order steak at every restaurant he goes to- I think we got banned from that pub too."

"And the girl who committed identity fraud using Cyprus's credit card, and stole a hundred dollars from my purse when I wasn't looking."

"And the girl who was just so mean to us that it managed to make Lydia cry! She kept insulting us and splashed water on Cyprus's face when he stepped in."

You now know one of the girls' names is Lydia. She's the brunette.

"And the girl who strangled Cyprus because he didn't text her back fast enough."

"And the girl who tried to kill Cyprus."

"Oh, come on, Kitty. You have to be more specific than that, I can think of ten of his exes who tried to kill him and us."

Kitty is the woman with the red highlights in her black hair.

"Don't forget, he dated someone who shits on all his life choices, made sure he knows she thinks he's ugly, is ungrateful for all that he has done for her, and dared to get all teary-eyed and pissy because Cyprus isn't chasing her enough."

"Oh my god, what about that one bitch who tried to control everything about him, down to how he speaks and blinks? She's fucking crazy! Literally, she tried everything. Blackmail, sabotage and even drugging, she even tried to frame him for a murder that he didn't commit!"

"What about that girl who stole Jewel's panties, and planted them in Cyprus's car just to try and ruin our friend group by accusing him of cheating on her? What a fucking weirdo and a dumb bitch for not checking if there were any surveillance cameras before breaking into a house."

Jewel is the woman with platinum blond hair and a pair of blue earrings.

You counted the number of different girls that they mentioned. At least 15, and they kept going. You turned your head up to look at Cyprus, he appeared bored as the girls casually recounted his most traumatic encounters with his previous girlfriends.

From what you heard, it seems like his love life is filled with hatred, yelling, fear, and struggles to attain dominance. Is that why his approach to you is so strange, forceful, and unnerving? Yet somewhat gentle?

It's undeniable you're different. It's like you're the first decent human being that he has ever dated. He tasted the deliciousness of the bare minimum and couldn't go back, he just had to go after you.

"And You? You're a fucking angel." Lydia's sudden shift of attention towards you made you jolt. "You're nothing but sweetness. Cyprus, you better hold onto her and never fucking let go."

Each member expressed their agreement and approval of your character.

You told them that they shouldn't accept you too soon. You could be one of them too, waiting to backstab everyone. For all they know, you could be a two-faced psycho and the worst instance of his exes.

The table fell silent momentarily. You held your breath as your eyes darted from person to person.

You felt your blood run cold when all of them erupted into thundering laughter, including Cyprus. You felt his entire frame shake as he found what you said hilarious.

"I told you guys, she's just so fucking cute and funny." Said Cyprus before he craned his head down to smooch you on the cheek. You squirmed in his lap as he snaked his arms tighter around your body.

"That sounds like what his exes would never ever say." Interjected one of his buddies.

You said that you're serious! How can they prove that you wouldn't turn out that way? Cyprus is a massive insanity magnet, there is a high chance that you're just some closeted murderer!

"Oh, I don't know, sweetie. Maybe it's because you're humble enough to suggest that you're not above those psychos- which you absolutely are above them. Maybe it's because we've been observing you all this time and we know you don't have an evil bone in your body. Maybe it's because we heard nothing but positives about you. Maybe it's because you're actually good for Cyprus." Listed Jewel.

"Yeah! Cy barely smokes now. You're helping him as much as he is helping you kick your phone addiction." Said one of the boys.

You insisted that you weren't addicted to your phone. They ignored you and continued talking over you, gushing over how you're angelic and kind- almost like praising a deity of some sort. With them putting you on a pedestal like that, you felt uncomfortable.

You cut in, asking them a burning question. You asked about the common denominator that all of his insane exes had.

"Funny how you're asking them and not me." Snarked Cyprus. You said that it's a somewhat unbiased, third party view of his dating life, if you had asked Cyprus directly, he may not have given an accurate answer. To that, he simply rolled his eyes at you before adjusting his glasses.

They all took a second to think about it. Until one of them said:

"They're all fast. Like, they started becoming a pair after meeting each other for a few days. Sometimes even hours."

"And his relationships were- no offence Cy, low effort? There wasn't that strong a commitment to it."

He shrugged, seemingly aware and accepting of that observation.

You said that this relationship with Cyprus started overnight with no weight.

"We have known each other for over a year." Cyprus corrected you.

"I was madly in love with you for months, and I had to spell it out, letter by letter, because you were that clueless." He lovingly pinched your cheek. You swatted his hand away.

"Do you guys know how hard it was to get her to ease up? The fact that she's a major crybaby too makes it way harder than it should be." He teasingly nuzzled his nose against the back of your neck.

"But she's my crybaby, and I will never let her go." He snickered when you writhed in his lap as he playfully poked your sides.

"You're so cute." He murmured in your ears as he tortured you with tickles. You desperately tried to escape his grasp, but he was just too strong, too fast for you to do so.

"You're definitely his last love. His endgame. And we're happy for both of you, you guys are perfect for each other and meant to be!"

Kitty raised her half empty glass of beer. "A toast to Cyprus's first relationship that wouldn't end in a disaster, and his last!"

Everyone else raised their glass except you.

You can only look on in horror as everyone on the table turns a blind eye to the distress you're facing. Among the lively chatter and gleeful guffaws, you're floating in your own puddle of misery. You're trapped, doomed to be with someone who you're not interested in if you're not doing anything to stop it soon.

Well, at least you can see the waiter coming over with the food. Even if you are facing the horrors, at least you wouldn't have to do it hungry.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere male #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere x you #male yandere oc x reader #tw afab reader #afab reader #male yandere x reader #yandere x female reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #oc cyprus #yandere coworker #yandere content

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majesty-madness · 6 months ago

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Within the Cover of Night - Arthur Morgan x reader (sfw)

Summary: At first, she thinks it’s nothing but her imagination; that because of the life she lives, she’s letting her paranoia get the better of her. And then she’s snatched up in the dead of night by a pair of unfamiliar hands.

Word Count: 3500+

Warnings: established relationship between Arthur and Y/N, horror themes, kidnapping, stalking, violence, blood, injury, cursing, pissed off Arthur, crying, attempted rape, mentions of sexual assault, panic attack, attempted murder, serial killer, hostage situation, brief escape, comfort

a/n: Not proofread. This is a very intense part two (and final), if you couldn't tell from the tags. However I will say that whenever I write something, I make sure to list the content in the warnings because I do not want anyone to be surprised (which has happened to me several times in my years of reading fanfiction, unfortunately). So if you do not see it explicitly mentioned in the warnings, it is not contained in the story at least when it comes to more serious or dark themes such as this. Just an FYI.

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Commissions are available so don't forget to check that out!

HOUR ONE

HOUR TWO (final)

There’s a pressure, a pounding assaulting her temples.

First there’s only darkness, what looks like an infinite void of nothing but slowly, the dark seeps away to give way to an orange flickering light. The blurriness of her vision gives way to clearer sight as the seconds tick by, and when she gathers the strength to lift her head, she sees him.

It was the man from Strawberry.

Y/N lets out a gasp that echoes in the cave around causing the man to swoop forward from his sitting position, inching closer to her.

“Shh, shh, shhh, everything is okay. You’re alright.”

She attempted to scoot further away from the man but the thought quickly escaped her when her back collided with the rock wall behind her. The man stopped a few feet from her, eyes cascaded darkly by the single lantern before them.

“Let me go, you bastard! Let me go!”

Even as the words fell into silence, Y/N could sense the malevolence shrouding him like a cloak. Especially, the moment that a smirk crested against his lips.

“My my, you are beautiful. Compared to the others, you are a goddess.”

His choice in words caused her to pause, contemplate. “Others?” She hated the way her voice quivered when the words left her mouth.

“Oh yes. Don’t misunderstand me, they were all beautiful but it was in an…” He stopped, pondering what word he wanted to use, his face twitching in thought. “eccentric way; unique to each of them. Though I can’t say that was a bad thing.”

The pit in her stomach sank deeper with a cold chill pointedly reminding her this wasn’t the first time he’d done this. There had been other women, others that he had done God knows what to. But the way he was speaking about them made it seem like they were-

“Like my first, she was pretty. She had this long black hair softer than satin, and reflected the light like no other. Despite that, she had a speech impediment so I had to keep her gagged.” He stood from his slightly crouched position to begin pacing back and forth.

Y/N watched him while he continued his monologue.

“Oh! And a few months ago, there was Isabell; blonde hair, fair skin, thin, perfect lips. She was a gift from the unsuspecting eye, but when I finally got her down to her chemise there was a rather unappealing birthmark across her collar.” He scoffed, “Didn’t like that.”

She felt the tension within her body rising, her muscles clenching and shaking with anxiety, the tips of her fingers turning cold from the nerves, and heart thumping at a bruising pace against her ribs.

What kind of man; human could say these things?

“Though, Mary-Ann, she was special. She had a way about her, the way she carried herself; she had fire that girl. Not surprising, she had the reddest curly head of hair I ever did see. That’s not to mention those emerald dipped eyes.” In the midst of his description of this woman’s eyes, he jerked his head over to Y/N, enjoying the shell-shocked expression on her face.

“And all those girls felt soo…good.” He ran his hands fully over his face, drifting promiscuously down his chest to his hips; his rolling back of his eyes and the sharp inhale of breath left little to the imagination of what he did to them.

What he forced them to do.

He paused for a moment, letting the eeriness fall in and permeate the air with a suffocating weight. Then without warning, he whipped his head back to her, now taking slow methodical steps toward her.

“Unfortunately, they didn’t love me enough. Didn’t appreciate me enough, but they were failures; the trials to my final prize.” Once he’s only mere inches from Y/N does he crouch down on one knee, extending his hand out to grip her chin with his thumb and forefinger.

Her skin crawled, prickling with the sensation of being dirty, covered in grime.

“You. You’ll love me. I can tell, you’re different.” With his manic eyes, he caresses her cheek with surprising gentleness. “You’ll love me, right?”

No. Is what flashed to the front of her mind, but her mouth uttered something else.

“Of course.” She breathed inside a heavy exhale she didn’t realize she was holding in.

The words felt disgusting, wrong as they left her and hovered in the air. No matter how much her body wanted to scream and curse him out to set her free, her mind flipped the script and decided that the best way to escape was to placate him in his sick game.

Y/N watched as the man unnervingly grinned and hopped up to a full standing position. “Wonderful. First things first, we need to get you some clothes. It’s proper for a woman to wear more feminine attire.”

He gestured to her riding pants and button up shirt tucked into her waistband as he sauntered off into the darkened cave.

Bastard.

Y/N silently swore, eyes drifting from what she assumed was the entrance of the cave and the environment around her. She skimmed all around for any kind of sharp object that could be used to cut her free, but none existed. It seemed that he was more thorough than she originally thought.

And now that she was looking around she paid more attention to what was actually contained with this, mining shaft as it were. There was the lantern still sitting in front of her, but there was also a second one in a near corner and it illuminated a padded bedroll with a pillow.

The mere sight of it caused a bubbling in her stomach and burning sensation inside her throat. Her mind began to imagine the most horrible things if she let him take her to it.

Thoughts of him forcing her to lay down, tearing her clothes from her body, all the while he’d trail poisonous kisses against her flesh making her flesh feel as though it were rotting and his hands caressing her skin with sandpaper before he did the unthinkable.

“No! No, that’s not gonna happen.” Y/N pleaded to herself, shaking her head briefly to wave the vulgar thoughts away.

Snapping her from those thoughts were the sound of footsteps echoing through the mine.

Her eyes whipped over to the sound, gulping down the saliva gathering in her throat, trying to steady the heart that beat so wildly inside her ribcage.

The man turned the corner with an obvious outfit in hand, a simple white blouse and plaid skirt. “This should do you very nicely.”

He walked over to her, setting the skirt onto the ground and throwing the shirt on top.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably as she set the trap. “Can you take these ropes off me?”

“Excuse me?” He said incredulously, raising a brow at the suggestion.

“Well..” Y/N tilted her head, bit her lip, as she tried to appear more docile. Innocent. “I can’t change in those clothes, if my hands are tied up. Don’t you want me to be pretty for you?”

In his moment of contemplation, Y/N thought he’d flat out refuse. His lip quirked up, and he clicked his tongue like it was a difficult question. However, to her surprise, he let way to a smile. “Of course, darling. You make an excellent point.”

He leaned down and yanked her up with one swift motion. “As long as you promise to behave for me, dear.”

Y/N nodded slowly and without hurry for fear that any expression of emotion would upset him.

Softly, he untied the itchy ropes from her wrists leaving her standing awkwardly in front of him. It took a second before he gestured to the clothes. “Well?”

Arthur suddenly flashed to her mind, giving her the false presence that he was with her right now and she silently hoped that he would forgive her for what she was about to do. Hesitantly, she began to unbutton her own blouse followed shortly by her pants leaving her in her bloomers.

Once she got the fabric off her, the heat of shame flowed through her cheeks from standing so exposed in front of a man she didn’t know. The reality of it almost sent her to tears, but she hardened her resolve to appear calm for she needed him to let down his guard for her escape. Although she could sense the hunger in his eyes even if she tried her best not to look at him.

She started on the blouse first, and it was on in less than a minute so she switched to the skirt. The skirt itself was by no means complicated, but it took some adjustment to get it around her hips and it was in the middle of doing so that an idea popped into her head.

Instead of methodical tugs on the garb to fit, Y/N tugged hastily, and with seeming difficulty around her body (not to mention a few puffs of air to sell her plight).

“What is it, my love?”

Y/N huffed again, pouted almost. “I’m..having some trouble. It doesn’t seem to want to-”

Without warning, she fell forward; tripping on her own feet and into his arms. The man’s arms instinctually extended out to break her fall and Y/N’s hand inconspicuously smoothed over his waist to feel for a weapon.

No gun, no knife. She concluded, moving onto her next move.

“Clumsy.” He uttered condescendingly causing Y/N to dip her head back to gaze up at him and give him the best doe eyes she could muster.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

He chuckles as he brings a hand up to cup her cheek. “It’s alright, you didn’t hurt me.”

From his waist, Y/N brought her hands to rest on the back of his neck. “Oh yeah?” She tugged him a little closer to her and smiled. “Well, that’s too-”

She brought up her right knee in an upward motion, managing a single blow to the man’s groin. “Bad!”

A choked moan from his mouth punctuated the dark cave and he fell to his knees and when he did so, Y/N gave him one quick jab to the side of his jaw and made a run for it down the same way he had returned.

Her rapid footsteps reverberated off the stony walls, along with her shallow breaths for oxygen as she sprinted for the exit. In the first few minutes of running, and she only kept seeing the rock surrounding her, Y/N worried that they were a lot deeper inside than she suspected which devolved into the thought that this could be a maze.

Those thoughts were dashed once she caught the night of the starry sky.

It was cool outside despite the hot sun during the prime hours of the afternoon. The open air cold water against her burning lungs, the sound of trees rustling in the wind a sweet symphony, the light of the full moon a beacon of hope.

To her immediate right, there was a well traveled footpath leading, maybe, ten feet until the drop off to the solid dirt floor. She wasted no time hiking down the trail. Y/N was in such an adrenaline fueled hurry that she ended up actually tripping the last few feets and rolled on the forest green grass below her. But she crawled her way from the ground to begin in a mad sprint toward the trees where a populated trail would more than likely be.

She burst through the shrubbery, avoiding many rocks, fallen logs, and dirt holes in the process.

It took several minutes (though it felt like hours) before Y/N caught a glimpse of a road just beyond the treeline.

A glimmer of relief surfaced from the depths of her fear and repulsion of that man.

So close, she was so close.

Just then, a brutal force from behind tackled her to the forest floor.

She knew who it was, she didn’t need to look and with that retaliation, the panic flooded her veins and she let out a blood curdling scream.

“Shut up!” The man shouted over top of her screaming.

They tussled with each other on the grass, Y/N attempting with all her might to pull away from him and the man pulling her under him and pinning her hands above her head.

“Let me go! Let me go, you bastard! Just let me go!” Y/N continued to screech and now, beginning to cry, for the fear became too much to contain.

With her plea, the man ripped the front of her shirt open to expose her to the open air. “You should’ve done what you were told, you little slut! Now, I’m gonna show you who you belong to!”

He leaned down to harshly kiss her neck, running his tongue along the pressure point all while Y/N kicked and screamed and cried and begged for him to just stop.

“HEY! You get away from her, you son of a bitch!” The growl of a voice shouted from somewhere.

Y/N opened her eyes to witness the man being yanked off of her and thrown to the ground again, only this time someone was on top of him, and this time, met with the fury rage of another man’s fists.

Through the bleary tears, she saw the back of a familiar tan jacket along with a familiar black hat.

Could it be?

The touch of someone’s hand made her jump, almost recoiling from the sensation.

“Hey, hey it’s okay. You’re alright.”

She recognized that voice.

“Charles?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Everythings’ okay now. Let’s get you out of here.” He gently coaxed, lifting his hand out for her to take.

In a daze, she took his hand in her’s in order to let him lift her from the ground. Once she was standing, he tried leading her away from the man but she stopped.

“Wait, I want to see.”

Charles offered no rebuttal or suggestion, opting to let Y/N do what she wished and turn back to the event unfolding in front of them.

Before her, Arthur, the man she loved so dearly, was beating the life out of the man that had threatened her mere moments ago. By this point, the man’s face was covered in blood and one eye was horribly swollen, turning shades of purple.

The sight of it was awful, downright brutal as Arthur brought down blow after blow to the man’s more than broken cheekbone. Yet seeing him in pain as Arthur wore a pure predatory expression sparked the slightest bit of satisfaction in her gut.

After what that man had done, not only to her; kidnapping her, and attempting to have his way with her, but what he did to all those other women, he would pay for it. And perhaps the law would have caught him someday, who knows? But that didn’t matter, not now, not to an outlaw who had nothing to lose except the love of a woman who he’d thought he never deserved.

In a split second, Arthur had stopped punching the man in order to begin choking him to death. He gasped, sputtered for air as his hand desperately grabbed Arthur’s jacket sleeves to somehow loosen his grip. It quickly proved useless especially when the man’s eyes finally closed, and the rapid breathing of his chest slowed to nothing.

Arthur pulled his bloodied hands away, stumbling back as he came back to standing. His body contracts with the stuttering breaths of heightened exhaustion.

“Arthur…”

Barely a word, a whisper really, regardless it draws his attention. The hardened expression full of a white hot rage softens to one of unadulterated love.

“Y/N…”

He rushes to her, nearly colliding with her but once he takes her into his hold, she wraps her arms around him tightly fearing that if she let go, he would disappear along with her hope that she had survived.

“Oh Arthur..” The beginnings of a deeply wounded sob burst from her mouth, tears rolling down her face.

Arthur cradled the back of her head and held her back, whispering sweet words into her hair. “Shhh, it’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here, I’m here. I gotcha.”

He proceeded to press kiss after kiss into her hair, temple, and cheek while he gently rocked her back and forth.

“He..he was gonna-”

Y/N started but Arthur quickly cut her off from her train of thought. “I know, I know, you don’t gotta say it. But he ain’t gonna hurt you ever again nor anyone else, I promise.”

She cried harder at his loving proclamation causing him to hug her tighter.

Charles, who had been standing off to the side, carefully took a few steps toward the couple. “Arthur, we should go.”

Arthur’s eyes flicked up to meet Charles’ and nodded before gently tugging Y/N away to look at him. “Let’s get outta here, okay?”

She simply nodded, saying no more as Arthur led her to his horse nearby. He got up on the saddle first, then extended his hand down to Y/N which she happily took and resided to sit behind him, letting her arms wrap tightly around his waist and bury her face in his back. The smell of smoke and gunpowder with a hint of the earthy forest filtered through her nose, soothing over her every nerve.

His distinct, musky aroma brought her back to the sweetness of his love and adoration for her; a sense of being that brought about the comfort of undeniable safety.

Before she knew it, they were in motion; the familiar bouncing of being on horseback allowed Y/N time to readjust back to reality. The entire ride back to camp was a long, tired one. Once the surge of adrenaline had worn off, her body began to feel the effects; particularly the urge to sleep.

She had such a difficult time keeping her eyes open that she barely noticed when they’d finally gotten back and Arthur helped her down from the horse.

As soon as he escorted her to sit on his cot, she snapped out of her sleepy state.

“You with me, darling?”

Y/N finally looked up at him out of her daze, “Yeah, I’m with you.”

He nodded, suddenly pulling out a handkerchief and dabbing it against her cheek.

“What’s wrong? Is there dirt on my face or something?” Y/N asked, pulling her head away.

“No, but you got a cut on your cheek; bled quite a bit.” Arthur softly answered as his hand hovered in the air, waiting for her to let him help.

“Oh..” She uttered, leaning back to let Arthur wipe off her, unknowingly, bloody cheek.

A couple of quiet minutes passed of Arthur focusing hard on wiping away the blood, and Y/N watching him. Her eyes first observed on his own green-ish blue eyes then down to his lips, then to the old scar on his chin; the one she’d spent days memorizing, and eventually to his wickedly bruised knuckles, obtained when he beat her would be rapist to death. It got her wondering.

“How did you find me?”

“Uh…” He breathed for a moment, startled from his deep thoughts, “It wasn’t too long after you were taken that Charles and I followed the tracks left behind. It was actually Charles who had realized something was wrong. He woke up everyone in camp and then we started after you.”

“In the dark?” Y/N asked surprised.

More often than not, she was advised against hunting or tracking at night. It was nearly impossible to track at that time especially with moonless skies, and it was also more likely that you'd get lost or start following your own tracks so to hear that Arthur and Charles followed her through the forest at night shocked her.

“Of course.” He huffed as if the answer was obvious, “After you told me about that little confrontation in Strawberry, I wasn’t about to wait ‘til morning.”

She watched as Arthur swiped the handkerchief across her cheek one final time before setting it on the table nearby, figuring he’d probably wash it when he got up tomorrow. He stood from his crouched position in front of her to instead sit beside her on his cot.

“Thank you. I mean it, Arthur. I-I don’t know what I woulda done if you hadn’t been there in time.”

“Don’t go worrying about it,” He reassured, “It didn’t happen and I won’t ever let it happen. Not as long as I’m with you.”

Y/N nodded, then leaned down to rest her head on his shoulder. He brought one arm to settle around her shoulder while he used his free hand to take her small hand in his much larger one. They enjoyed the silence of the night, the gang already having gone back to bed once they saw Y/N was alright and the hidden crickets all around providing a lolling symphony

“Would it be alright if I slept in your tent again tonight?” Y/N asked, a hopeful fluttering residing in her stomach. Though, she pretty much already knew the answer.

Arthur playfully scoffed, kissing the top of her head. “After today, sweetheart, I ain’t never lettin’ you sleep alone again.”

Y/N smiled fondly. “I look forward to it.”

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #female reader #fem!reader #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 imagine #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan angst

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 1 year ago

Text

Supernova

A/N: *sigh* here we are again simping over a man I shouldn't be. Oh well.

Summary: Imprisoned in deep space, Ettore discovers an old flame still burns as bright. And hurts just as much. NSFW, 18+, Minors DNI

Warnings under the cut~ | Word Count: 5.4k~ | Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Ettore Taglist

Warnings: toxic relationships, mentions of sexual related crimes, cursing, choking, Ettore being a simp, masturbation, oral (m receiving), rough sex, biting, face slapping, hair pulling, fingering, pussy slapping, mouth fuccin, swallowing

Of all the fucking people to see on this ship.

He’d have picked anyone else, to be honest. Any other rat-faced, intemperate bitch to spend the rest of his miserable young life with. To wait out his days ‘til, eventually, they’d all die. He could deal with the other female prisoners, it’s not like all of the women on the ship were that bad to look at. Just most of them. Crime had done a number on them after all those years, many of them sullen in the face, violence brimming beneath their expressions.

But he’d take them all on, every single day of his life, instead of her.

His fucking ex-girlfriend.

A brief relationship. Yes. But it frustrated him all the same.

It had been years since then at least, so the sheer bitterness of seeing her again wasn’t so fresh. She’d looked his way once in passing in the canteen, but had not lingered. Perhaps she didn’t even recognise him.

But he’d recognise her anywhere.

Ettore. Who now wouldn't be seen dead in a relationship, having done the terrible things that landed him here.

Ettore. Who had a questionable past with women.

She’d changed. Matured somewhat. Before, she was smaller, slimmer, not a woman you would usually associate with such violence. But what she lacked in stature she made up for in temper, even back then she was a loaded gun with the safety off, threatening to shoot her rage in any direction she seemed necessary.

And for whatever reason at the time, when he was younger, a bit more stupid he supposed, blinded by her striking nature, they’d gotten into a relationship, though never defined. One that was equally destructive to each of them.

He’d always been in and out of the police station. He wasn’t smart, so he didn’t easily evade capture. But she did. She always got off light, using her sex to her advantage. It was much easier when a barely twenty year old girl could easily go from violent offender to playing the victim with a simple expression change. She did it too well.

But now, clearly, she’d done something even she couldn’t escape from.

How many years had it really been? He couldn’t really even remember. They'd all blurred together.

All he cared to remember of their relationship was that it was toxic, on both parts. Never in terms of outright violence, it wasn’t like that, but they hurt each other with their words, with their actions and attitudes. Where he was cold and not willing to back down and admit his wrongdoings, she was sharp, quick-witted, but her insults hurt him the most.

But it was exciting. God it was so fucking exciting to be with her.

As wrong as it was, the only manner in which either of them knew how to get the anger to simmer down, was to fuck. It’s possibly the healthiest sexual relationship he’s had with a woman, and that’s saying something. He doesn’t dwell on that fact too much.

Whenever they had a fight, which was extremely regular, they would expel it with hate sex. It was rough, aggressive, borderline violent. And they would say as much to each other, before submitting their bodies, tangled against each other like strangling.

Now, looking at her. Her maturity astonished him. She, in principle, hadn’t changed, but there was something about her that he couldn’t shake. He couldn’t tell how he felt that she didn’t recognise him. Most of the prisoners were indifferent to each other, barely talking even in close situations, so that wasn’t out of the ordinary, but he felt the simmer of that nostalgic anger again when he saw her.

Since realising it was her, his use of the Box had increased dramatically. Using his imagination was horrendous. She was right there. He could have the real thing if he wanted. And yet he found himself, stroking his cock vigorously to the memories of their chaotic fucking. Remembering the way her breath used to feel against his skin, holding back her sounds from being too loud, the way her tits pressed against his chest, the way the flesh of her thighs felt in his palm as he raised them to rut into her deeper. Her skin. Voice. Taste. He wanted to sink his teeth into her, and lick at the blood that pooled to the surface; would she taste as sweet as she used to? For some reason, he thought she would taste better now.

Fucking his hand to the thought of her wasn’t enough, he needed to feel her pussy choke him for all he was worth. Needed to stuff himself inside her until she winced as he reached the end of her. He would pull her back by her hips, digging his fingers in as far as they would go, and watch as he disappeared inside her, each thrust punctuated by her sweet moans.

Each day that went by, her ignorance of him was growing too much. Those dark feelings he’d buried since they broke up and he went down his own path of crime were now bubbling to the surface, angry at having been suppressed for so long.

Now that he had seen her. She was everywhere.

He nearly cracked when he saw her walk the short route from the showers to her cell, her hair all wet and already dressed in her sleepwear, which left little to the imagination. It was the closest he'd come to seeing her body in years.

He wasn't shy about admitting it to himself what he thought in that moment.

Thought about grabbing her, pinning her down. He'd use restraints if he had to. Ripping those shorts off and just taking her right there, not caring if she was ready or not. Just a pure animalistic desire put entirely being fucking himself into her.

He didn't.

But the reins on his control were slipping.

He watched across the canteen as she went to put her tray back, eyes floating over her form. The red scrubs they all wore were shapeless, but his eyes were boring holes in it, wondering if she still looked the same, if her tits would still fill his palm as effortlessly as they used to.

Another male prisoner was talking to her, in a clear, over-zealous manner, with a stupid grin on his face. He was talking excitedly, shooting his shot. And Ettore stared darkly, eyes flitting between them and gauging her reaction.

Something akin to excitement and pride bolted through him when she turned away, rolling her eyes.

God she still does that. Fucking brat.

He watched as she walked away, his eyes fixed on the sway of her hips, the slope of her neck. There’s a heat burning in his belly, one he recognises as desire. He feels his cock impossibly hard at the prospect of having her again.

It’s beyond dark in the hallways by the time he’s finished in the Box. He fans his shirt against his chest as he leaves, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the corridor, barely even seeing someone is waiting for him to be done, leaning against the wall.

His whole body goes warm when his eyes land on her, waiting there with ankles crossed, tapping her foot against the linoleum floor. But when the door opened, she looked up at him, having to bite her cheek to suppress her grin.

The little bitch had known it was him the entire time.

And had chosen to ignore him.

He stood, as amused as she was, and she didn’t move an inch as he stalked towards her, except when she brushed her hair out her face to look at him better. Their eyes bore into each other as he leaned his arm next to her, against the wall, right next to her head. Though she was a head shorter than him, she looked at him as if she held all the cards.

“Ettore” she greeted, her tone rising at the end.

Fuck. Her voice.

He tried hard not to grin. He thought she was being a little temptress and knew entirely what she was doing, pressing all his buttons she knew existed. Poking and prodding at the darkness that lingered under his skin, threatening to burst free in goosebumps.

She raised an eyebrow when he didn’t respond, “I'd say it's nice to see you but…”

“Hm” he responded low in his chest. She was so close. He could just reach out and touch her, she was real. “Considering how things ended”

It was her turn to hum, something dark behind her eyes, “We were younger. Stupid. Especially you” she teased, “We just weren’t right for each other”

Fuck. You. Ettore thought.

“Maybe you’re right…” he hummed, “...we were a bad combination. But you have to admit…we had something. Didn't we"

She smirked, seeing an open window, “Is that what you think about? When you’re in there” she cocked her head towards the Box, “Do you think about me?”

You know I fucking do.

Ettore’s smile faded, replaced by an expression of silent rage. She stood there watching him vibrate with need, practically able to feel the thumping of his heart, able to hear how his blood sloshed around inside him, humming with a deep, dark desire.

“Do you still think about our fights?” she asked, her voice provoking, “how they always ended?” she was speaking in a whisper now, and Ettore’s hand formed a fist, his body yearning to touch her. And how she just stood there, knowing entirely what she was doing to him, with that bratty fucking smirk on her face. He wanted to wipe it off, show her who he was now.

“Savour that memory. Because it’s not happening again” she smiled, slipping from the wall towards the Box.

He saw red, and grabbed her arm tightly, pulling her back with force. Don't you know what I've done, stupid bitch. Her amused expression never falters.

"Nobody says no to me"

“Now, now, play nice” she taunts, “If you do, I will too”

“Who said I want you nice” he asked with a hard expression, “I’m not looking for nice”

Her damned smile is driving him crazy. And he’s surprised, when he shouldn’t be, when he grabs her face but she doesn’t move an inch. His fingers press against her jaw tightly, surely hurting her. Her eyes look over his face, beguiling him, perhaps taking in how much about him had changed.

“I always did bring out the worst in you, didn’t I”

Ettore grinned darkly, “You know how I like it”

Their faces are so close, they can feel one another’s hot breaths, lips yearning to collide like two stars, to only self-destruct into supernova. From here, he can see how his fingers are making red indents in her skin, the way her chest moves from her breathing and how her pupils dilate at the forceful nature of their attraction. He wonders if underneath this hard, bratty exterior, if she is soaking wet for him, pathetic little bitch.

“Christ, you still drive me fucking crazy”

She grins at that, as if she’s won. He hates that self-righteous look on her face. And being so close to him, practically touching, she can feel his manhood throbbing through the thin material of his scrubs, desperately seeking fulfilment.

“What do you say we find somewhere, recreate some of those old memories”

She hums, pulling her face forcibly from him, “Dream on” she shrugs, “Use your imagination”

Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be.

He would be offended, angry even. If he didn’t know her. And knew that this was her nature.

She makes a point of standing in the doorway of the Box, forearms leaning against the frame. Provoking him.

He gives her a cold, hard look, “What if I don’t want to? What if I want the real thing?”

“There’s plenty of women here. Maybe you could pretend it’s me” she winks, making his heart freeze in his chest for a moment, “Goodnight, Ettore”

Fucking tease.

The Box door shuts and he has to ground himself, digging his nails into his palm, thinking about what she’s doing to herself behind that door. What pretty sounds she would make, when his cock forced its way into her again.

When he laid in bed, trying to ignore the stark blue light of the ship and the incessant hum. That wasn't keeping him awake.

What would she do, if he just walked into her cell, began to touch her sleeping form, running his hand over her soft skin. Was she a deep sleeper still, as she used to be? Would his hand on her flesh wake her up?

He imagined kissing and biting her neck, marking her as his own, as she was always meant to be. And if she did wake up soon enough, she'd find him pulling off her underwear, teasing his hot and angry tip against her slit.

It'd be easy to take it by force. He could. If he wanted to.

She was different to the other women, the ones he'd had after her. The ones who met their end.

They were all stupid, wanting a love from him that they could never get in a million years. Wanted more than he could offer. Something they paid for with their lives.

She never expected his love. She saw the darkness in his eyes and wanted to see more of it, to see what abyss it led to in his soul. She had seen that side of him and nurtured it, fed it. Let him take his anger out on her body, and revelled in it, with that look she always gave him, when she knew he wanted it.

She'd given that look today, seeing that darkness lingering in him. Perhaps she wondered if she could fan those flames and see how brightly he'd burn, no matter the cost to them both.

He thought about back then. How he used to start fights, just so he got to fuck her the way they both liked.

It made him hard thinking about it.

He wanted her to want it. Something he'd never admit. Deep down, perhaps he'd known she wanted it too.

It was that odd familiar feeling. Like a spark is igniting his insides when he sees her actively talking to the other guys on the ship. Namely Monte. Tall and broad. Prick.

There is jealousy, sure. But also that raw unbridled lust that used to drive him. Drive them. Maybe she hasn't changed as much as he thought.

He wonders. Could he still make her burn like she used to? Could he still feel the heat himself, and let himself be marred by it?

He'd been so cold for so long.

He wanted to feel alive again.

It frustrated him to no end, now that she knew how much he wanted her again, how much her attitude had flipped. Entertaining the flirting of other guys. She’d taken to wearing tank tops, deliberately not wearing anything underneath, and wearing her scrub bottoms low on her waist, sometimes so low he swore he could see the dimples at the base of her spine, where he used to rest his thumbs to tug her body to his.

Any guy that flirts, or so much as passes a glance in her direction, however overzealous, she welcomes with a wicked grin and flirts back, just to irk him. Whenever her eyes met his, they glinted with pride at getting the reaction she’d wanted.

He felt almost feverish, every nerve and vein in his body felt piping hot. Blood rushed to his cock with astonishing speed whenever she so much as breathed in the same room as him. And the flirting? His fists were tight, white-knuckled, seeing that smug look on her face.

They don’t understand you like I do. Nobody will know your body like I do.

She turns away from Monte, who has a stupid fucking smile again, as if he ever has a chance. And her eyes meet Ettore’s over her shoulder.

Their eyes lock. As if she is saying what are you going to do about it.

A challenge.

Break. Come to me. Show me how much you want me.

He couldn’t wait. Tonight she’d scream.

Staying awake at night, he knew all her movements. She always gets up in the middle of the night, with such quiet, delicate footsteps and goes to refill her water bottle.

It was the only window of opportunity he found, to be alone with her.

Careful not to wake his cellmates, he crosses the threshold out to the corridor, the blue light straining his eyes. But just barely enough to see her disappear around the corner. He felt the chill of the air conditioning on his bare chest, skin prickling up, but it was overcome with the heat that ran through his blood. He was sure that his own cells inside him were vibrating, aching to collide with hers.

He grinned, darkly with all his teeth, when he saw the back of her. If she had heard him approach she didn’t show it. And he thought she was perfect for being taken right then, just how she was. In her sleepwear, a top that hung too big on her, with a pair of shorts on her bottom half, her hair tied in a loose bun, messy from writhing around in bed.

When he heard the water stop, he pushed forward, grabbing her bun and shoved her so hard into the wall he was sure she hit her face against it. It’s pitiful how he groaned low in his chest, the way his erection pressed against her soft ass, how flush his chest was to her back, standing tall over her as if he might kill her.

She gasped and winced slightly at the tight hold he had on her hair, her water bottle forgotten and water spilled to the floor. She hummed a laugh as he twisted her arm behind her back,

“This is pathetic, even for you”

“Shut the fuck up” he whispered, breath hot against the shell of her ear. A pleasant shiver ran through her, “can’t stand you prancing around, acting like a fucking slut with them”

He forgot how strong she was, for someone her size, as she yanks her hands away from him, elbowing him in the chest, making him grunt, annoyed.

“Fucking-” he grabs her again, shoving her back hard against the wall, curling his hand around her slender neck and squeezing slightly, pulling her up to look at him. He can tell just how hard she is trying not to smile, and it only makes his simmering anger build.

He can feel how tight his chest gets when he looks at her, feeling primal at the way his lungs inflate and deflate, “You know you want it, like you did back then” he growls.

She scoffs, “Back then?” she says with a bemused raise of her eyebrows, “...that was then”

“And it can be now too”

It’s like those nights back then, when he’d just become consumed in the smell of sex, just to satiate his hunger for her.

“I don’t think so” she smirks, choking in some air when his thumb presses slightly into her windpipe, choking tighter. He can feel her tits press against his chest as she breathes, the colour coming to her cheeks the harder he pushes on her neck.

“You think anyone could fuck you like I do?”

“I think Monte could” she grins.

He scoffs, pressing himself into her impossibly harder, allowing her to feel his hardness grazing against her clothed cunt.

“You want me to fight for you, don’t you, you little bitch”

Her own hands join his at her neck, fingers trying to dig under his. He can feel her heartbeat through her veins and he allows himself to wonder what she’d feel like inside. He’s never felt more torn, more in control but not at the same time.

“I’ve changed a lot since you last saw me. Done horrible things” she says,

“I don’t give a fuck about that”

I just want to remember how good I made you feel. How good you made me feel. To give you what you want.

She smiles softly, “It was always like this, wasn't it…us hurting each other” her eyes seem to study his face, and though almost imperceptible, his grip loosens somewhat, “I think it turns you on” she whispers, “does it excite you?”

The air seems thin in his chest at what she said. They were both awful people, there was no doubt about it. But that was what drew him in, and what continued to make him come back to her.

That she never judged him for those things, because she was just as bad.

“I think you want to hurt me” she smirks, “you’re pathetic”

Something clicks inside, Ettore crashes his lips against her, knocking his teeth against hers and kissing her belligerently, and though it’s rough and chaotic, she sighs contently into his mouth. It’s a mess of tongues and teeth, the way they kiss reflective of what is going on inside them. And the more he feels her hot breath and lips against his, the more his blood sings with desire, all flooding below his waist, pressing his erection against her stomach.

He pressed his thigh between hers, nudging them apart, one hand dipping beneath the hem of her shirt to feel her hot skin, trailing up and taking her shirt with it when he palms at her breast. He swallows her quiet moan as he kneads the flesh beneath his hand, his lips trailing from hers and dragging his nose across her cheek, taking this moment to breathe in her individual scent. He mouths at her neck, biting softly at first, but becoming more rough as he feels her jolt when his teeth sink into her skin, his tongue running across the bruised skin, groaning when he tastes the slightest bit of coppery blood.

“Stop that” she all but breathes, shoving her shoulder against him in reprimand.

He squeezes her breast hard at that, pushing her so much against the wall as if he is trying to mould her to it.

“You’re mine”

She even has the gall to laugh at him for saying that, despite the position they’re in.

With fire in his veins, pressing his bare chest against her, he bunches her tank top in his fists and tugs, the fabric surrendering beneath the harshness of his fingers, revealing her tits to him finally. His hips rut into hers, pushing her up the wall, one hand clutching her ass in his hand to keep her there as he mouths her other breast, running his tongue over the rosy bud.

Her head tilts back, landing on the wall with a thud as his wet muscle pleasures one nipple, nipping every now and then on the sensitive skin, and the other being moulded in his calloused palms. It feels better than before. Though even now, they’re considered young, they’d seen the glimmer of themselves before all this. And now, hurtling through space, he’s found her again, and this time there’s no letting her go.

Soft moans slip from her mouth, running her fingers through his hair and tugging hard, it makes him moan out as well, the vibration coursing through him into her chest.

His hand slips from her breast, trailing down her front, over her stomach to the hem of her underwear, not even wasting time and dipping beneath. Long, thick fingers glide over her slick mound, down to her entrance, where he shoves them inside her as far as they will go. He feels her body go rigid for a moment, a shocked gasp falling from her mouth, before they turn swiftly into whimpers and moans as he fucks her with his fingers.

She’s so wet, it’s easy. And he feels just how tight she is, every single ridge, just the feeling of her hot insides makes him want to bury himself inside of her as much as he can, as often as he deems fit. After a few moments, he finds that rough spot inside, using his fingers to rub hard against it. Her back arches against the wall, pressing her tits against his chest, the hardened buds rubbing almost painfully sensitive against his skin, her hands squeeze his shoulders and he groans at the sensation of her nails digging in.

“Say you want it” he whispers low against her ear.

He knows she does. He feels how wet she is for him, her sounds.

Her eyes crack open, her lips part in pleasured pants, curling up into a hedonistic smile, “No”

His mouth forms a frown. But she knows better.

He pulls his fingers out of her, giving a hard wet slap to her that makes her jolt and her clit throb, then going to tug her underwear down her legs. She kicks at him, writhing in his hold, her small fists trying to push him back.

“I said no”

“Yeah, yeah” Her face whips to one side and she whimpers as her cheek blooms with pain from his palm, “shut the fuck up”

Despite the hot pain on her face, she feels her insides flutter, clenching around nothing as she looks back at him, to see the hard expression he gives as she shoves his shorts past his hips. Her eyes land on his cock, all hard with the angry red tip weeping precum desperately.

“There he is” she smirks.

He props her up against the wall and shoves himself harshly inside her, barely giving her time to adjust to his size and length, until he hits her spongey end. Her chest erupts in a pink flushed colour, air expelled from her lungs.

He trembles slightly as he bottoms out inside her, completely filling her with himself and feeling her walls quiver uncontrollably around him. Squeezing the flesh of her thighs, he thrusts mercilessly into her, seeking the ultimate fulfilment he feels only her body can offer.

Ettore makes few sounds other than his hurried breaths and grunts into her ear, pushing himself so close to her that the only movement is his hips slapping against her thighs and the wet smack of their moist skin meeting each other. He grabs her face, digging into the skin where he’d hit her and keeps her quiet with his lips on hers, moving his tongue against hers. She hears his low sounds in his throat, deep and primal.

They fuck like they’re fighting, as they always had done. Fingers leaving red welts where he’d gripped her too hard, the mark on her cheek reddening, even the lewd sound of her pussy accepting him, it was all angry and aggressive.

She tightens her grip on the hair at his nape, chasing that pressure that was starting to build in her gut. She can feel him grin against her neck, he must be able to feel it too, the way her cunt trembles around him, the way her eyebrows furrow together and her lips caught between her teeth.

“You gonna cum for me?”

“Fuck you” she breathes, her voice strained by desire.

She never wanted to admit the things he did to her, sexual or not, made her feel excited and dangerous all at the same time. He huffs air as he laughs against her, feeling a sheen of sweat begin to cover his back as the effort of fucking her.

“You asked for it” his thumb pushes past her teeth, collecting her saliva on his thumb before dragging it down her body between them, rubbing in fast, furious circles on her overly-sensitive bud. It makes her strain her neck as she throws her head back, a barely-contained moan escaping.

“Just give up”

There’s little resolve left in her, the way his thick cock bullies that spot inside, pushing against her walls at the top in this position. The sheer lewdness of the situation had her nearly forget where they were, just fucking in a random hallway, and it sends a bolt of excitement down her spine at the thought of getting caught.

He watches how he disappears inside her, a ring of her arousal white at the base of him, how wet she sounds with each slap of skin. Hastening the circles on her clit, she grips him at his nape tight as he buries his face against her shoulder, her entire being shuddering as her orgasm blazes a burning trail through every limb, every cell, igniting her in a way only he ever could.

“Fuck-”

It’s the only sound he’s capable of making as an all-body shudder rolls through him. The way she clenches around him, holding him tightly.

He quickly pulls out of her, briefly feeling disappointed at the loss of her tightness, fisting his cock to completion. That is until she falls to her knees in front of him, looking up at him through her eyelashes, watching the way his chest heaves from this angle.

Cock slick with her arousal, watching the way he fists it quickly, she feels that familiar tug of arousal below her belly button.

His fingers thread through her hair, tugging at the crown to pull her face towards him. Holding himself at the base, he drags the tip over her lips, leaving a glistening path of both his and her arousal behind that she quickly collects with her tongue. Her lips chase his length before enveloping the tip in her mouth, running her tongue over the already sensitive slit.

A long, exasperated sound between a breath and a moan rushes out of him, having to lay his hand flat against the wall as she begins to bob her head on him, accepting his cock into her mouth with a renewed vigour, watching how he reacts.

Gripping her hair tight, she hums around him, sending a pleasant roll of warmth up his spine, and he tugs her head towards him, using her face for leverage to fuck himself into her mouth. He feels himself hit the back of her throat, and how her mouth contracts as she gags softly, trying to relax her jaw.

She closes her eyes as he sets his pace, hands resting on his thighs only slightly as she feels his hips press against her face. His cock bullies the back of her throat with a lewd wet sound, and it’s so intense, that she can feel her eyes watering, her slick gathering between her thighs once again and the throb of her previous orgasm still rolling through.

He’s so close and she can feel it, and when she looks up at him, his head is thrown back, chest rising and falling steadily, eyes scrunched shut as his own pressure builds. She would’ve smirked at it, if he wasn’t buried to the hilt in her mouth. He looked the most handsome light this, pink in the face with his muscles of his stomach flexing, trying to hold back.

As soon as her hands cup his balls, hurtling him towards his own orgasm, his jaw slackens and his grip hardens in her hair in such a satisfyingly painful way.

“Shit-” he pulls himself from her mouth, shoving her head back to the wall and she takes a much needed breath in, “Open”

He fists his cock to her open mouth, his blue, wild eyes boring into hers, chest tightening as he comes undone and releases thick ropes of cum onto her waiting tongue. She blinks up at him, both of them smelling of sex and arousal, her breasts heaving with her breathing. In the stark, low light of the corridor, his face looks so sharp, as if it were made of stone, with a glow that almost looked inhuman.

She dives on him again, sucking off the remainder of his cum and pressing her tongue to the underside, tracing the throbbing vein there. The over-stimulation has Ettore shiver slightly, releasing his hold on her for a moment as she pulls off him with a wet pop. He watches with a lewd curiosity as her throat contracts, a sigh from her lips showing how she had swallowed all of him. Her eyes glisten in a kind of gloating pride right up at him, a mischievous glint behind it all as she smiles in satisfaction.

He pulls her up with a hard grip on her arm, letting his eyes fall all over her body.

“Miss me?” she whispers against his lips.

“Shut up” he responds with a grin, crashing his lips to hers. Binding himself to her irreparably.

And even though it damages them both, it just hurts too good to even think about stopping.

dividers by @saradika

General Taglist: @risefallrise @valeskafics @theoneeyedprince @thelittleswanao3 @hb8301

Ettore Taglist: @the-common-cowgirl

*Let me know if you want to be added to any taglist! Bold means I couldn’t tag, if I can't tag you you can always turn on notifications for when I post. DM me if you wanna be removed besties

#ettore x you #ettore high life #ettore smut #ettore x reader #ettore #ettore fan fic #ettore fanfic #ettore fan fiction #ettore fanfiction #high life fanfic #high life fanfiction #high life 2018 #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters #ewanverse

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jensettermandu · 1 year ago

Text

-𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡𝙨 𝙜𝙤 𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣, 𝙗𝙖𝙙 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡𝙨 𝙜𝙤 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚-

-𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙙𝙚𝙚𝙥, 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙡-

1.2

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𝘨!𝘱 𝘫𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘦 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

content warning; MDNI, morally grey characters, toxic relation/situationships, domestic abuse, violence, substance use/abuse, mentions of weight/toxic beauty standards, dubcon, a lot of smut (spitting, spanking, bondage, choking, rough sex, etc. appears), age gap (legal), mentions of sensitive topics, not made for glorification of toxic relationships.

chapter wc: 11k+

"I haven't had time, so I would appreciate it if we could at least go at it once." This time she asked with her nicest voice. Y/n tilted her head as she looked at the mess she created in Jennie's sweats–she would lie if she said that she wasn't wet and her clit wasn't throbbing. It was especially hot after seeing Jennie be the mess she was while also being back to calling her these names and manhandling her.

[Three days ago]

It was nothing new to bring someone back to the hotel room when the parties were over for Jennie. She hadn't been doing it as often anymore since she had someone back in the city who satisfied her needs. It seemed difficult to get satisfied by someone else, or worse.

The woman under her was completely naked as Jennie continued to kiss her with only her boxers left to restrain her cock. She pressed against her heat, her hands roaming her body, lips not leaving her skin as nails gently dragged along her back. Jennie was doing everything, all the things she always did and knew she was good at. All the things that always got her dick hard. The billionaire wasn't only good at making money, no, she was also great at pleasuring after growing addicted to sex because it was better than drugs and alcohol, but better when those two were involved.

"Just fuck me already," Jennie looked up at the complaint as she had been kissing and groping at her chest and all her other parts. To the eye the woman was good looking, she was sexy and beautiful because Jennie didn't just settle for anyone. Men and women would drool over the model or even pay to have her in bed–Jennie knew because she had paid models to sleep with her. Most of them took it because they needed the money and who wouldn't take thousands upon thousands if not millions in exchange for sex? Jennie liked to have something to brag about such as fucking an unobtainable model. Money didn't get her as excited anymore now that she was drowning in it.

She collected women.

Jennie licked her lips and was about to grab hold of the model's hand but she was faster when she cupped her.

There was one problem—

"You're not even hard."

None of these women were the vixen back home.

Where Jennie had never felt hesitation, guilt, or stress, she hand found herself drowning in it. What came naturally felt like a task now when it wasn't that one body that was so familiar to her.

"Are you fucking kidding me!?" The model exclaimed, clearly offended and Jennie yanked her hand away from her cock that had barely grown hard. Her jaw clenched as she took in breaths to not let embarrassment wash over her or the anger. She wasn't sure who she was angry at anymore. The model, herself, or Y/n...Or maybe even Asher who was keeping Jennie from being able to see the girl whenever she wanted to. Jennie didn't like having to wait for turns, but she did, God, she did and she felt pathetic, but she took every chance she had to dick Y/n down once her man left her for a few hours or days.

The feline tried to blame it on the drugs and alcohol.

"Shut the fuck up." She gritted out and reached for her shirt that was thrown on the corner of the bed before pulling it over her head. She took her pants and pulled them on too, not zipping them up as she would head to the shower once the woman left. It was truly humiliating for Jennie, it made her insecure and the model wouldn't consider that it did. It wasn't her fault that she couldn't grow an erection even if she wanted to. She tried her best by taking her time.

"You just wasted like an hour of my time for this. Why would you bring someone over if you can't even get it up." The woman argued as she started to gather her clothes. Jennie's nose twitched as she sat at the edge of the bed with her fists clenching in anger. It wasn't anything in her system, she hadn't gotten drunk and had barely taken any drugs aside from a few white lines like she always did. There was only one explanation and it had never happened to her before.

Jennie had been in relationships and she knew that she hadn't stayed faithful in them because her dick always sprung to life when she saw someone hot who would look her way. It made her forget love the second a girl got on her knees to suck her off. Her love only lasted for the night, it always had.

"Shut the fuck up you bimbo-looking slut! I fucking brought you over and that's more than you will ever fucking accomplish in your life." Jennie snapped and stood up, glaring at the woman who was slipping her dress back on.

"You can't even accomplish an erection which is pathetic enough–no one's gonna waste their time on you anymore." The model bellowed, and Jennie felt it wash over her. The anger consumed her from how the girl was disrespecting her and when she was about to pass she grabbed hold of her wrist and forced her to face her.

"You're not fucking telling anyone about this or I will fucking ruin your career in a second." She threatened the woman as she didn't need it to spread to everyone that she couldn't even get her dick semi-hard. It was going around that she was making women cum left and right, and that she knew exactly how to blow someone's back or use her tongue. It would ruin her reputation when it came to this. For the last few women she had slept with, Jennie had to fake her orgasms and throw the condoms away before they could check if she truly had finished because she grew soft before she was able to finish. It was draining her and the frustrations only grew more, she had reached her peak, and the anger was boiling out of the lid that would blow up.

"Let go of me or they will get to know about this too."

"I told you something and you say that you fucking understand unless you want your career dead!" Jennie's voice boomed through the suite as her grip tightened on the woman's wrist. That anger came without any control, the control she didn't have, but it controlled her life, she was a slave to her anger.

It happened right away as she slapped Jennie because the grip was numbing on her wrist, but Jennie's excuse was that she was already angry. The woman had already angered her and was only pushing more of her buttons. It was all her fault and not Jennie's when she barely flinched from the slap and used her strength when her knuckles itched before colliding with the model's face. It was out of her control in the end and it would have never happened if people listened right away.

Jennie maybe wasn't the biggest person, but she surely did work out and did practise boxing simply for her safety as it was recommended by her team. She could never know who would show up, but it also ended with other people hurt as the force was enough to make the younger woman drop to the floor. Jennie felt her heart pick up in rate like it always would in these situations where she seemingly had no control as the sobs filled the room. It never seemed to stop her though. It only fueled her because of the sense of power she got from it, those bad feelings got replaced with power, dominance, killing whatever challenge the woman tried to put up by even looking her in the eye when she was angry.

It was a curse, but it had been there so long that it felt like a reward.

"Get the fuck out before I break more than your nose and remember that no one would ever believe you over me unless you want legal trouble for defamation of character." She spat out, flailing her hand the slightest that she had used. In the end, Jennie had all the money and Jennie was known as someone with a pure and sweet soul that helped everything and everyone around her. From donations to charities to everything else in between.

No one would believe the girl below her whose nose was bleeding as she looked up at her terrified. It wasn't the first time she got that look. The look let her know that she wasn't the prey and it made her feel safe in her skin, it washed away the embarrassment and humiliation because the woman was scared of her.

"Are you deaf? Get the fuck out, good for nothing whore!" She snarled and watched how the crying girl got up from the floor, grabbing the rest of her stuff to hurry out. Jennie huffed and turned back to the bed with her pants resting at her hips and reached for her phone. She could hear the door slam closed as she opened the phone and looked through her contacts, unsure of who to contact, and what to prioritise. She was frustrated and slumped down onto the bed, sitting at the edge, it was just another lonely night.

Her fingers stumbled upon the name that was stuck to her like glue because she was stupid enough to let it happen. Jennie bit her lower lip and opened the messages she had with the vixen as she knew that she didn't answer phone calls after all the calls she dialled only to not be answered. These were lengths Jennie had never gone to and it was annoying her yet she kept going as she texted the girl.

1:01 AM Are you busy???

She exhaled deeply, waiting for an answer as she just stared ahead of herself, drowning in empty thoughts because she didn't want to think about what happened. The empty thought came to thoughts of wanting to conclude her problems, but she shut every one of them down because she was too rich and powerful to have these problems. She didn't believe in these things so they could never become real problems. The buzz of her phone that was resting on her thigh got her out of it though and she picked it back up.

1:07 AM Studying With Lisa The fuck do you want?

1:08 AM Nudes would suffice, or at least some kind of pictures to jerk off to

In the end, Jennie still felt sexually frustrated, it made the anger go away most of the time and she wouldn't be able to sleep unless she would at least cum in her hand or in the shower. Or maybe both depending on how many pictures she gets–

1:11 AM Have you heard of pornhub, onlyfans or even paying someone to come and suck you off?

1:11 AM Not the same, it's late and I am too busy

1:12 AM You can scroll up then

1:13 AM I want new ones, in red or black lingerie

1:15 AM The fuck do I look like to you? Not a wishing well I hope you slot machine-built bitch

1:15 AM Usually you remind me of a cumslut the way you get covered in it. The fuck do you mean by slot machine?

Jennie groaned as Y/n was working on her nerves and all she wanted was to wank her prick and then go to sleep. She could use her imagination or replay what they had done, but it wouldn't work when her mind was preoccupied with anger and then sex.

1:20 AM You shit money and spurt cum like a slot machine It's all you are good for, pathetic loser :PhotoAttachment1 :PhotoAttachment2 :VideoAttachment3 Here, this is all you get for being so demanding Go kill yourself after instead of texting me again<33

She truly had no clue why she was putting up with the attitude of the mean girl. With most women, she would show them their place and not have them disrespect her or she would kick them to the curb. Maybe it was because she couldn't afford to throw away someone who worked like Viagra on her dick. Or maybe because Y/n didn't seem tameable after the few times Jennie snapped only for the girl to snap right back. It was a challenge and Jennie always won them, this one has been taking longer to win though.

Jennie opened the pictures of the girl in lacy lingerie and she knew that it was just because she had asked for specific ones that Y/n sent her in white and navy blue. It didn't matter as she looked at them while she pushed herself up the bed and leaned back against the headboard. She pulled her pants lower together with her boxers. Her hand blindly reached to the side where the bottle of lube was standing just for these moments. She licked her lips, opening the video of the girl feeling herself with music playing in the background in nothing but white lingerie, her body slim, perfect small tits, long legs, tiny waist, and a body so perfect Jennie couldn't get enough as her hand was already stroking around her growing cock.

Her mind forgot about what happened as it never really mattered since she was invincible to these things damaging her. Instead thinking about how Y/n would work her hands on her thick length and let her release on her face and chest. Her mind was occupied with the girl, never did she think about a specific woman during her days, but now it was happening more often and it was always the same face.

[Present]

Jennie's cock was hard and leaking with salty precum once again, unable to keep it down when she was with Y/n. The younger girl was right beneath her with her clothes on the floor as Jennie continued to kiss her. The cock rested heavily on Y/n's thigh while Jennie's fingers ran through her folds, coating them in stickiness as her thumb found the swollen clit where she had gathered the wetness. Y/n hummed into Jennie's mouth when she reached two fingers down before she with ease slid them inside to get the girl ready for the cock as the stretch got painful at times from how tight she was.

"Fuck," Y/n breathed out as she pulled away from Jennie's lips, the woman slowly doing scissoring motions while rubbing at her g-spot, her thumb still working her clit.

"Tell me how good it feels when I touch you."

"So fucking good, Jennie–" She whined as her hips bucked into Jennie, a moan getting caught in her throat. She pressed harder on her clit, rubbing in just the right motion while stretching the girl with her fingers that continued to spread the tight and squelching hole. Her hips slightly bucked, rubbing herself against the smooth thigh, having a hard time holding back. She kissed down, Y/n tilting her head as she nipped at her skin, knowing that the girl would kill her naked in bed if she left a hickey. Last time she got thrown out with barely any clothes on for trying.

"Who else can make you feel this good? Who else can make you such a desperate whore, Y/n?" The girl under her whined, back arching off the bed as she wrapped her arms tighter around Jennie's back for some grip. It was quite the opposite as the younger girl would leave Jennie with bite and scratch marks that were bleeding at times. Their chests pressed together, and Jennie could feel the cold barbells pressing against her from the pierced nipples.

"No one, God— no one, I'm only a whore for you." Jennie hummed at the stinging of nails pushing into her shoulder blades as Y/n's thighs quivered and her breathing picked up. It was a sort of control that Jennie loved, she loved having this control over Y/n because she depended on her to get a good release.

She depended on her because no one had been able to fuck her right, not even the boyfriend who wasn't even hovering near her mind. All she could think about was the way Jennie pumped her fingers inside her, the way she rubbed at her walls, slowly stretching her to make sure her thick member would fit. Her thumb played with her clit and it was making her whole body tingle as she was nearing her orgasm. Her walls continued to clench as she whimpered and moaned for more. She had fallen for the wrong kind of thing, she had fallen for pleasure and it was all she wanted, it was all that mattered.

"You're so good, knowing what you are for me...A whore for me to empty into." At least she wished the girl would let her fill her hole with cum until it was leaking. To fuck it all right into her womb and leave her crying for more like she had done times before. Y/n let out another moan, her voice going up in pitch and making Jennie's dick twitch at the erotic sound. Her walls clasped around Jennie's two fingers and the heat washed over her body, her breathing coming to a stop for a few seconds as nails dug further into the skin from how she tensed up.

She looked at her, her head thrown back with her chest pressing against Jennie's. Her lips started to trail kisses along her jaw as she continued to work on her clit. "This is what you need, someone to fuck you right," Jennie grumbled, knowing that the guy wasn't able to satisfy Y/n the same way she did. She was the one who made her legs quiver, her back arch, and moans spill if not cries.

Y/n knew it too and she was risking losing both because of where she was stuck yet she continued to grasp at Jennie with her thighs quivering around the woman. The orgasm hit her hard in waves of pleasure and her vision turned black. Her walls pulsating from the aftershocks caused by the high Jennie was able to take her to by simply touching her right.

She slumped down, making Jennie slow down her movements as she continued to kiss along her jaw. Y/n lolled her head to the side and caught Jennie's wet lips with hers, tongues lethargically pressing against each other as her fingers now gently brushed over her shoulder blades and down to her back, feeling the muscles flex as Jennie moved. Her fingers pulled out of the snug and pulsating grip of her wet cunt and she rested both forearms on either side of the girl's head. Shuddering as her cock rested against the heat of the girl.

[Four months ago]

Jennie stopped the car outside the apartment complex and tapped her fingers against the wheel. The last time she had been outside of it was a week ago. It wasn't anything she usually did, but she felt like she needed to do some damage control. She felt like she had somewhat taken advantage when she decided to have sex with the girl who was on a high dose of Ecstasy. She didn't need Y/n to think the same and try to press any charges.

It wasn't like she hadn't had sex with anyone under the influence before, but in those instances, they had taken these drugs willingly–Jennie being under the same influence. The vixen got high on accident. Not only that but her number had been blocked by the younger girl. She just wanted to do damage control to see if it was because she had cheated or because of the circumstances the sex had been initiated under. If it was the second she would have to make sure the girl would be quiet by most likely bribing her, threatening if necessary.

She got out of the car and was shooting in the dark as she had no clue what the girl's last name even was. All she knew was her first name. With the hood up and sunglasses on she walked through the parking lot and towards the door where she had seen Y/n come out of. She was a bit nervous, she couldn't tell how it would go–if she would even find the right door.

It seemed as if luck was on her side when an elderly woman was slowly pushing the door open. Jennie picked up her steps and quickly grabbed the door, pulling it open for her.

"Thank you." She smiled at her and before she could walk out and walk away the billionaire spoke up.

"Wait—uhm you wouldn't happen to know Y/n?"

"Y/n?" The elderly woman questioned as she turned to look at Jennie, holding onto her walker. She quickly nodded her head.

"I go to the same college as her and she only sent me her address, my phone battery is out and I can't ask what door is hers." Jennie reached for her phone and showed the screen that was just turned off, pretending to push the power button on the side. Her lips pursing in feigned despair.

"Third floor under the names Y/l/n and Thomson."

"Thank you, have a good day." Jennie thanked the woman and quickly walked in, letting the door fall closed. She heaved a sigh to see that there was no elevator in the four-story building. With that she started to make her way up the stairwell, her footsteps leaving echoes after them.

She went over what to say in her head, what excuses to use for what happened, and what to offer if the excuses weren't enough. A couple of thousand or a million wouldn't even make a change to her bank account as she earned the money right back in a few minutes. The loud sounds of her sneakers colliding with the stairs stalled as she reached the third floor and huffed, pulling down her hood and pushing her sunglasses up to the top of her head.

She slowly walked along the way, scanning the few doors until her eyes landed on the one with the two last names that were mentioned. It made her stop for a second–she hadn't thought far enough about what she would do if it were the boyfriend who opened. She had no clue what she had told him and the one time she had seen him: she couldn't deny that he was probably four times her size.

It couldn't get that bad though.

Jennie knocked on the door and put her hands in the pockets of her loose jeans as she waited for it to open.

It wasn't opening and she took out her phone to look at the time.

Sunday, 2 p.m.

She reached her hand out and knocked once more to make sure in case it was because she hadn't heard her.

And she did so for a third time.

Finally, she heard some type of noise from the other side and took a step back. Expectantly she waited and the door finally opened to reveal the girl she had slept with last week. It felt almost odd to come face to face with someone she hooked up with. She never really did unless it was some sort of fling she would call over more than once. There was no need to stick to one girl when she could have a new one every day.

It followed with a groan and she scanned the girl whose hair was dripping with water and a towel wrapped around her chest, leaving her overly exposed. Jennie swallowed and with the hand that was still in her pocket adjusted her dick that twitched.

"What the fuck?"

The question flew out of Y/n's mouth, utterly confused about what the older woman was doing outside her door.

Jennie cleared her throat and looked up from the long legs where water was still dripping down. She would pay to lick them up and then continue up–

"I wanted to talk."

"About what?" Y/n's tone was somewhat harsh and it was so for a good reason. The woman whom she had blocked and hoped she would never see again was right in front of her. It didn't feel right. She had spent the past week crying and sleeping on the couch or at Lisa's place all while constantly fighting with her boyfriend because she had no clue what to do with what happened. There was no finish after the start because how did she finish a race like this when she had no clue what the finish line looked like?

"About what happened."

Y/n grumbled and stepped aside as maybe the finish would be talking it through with Jennie. Or maybe she just had to come clean to her boyfriend. Or maybe she was supposed to keep quiet about it for the rest of her life. In the end, it wasn't like her to cheat. She was guilty of harmless flirting with other people, but it was usually for the benefit of a broke college student who got free drinks because she was pretty. She never let anything go further.

Jennie nodded as she stepped inside, using the opportunity to adjust herself a bit better as Y/n's back was turned to her–the lock clicking.

"You have a cat." She pointed out the obvious, for a moment forgetting what she came for as the Russian blue scurried over to them.

"That's Vinci, he's a fucking menace so don't touch him–he only doesn't hate me." Y/n warned as she turned around to see Jennie already crouching down. She stepped around the woman, letting her deal with it as she had already warned her about what the cat was.

"You're being dramatic, look he's coming over to me," Jennie said as the cat rubbed himself on some furniture before heading right over to Jennie. Y/n shrugged and walked into the open living room, she leaned against the backrest of the couch and looked at the woman. It didn't feel right to let her inside the apartment, the home that was hers and Asher's, but she had already invited her to a different place after Jennie invited her to sin. It somewhat irked her that she was so bothered by it. She knew she deserved it, but to see Jennie not mind it at all made her realise that it was her mistake and her mistake only. She couldn't blame Jennie for cheating on her boyfriend.

"I warned you, he's not nice at all."

Jennie reached her hand out and yelped when the cat jumped onto it, biting it with claws digging into her hand, Vinci's back paws kicking at it. The cat tousled with her hand. "Fucking hell!" She exclaimed and pulled him away with her other hand before quickly standing up. It didn't seem to end as he started to attack the sleeves of her pants.

"Get him away." She called for help as she tried to gently push him away to not hurt the cat, but it didn't seem possible, the claws digging into the material of her jeans. Y/n heaved a sigh and pushed herself up as Jennie got backed up into the wall by the cat that was biting on her feet as she tried to get away.

"Come here, my baby." Y/n cooed at the devil of a cat that had left Jennie's hand with scratches, bite marks and some blood streaks. Her feet were in the same condition as her hand. She watched as the girl picked him up, kind of worried that he would do the same to her and leave her exposed clavicles a bloody mess, but all he did was purr and cling to her.

Y/n looked over at Jennie who inspected her hand.

"Told you so." She said. She had told her that the cat wasn't fond of anyone aside from her. Jennie huffed and followed after Y/n who walked back into the living area and let the cat down that ran right to his cat tree, climbing to the top before laying down and staring right at Jennie.

"He has your personality." The brunette commented. He was just as mean as Y/n and the girl was the first one to be a bitch towards her without a care about who Jennie was. She made herself comfortable as she sat down on the couch, the vixen sitting on the other end of it.

"You don't even know me cuckold." Y/n hissed and fixed her towel to make sure that it was secure, feeling the intense gaze of Jennie. Over the years she had grown used to the gazes that could at times make her skin crawl, especially if she was out. The woman's wasn't subtle and Jennie continued to come off as an asshole with the way she stared.

"Know you enough to see that you're quite the bitch and the last thing I am is a cuckold."

"Fine, an unwanted cum stain," Y/n said and clicked her tongue as Jennie was certainly unwanted here and yet she was there.

Jennie rarely had anyone talking to her that way unless they were her closest friends, but even those were few. Her eyes narrowed, unsure of how to take it from the girl who didn't seem to care for a second about who she was. She leaned back on the couch and rested her arm on the backrest.

"Is that so?" Was all she could say as she was quite speechless after being called an unwanted cum stain for the first time in her life.

"Yeah, I blocked your number for a reason." Y/n's eyes averted away from Jennie and she looked at the blank screen of the TV.

That was the exact reason as to why Jennie had come. If the girl hadn't blocked her she would've just asked her through texts and possibly see if she was up for more if the waters were safe. Now it was different as she was at her apartment on a Sunday.

"Which is?"

"Because I don't want to see you again."

Y/n pressed the idea as Jennie was asking a lot of why questions and she didn't need a better reason than simply not wanting to see her.

"Why is that?"

"Cause, there's no good reason to see you again."

The only reason seemed to be if she wanted to cheat again which she wasn't supposed to want. That thrill, that good sex, the thought of being horrible yet still enjoying herself during the moment, she wasn't supposed to want that. There was no good reason for Y/n to see Jennie when it came to Asher. She felt horrible, she felt even worse for enjoying it, and even worse for wanting to experience that adrenaline once again. It was as if she had taken a hit of heroin and grown addicted right away and now the only thing that would be able to suffice her boring life was Jennie with her dick.

It wasn't her fault that her boyfriend was at most decent in bed and even then was all gentle and loving. Scared to hurt her physically because he was so much bigger or say something that would hurt her. They clashed in bed. He was soft and uncomfortable with anything aside from praises and Y/n wanted to at times bang her head against the wall because of it. It was just the sex which didn't matter since she loved him for being the person that he was. Sex was just occasional for them as it wasn't a big part of their relationship. It gave her no right to cheat.

"Not even the sex?" Jennie asked with her eyebrows raised, removing the sunglasses from the top of her head.

"Not even the sex."

She felt somewhat challenged, her big ego about how good she was at pleasuring getting bruised. It made the foundation crack, and her ego extremely fragile because of how big and blown it was. The smallest poke made it blow up and blow away with the wind. That was why she never allowed anyone to try and step on her, or somehow bruise it by putting herself on top right away. Right now she was fighting with Y/n about that spot despite the girl not knowing it, at least she thought she didn't know.

"So it wasn't good?" Jennie continued to ask as she wasn't believing the girl and she also refused to be the only one to think that sex with the girl was quite amazing. She had to think the same.

"Not good enough for me to even remember it." Y/n lied as she could remember every single part of it and the only thing she couldn't remember was anything else from that night.

"You have to remember something. You were high but I hope that wasn't a problem since I asked for your consent."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to accuse you of anything. I was high, but well aware of what was happening even if I was more prone to letting it happen...You should consider not fucking girls high on E 'cause not everyone would let it slide after because of the headspace you get into."

"That was why I came." Jennie knew that it wasn't right to have sex with the girl if she wasn't in the right state of mind. It wasn't the case since it hadn't made her dissociative just like Y/n said that she had been aware. Although ecstasy had made her more clingy and somewhat unaware of how far things were being taken until they had happened since standards lowered and everyone was a friend when ecstasy coursed in the veins. She was worried she would have regretted it differently after and then accused Jennie of things.

"Well, you have your answer," Y/n concluded and was about to stand up, but was stopped.

"Okay, but why did you block me if that wasn't the problem?" That still bothered Jennie because she felt imbecilic for trying to text the girl only to be blocked. It made no sense for her to be blocked in the first place when she usually had to block girls because they thought the sex meant something. Everyone wanted it to mean something because she had money.

"What does it matter to you?"

"Didn't think it would be a one-time thing, especially if we both were drunk and high...Doesn't count in my opinion." Jennie used it as an excuse for her bruised ego. All she wanted to do was have sex one more time and prove how good she was, but then block the girl to bruise hers right back.

Y/n raised her eyebrows at the words and watched as Jennie shifted, her gaze catching her eyes. She blinked, trying to process what she meant by that.

"What?"

Jennie shrugged at that. "I want to have sex with you at least once more...I could pay you if that means that you agree." She casually explained that she wanted to at least have sex once more with the vixen and this time properly to make sure that she would remember it and want more.

The girl on the other side looked more offended than pleased by the offer.

"Okay, first of all, I would never have sex with anyone for money and second, no." Y/n ridiculed the whole thing as bizarre as she couldn't phantom where the older woman had so much confidence to ask something like this. It didn't matter how good-looking someone was, it was a far reach, but maybe girls agreed to her if they were desperate enough. Y/n knew that she wasn't.

"Why not? It's just sex, it's not like I am some musty creep."

"Because I have a boyfriend, it's cheating," Y/n answered as it was cheating, but that didn't mean that she wouldn't do it. She refrained from leaping to the world of selfishness which was lust and desire. It wasn't right at all and she tried her best to not look for valid reasons to go through with it. The internal battle was constant when she knew what she should choose right away. She was supposed to leave Sin City- she wasn't supposed to enter to begin with.

"Doesn't count if he won't find out. Where is he?" Jennie glanced around the empty apartment, finding no reason for the girl to hold back if her man wasn't home and wouldn't find out. It was only cheating if she got caught in her opinion. It was like playing a board game, she only got called out for it if the rest saw, found out, or suspected that she was cheating. The coast was clear and the game could continue without any problems.

"Practice," Y/n mumbled and widened her eyes at the sound of a zipper flying open.

"What're you doing, keep it in your pants, Jennie." She exclaimed as the woman was about to reach into her pants because she thought that it was the green light when the girl answered. She heaved a sigh and rested her fingers under the hem of her boxer briefs, the pants unzipped and her dick slowly growing harder.

"Is it because you don't want to cheat or what?" She asked. Jennie had a past of cheating, but it had never bothered her like it did Y/n so she couldn't grasp it.

Y/n inhaled deeply, her gaze falling on the cat that was now asleep, the apartment silent.

"It's because of the opposite when it shouldn't be." She couldn't help but want it, but she knew that it wasn't right so she couldn't grasp what was wrong with her head. She loved her boyfriend and that meant that she shouldn't even think of it, but she truly didn't love him any less just because she wanted some good sex. It was just sex, it wasn't even what defined their relationship since sex was the last thing on their list. It wasn't like she would stop loving him or he her—as long as he didn't find out–Jennie was nothing but some good dick.

Y/n felt horrible, all those reasonings weren't right, and there was no good enough reason to cheat. She was aware of that. Nothing was ever good enough to go this far. Nothing was excusable. She felt ashamed for enjoying it–

Yet she found herself bent over the couch with Jennie giving her such backshots that her eyes were rolling back when she came and cheating wasn't even a real word or concept. "Oh fuck." Jennie groaned out, pulling out of the girl and jerking herself off before blowing her hot load right on the perfectly slim ridges of her spine.

It didn't count as long as he didn't find out.

[Present]

"You're on birth control, we don't need them," Jennie complained as the younger girl opened the bedside drawer and reached for the condoms she had in there. It was becoming quite an expense because of how they went at it for hours when they could. She didn't use them with her boyfriend but did at times so there would be no questions about why there were condoms at home. Her hands ran over Y/n's body which was straddling her thighs as she sat leaned against the headboard.

"We do." The answer was simple as she deadpanned it.

"What for?" Jennie asked as she cupped her one breast, her fingers tugging at the hard nipple and toying around with the piercing. She leaned in and left a few kisses along the other breast before sucking in the bud into her mouth. She toyed with the nipple, playing with the piercing and grazing her teeth along it as it scraped over her teeth. Sighs left Y/n's mouth as she gripped onto Jennie's head.

"Not just for pregnancy." She breathed out and Jennie pulled away, another frown graced her eyebrows and Y/n handed her the wrapper, but she didn't take it.

"Do you think I carry some kind of STD?" She seriously asked and Y/n shrugged her shoulders at that, not up for humouring Jennie who always acted like she was dead in the brain in Y/n's opinion. At least she knew how to use her other head.

"Didn't say you do, but you never know what might happen. I only have one partner and see you on the side while I have no clue who you sleep with. If I were to catch something, what would I say?" The words left her with ease, cheating being a normal topic and she knew what she was at the back of her head. Y/n tried to ignore it most of the time because she didn't want to face the horrible person that she was.

"I use protection with every girl I meet." She had started to at least as she was done with shoving plan B's down girl's throats. Then she had no other choice since they would be able to tell that she had been faking her orgasms since she grew soft inside if she even got it up which hadn't been possible last time. It was mostly possible when she was wasted drunk, that was when she could get it up and hope for it to stay up.

"Oh wow, would you look at that, how great that I have stacked up on condoms then," the sarcasm irked Jennie as Y/n opened the packet herself and took out the rubber.

"You don't use them when you suck me off–" Jennie pointed out and her breath shuddered at how Y/n gently started to pull the condom over her dick that was standing proudly (seemingly just for her) like usual. It clicked in her head that it was something more than just protection from pregnancy and STDs because then she would make sure to have a condom on when she would go down on her. "What is it then?" She asked and grabbed hold of Y/n's wrist and hip, stopping the girl from being able to get on top of her. Her grip was tight to make sure she would stay.

"What does it matter to you? You're here to fuck so stop being a freak." Y/n defensively let out as Jennie had gotten oddly close to her and she didn't like it. She didn't like the girl asking her all these questions or even talking to her too much. They were supposed to fuck and then part ways. It had taken an even more wrong turn than cheating somewhere along the way with how their relationship looked like.

She let go of her wrist and grabbed hold of her dick. "I will fuck you." She sneered as she guided her tip to the sopping hole. Y/n's breath hitched as a cry left her lips and not in pleasure when the girl forcefully pushed her down fully on her length. She grasped onto Jennie's shoulders, her heart speeding up at the pain that had shot up through her whole spine. "Jen–" Her words were cut short, getting caught in her throat as Jennie planted her feet down and started to pound into her. Her lip was between her teeth, her eyes trained on their heat, watching how her cock disappeared into the girl whose pussy was grasping her inside.

"Fuck, you fucking cunt." Y/n whined, the pain slowly subsided but it didn't change the fact that Jennie had been way harsher than she was ready for without letting her adjust to the stretch. Her walls were throbbing around the cock that stretched her out in a way that turned into pleasure. The way the curved shaft caressed her g-spot made her stomach tighten, feeling Jennie deep inside her as each thrust filled her to the brim and made her clench to get as much as possible.

"You don't want to take my cum? I will fuck you so good you will be begging for me to knock you up. Fucking whore, acting all superior, I will fuck you into place like the slut that you are." Jennie rambled on, grunting with each thrust as Y/n wrapped her arms around her shoulders, unable to keep up with how sudden it all was. It was safe to say that she was angry and to Y/n that meant being fucked silly.

"I hate you so much."

"Yet you take my dick like you don't." Jennie groaned, the girl on top of her moaning right by her ear and she reached her hands down to her ass, gripping firmly. She was filling her to the hilt, with each downstroke she thrust up, Y/n's ass slapping against her thighs and her nails digging into the sides of her neck. The girl tried her best to meet the rough thrusts, her thighs tensing up and gasps fell from her lips.

Jennie had no clue what it was, but she forgot her self-control around the girl. Not only because she was hot, but because she gave her every reason to not have any control over her anger when she liked to treat her like dirt under her shoes. However, Jennie did control it because the girl would most likely be crying from pain right now and not pleasure. She was just giving back the same type of attitude by fucking her like a whore.

Her cock hit the right spots, reaching deep inside her and managing to caress her g-spot the entire time she was pounding into her. Jennie's breaths grew heavy, Y/n's body warm in her hold as she watched the perfect curves of her slim figure. Her eyes fell on the chest, the tits that were perfect to fit in her hands bounced and Jennie leaned in. Her teeth nipped at the skin, sucking the hard nipples into her mouth to play with the piercings and tug on them, it made Y/n moan and gasp right into her ear. The pleasure increased and her clit throbbed while her stomach tensed up.

"Wanna come." Y/n moaned out, wanting nothing more than to orgasm once again.

Jennie pulled away from the chest that was glistening with her spit, the hard buds left red and slightly swollen from how she abused them with her mouth. "Only if I let you." The room filled with the sounds of their skin slapping against each other. Y/n's moans and gasps bounced off the walls just like Jennie's moans and grunts. She could feel the brunette's cock deep in her as her walls clenched with each of the harsh thrusts that made her breathless. Jennie reached her hand behind Y/n's head and gripped her hair, forcing her away and making her look at her as the girl was hiding in her neck.

"You need so much cock to satisfy you that you go behind your boyfriend's back." She reminded her, deciding to trample on the girl because she had been getting on her nerves since she entered the apartment. She groaned, Y/n's nails digging into the sides of her neck as she continued to roll her hips, bouncing up and down on her length yet Jennie had all the control as she continued to piston in and out of her.

Despite how whiny she felt and needy for an orgasm, her eyes barely staying open, she was getting pissed off by Jennie's words. "Shut the fuck up, you're sounding obsessed again." Y/n too knew how to trample the girl whose cock was rearranging her insides into a mess. The vixen knew that she was cheating, but she didn't want to be reminded of it, she didn't want to think of it. She knew that she had no right because it was a choice, but she still felt ashamed and guilty every single day. It didn't seem to stop her because the second she saw Jennie it was the same all over again.

Jennie stopped, Y/n still moving her hips although not for long when Jennie grabbed hold of her waist. "Fuck–" Y/n winced at the painful grip that would leave bruises. She wanted to be pissed but she had no time when Jennie pushed her onto her back before then forcing her onto her stomach. The girl barely managed to put up a fight from how quickly Jennie handled her.

"You're hurting me, you perverted jagoff." She complained and tried to struggle at the grip that Jennie had on her wrists, pinning them down above her head as she lay pressed into the mattress.

Jennie looked down, pinning both hands with her one. She looked down at the girl whose thighs she was straddling, her cock resting against her ass cheek. Y/n's back arched and the struggling did nothing, but only turned Jennie on more to know that she had all the control. It was tempting to just remove the condom since Y/n wouldn't be able to do anything about it or even notice at first–she refrained because she didn't want to get thrown out. She slowly rubbed her hard-on against her plump ass– "Don't call me obsessed with a fucking wimp."

"Ahh!" Y/n buried her face in the duvet, completely trapped under Jennie whose palm landed right against her ass cheek. It stung, the pain prickling on the skin as she heaved to try and distract herself from the pain. Jennie surely knew how to slap. It was another try to wiggle out from under her to get spared, all she felt was Jennie's cock rubbing against her ass.

"Stop acting it." She mumbled into the sheets, eyes closed as she panted through her mouth before biting down and whining, eyes shut tightly at how the woman's palm collided with her ass again.

Jennie gripped the flesh, soothing over the hot skin as she kneaded the girl's ass in her hand. "You think I care about him? If I did, I wouldn't be fucking his girlfriend." Jennie gritted out, the anger bubbling in her chest as her grip tightened on Y/n's wrists who twisted the duvet between her fingers at how numbing it was. She gasped out a breath as the pain was still lingering and Jennie only landed another harsh slap against the same ass cheek and she choked on a cry this time, trying to squirm under the woman. Her back arched and her ass pressed into Jennie at how the pain made her twist before she relaxed when the worst part subsided and all that was left was the pulsating left after.

"Fuck– that's not it," Y/n said with heavy breaths as it wasn't that which she found Jennie looking obsessed over. The vixen snivelled as she blinked away her tears and moved her head, resting her cheek against the mattress as she looked at Jennie over her shoulder. The hand was now caressing the reddening spot.

She hummed, urging Y/n to say it as she removed her hand from her ass and grabbed the base of her dick that was throbbing as she positioned herself straddling the girl's thighs and pushed her tip between her legs, finding the aching hole. She only pushed her tip in, the younger girl already whimpering as the position made her a much tighter fit. The walls sucked her tip into a chokehold of a grip, making Jennie suck air through her teeth at how good the warm and tight cunt felt.

"You're obsessed with his position, with the fact that he isn't the one on the side but you and that's what you will always be."

Jennie bit down on her tongue, running her palm along the ridges of the slim girl's spine as she lowered herself, propping herself up on her forearms, still holding her hands pinned down with hers. She didn't want the girl to have any control whatsoever, all she wanted for Y/n to be able and use was her mouth. They came face to face and stared each other in the eye, the lust was strong, and it was fueling the whole room. They knew what they were doing and what it meant, what it was supposed to mean at least.

"Don't act like you don't want me." Her tone was husky and she caught the whimper that was about to leave Y/n's mouth when she pushed herself inside the girl in one fluid motion. Y/n pulled away rather quickly as the moans started to spill when Jennie moved back out before slamming her cock back inside the sweltering heat. Her pelvis collided with Y/n's ass with each deep thrust, keeping it up as she continued to pull out, leaving her tip in and slamming it all back in. The vixen's lighter body getting fucked into the mattress.

"I fucking own you in the bedroom, I own you even when you fuck him because you think about me when you do." Her tone was gruff as she spoke in a hushed tone right into Y/n's ear who shivered at the air that brushed her sensitive ears. She grunted, going rougher and Y/n's moans got louder, unable to keep the sounds back when Jennie was pounding her full length into her tight hole. She clenched around her hard dick even more, it was followed by a muffled whimper from Jennie whose body was almost fully pressed against Y/n's back, their legs tangled together.

Each heaving breath mixing into the sounds, the two lost in their sins as the place they were in was the only place that brought them away from everything else. There was no guilt, no shame, no hesitation, or stress, not in their city of sins because it was just them. The two were addicted to these feelings and each other in ways that were unhealthy. There were no questions asked or anyone to judge. It was what made it possible to get lost in pleasure.

"Fuck, Y/n, fuck, I'm gonna make you cum so hard baby, I will fuck you so good the whole night. You're gonna take me so good like you always do, my favourite slut." Jennie mumbled, her mind getting lost as she kissed the girl's shoulder before licking a long stripe and biting down to pull at the thin skin. Her dick throbbed inside the pulsating walls that were warm and welcoming even if it got painful at times. The girl's cunt clasped around her with each thrust, having her cock in a choke hold as each time made Jennie moan right into her ear.

"You make me feel so good." Y/n let out a choked moan, her hips pushing into Jennie as her body turned into a heat that coursed through every nerve and vein. A sheen of sweat covered their bodies that pressed against each other with their heat conjoined. "Who else fucks your slutty pussy this good, hmm? Who else can get you like this?" She rasped, biting along her shoulder and up to her ear that she pulled at with her lips before kissing. Her hips were ruthless as she kept up the rough thrust that made her pant for air.

"Just you, only you can fuck me this good–your dick is the only dick that can fill me up this good."

Jennie's breathing got deeper and heavier, her heart beating harder as her balls tightened, being close to releasing another load. "Your pussy is so good, my favourite, I just wanna empty my balls into you 'cause you take me so well. You deserve all of my cum, baby." Y/n's moans were falling breathless after Jennie's tip had been abusing her g-spot the whole time. Jennie let go of her wrists. Y/n grasped at the sheets and Jennie moved her hand down and grabbed her hip. She lifted them slightly before letting her hand run down between Y/n's thighs.

"Jennie– Oh, I'm gonna–"

"Show me how good you feel." Jennie urged, her fingers circling the girl's clit in a motion that made her whole body tense.

She watched the girl whose mouth was agape, eyes barely open and all she could see were the whites when Y/n's body spasmed more into her. The orgasm washed over her hard, black and white filling her vision as high-pitched moans spilled through her plump and wet lips without a pause, making her run out of breath at the end. It made her whole body weak and dizzy, whining at how the fingers were still playing with her clit.

"I'm so close, I'm gonna cum so much." Jennie groaned out through the deep breaths and Y/n managed to find her words.

"On me. Please, Jennie." She pleaded, wanting Jennie to paint her with her thick and hot cum. It made her hips stutter and her stomach flexed, edging herself because of the request. She didn't waste time as she grabbed the base of her length and pulled out, getting off her thighs.

"Get the fuck up, I'm not gonna hold it for you." She gritted out, helping Y/n with one hand while removing the condom with the other. Her tip was swollen, throbbing and begging for a release, her balls having plenty for the vixen. Y/n got turned onto her back and Jennie stood on her knees beside her, the girl expectantly looking up at her. Eyes falling to the thick cock, a long vein running on the underside, her tip bright red and mushroom-shaped and her balls big and heavy.

Jennie jerked at her dick, staring the girl down, getting more turned on by how submissive she was being, how she had all the control, how she was begging for her. The power that she held over someone like Y/n. She looked at her perky breast, nipples hard and the silver jewellery pierced through them. Her eyes drowned in the perfect body laid out for her, how hot and sexy the girl was until her eyes landed back on her face, those sharp siren-like eyes, dark brown locks, luscious lips, flawless skin, every little feature.

It made Jennie raise her hand to her mouth and bite down on her fist to muffle the whimpers when her balls tightened and the cum started to shoot out of her tip. Her back arched as she bucked her hips into her hand, doing her best to control where it was going, but it seemed impossible at how intense the orgasm was this time compared to when she came in her pants. Her whimpering and moaning muffled and Y/n felt the warm and creamy release splattering onto her skin.

She didn't want the girl mocking her for it once again because she knew how mean Y/n was.

She heaved, breaths shaky as she managed to open her eyes which closed at some point. She did one last stroke and this time the cum just leaked out of her tip, dripping down onto the sheets as her dick started to go limp.

"Fuck, you look hot." She breathed out and Y/n glanced down at her chest which was covered in the fluid and she felt some on her face.

"Give me my phone." Y/n requested, holding her hand out as she lay in the same position, not having the energy to move at the moment. Jennie slumped down and reached over to the nightstand, taking the girl's phone before handing it to her, not realising how she obeyed each request no matter the girl's tone.

"Will you take a picture and send it to me?" She asked with a hopeful tone as she knew that she would be able to get off to the picture every single day for at least a week before asking for a new one. Y/n scoffed at the request.

"No, are you dumb?" She asked and Jennie frowned.

"Why not, you've sent pictures before?"

"Cause I am naked." She had sent the girl pictures, but never any nudes and never showed her face in them aside from a glimpse of her lips. Jennie grumbled to herself, trying to get a mental picture of the masterpieces she created on the girl. Y/n still opened her camera to see where it all was.

"You fucking cunt, you came in my hair." She complained and Jennie groaned when she got kicked in the thigh. Y/n turned her phone off and threw it to the side before she sat up, facing Jennie. She looked over her, the woman almost lying down as she sat leaning against the headboard. A frown and her lips puckered at the treatment. Her dick rested against her thigh and it wouldn't be long until it would be all ready for Y/n to take again. "Don't make that face until you've had cum in your hair." Y/n hissed and sucked air through her teeth.

"Where're you going?" Jennie asked when Y/n got up from the bed.

"Shower."

"I'm coming too–Wait, have you–" Jennie paused and sat up at the edge of the bed, Y/n looked back at the woman who sighed.

"Are you hungry?" Y/n raised her eyebrows at that and shrugged her shoulders. "I guess, I haven't eaten today." She replied. She hadn't had time to eat as her fridge was empty and she didn't have money for takeout or the time to buy any groceries. It was always Asher who did these things since the girl got too busy, but things got in the way after they had another fight and he never managed to buy anything before needing to leave for the weekend.

She did fight with him, but she fought even more with Jennie who was the side thing. It made little sense, but it stayed.

"Why not?" Jennie asked, wondering how the girl was even standing up as it was close to 8 p.m. and she had some pretty intense sex a second ago. Jennie's legs felt like jelly and she sat at the bed, watching Y/n's naked figure.

"Haven't had time and my fridge is empty and I am too broke to order," Y/n answered while opening the closet door and taking out new sweats and tee. She stopped for a second and remembered the pair of sweats Jennie had forgotten after having spare clothes with her. She reached for the pair of grey sweats she had stuffed behind the rest of her bottoms. "Why do you care so much?" She asked with a sigh and turned back around, closing the door after her.

"I feel like it is a normal thing to care about people." Y/n only hummed and threw the sweats to Jennie before she headed for the door to get to the bathroom. Jennie quickly got up to not get locked out of the bathroom for taking too long once again, taking her phone and shirt with her. "Can I order food then?" She questioned and she usually left right after, but that hadn't been the case with Y/n for the past months. Never did she spare the women a second glance, she viewed them as her sex toys she threw away after using once, but Y/n was a doll she wanted to last a bit longer so she treated her well.

Whatever treating someone well was in Jennie's world.

"Do whatever you want."

"Well, I mean can I order food for us both?" She rephrased her question for the girl. Following Y/n who walked into the bathroom which was right beside the bedroom from the side where the front door was.

"How long do you plan on staying? Friends are coming tomorrow at around 4," Y/n asked instead.

"I could leave before that? Or do you not want me to stay the night?" She confusedly asked and stepped inside the bathroom that wasn't too big with just a simple glass shower in the corner, a sink with a mirror and the toilet. At this point, she had fucked the girl on probably every surface in the apartment. She closed the door before she tossed the clothes onto the towel rack and Y/n started the shower.

"I was supposed to be studying."

"You can do that."

"Without anyone trying to stuff their dick inside me like a horny teenager." Jennie pursed her lips at that and ran a hand through her slightly tousled hair. She stepped into the shower where Y/n already was, closing the glass door and getting under the steaming water that was pouring down on them. "What if I don't? Or you could study tomorrow or any other day." She tried since she wanted to stay as long as possible since there was no telling when she would get to be with Y/n again. She wanted to get as much sex as possible in case the same problem occurred with another girl again. It could take anything from a day to a week. Jennie's arm would get sore.

"Fine."

"Good, I already ordered the food." She mumbled as she was starving after the sex with the succubus of a girl. Y/n rolled her eyes and Jennie grabbed hold of her hips, turning her around so she would face her. She pulled her closer and captured her wet lips with her own, the girl humming as she parted her lips for Jennie.

TAGSLIST! @yxlis @jisooftme @geeminz @lisas-earlobe @xszn @badasgff @badaspookie @hwm1hyun / taglist is open

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cillianmesoftlyyy · 1 year ago

Text

I Can Fix That... Pt. 2 | Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

author's note: I decided to make a pt. 2 purely for my own enjoyment, though I hope there are others out there as sadistic as myself. I finally watched the Batman trilogy and did research on DC fan pages to write this. It follows the plot of Nolan's DC adaptation so all characters mentioned (like Ra's Al Ghul) are from the comics and movies.

Summary| She gave into Crane because she needed to survive, at least that's what she's tried to tell herself, but there was something about this man that just felt so painfully... right. Now Crane has a proposition and he doesn't intend to take no for an answer because he's starting to like her -- uh oh-- too much. Where will their new agreement lead them when Gotham devolves into chaos?

Warnings| Based on an DC action movie- drugging, slut shaming, fear and terror, dubious kidnapping, restraints, drugs, physical violence, spitting, toxic relationship, mentions of a gun, chaos, and needles. I know- it's a lot.

word count: 8596k (lol oopsies?)

Wires- The Neighborhood 🎶

Where did you sleep last night- Iridium, Salazar, Liam Marks 🎵

Caesar on a TV Screen- The Last Dinner Party 🎶

The detective nodded her head, surprised that she’d so easily forgotten her plan. Dr. Crane sniffed and spun his set of keys around his finger casually.

“Now the best thing about being the creator of my fear serum,” he started, moving to the shelf of vials he had previously sorted, “is that I have an endless supply and every opportunity to use it whenever I want.” She could hear him smile but she could no longer see him. Crane admittedly liked the girl and he’d fucked her as a minor pivot in his original plan for the night. Now, it was time for business. He pulled a dish of powder from a locked drawer and hid it away from sight as he crossed back into the girl’s view. “You may think you understand what my serum can do, but you’ll never truly know until you try it.” She furrowed her brow and shook her head, wishing that she could back away from him but she couldn’t move. He changed the subject swiftly, not giving her a moment.

“I applaud you for your performance tonight. I was more than willing to humor you and of course, your present state did you many favors. I like my women tied down…” he joked and chuckled darkly. “But now, we need to get practical.” He removed his glasses and folded them slowly. He slipped them into his breast pocket. “You know too much, Miss —, and we both know that your current allegiance to your job would prioritize a crude sense of justice over your affection for me. We can’t have that, can we? So, I’d like to propose a solution or a treatment of sorts.” He clenched his jaw, angling his head down so that he was looking up at her through his eyelashes. “You’ve already proven to yourself tonight that the mind has complete control over the body. Desire rules judgment… and I want to rule you.” He smiled darkly. Before she could speak, powder was thrown into her face, blocking every orifice with a sickening gas.

The anxiety was immediate. She saw strange creatures approach her from all sides, poking and prodding her with dirty nails. She saw the walls leak a disgusting fluid, like blood and fecal matter and it spilled over the floor. People sorted through the liquid for scraps, children screamed and cried around her. She’d been one of those children, raised in an orphanage because her parents couldn’t afford to keep her. Strange men swarmed the children, offering toxic treats and money for favors which the children shied away from. She screamed, pulling at her restraints as she tried to fight off the assailants. She shook her head violently side to side, and she screamed involuntarily with raw terror at what she saw. In the midst of a nightmare of Gotham’s poverty and dark underbelly, Dr. Jonathan Crane stood calmly before her. He watched her, his arms crossed against his chest. He cocked his head to the side.

“What do you see,” he asked calmly. She turned her attention to him like he was a beacon of light in a horrible storm.

“Jonathan, help me!” She cried.

“Tell me what you see,” he said again and clucked his tongue to calm her. She looked around again at the people she saw, rummaging through mountains of trash.

“Horrible… horrible poverty. The things… the things I saw as a child. People starving, children crying…” she whimpered. Rats scrambled across her body and she screamed again, shaking against the table. “Jonathan, please!” She called for him and he waded towards her, oblivious to the horror around him. He stood above her and stroked her face. He removed the restraints from her waist and her wrists and helped her sit up. The things she saw darted out of her peripheral vision, distorted now and hard to understand. She couldn’t run because she couldn’t tell where she was anymore, where her body was in relation to her perspective. Did she even still have a body?

Dr. Crane grunted as he helped her off the table and held her up beside him. She fainted in his arms and he carried her out of the secondary lab into the corridor. He punched the elevator’s call button with his free hand and dragged her inside. As the large steel doors closed, he fished for his cellphone in his pocket and called his driver, telling him to meet him outside the hospital immediately. Crane hushed her, gently patting her head though she was still unconscious. The elevator dropped them at the floor she’d entered on originally and Crane carried her to the side door, ignoring the looks the night attendants gave the strange couple. A sleek black car waited outside in the alley, the engine running and dispelling smoky exhaust into the air around them. Crane opened the car door and helped her inside, smirking at the security guard at the door.

“Our meeting was successful, thank you officer.” He waved goodnight to the security guard who shifted awkwardly in his seat at the side door. Climbing in after her, Crane leaned over the console to speak with his driver.

“My apartment, please.” He gave the order sternly, even with the addition of the ‘please,’ and the driver nodded, speeding off into Gotham’s dark streets. His hand rested comfortably on her thigh as he watched her. She started to come to in the backseat, though the effects of the drug had still not worn off. Her breath was fast and she leaned deliriously into Crane’s shoulder, seeking protection from what she saw outside the tinted windows. She was so afraid that she felt safer in the arms of the man that had drugged her, and it would take hours to realize that, but by the time she did, the psychological effects would have already taken root.

The car stopped outside of a dark apartment building in one of the only nice parts of town in Gotham city. It was raining as he helped her back out of the car and into the large lobby of his apartment building. She clung to his arm as he led her into an elevator, playing a soft melody that sounded like shrill screams to her intoxicated mind. As the elevator doors opened, effects of the drug began to wane though her heartbeat was still racing. She looked up at Crane’s sharp jaw and how he clenched it as he opened the door to his apartment and pushed her gently inside.

“I pay my people extra to turn a blind eye to everything that I do. I understand these circumstances appear even more nefarious, being that I have admittedly drugged you and brought you to my apartment. What can I say, I’m a bad feminist.” He smiled darkly and locked the door.

“When do I stop seeing… these things?” She collapsed into a chair behind her and cradled her head in her hands.

“The effects will be gone in an hour,” he responded coolly and switched on some of the lights in his modern apartment. The apartment was two stories with a spiral staircase and an elevator that led to the upstairs. She looked around, trying her best to ignore the hallucinations and study the actual apartment itself.

“You’ll be disappointed to know that I don’t have a lab here, it’s against the building’s codes. I spend very little time here actually, I’m always at Arkham or dealing with detectives… like you. I’m a busy man. Like I already told you, I have plans to ‘treat’ Falcone tomorrow so I’ll need that room free. This is the next best option and I think you’ll find it more comfortable in comparison.” He smirked and flicked a switch, immediately two restraints looped tightly around her wrists, emerging from a panel in the arms of the chair that she hadn’t noticed. Second restraints looped around her ankles, reminding her as her ankles were spread apart that he had removed her underwear. She turned her knees inward, hiding her crotch and scoffing with frustration.

“Again?” She groaned and pulled at the strong leather material holding her to the chair.

“You sound disappointed,” Crane observed with a small smirk. “It’s only temporary. I didn’t get a chance to question you back at the lab, so we’ll do that here.” He gestured to his empty apartment and started to walk toward her slowly. His lips curled cruelly as he looked her up and down, strapped to the chair. “So tell me, what do you know?” He whispered and she stopped struggling for a moment. She still felt jumpy and nervous but having him so close relieved some of those feelings. The effects of the drug wore off more but the underlying sense of anxiety and loss of control prompted her to answer honestly.

I know that you are trying to make a powerful drug that mimics fear and so far, you’ve put it in a powder form. It works when ingested in some ways and immediately elicits a response that incapacitates the victim. You want to use it widely, to control Gotham…”

“Right, what else.” He leaned on the arms of the chair, his hands grasped around her wrists.

“You don’t work for Falcone but you work with someone else. You’ve just been using Falcone’s drug operation to move your own prototypes of the fear serum. You want to be in charge and you know that fear can do whatever you want it to. The mind controls the body,” she recalled a sentence that he had used before he had thrown the powder in her face. “You’re also somehow connected to the missing micro-wave emmitter. I don’t know why but it may help you in some way, how?” She was breathing heavily like she was going to fall asleep.

“Good work, detective.”

“What are you using the micro-wave emitter for?” She asked. He chuckled and removed his hands from her wrists, backing up. He approached a small liquor cart and poured himself a drink, straight gin. She continued as he drank.

“Who are you working with and how do you expect to control Gotham when everyone loses their minds?” She could barely contain her voice, anger and confusion rose into her throat like bile.

“So many questions…” he swallowed and set down his glass, turning back to her slowly. “Aren’t you supposed to figure that out for yourself?” He raised his eyebrow.

“The mirco-wave emitter would dry out any water supply that it comes into contact with. Wouldn’t it be easier to poison the water supply, you would reach more people… unless it doesn’t have the same effect when administered in water.” She looked up at him but his face was hard. “That’s why you’ve been using it in a powder, it only works in a powder form. If you dry up the water supply and release the powder into the air, there isn’t a way to combat the effects, is there?”

Crane smiled and nodded slowly, “right again.”

“How can you control people who have lost their minds on the serum? You can’t control chaos.” She furrowed her brow and leaned forward, questioning him. Crane cocked his head and studied her for a moment, noticing the last traces of the fear serum leaving her body.

“Control has many forms, Y/N. The chaos that will come from my serum is planned, its existence is strategically executed.”

“But why are you doing this?”

“I love it when you get flustered,” he chuckled darkly at her and licked his lips, his eyes rolling before returning to her face. “It’s not just me, I work for a large organization that has been responsible for all historical catastrophes throughout history. We deal in balance, balanced chaos. They hired me because I can control fear, I know how to use it and weaponize it. Gotham needs to be balanced and it cannot be balanced without it first destroying itself. Create a closed environment with the population’s problems and confront them with chaos, the balance will soon be restored.”

“Who do you work for?” She whispered, her eyes wide.

“Don’t you mean, who do we work for?” He crouched at her feet and placed his hands on her thighs. He smiled crazily up at her and she leaned away from him.

“What?” She whispered.

“I work for the League of Shadows, and now, so do you.” He dug his finger into the soft bottom of her chin and pushed her head up so that she could see the second floor more clearly.

Standing at the rail were men clad in dark armor. One man stood out from the rest. He wore a black suit and carried a gold-tipped cane. He had long whiskers of gray hair like a mustache and steady cool eyes, deadlier than Crane’s.

“Good work, Dr. Crane.” The man kept his focus on her and her blood went cold. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Miss —. We’ve heard so much about you and of course, you’re the one that has caused us so much trouble!” He laughed sarcastically and descended the spiral staircase.

“Who are you?” She growled.

“Ra’s Al Ghul,” he smiled and the wrinkles on his face creased, pulling against his eyes. “I see you’ve already become acquainted with Dr. Crane, our very own criminal mastermind.”

“You’re too kind,” Crane smarted back, watching the girl’s face as she tried to take in all of the new information.

“Now, I have a job proposition to offer you, Miss —. You seem to have figured most of our plan out but I don’t think you understand the complexity of our organization. You see, the League of Shadows is an ancient organization that has balanced the harmony of every major city in the world since the beginning of time. Gotham has gone bad, to the point of no return. Your ‘Batman’ as you call him can’t reverse what has been brewing for years. He never saw what you did, how the people of Gotham live in filth and poverty while the elite few enjoy the spoils. This city needs to be reborn, it needs chaos to restore the balance.”

“But wouldn’t you be killing thousands of innocent people?” She interjected and Al Ghul shrugged slightly.

“Nobody’s innocent,” he answered quickly and then inhaled, clarifying, “Anyway, that’s not what we want to do here. If we take control of the city and hold it for ransom, we can work out a deal to replace the crooked government with some of our people. I’m offering you a role alongside my people. You’re smart, all that evidence you collected against Crane- none of the senior officers could have held a match to it. We destroyed it of course, as soon as Crane told us about your little visit.” She looked past Al Ghul to Crane who leaned against the wall calmly. Had they destroyed the copies? How could she be sure that they were telling the truth? “The box of evidence you had put aside for Sgt. Gordon was the hardest to find but we found it. What made you suspect Dr. Crane? Was it a gut instinct?” He drew on before she interrupted him.

“You want me to help you kill people?” She furrowed her brow and nearly laughed in disbelief.

“We want your help to save Gotham from itself and establish a new and better government.” He corrected, fixing his posture. Crane watched her closely and spoke up from the back of the room.

“She’ll do it,” he answered and she opened her mouth to interject but his smirk silenced her. “She’ll do it because whether or not she wants to admit it, Miss —, is like us.” Crane reached into his breast pocket and removed his glasses. He cleaned the panels with a dish towel and pushed them onto his nose. She looked between Crane and Al Ghul, her heart beating quickly in her chest.

“Will you join us, will you help us save Gotham?” Ra’s Al Ghul placed both of his hands on top of his walking stick and shifted his weight evenly between his feet. Crane folded his arms across his chest and cocked his head to the side, a knowing smile played on his wide pink lips. Her decision surprised her but the serum had already changed her chemistry, Crane had revealed her true self to herself and there was only one choice left.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Crane nodded, “good girl.”

iii

She was released from her restraints and she rubbed her wrists where the leather marked them. Ra’s Al Ghul snapped his fingers and a map was rolled out on Crane’s dining room table. The map was of the entire city of Gotham, showing the sewer and water lines. They explained the plan, showing her where the micro-wave emitter would be placed in the city and how it would be moved through each neighborhood.

“What about the police?” She asked and gestured to the map of the city. Crane laughed and shook his head.

“You were the only cop that suspected this, the rest will have no idea until it's already started. The person we really need to worry about is Batman,” he ran his fingers through his hair and glanced up at Al Ghul, “luckily for him, an old friend is coming by to visit.” Al Ghul nodded and smiled kindly at her.

“Batman and I go way back. I’ll take care of him.”

“What am I supposed to do?” She asked, her arms crossed beneath her breasts. Crane caught himself staring and cleared his throat.

“You’ll help me with the production of the powder, ensuring that your cop friends don’t figure out too much and keeping Sgt. Gordon away from Arkham or leading him astray… anything,” Crane answered, setting his face as he spoke. She nodded.

Though they had asked her to join their efforts, they also obviously didn’t trust her completely. They wouldn’t tell her everything, she knew. Her night had gone in a completely different direction than how she had imagined it. Everything had changed after the fear serum, it had shown her that what she feared most had already happened. The police were corrupt, run by small-time gangsters and criminals and crime continued to run rampant as the state lost more and more money, forcing social service organizations to close and more families out on the streets. This whole time she thought that the police could solve the problem but they only caused it. Crane was right, she was like him and she would do anything she could to change the city. After the meeting, Crane poured her a drink and dissolved a packet of powder into the liquor. He stirred it in front of her and Al Ghul before sliding it across the table’s surface.

“This will put you to sleep for a few hours, twelve at most. It’s only a precaution to make sure that you have truly promised your allegiance to us. Everything that you say will be monitored from this point on.”

“Everything?” She looked at Crane who clenched his jaw, a faint tease of blush spread on his cheeks.

“Everything. Do as we say and follow our rules and you stay alive,” Crane finished and tapped the rim of the glass. “Now drink.”

“How do I know that you aren’t just poisoning me?” She asked the men around her.

“We’re learning to trust each other, but you have to go first.” He smiled and when Al Ghul said nothing, she took the glass and drank it slowly. The last thing she saw were Crane’s eyes, set perfectly on her.

She was conscious enough to set her glass down before falling back onto the couch. Crane approached her quickly and checked her pulse, monitoring her reaction to the drug.

“Did it work?” Ra’s Al Ghul asked behind him and he nodded.

“Yes, she’s out. Because of all the drugs in her system already, this one may take longer to wear off.”

“All the other drugs?” Al Ghul raised his eyebrow and Crane chuckled.

“I couldn’t help myself and besides,” he turned to Al Ghul, “you wanted her alive.”

“I’m not convinced that we can trust her,” Al Ghul shook his head and pointed at the map for his men to clean up.

“Oh, I’ll make sure we can.”

“With your mind tricks?” Al Ghul teased and Crane sighed, rolling his beautiful eyes.

“Don’t insult me, Ra’s. I know what I’m doing.” He warned the man calmly and nodded to the men. Two men helped carry her body as Crane led them back down the elevator into the lobby which was deserted at that time in the early morning. They climbed into Crane’s waiting car and pulled away from the curb. The girl’s body was limp against the seat and Crane resisted the urge to stare at her, fascinated by her sleeping body. The men carried her up to her apartment on the third floor of a small walkup. Crane rummaged through her coat pockets for the key into her apartment and unlocked the door.

Her apartment was small and cozy, furnished with minimal couches and chairs. Books and art decorated the walls. Crane pushed through the door and directed the men to lie her down in her bedroom, the small room off of the main living area. They men looked back at him expectantly as he stood by the doorway, watching her sleep. He rolled his eyes and shooed them away. What did they think he was going to do? He’d already fucked her. Alone in her apartment, he stood by her bed and stroked her cheek. She slept on, engulfed by unconscious darkness. He leaned over her slowly and grasped her throat gently, exhaling across her face. He said nothing but looked her up and down and smirked, pleased at the sight of her. He’d won another spoil: her.

She woke up in her bed, twisted in the sheets as if she had been restless all night. She was sweaty and hot, the air stuffy around her. Crane and Al Ghul were nowhere to be seen. She checked her watch and hurried out of bed, stripping off her clothes from the night before and into black trousers and a dark blue sweater. She stumbled into the living room and wound her hair up into a claw clip, moving towards the door when a voice startled her.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Dr. Crane spoke from the couch. He was in a fresh suit and looked well-rested. He was taking notes in a file on Falcone, his briefcase sat on the coffee table in front of him. She jumped, gasping from shock.

“Jesus Christ, what are you doing here?”

“I was waiting for you to wake up. We have work to do today. That bitch at the DA’s office wants to speak with me. I'm supposed to meet with her this afternoon. She’s questioning Falcone’s transfer.”

“I ordered the transfer after you did Falcone’s interview, maybe I could meet with her instead.”

“No, I need you to take this file to the judge on Falcone’s case. I can handle her questions.” He stood and held out Falcone’s file. “I already gave my statement at the hearing but this file will confirm my medical opinion, hopefully that will get her off my back.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Do you think Falcone will talk if she speaks with him?”

“Possibly,” he bent his head side to side and shrugged, “but we aren’t going to find out. Let’s go,” he snapped his briefcase closed and made for the front door. She glanced from the couch to her bedroom.

“Were you watching me all night?” She flushed angrily and followed him. He closed the door suddenly and spun her around, forcing her back against the front door.

“I can only say this once because they aren’t listening now but as soon as we get in the car, they’ll be monitoring you. I am keeping you alive, Miss —. I will do everything in my power to keep you alive but the second you step away from me, you’re on your own. I know we have an understanding so believe me when I say that I would prefer very much if you didn’t die. Follow my directions because they’re following you.” He said in a harsh whisper, a strand of hair falling into his face. They stared at each other in silence, exchanging breath when he kissed her harshly. She wrapped her arms around his neck and moaned softly against his lips. He bucked into her hips and she gasped softly against his jaw. And just as quickly, he pulled away, breathing heavily and led her out the door and down the stairs into the waiting car.

“I’ll need my gun back,” she pointed out as they settled on the backseat. Crane sighed, unbuttoning his suit jacket. He opened a small compartment in the car door and retrieved her gun. As he held it out, he took her jaw in his other hand, his thumb pressing into her fleshy cheek.

“This is where that trust would come in handy, detective.” He whispered darkly. She looked at his lips and then up to his eyes, speechless around him. He watched her struggle for words and chuckled, handing her the gun. “Be careful, Y/N, and remember Ra’s plan.” He looked at her lips and sniffed, slapping the roof of the car. “This is her stop.”

She met with the judge who oversaw Falcone’s case and gave him the thick folder. He looked at it briefly before recognizing the information.

“I appreciate you coming out to speak to me about Falcone’s transfer to Arkham but I cleared everything with Ms. Dawes yesterday. She’s already scheduled a second psychiatrist to meet with Falcone first thing tomorrow morning. She mentioned that she’s also requested Dr. Crane’s case file. Has she seen this?” He waved the folder and she clicked her tongue, shocked that she had scheduled a second opinion and that Crane didn’t know about it.

“I’m not sure, sir. I was the detective working with the prosecution and I was the one who oversaw Dr. Crane’s examination and request for transfer. I can attest to Falcone's mood at the time as well. He screamed nonstop as Crane was trying to conduct a test of sanity. Anyway, I wanted to make sure that you saw Dr. Crane’s diagnosis in the aftermath of his transfer. This has updated notes that Dr. Crane shared with me. It might be useful in your deliberation.” She smiled and the judge looked down his nose at the folder.

“Good point. Thank you, detective. This is helpful.” He opened the folder on his desk and put on his rounded spectacles.

“Well now that we’ve spoken, I’ll try to catch Dawes and save her the trouble.” She pushed back her chair and brushed off her trousers.

“Miss —?” The judge called from his desk.

“Yes, sir?” She looked back.

“Dr. Crane has committed many of Falcone’s men to Arkham in the past few months, is that correct?”

“Yes,” she nodded and her heart raced.

“That must be a pretty crazy group.” The judge laughed and went back to the folder, completely missing the pattern. She sighed in relief and left quickly. She started to walk to Arkham, moving so quickly she felt like she may have been running. Dawes had already scheduled a second opinion, meaning that she was probably at Arkham pressuring Crane for his detailed diagnosis. It would take Dawes one second to figure it out so she hoped she could get there quickly enough to do something. She had no plan which she knew was stupid but whatever was bound to happen in the next few hours would be bad and she needed to help Crane. Her phone began to ring and she put it to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Y/N.”

“Ra’s?”

“Are you on your way to Arkham?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Turn around and go back to your precinct. I want you to stick close to Sgt. Gordon, go where he goes. You’re his top detective so run with it. If anything happens at Arkham, he’ll be there and I want you there with him. Crane will be fine.”

She slowed to a stop, skeptical but wanting to believe what her new boss was telling her, “ok, sir.”

After a second of silence, Ra’s added, “It’s Batman’s birthday and what better way to celebrate a playboy than with chaos?” The call ended before she could respond.

She spun around and headed straight for the precinct. She spotted Gordon at his desk, working on paperwork. She hurried over and knocked on the door, letting herself in when he waved.

“Good, I’m glad to see you. I need to run some ideas by you for the Falcone case.”

“I just dropped off Crane's diagnosis for the judge but he said that Dawes may be seeking a second opinion.”

“About that -” The intercom went off with a loud screech.

“Attention all units! Attention all units! Batman was spotted at Arkham Asylum. He is believed to be armed and dangerous. Backup is requested at this time.” The voice repeated with a robotic drone. Sgt. Gordon looked from the speaker to her and grabbed his coat from his chair.

“We need to get to the asylum right now.” Gordon yelled and she followed him closely, checking that her gun was still secured to her hip. She clipped her badge to her front pocket and pretended to sound confused.

“Why are we going, Sgt? Do you think this is about Falcone?”

“It might, I’d feel better if I was there to find out; and if Batman is there, someone’s in trouble.” They hurried down the stairs and climbed into a car. Gordon sped away from the precinct and ran red lights. The tires bled across the roads as they came to a screeching halt behind a row of police cars parked outside the Asylum.

“Why is everyone waiting outside?” She yelled over the noise. An officer standing with his gun aimed at the building yelled back.

“We’re waiting for backup!”

“They’ll be here soon, sir. We should wait!” She yelled over the noise at the Sgt.

Gordon looked up at the building and pulled his gun from his holster. He started moving towards the building, looking back to wave her on.

“I’m going in. You coming?” He called.

She groaned anxiously beneath her breath before responding, “yes, sir!” They raced up the stairs into the lobby which was left completely vacant. Gordon held up his gun and she followed suit, staying close behind him. She felt the urge to kill him now and find Crane but her gut warned her that someone else was in the room, watching. They walked slowly through the main corridor, past the abandoned security checkpoint, creeping closer to the wide atrium. When they stepped beneath the enormous domed ceiling a loud noise broke through the top of the building. She looked up and covered her face with her forearm to protect her eyes from large shards of falling glass. She saw a large dark blur surround Sgt. Gordon and pull him up to the roof.

“Sgt. Gordon!” She yelled after him. She knew immediately that the blur was that bastard Batman. A small laugh escaped her mouth as she shook her head and lowered her gun. A group of SWAT ran in seconds later. She pointed at the ceiling with her gun and called them over.

“He came down and took Sgt. Gordon!”

“Who?” Someone yelled at her and she shook her head, pretending to be unsure.

“I don’t know! I think it was Batman.” She yelled, adding to their panic.

“Batman!” Someone shouted and in the moment of distraction, she slipped away into a side corridor. She bolted towards a staircase and stopped at every floor, looking for signs of activity. Her body burned with soreness as she sprinted down each corridor. She wanted to scream his name but her lungs wouldn’t allow her the extra air to do so. She rounded a corner and ran into a group of police. They all started shouting at her until she showed them her badge.

“I’m a detective- What the hell is going on here?” She yelled.

“We’re looking for Dr. Crane!”

“Have you seen Sgt. Gordon?” She asked, panting and trying not to panic when they mentioned Crane’s name. “He disappeared and I've been looking for him.”

“No, we haven’t. We got a call that they found drugs in the building and then Batman showed up. Crane was running the operation.” One police officer responded and jerked their head to the side where they were going to run next. “It's down this corridor!”

“I’ll come with you,” she shouted and led the unit, her gun pointed at the ground. Two large doors were falling off their hinges further down the hallway. The room itself was smokey and gaseous. She looked down from the doorway where there were stairs leading into a cement lined room like an empty indoor pool. Tables were littered with Crane’s fear serum and men that she assumed were dead. Huge vats of liquid marked with a toxic symbol sat on their sides by an open waterline.

“This is it,” she said to the officer beside her and started to descend the staircase. The smoke made it hard to see so she moved slowly, looking around the floor for Crane’s familiar face. The men she saw were all part of Falcone’s posse who had been hired to help the drug operation run. Something snapped beneath her food and she looked down, seeing Crane’s scarecrow mask which she recognized from his drawing. She picked it up and looked around anxiously, her fingers around the gun shook. Then she saw him. Crane was propped up against a wall and bleeding slightly from the head, a thin trail of blood oozed on the wall behind his head. He was panting and flailing around, his pupils were mere penpoints. He’d been attacked with his own fear powder. She looked around before dropping into a crouch beside him. He recognized her but continued to shake, his eyes darting around her head.

“Jonathan,” she whispered, “it's me.”

“Did you find him?” Someone shouted and she yelled back that she had. He raised a judgemental eyebrow, his mouth forming a cuss word. His glasses were gone.

“Trust me, Crane.” She whispered against his ear and held his wrists together. She took her handcuffs from her belt and handcuffed him.

She leaned against the wall and tapped her foot anxiously as they strapped him into a white straightjacket. She crossed the room and helped the officer secure the last belt, thankful for any excuse to touch him and remind him that she was still there. Looking up at her, he spat and she flinched slightly. His light eyes were ringed with red swollen skin and she wondered if he really felt betrayed by her. She wiped his spit from her cheek and returned to her place by the wall.

“So this is the scarecrow,” Sgt. Gordon entered the room and let the door slam shut. Crane jumped from the noise and closed his eyes, taking a deep shaky breath.

“Scarecrow… scarecrow.” Crane whispered with his eyes closed and shifted within the straightjacket. Sgt. Gordon pulled up a chair, the metal scraping against the floor, bristling Crane into opening his eyes.

“What was the plan, Crane? How were you going to get the toxin into the air?” Gordon asked calmly and fingered the scarecrow mask. Her stomach turned watching Crane struggle to regain control over his mind. He shook and his eyes darted around the room, landing once or twice on her. She kept a straight face, giving no sign that she was terrified that something would happen to him or she would accidentally reveal something about him that they didn’t already know. When Crane didn’t respond, Gordon continued, his voice rising.

“Who were you working for?” Gordon pressed and Crane’s eyes snapped to his, a crazy smile pulling at his lips.

“Oh, it’s too late. You can’t stop it now.” He spoke through shivers, cutting up his words. He smiled at the end and Gordon shook his head. He stood and shoved the mask into her hands.

“Here. Stay with Crane.” He growled and left the room, his footsteps echoing through the heavy steel door. She looked down at the mask in her hands and hid her smile. There was only one officer left in the room with them and she bit the inside of her cheek, trying to come up with a quick plan.

“Are there any officers outside?” She asked the cop by the door who peeked his head outside the door.

“No, ma’am.”

“Good,” she smiled and raised her gun when the door snapped behind him. “Then this should be easy.” She cocked the gun and cornered the officer. “Face the wall,” she ordered and when he turned, she hit him over the head with the butt of her pistol, knocking him unconscious. She quickly handcuffed him and checked outside one last time before running over to Crane. He was still recovering from the toxin, his face set in a deep frown. She began to free him from his restraints, glancing at the door every few seconds. His eyes stayed on her face and he kept muttering things below his breath. When she undid the last restraint he jumped up and it fell from around his shoulders to the floor. She started to smile when he lunged at her and pushed her up against the tiled wall. Her hair clip cracked against the tile and clattered to the floor in pieces. She gasped beneath his hands, one holding her throat and the other grabbing the slack in her sweater, exposing her navel.

“You betrayed me,” he growled, “you told Gordon... I saw you.” His eyes were wild and glazed, he looked right through her.

“What?” she gasped out though his hand was crushing her windpipe.

“I saw you two! You fucked him. You fucked him!” He yelled, his body shook with anger like he was coming down from an adrenaline high.

“No, I didn’t!” She struggled beneath his hands, “this is the toxin talking, Jonathan! I didn’t betray you-”

“But you fucked him,” his voice twisted into a heatbreaking whine, an image flicked before his eyes and he closed them quickly, shaking it from his head.

“No!” She coughed and she could feel herself getting light-headed.

“You love him,” his voice was breaking beneath him and his eyes darted between hers as the toxin showed him more and more; everything of which included her.

“Jonathan!” she screamed and hit his chest hard with closed fists, “I can’t fucking breathe!”

His eyes snapped open wider and he released his grip around her throat. Her feet landed on the ground and she coughed, sinking into a crouch against the wall. Crane stepped back and watched her silently. He was still shaking as he ran a hand anxiously through his hair.

“Why would I save you if I loved him?” She cried in frustration, rubbing her bruised throat. “It’s the toxin, Jonathan… I didn’t do the things you think I did,” her voice softened. She looked up at him and stood slowly, grabbing onto the wall for support. Crane cradled his head in his hands and whimpered.

“What do you see?” she asked quietly and stepped closer. He shook his head and created more distance between them. “Jonathan, tell me.” She pressed and he exhaled with a soft shutter.

“You… fuck,” he started through heavy breaths, working himself up again. “I see you and Gordon…” He rubbed his eyes and looked back up at her. “It’s been so long since…”

“Since what?” She furrowed her brow, questioning. His eyes darted away into the corner and he shook.

“Since my father last used it…” he took a deep breath and finished his sentence with a lengthy exhale, “on me.”

“The fear toxin?” She whispered, slowly starting to understand what he was suggesting. He nodded and flinched as if something had attacked him. Was he saying that his father used a prototype of the fear toxin on him? She grabbed onto the sleeve of his suit jacket and tugged his attention away.

“It’s just me. There’s no one else- nothing else in here except for me,” she gestured to the nearly empty room (the officer was still unconscious in the corner). “And I’m here for you,” she whispered and closed the distance between them, her hands slipped around his small waist beneath his suit jacket. She felt his body tense beneath her embrace before slowly (very slowly) releasing its tension. He didn’t hug her back but rested his forehead on her shoulder. She stroked his hair, and found the shallow wound on the back of his head. She ducked her head as she pulled away, finding his mouth and kissing him gently. The toxin was slowly wearing off and she could tell he was only beginning to return to his normal self.

“We need to get up to my office,” he muttered and looked at the door. “They’re releasing the patients.”

“What?” She furrowed her brow. Crane sighed and shook his head.

“Ra’s gave orders to open all of the cells. The patients will be let loose into the city.” He licked his lips and looked down at her. “We need to get upstairs.” His expression was tense as she could tell he was trying to fight the lingering effects of the toxin. She nodded.

“Show me where to go.”

He pulled her through the door and they ran down the corridor to an elevator. When the doors opened, Crane used his key to override the system, preventing anyone else from calling the elevator. He pressed the button for the floor with his office, not realizing that his other hand was squeezing tightly around hers. When the doors opened again, they rushed down the hallway and into Crane’s office. He sighed when the door was locked and the blinds closed.

“What are we going to do?” She asked him quietly and he inhaled slowly.

“I need to inject you with the antidote so the toxin doesn’t affect you when we leave the building.” He murmured, more to himself.

“We’re going out there?” She tried to keep the fear from her voice but he detected it instantly, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you scared?” He asked automatically.

“Of both of us dying out there at the hands of one of your old patients, yes, yes I am.” She nearly laughed.

“Don’t you want to be part of the fun?” The Jonathan Crane she knew was definitely coming back.

“I’d rather not become the ‘fun’,” she quipped and he smirked.

“As you wish.”

She followed him into his lab and he rummaged through a collection of vials arranged on one of the counters. Finding the right one, he slipped it inside a cartridge of what looked like an epipen.

“Pull down your pants,” he ordered and then it was her turn to raise her eyebrow. “Don’t look at me like that and do what I tell you,” he said sternly and she did as he asked, pulling down her trousers where he had access to her thigh. “This will hurt,” he warned her before immediately plunging the needle into the fat around her thigh. She hissed in pain and heaved out a breath.

“The good news is that you don’t have to ever do this again,” he patted her leg and buttoned her pants for her. “Now me,” he changed the vial and unbuckled his pants. He raised the hem of his boxers and punctured the needle into his upper thigh. He grunted in pain and closed his eyes for a moment and whistled out a tight breath. A large explosion shook the ground below their feet. She jumped and winced as she landed on her sore leg. Without opening his eyes, Crane nodded.

“And that would be the patients leaving the building now.” He withdrew the needle and tossed it to the side, buckling his pants.

“Let me see your head,” she touched his arm and he leaned forward slightly, turning his head where she could see it clearly. She carded her fingers through his dark hair and parted the dark roots away from the shallow wound. “It's a small cut, you’ll live.”

“Thanks, doctor.” He smirked. Her fingers shifted through his hair as he straightened and she tried not to look disappointed when they were no longer twirled around his black locks.

“Are you back now?” She looked up into his eyes, looking for trances of fear.

“I think so,” he responded and traced his index finger around the collar of her sweater. There were small bruises where his fingers had been when he forced her against the wall in his state of panic. “Was I terrible?” He whispered.

“Not more than usual,” she laughed lightly and covered his hand with hers. “I’m ok.” She insisted and he furrowed his eyebrows and licked his lips.

He was going to apologize, he was going to tell her how much he loved her and that was why he had reacted so strongly to the toxin, but the words died on his lips so instead he said, “We should leave before the city goes all the way under.”

“They’ll raise the bridges so no one can leave, it’s too late.”

Crane chuckled and leaned against the lab table behind him, his fingers grasping around the edge. “And once again, you severely underestimate me. Come on.”

“Get on,” Crane held the bridle and gestured for her to mount the large black steed.

“You’re kidding right?” She looked around at the burning city and then back to the police horse who’d lost its rider.

“I wish I was,” he sighed and tugged her closer by her waistband, “now giddy-up, Miss —.” He joked flatley and pushed her up onto the saddle. He hoisted himself up after her and sat in front, taking the reins in his hands. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed her thighs around the horse's stomach, holding on for dear life.

“Where the hell did you learn to ride a horse?” She yelled over the panic and she felt him chuckle.

“Oh, there are a lot of things that you don’t know about me, detective.” He smirked and kicked the horse into action. She gasped and held him tighter as they flew through the violence-strewn streets. She couldn’t imagine how ridiculous they looked to the people of Gotham but under the influence of the fear toxin, she hoped people were more afraid than amused seeing a man in a full suit riding a horse. Crane focused on the route ahead, navigating them through the broken city.

“Where’s Ra’s?” She yelled into his ear.

“Forget about him.” He growled and urged the horse faster.

“Why? What happened?”

“He tricked me. He didn't just want to impose an arguably better government, he wanted to kill everyone and to kill us too. He tipped off Batman and that’s how Batman found me. He didn't need me after the toxin had been released. He kept you away from me, didn’t he?” He called over his shoulder, leaping over a crashed car.

“Yes, he told me to go to the precinct instead when I tried to warn you about the DA.”

“He wanted Batman to find me and he assumed that you’d get stuck here after you followed Gordon. Two birds with one stone. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.” He growled and turned the horse onto a side-street and into an alley.

“Where are we going?” She asked, her grip tightening around Crane as she saw people screaming in the streets.

“To my father’s house.”

“How?” His father’s house? After his father had probably done something horrible to him?

“Just hold on,” he warned and flicked the reins again. She closed her eyes, wanting to block out the terror in the streets. While some of it gave her pleasure to see the raw side of humanity express itself, it reminded her of what she had seen as a child- the side of people that came out when they needed to survive.

They rode to the edge of the city and Crane slowed the horse to a stop beside a tall building that looked abandoned. He hopped off of the horse and helped her down, catching her as she forced herself to slip over the saddle. The building was far enough away from the inner-city that it looked like it hadn’t been touched yet by the chaos, though the toxins had definitely reached it.

“We need to get to the roof,” he informed her calmly and pointed her to the elevator.

“Another elevator…” she whispered beneath her breath, knowing it wasn’t the right time to mention how much she hated the idea of going into one when the world around them was ending. Crane pressed the button labeled “20R,” and the elevator began to soar up. The elevator had windows that opened into the city. As the elevator climbed, they could see the destruction of Gotham and right across the bridge, normalcy.

“Ra’s is moving the micro-wave emitter by the high speed rail. If his plan goes accordingly, the emitter will poison the other side of the city beneath Wayne tower.” He pointed out the tall Wayne building from their vantage point. “I hate Gotham and I hate Batman, but I think I hate Ra’s Al Ghul more.” He sneered distastefully. “We could have run Gotham…” he sighed and shrugged, “maybe another day.”

She couldn’t help herself but laugh. Being with Crane had opened her eyes to a new side of herself, one that was dark and masochistic. She liked this side better, way better. She liked thinking that one day she could be in charge, force out all of the government officials that were too dumb or sexist to listen to her. She could lead beside Crane…

When the elevator doors opened a gust of wind met them. The doors opened onto the roof of the huge building. A helicopter stood in the center of a large bull’s eye, its blades running in circles above their heads. Crane’s hair ruffled in the wind and he squinted his eyes against it. Her mouth fell open in shock and Crane chuckled at her reaction.

“That’s the funny thing about, trust, detective. I don’t believe in it,” he smirked and beckoned her to the helicopter’s doors.

“You planned this?” She yelled as he gestured her to climb onto the landing gear.

“Of course,” he smiled, "I always have a backup plan." Her mary janes slipped across the bars as she climbed and Crane supported her back, guiding her back into the body of the machine. He pulled himself inside after her and collapsed in one of the seats. She tried to orient herself, looking around the small helicopter, landing on the pilot. The pilot nodded at Crane, he was wearing a thick mask and goggles to keep the toxin away.

“Ready doctor?” The pilot called from the front and Crane nodded breathlessly. He looked at her and clenched his jaw, returning to the version of Crane she knew so well.

“Yes.”

#cillian murphy #fanfiction #cillian fanfic #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane fanfic #jonathan crane #dc scarecrow #hot scarecrow #young cillian murphy #cillian fluff #robert fischer #batman begins #long reads #multi chap fic #cillian x fem!reader

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yanderes-galore · 11 months ago

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I have brainrot and must get out another HOTD fic. NOT PROOFREAD, I WAS COOKING WITH THIS. THIS IS AN ADULT AEGON II FIC, WHICH MEANS IT MENTIONS PLOT POINTS FROM THE BOOKS.

Spoilers For HOTD and Fire & Blood

A short story based on this idea I had.

Baptism By Fire

Yandere! Aegon II Targaryen Short

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Mentions of intimacy, General Mature Content Warning (This is HOTD/F&B so-) Obsession, Murder, Violence, Possessive behavior, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Adultery, Consensual turned Forced relationship.

Aegon never liked his older half-sister. In his eyes Rhaenyra was a usurper to the throne. In his younger years he never liked the thought of being king... but now, as an older man, he has grown into such a role.

Since he was a young boy, Aegon had always had his fill of pleasures. However, he did have one true love... which was surprisingly not his wife, Helaena. A maid that served his elder half-sister, you....

You were Rhaenyra's personal handmaid. You were around his age, a maid who came from a family of servants. Originally you were just another target of his unusually insatiable libido.

However, Aegon felt he could cast aside his responsibilities with you. In you he found companionship he wasn't expecting. It wasn't just when he had you in his chambers... it was whenever you were around.

Your "relationship" was kept secret from both his mother and elder-sister. He had a feeling they'd both hate him if he admitted to growing fond of you. As a result of your nights together Aegon always had Moon Tea prepared to hide the "evidence".

Aegon always felt you reciprocated his advances. Up until he was married he saw you as at least a friend, if not lover. However, all good things must come to an end.

Reluctantly he was forced onto the throne as the event known as the Dance of The Dragons began to culminate. Ever loyal to Rhaenyra, you stayed her handmaid. An action Aegon found resentment towards....

Aegon had Helaena to give him heirs, but he didn't particularly enjoy it. Aegon always found himself lusting over other women instead. Oddly his choices often resembled you.

As king during the Targaryen Civil War, it was expected he'd go through many hardships. Even with his golden mount, Sunfyre, by his side... The Blacks still proved to be formidable opponents. He still hated the idea of you being loyal to them... even after everything you shared together.

Aegon's thoughts about you never left his mind. Helaena was not blind to the infatuation in Aegon's eyes. The king, even as a fully fledged adult now, still thought of you. Fate had been cruel... and kept getting crueler.

Aegon wondered if he'd even see you again. Throughout his time as king he had witnessed, assassinations, and the death of his children. He suffers all while you tend to Rhaenyra and Daemon.

He finds himself yearning for you.

His hate for The Blacks grows when he fights Rhaenys. Upon dragon back he was struck down, Sunfyre unable to win against Rhaenys' mount, Meleys. As a result he was left burned and twisted.

By the time the king reunites with you, his face and body are marred. He feels mixed feelings when he sees you stand beside Rhaenyra during the attack on Dragonstone. Even more so when he sees you with Rhaenyra's son behind you.

Aegon feels no remorse when he orders guards to pull you and Rhaenyra's son away. He doesn't give a damn when he orders Sunfyre to sear and consume the false queen. That woman has taken enough from him.

Her death brings a grin to his face.

You're all his.

While many suggested he kill Aegon The Younger, the king turns down such suggestions. The boy, and you, already seemed traumatized enough. Instead he takes the boy prisoner.

Which makes you his new handmaid.

You didn't dare look at him after that. You looked so broken after seeing the death of Rhaenyra, your queen. The Dance of Dragons was not quite done, as resistance still brewed within Black supporters.

However, Aegon could care less currently.

He spared the boy partially for you. He may look different now... but his infatuation for you never left. You stare at his burned and scarred face in fear.

Despite such fear he finds himself embracing you. He struggled to walk and is nowhere close to how he was when he was younger. Even just in his 20's he looks like he's seen hell.

You don't move in his grip. He merely holds you tighter against him. He has waited a long time to have you again.

You still look just as beautiful as the last time he's seen you, a young woman in your 20's who hasn't been through war.

He still wishes to kiss you and share that much affection and intimacy with you. Yet, he settles with easing you into it with a kiss on your forehead. He even tries to cultivate the old feelings you had with advances... even allowing you to visit Aegon the Younger.

Your relationship may not be like it was before... it may never be...

But Aegon is determined.

He has you all to himself now... in his eyes he's won....

The war isn't over, many still support the prince he keeps prisoner. But for now he'd like to ignore all the warfare. He's tired of the fighting...

All he needs is you now...

With you in his arms... he'll take on whatever they throw at him.

He doesn't care if he dies now... as long as he has you by his side during it.

#yandere house of the dragon #yandere a song of ice and fire #yandere fire and blood #yandere westeros #yandere aegon II targaryen #yandere aegon targaryen

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moriwood · 1 year ago

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One More Shot — l.hs

lee heeseung x male reader angst (heavy?) 1k words

Your best friend Heeseung bursts into your apartment with soju after breaking up with his nth girlfriend of the year. A few bottles later, the true meaning of your relationship with him is put into question.

includes: drinking and crying, bros being homos(?), cringy dramatic lines warning: toxic relationships, blood and violence? (very very minor, like 2 sentences max)

“Get in,” you sigh, beckoning your best friend Heeseung into your apartment. In his hands were heavy plastic bags, one full of liquor and the other snacks. He trudges past you, dropping himself and his items on your couch before staring at you wistfully.

“She broke up with me,” he hesitates, “said I had someone else in my mind or something, whatever excuse that was.”

You lean against the doorframe. “Well, do you?”

Heeseung scrunches his face in disgust. “No, dude. I suck at relationships but I don’t cheat.”

You take the bags from him and set the bottles of Yakult and soju on your coffee table. “The Yakult’s for you, wimp,” Heeseung weakly smiles.

“What’s up then?” you mumble, opening two bottles of soju. Heeseung immediately grabs a bottle and chugs it down.

“That bad?” you ask. “Three weeks of that girl got you that bad?”

Heeseung laughs.

“Exactly, dude! Three weeks, fucking three weeks. I can’t make these relationships last.”

You wish you knew. Heeseung has practically thrown himself to any woman who showed him interest for the past year, and a delusional version of you would love to link this phenomenon to something that you said a year ago.

It’s not like Heeseung is a bad guy, he really isn’t. He’s a romanticist, he likes bouquets of flowers, the arm around the shoulder, the subtle kisses to the nape… A part of you wishes you could’ve been one of the dozen women instead, but you knew where your place was.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Heeseung,” you chuckle, “it’s not like I’ve dated anyone yet.”

You grab yourself a bottle of soju, taking a glance at the pack of Yakult to the side. Maybe not tonight. You could drink soju by itself anyway, you think.

“No Yakult? ‘Lil bro trying to man up?”

You shrug. Heeseung stares at you oddly before grabbing another bottle to drink. The two of you sit in silence, trading snacks in between sips of soju. You’ve always been satisfied with this ritual of yours with him, just the warmth between the two of you equating to a hundred unspoken sentences. Yet, this one feels different. The television’s off, no video games are being played, and there is an invisible wall dividing you from leaning on him. Heeseung is on edge, distant, as if holding back.

As you both drink the silence away, you slowly slip into a different space of inebriation.

“Sometimes, I wonder,” Heeseung seems to think over the next words in his mind, “why you’re still friends with me.”

So that’s what he really wanted to talk about.

“I don’t know,” you answered truthfully. You really don’t know.

“All these women come and go but you’re still here.”

“They were girlfriends. I’m your best friend,” you reason, hoping that it’s enough to cut the conversation off without delving into something else.

“But you liked me, didn’t you?”

Maybe Heeseung is actually not that good of a person. Perhaps, you’ve just gotten used to him, standing right there beside him, a fallback for when things go awry. A convenience store receipt crumples beneath your feet, reminding you that you sent him money for your drinks and snacks tonight.

“We don’t have to talk about that anymore, Heeseung,” you warn him, “it was a year ago.”

“It still hasn’t changed though, right?”

You open another bottle of soju for yourself but Heeseung only snatches it away. He chugs it all down again, before standing and clasping his clammy hands on your shoulders. He was pinning you down to your couch.

“Answer me.”

You close your eyes and breathe deeply. “What do you want me to say, Heeseung?”

“You know, she always felt off whenever you were with me. You hovered around us, clinging onto me like some fucking lost kid. God, I swear you’ve made this year so miserable for me.”

You’re trembling. Your room starts to stink of liquor as Heeseung continues to breathe down on you.

“Are you trying to blame me for you being a shitty boyfriend?” you whisper as you stare directly into his rage-filled eyes. Then you shove his hands away, standing up to meet his height.

“You shouldn't have said anything. You should’ve just kept it all to yourself. Now, my mind's all messed up. I don't know how to approach you, I don't know how to approach all of this bullshit!”

“I told you I'd understand if you wanted to end the friendship, Heeseung! I’m not the one who crawled back here weeks later pretending nothing happened,” you exasperate, accidentally knocking a bottle off the floor with your foot, causing it to shatter and spill over your wooden floor.

Heeseung attempts to pull you away from the shards but you push his hand away. He insists, shoving you to a dry side of your couch. He pins you again but now he rests his head on your shoulder.

“Fuck, it’s all coming out wrong,” Heeseung says under his breath, speech slightly slurred with drunkenness. The sleeve of your shirt gets wet as Heeseung begins to sob.

“I should’ve given you the chance,” he finally says. “I shouldn’t have rejected you back then.”

Your hands find their way to Heeseung’s back, attempting to soothe him as he slowly embraces you tightly.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeats between hiccups. “It was so hard for me to admit it but I think I like you too.”

The thought has been prodding at the back of your head since that moment from a year ago, that there must be a reason why Heeseung chose to remain friends with you despite your confession. There must be a reason why there became a palpable tension between the two of you each time you met since then. You’re giddy with the feeling of your repressed feelings finally being reciprocated, and the liquor in your system only rouses you further.

“I’m not too late, am I?”

You feel pain spike up your leg, noticing a slit on your foot bleeding, mixing with the spilled soju. Let the brain run later as the heart decides to beat what it wants.

“No, you’re not, Heeseung, you’re not. You’re right on time.”

author's note: this is my first fic! very new to this platform (in terms of posting) so please be gentle if it sucks jk. feels like i could flesh this out more ngl aioksaozkasd i decided to start posting cuz of my friend hehet~ now somebody please tell me what to do next 💀 (sorry for rambling)

— moriwood.

#enhypen x male reader #kpop x male reader #kpop x reader #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #lee heesung x reader #lee heeseung x male reader #angst #heavy angst #flash fiction #mori fics

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mayajadewrites · 9 months ago

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Sweet Secret (Levi Ackerman x Reader)

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x F! Reader CEO Levi Ackerman coming in hot. I've been wanting to write a CEO Levi/Sugar daddy Levi story for a hot minute. Enjoy! Story Summary: You needed a job. Ackerman Inc was hiring for an in house assistant for none other than the CEO: Levi Ackerman. He's known to be essentially the worst to work with, you decide to take the job and take on the challenge that is Levi Ackerman. Will your relationship remain professional, or will their be monetary value added to the stakes? Or possibly even... love? ao3 Chapter Seventeen: Warmth

The smell of your vanilla shampoo fills Levi's nostrils as he takes a deep breath. Your hair was wet, sticking to your skin as it stretched down your back.

"Stay." Your voice is soft enough to comfort Levi's everlasting mental wounds. You would never know, but the way you speak soothes Levi's soul. He came from a place of violence, poverty, and loneliness that left his body with invisible scars. He was always alone.

Always.

Until you.

After you changed into your pajama set, your smooth skin rubbing against the fabric of your tank top and shorts. "Can you be honest with me about something?" You take a step toward Levi, letting your chin tilt upwards towards his face.

Levi only nodded.

"You're not one to hold back anyways, so I don't know why I asked." You crossed your arms over your chest, all of your feelings bubbling to your head. You feel like your entire body is on fire whenever you look at Levi. The feelings have become too much to bear alone.

The past few days have shown you who Levi is, specifically who he is when he's with you. Your entire life seemingly shattered around you and there he was to pick up each and every piece and glue it all back together.

"Spit it out." Levi's voice interrupted your thoughts.

"Do you feel anything between us? Besides our... arrangement."

"Be more specific."

"When I'm with you, I feel like I can be myself. That I can let everything else go and only focus on you and I. You light a fire inside me. When I look at you, it's like theres a whole butterfly garden in my tummy that takes flight."

You watched Levi's eyes follow your movements as you spoke, his eyes blue-grey clouds and you would love to curl up on. Your eyes dragged down to his jawline, studying his chiseled face that was crafted by Renaissance artists. Your hands were screaming to touch him, but you restrained yourself.

"Mm." Levi stands up a little straighter as he peers at you through his half-lidded eyes.

"That's all you have to say?"

"You bring me... warmth." He finally spoke. You weren't sure what you were expecting him to say, but it definitely wasn't 'warmth'.

You raise your eyebrow as you wait for him to explain further, to which he sighed and shook his head. He didn't want to explain himself more because he didn't know how to put what he felt into words that were coherent.

"All my life, I've done everything alone. I wanted to be alone. Never having to rely on anyone, lean on anyone, nothing. Which is why I've never been good at relationships. The women I were interested in, well, I was sort of interested in - they weren't... right. It was like I was trying to succumb to what people were telling me to do. Erwin would tell me it's nice to have someone to come home to. I dated one woman, who I semi-enjoyed spending time with. It was more physical though. There was not really any mental connection which is very important to me. So that ended fast."

You stood and listened to Levi. Your large doe-like eyes watched his mouth as he spoke, making sure you understand every word that he's saying.

"When I met you, something inside of me changed. It was like I was a block of ice, and you were a small flame. I almost didn't want to acknowledge it was happening. Once I couldn't anymore, I brought up the 'arrangement'. I just wanted more of a reason to be near you. To feel your warmth."

You can't help but feel tears well up in your eyes. The melody of his words played through your ears - more of those butterflies being released in your tummy.

"I was serious when I said I want to be there for you through whatever you throw at me. Not as your boss, not as your sugar daddy, but as your man. As your partner."

Gulp.

"The way I feel about you... I've never felt for anyone. I want to create a home with you. I want you to be the mother of my children. I want life. With you." Levi's hands reached for yours. Finally. His touch. You let your hands mend to his as he holds your hands close to his lips, leaving kisses on your knuckles. You watched as his lips left your skin, hoping his touch would forever linger.

"I want you to be mine. I want to be yours."

You bring yourself closer to him as he speaks and wrap your arms around his body. You press your chin to his chest as you study the expression on his face.

"I've been yours, Levi. I tried to deny it so many times. I'm yours, unapologetically."

His Index finger finds your chin as he brings your face to his, eliminating all space between you with a kiss. It's slow, but filled with passion. You drag your fingertips along his body as you reach his neck, tracing shapes along his undercut.

Levi's tongue moves along your lower lip as he begs for entry, to which you oblige. His breath hitches when you open your mouth slightly, his hands squeezing your plush hips gently. Your skin starts to feel hot as his fingertips sneak into the elastic of your shorts, the pads of his fingers gently pressing against your skin.

You press your body into his as he touch leaves you feeling like you're on fire, the kisses almost fleeting. Levi brought his attention back to your lips, making sure he puts most of his effort there. Your lips were soft, like pillows that Levi always wanted to be on.

"Levi." You take a breath as your heart rate excellerates. "I need you."

"Tsk." Levi sucked his teeth. "You are so impatient. We're not making love for the first time like this."

"Are you saying all those other times weren't love?!" You say sarcastically, putting your hand on your chest. "I'm offended, Levi Ackerman."

"Shut up." He presses his lips to your temple. "Let's go to bed."

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi x reader #levi ackerman fanfic #attack on titan #levi ackerman smut #aot #levi ackerman attack on titan #levi ackerman x you

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asa-do-your-thing · 2 years ago

Note

Not me getting excited with your prospective fics, adding them like i'm carrying a shopping cart 💀😂

- Otto with a corruption kink finds out his object of desire is Married and has severe cognitive dissonance (this sounds so interesting)

- Criston x F Reader but ancient Greek mythology (i stan one problematic misogynist)

- Jace fucking reader in the rain (outdoors?!?! F yeah)

- Cregan tries to gift you a direwolf only to find out that the direwolf has separation anxiety (uwu time! 🥺)

Haha thank you for your enthusiasm! I cannot write all at once (so just keep an eye out for the rest ;) ) but here is your Gilf ficlet:

"My Marble Statue "

Otto Hightower x F! Reader - 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Sex/Smut, fellatio, fingering, big age gap, power imbalance, otto is the main character so automatic misogyny warning, implied violence, religion, abuse of power, dubcon, alcohol

Otto Hightower, the King’s Hand, was a man in his sixties, whose days were normally spent at court, advising the King and, essentially, ruling the country on his behalf. He had been appointed to his post for many years and was respected and feared by all who knew him.

At court, Otto was accustomed to being surrounded by beautiful ladies, draped in luxurious fabrics and vying for the Princes’ attention. Although he had grown used to life as a widower and taking a new bride had never truly been on his mind; most young women would seemingly resist his ideal of a perfect, modest and religious wife. But one day, Otto's gaze locked with that of an unfamiliar woman. She seemed to be of a lower station than the others, possibly a lady-in-waiting or courtier’s daughter. She was much younger than the other ladies, yet her features were aglow with an innocent beauty that left Otto utterly captivated.

He felt himself drawn to her, as if an unseen force were pulling him closer and closer. He watched with rapt attention as she moved around the court, her every movement bewitching in its grace and elegance. Her conversations were polite yet restrained, her eyes flitting quickly away whenever a man drew close to her. In the light of day, she stood in the sept like a marble statue - a beautiful image of piety and modesty. His breath caught as he noticed that her eyes were dark like coal, her hair even darker as it ran down her back like ink spilled from a quill. Every fiber of his being yearned for her, but she was beyond reach; it stirred something inside him - a fire that had been smoldering for ages, pulsing through every vein in his body until it all rushed at once to his loins and pressed urgently against the fabric of his breeches.

He felt the irresistible pull of attraction towards her as he saw her in court. He knew it was wrong—she was so young and innocent, and he was the King’s Hand sworn to serve justice with a calm impartiality. Yet despite knowing that their relationship would be difficult, if not impossible, Otto could not deny his hunger for her. The days that followed brought him more difficulty than ever before, as Otto found himself continually yearning for her and made every effort to speak with her without letting his desires take over. With each conversation, he did his best to keep his thoughts on virtuous matters, though he still noticed the curves of her body as she moved.

He was amazed at how quickly she seemed to take to him, and all too soon, his heart felt like it was taking flight. He had not expected to find himself in a situation such as this, but his feelings for her were too strong for him to ignore. He continued to fight against his feelings, knowing that he must remain a loyal subject to the King, but he could not deny the deep love and lust he felt for the woman he had only just met.

One night, after years of unspoken desire, Otto could no longer contain his urge to propose. Yet when he arrived at the young woman's chambers, he found her intoxicated with other ladies of the court. His heart was heavy as he swept her away from imminent danger and carried her into her bedroom, quickly dismissing the other young girls. The moment they entered, his breath was taken away by the room - a star-studded ceiling depicting heavenly scenes; walls adorned with tapestries of legendary battles and mythical creatures; a giant bed draped in velvet curtains of blue and green. Otto couldn't help but feel an undeniable tension between them as he set her on her feet with tenderness.

He was enthralled by her beauty, his heart racing as he took in every exquisite detail - from her porcelain skin that looked like polished ivory, to her lips that were like perfect rosebuds. "Thank you so much, Ser Otto...," she whispered sweetly and flashed him a small smile, before kicking off her slippers and laying down on the bed. All thoughts of proposing had been forgotten, replaced with an uncontrollable desire to take her right then and there. "May... may I help you with anything, my Lord?", she asked shyly, looking at him with the most tantalizing doe-eyed gaze he had ever seen.

Giving in to his primal urge, he stepped closer and grabbed her head between his hands, pulling her into a passionate kiss. "Lay down, I need you. I need your eyes to look at me like your sweetheart; I need your whispers to call out my name, I need you..." he growled hungrily, pushing up her dress to expose her pale hips which he kissed fervently, leaving thick red marks as evidence of his hunger.

Otto spread her trembling legs wider and hissed in pleasure as his fingers slid easily into her slick sweetness. He murmured into her mouth, "It seems you need me too...", his voice deep and urgent. With a steady rhythm his tongue explored her eager lips while his fingers stroked her deeper, faster. His breathing grew ragged as he savored every moan that escaped from her. "Gods, you are so tight...my innocent, beautiful girl," he murmured between desperate kisses, delighting in the way she melted for him.

He felt her powers pulling him in as she tugged him onto the bed, next to her. There was no hesitation, no room for doubt. "Otto, please don't stop.." She purred and enveloped him in a tight embrace. Quickly undoing his breeches, he nodded at her. "Strip down, my Lady, I must feast my eyes on your perfect body..."

With one fluid motion, the dress was off her shoulders and she lay flat on the bed beside him, being pulled inexorably towards his throbbing manhood. His voice quavered as he murmured in her ear "I need to feel your soft lips encase me." Unable to answer with words, he simply nodded as she tenderly took him into her hands and gazed up at him with searching eyes. "Can I?", she asked softly while tracing circles around his moist tip. Even now she was kind and humble...

In this moment, Otto felt like a god among gods. His body hummed with pleasure as the young woman beneath him looked up with wide eyes begging for more. He could feel her mouth around his manhood and the soft wetness of her tongue - he wanted to stay in this bliss forever. He tightened his grip on her head and deepened the penetration while she let out a loud moan that shivered through every inch of his aroused body. His pleasure surged and threatened to overwhelm him but he wouldn't give in just yet.

He tightly gripped her soft hips with his hands and dragged her body against his hard warmth. His eyes seared into her, smoldering with hunger as he breathed the words "Do you want me inside you?" against her lips. She shuddered in desire and nodded eagerly, arching herself up to meet him. With a deep guttural moan, Otto positioned himself between her quivering legs and thrust himself into her tightness. The pleasure was almost unbearable but they both felt it course through their veins as he slowly moved back and forth. His voice was low and commanding now: "Take me, my little dove, I know you can... Be good for me..."

From the moment he entered her, his instinctive desire drove him to move beyond what he thought was possible. Her warmth enveloped him, consuming his mind and shutting out everything else. The only thing that filled his being was her delicate scent and velvet skin, hearing her heavenly moans as she clung tightly to him with each thrust. As his climax grew closer, he knew he should have pulled away to release on the bed, but he could not resist the deep, quivering heat inside her. When his climax arrived, a loud cry of her name burst from him before he collapsed onto her exhausted body, trapping her beneath his own.

Having caught his breath, she gently pushed him to the side and quickly threw on her dress again and grinned. "Husband!", she called towards the other end of the room, where a small door opened and Larys Clubfoot emerged with an even larger smile. "Good evening, Ser Otto."

Otto's post-orgasmic haze quickly cleared as he saw her and Larys together, their hands intertwined with gleaming rings around each of their fingers. Though his mind was still slightly clouded from his encounter, Otto could not help but feel a huge wave of shame as the reality of what had happened sunk in. He had thought she was pure and innocent, but in the end it had been nothing more than a ploy by Larys to get something to hold against him in the future. It seemed she had indeed not been as naive as he'd thought, and this knowledge left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Larys continued smiling at him while the woman who had just moments ago taken his pleasure stood beside him with an air of satisfaction about her. "Congratulations wife, now let us hope that the King's Hand shall be more cautious about his decisions in the future", he said before nodding at Otto and turning away with her on his arm, disappearing again in the hidden caverns below King's Landing. Otto watched them leave, realizing too late that he should have known better than to even consider taking such risks - no matter how tempting they may be. "I shall hang you, you disgusting wretch! Behead you, Clubfoot!", he screamed and buried his face in his hands.

He remained rooted to the spot, his mind in a whirl and an ache in his heart. He had acted so rashly; he was paying the price for his foolishness now. His reputation was fractured, and there was no longer any chance of finding the kind of innocent love that he had always longed for - and yet here he was, feeling nothing but regret at the choices he had made.

Otto promised himself he would never look for love again. He wanted to focus on his own success and reputation, no matter the cost. As he walked away from the room, one thing was certain: what had already happened could not be changed. But despite this vow, thoughts of the mysterious woman lingered in his mind.

#otto hightower #otto hightower smut #hotd smut #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfiction #fanfiction #otto hightower x reader #hotd drabble #asas fics

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bijouxcarys · 2 months ago

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𝑻𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑩𝒊𝒏𝒅 (𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝑹𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒔 𝒙 𝑶𝑪) - 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑬𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏

Masterlist

Character Profiles/Face Claims

Playlist

A/N: This one's a little heavy, but I still hope you enjoy it. Please let me know your thoughts and whatnot, I love seeing what people think of my writing! Enjoy <3

CW/TW: mentions of child custody battles, violence towards women, manipulation, coercive and controlling behaviour, implications of weight control, overall angsty themes

Tags: @empressdede @thetribalqueen @heauxvibez @bigsimperika

@cyberdejos2 @keyaho @headoftheetable @jstarr86 @southerngirl41

@tshepisho @cry1nwhileimcumm1n @maeb99 @thedesireds @dzdndcnfsd

@expert-texpert @niknakbucks92 @sillyteecup @trentybenty @pittieprincess22

@electronicwitchsandwich @thefairywithboots

(If you want to be tagged in any future Roman fics, just let me know!)

“Aw, c’mon!”

Downstairs in Roman’s lavish living room, Solo, Sami, and Jimmy nestled themselves in various states of distraction, each navigating their own form of ferment. The air was dense, both with anticipation and the lingering tension that felt woven into every fabric and texture in Roman’s house. The murmured bass from the meeting upstairs—Roman’s voice mixed with Paul’s and some suited attorney—filtered faintly through the walls, a reminder of the newly acquired stress of a custody battle waging over Roman’s life.

Sami leaned forward, practically melting into the couch, his face taut with focus as he mashed buttons on the controller in his hands. Jimmy, sprawled next to him, was equally invested in the game—a chaotic CoD shootout.

The redhead whined as he took a bullet, fidgeting and glancing sideways at Jimmy with that hopeful glint in his eye. Eager to spark camaraderie, a look of “am I doing this right?” clear as day.

Jimmy smirked, not even glancing up. “Bro, you gotta quit playin’ like that, you gonna embarrass yourself. Roman seein’ this, he’d take your controller ‘n toss it in the trash.”

Solo sat across from them, one arm hanging lazily over the armrest, his other hand curling rhythmically around a dumbbell, lifting and lowering it with methodical precision. His gaze was fixed somewhere beyond the living room, his face shadowed, lips pressed together. The dull clink of iron punctuated the silence whenever the video game noises faded out.

But something in Solo’s stance was tense, like an overstrung bow, giving him away. Jimmy’s laugh drifted through the room, but Solo’s brooding presence anchored everything back down. It was as if he were a fortress of restrained fury in the midst of his brother’s ease.

Sami picked up on it first, his eyes flicking over to Solo before glancing nervously back to Jimmy. “Solo, you okay, dawg? You’re looking like… I dunno, extra intense.”

Jimmy snorted, leaning back against the couch. “That’s his whole personality, Uce. Ain’t never caught him slippin’,” he teased, giving Solo a playful look. “Probably just sick of lookin’ at us.”

Solo’s eyes didn’t shift from his invisible point, but he let the dumbbell rest against his thigh. His voice was low, barely more than a grumble. “Sick of somethin’, alright.”

Half-relieved that Solo had even spoken, Sami let out a nervous chuckle. “You sick of all this…. Custody stuff, too? ‘Cause I don’t blame you—it seems like this Maria chick’s trying everything under the sun to make the Tribal Chief’s life hell.”

“Yeah…” Jimmy’s laughter was softer now, tinged with a hint of frustration. “You got no idea, man. She’s always been a headache, but this is somethin’ else. I mean, who the hell’s got the time and energy to drag out all this drama?”

The newest member of The Bloodline nodded furiously. “Right? And it’s not even about his daughter; it’s about control! She knows Roman’s got a soft spot when it comes to family, right? Like… she’s just using it like a weapon.”

Solo let out a bitter laugh. “Maria’s poison, straight up.” His eyes darkened. “Thing is, Roman knew that back then, and he didn’t care. Saw the face, saw all that… glamour, whatever you wanna call it, and that was it.”

“Bruh, she had him on lock,” Jimmy muttered, shaking his head. “Man was blind as hell. We all saw that shit. Remember that one time she threw a full-ass glass of wine at Uce durin’ dinner? Like… in front of all of us, DJ and the cousins included? And that was all ‘cause of what… he didn’t like the music she put on or some shit…”

“Yeah, he knew she was no good.” Solo shook his head. “But he let it slide. Let it all slide. As long as they got an ass to hold onto, they fiery, and they hot as fuck, he lets everythin’ slide…”

Jimmy smirked, catching on. “Oh, you mean… like Nate?”

A flicker of morbidity crossed Solo’s face. He dropped the dumbbell, the metal landing heavily on the floor. “Nah, don’t even say her name like that.”

His brother’s grin only widened. “Oh, what? You gettin’ soft on her? I mean, y’all got this… silence thing goin’ on wherever she’s ‘round. Somethin’ you ain’t tellin’ us?”

Solo’s jaw clenched, and a rare flash of annoyance shot across his face. He turned to Jimmy, his eyes cold and lifeless. “You really think I’d have a thing for that woman?”

Jimmy shrugged, unbothered, a sly smile on his face. “Hey, she got a vibe, y’know? Classy and all that… can’t say I don’t get it.”

“Not even close,” Solo’s expression twisted in disgust. “Y’all might be lookin’ at her and seein’ all that, but I see right through her.” He leaned forward, his voice low and seething. “Chief’s lettin’ her in. Gettin’ loose, like he’s lost his damn mind.”

Sami glanced between the two, his own brow furrowing. “Loose? You mean, like, he’s not on guard?”

Solo nodded slowly, crossing his arms. “Look around, Sami. Roman ain’t asked me to come along as backup when he goes see her anymore. Hell, last few times he’s gone out, he’s gone alone.”

The room got quiet, Sami and Jimmy staring at Solo, the weight of his words settling over him like a cold shadow. Jimmy’s smirk faded, replaced by a contemplative frown. “You think she’s playin’ him?”

Solo’s stare was unrelenting. “Think about it. The Volkovs, they out there, thinkin’ we took that shipment, right? They should be knockin’ our door down, throwin’ every threat they got. But they’re quiet. Real quiet. It don’t make sense.”

Jimmy scratched his chin, face falling pensive. “You might have a point. I mean… kinda weird they’re not pushin’ back at all lately.”

“Exactly… They got no fear ‘cause they think they got an insider. Nate’s too close, and Roman’s lettin’ it happen like he’s got nothin’ to worry about.”

There was a pause, and Jimmy’s frown shifted, softening just a little. “Look, I’m not sayin’ she’s perfect but… I dunno, Solo. She’s alright, far as I can tell.”

Solo’s glare was fierce. “You’re blind as fuck, too.”

“Nah, nah, hear me out,” Jimmy held up a hand defensively. “She’s smart, man. Knows her stuff, and she don’t say more than she has to. If I’m bein’ real, I think she might even be good for him to be around.”

Solo scoffed, rolling his eyes, but Jimmy continued undeterred. “Bruh, that time we clocked her at X? She didn’t miss a beat, ran that whole place like it was nothin’. Ain’t many people I’ve seen who can handle themselves like that. And, damn, bet she throws a hell of a party.”

Sami grinned. “Sounds like you’re more into her than Roman is.”

“What?” Jimmy leaned back, throwing a look over at the redhead. “I know you ain’t said what I think you just said, Uce, ‘cause I will whoop y–”

“No, no, no,” Sami shook his head. “I-I was playing with you, man, it’s all good…”

“Yeah, you damn right you just playin’, shit…” Jimmy looked up at the TV momentarily. “And Roman ain’t got a thing for her. He’s too busy dealin’ with all our dumbasses—”

“Ayo, got the grub, y’all!”

As if right on cue, Jey swaggered in, carrying a few grease-stained Waffle House bags like they were trophies from some grand hunting expedition. He waltzed into the space, humming a tune he’d half invented, half-lifted from something he probably heard on the radio weeks ago.

“Speakin’ of dumbasses…” Solo muttered.

“Comin’ in hot with them hash browns, somethin’ good to fill up all you skinny dudes,” he chanted, before pausing to look between Jimmy and Solo, “Well…” he looked at Sami, “Skinny dude.”

Jimmy clapped his hands together as he stood up from the couch. “Hell yeah, Uce, saving the day feedin’ the whole damn family.”

Sami glanced up from the controller in his hands, unsure if he was officially invited into this boisterous circle or if he should stay put. But Jey threw him a look—a glance that wasn’t fully trusting but not entirely dismissive either. It was a look that said, you’re here, so might as well join in.

Jey kept the momentum going as he headed to the kitchen, leading his brothers into the warm, open space. The smell of fried food drifted up as he began laying out the contents of the bags with exaggerated ceremony, as though he were serving a five-course meal rather than a medley of waffles, hash browns, and bacon. He wiggled his shoulders, making a show of each step, hyping up the feast like it was something holy.

“Ayy, check this out!” he pulled out a loaded waffle, glistening with butter and syrup that caught the dim light like gold. “Got that good stuff here, this for my lil’ big bro Solo—man don’t say much, but he’s eatin’ like he got the whole House in his stomach.”

Solo let the smallest hint of a smile tug at the edge of his mouth, accepting the food with a quiet nod, a contrast to Jey’s theatrical delivery.

“And here go them hash browns, double crispy, just like you like ‘em,” he sang, giving Jimmy a playful jab with his elbow.

Sami tried to ease into the scene, chuckling and glancing around, hands fumbling with uncertainty. He smiled up at him, trying to show his gratitude, but he still had that slightly wary look, as though he knew he was an outsider who hadn’t yet earned a full seat at the table. Jimmy nudged him, a simple acknowledgement that made Sami light up, even if he tried to keep it low-key.

Jey’s gaze flicked over to Sami, then to Jimmy, a little smirk playing at his lips as he continued, “And don’t worry, Honorary Uce—I got you too, little somethin’ for that empty stomach, but don’t go thinkin’ you earned the whole feast yet.” The words were teasing, but there was a softening in Jey’s tone that hadn’t been there before. Perhaps it was just his heightened mood, but either way, it was like the gap between “outsider” and “family” was beginning to close, though slowly, with some resistance.

“Hey, I’m just glad to get anything, man,” Sami laughed, accepting the food with an exaggerated, humble bow, adding, “You’re my hero, Jey, saviour of empty stomachs.”

“Damn right,” Jey said, grinning as he took a waffle for himself, eyeing it with the reverence of a man about to partake in something divine. “Don’t get no better than this. I’m ‘bout to throw down, y’all can catch me when I’m done…”

As Jey kept up his one-man show, still singing about his treasures from Waffle House and swaying to his own rhythm, Solo caught Jimmy’s eye. Without a word, he leaned in slightly, closer to his brother, letting Jey’s joviality roll on in the background.

“Just… think about what I said.” There was a weight in Solo’s voice that easily cut through the playful atmosphere like a hot knife.

Jimmy paused, brow furrowing, and looked at Solo with a flash of realisation that whatever Solo was feeling about Nate wasn’t just idle suspicion. It was like he was anchoring Jimmy with that simple statement, pushing him to take a harder look, to rethink whatever defences he’d offered up for Nate before. There was a seriousness in the enforcer’s eyes, something raw and instinctive, wrestling with an unshakable intuition. One he couldn’t easily put aside.

The Uso gave a quick nod, easing his expression. “Yeah, I will, Uce, I hear you…”

Even with his concerns aired, Solo still felt unease gnawing at him from the inside as the kitchen fell into a quieter hum, the sounds of forks scraping plates and soft chewing doing little to ease it. Whilst the smell of waffles and syrup lingered sweetly in the air, the taste of caution lingered longer for Solo, settling on his tongue like something bitter, something he’d just as soon spit out.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Paul cleared his throat, leaning forward with a folder open in front of him. “So, here’s where we stand. Ms Larusso filed in Florida, where, for better or worse, the courts aren’t looking at your reputation favourably. They’ve accepted her jurisdiction argument—that since she and Ava live there, the case should stay there.”

Upstairs, Roman sat behind his desk with the Wiseman to his right, eyeing his employer with the caution of knowing his temper could shift at any moment. Across from them sat Miriam Jacobs, a razor-sharp attorney with a string of courtroom victories behind her. Roman’s face was tight as he stared down at the thinly stacked folder of papers in front of him.

For all the influence in New York, this battle for Ava was shaping up to be as unfamiliar as it was enraging.

“So, that puts me on the defensive,” Roman muttered, narrowing his eyes. “Miles from home and with nothing goin’ my way?”

“Not exactly,” Miriam said calmly, smoothing a page between her hands. “But this will be an uphill climb. Florida doesn’t see you as the dominant parent. New York courts might, given the resources you can provide, but down there, the burden of proof will be on us to show that Ava would be better off here, in your care.”

Roman let out a slow breath, his frustration curling around every exhale. He’d expected Maria to put up a fight, but being forced to play by someone else’s rules wasn’t something he was used to. “So, what’s our first step? And don’t hold back on specifics—I wanna know exactly what I’m walkin’ into.”

Miriam met his gaze with a steady professionalism. “The first hurdle is the temporary custody hearing. Judges are wary of making drastic changes before they’ve reviewed the full scope of a case, so there’s a good chance they’ll lean toward keeping Ava in her mother’s care, at least until a more comprehensive hearing can take place. We’re going to need to approach this strategically.”

His hands tightened into fists on the desk, and Paul cast him a warning glance not to lose his shit. “Sir, the court will need to see that Ava having… restricted contact with you, her father, will… shall we say mitigate unnecessary disruption.”

“Disruption?” Roman bit. “Ava’s my daughter. Me being around her doesn’t disrupt shit. In fact, her being around me, here, would protect her.”

Miriam gave a sympathetic nod, choosing her words wisely. “Understood. But keep in mind, Mr Reigns, this is how family courts operate. They’ll weigh things conservatively to avoid making waves. We need to present you as a steady and irreplaceable force in her life, and to do that, we have to provide tangible proof that Ava’s wellbeing is enhanced by your influence.”

Roman’s frustration simmered, but he forced himself to focus. The idea that he had to prove his worth as Ava’s father felt ludicrous, but any misstep would be fatal at this point. He’d come to play by their rules if that’s what it took to win.

“So, what, we build a case to show I’ve been a steady part of her life? What do we need for that?” Despite keeping his composure, both Paul and Miriam could feel the crackling intensity beneath it.

“First, we need records,” she replied. “Proof that you’ve provided for Ava financially is critical, but we also need proof of consistent involvement—holidays, birthdays, school events, medical care. Anything that places you as a prominent figure in her day-to-day life. If Ms Larusso claims she’s been the primary caretaker, we need to counter that image with specific examples of your involvement.”

Shit.

Paul chimed in, “You’ll need statements from anyone who’s seen you with Ava—family, friends, even the sitters she’s had over the years. They can testify to your role in her life, show the judge that you’re more than just a distant provider.”

Roman nodded, rubbing at his forehead. He’d never imagined that his love for Ava, something so innate and private, would one day need to be laid bare and scrutinised. But if it would tip the scales in his favour, he’d give them every memory, every moment that proved his devotion.

Miriam continued, “This initial hearing will be about framing, setting a tone that you’re an active, caring father with a stable life in New York. While we build this, it’s important to emphasise how much you can provide for her. The judge will want to see that you’re a source of stability—someone who can offer Ava more than Ms Larusso can in Florida.”

“And how do we make that stick?”

“Stability,” she repeated. “Your home, your resources, her access to private schools here, safety, her general quality of life. That’s our foundation. But we have to make sure we don’t push too hard. It might backfire, might make it seem like we’re trying to undermine Ms Larusso.”

Roman exhaled sharply, rolling his neck and shoulders. The notion of playing nice grated harshly against his instincts, but he understood. This was about creating a case the judge would favour, not about bulldozing Maria. Even though he wanted nothing more than for everyone to see just what the toxic witch was capable of…

“And… what happens if they ain’t convinced?” he asked, focusing on his balled up fists on the desk.

“Then Ava stays in Florida under Ms Larusso’s temporary custody,” Miriam replied without hesitation. “But we’ll keep building for a final hearing. If we can show that she’d be better off living here with you, it’ll be difficult for them to counter that in a long-term custody evaluation.”

“It’s a chess game, Sir,” Paul added. “We’ll keep making moves to ensure that your connection to Ava is clear and undeniable, and that’ll give you the foundation you need.”

“Alright… So we keep everything clean,” Roman laid out, almost as though he was trying to drill it into his own skull. “I’ll get the records… start gathering people who can back me up…”

Paul nodded approvingly, and Miriam gave a tight, reassuring smile. “Remember, this is just the first play. We focus on the essentials, stay focused on making you look as grounded and stable as possible, and we shouldn’t have to worry too much about a second.”

Roman nodded, lips tugging grimly. It wasn’t the strategy he’d have chosen, but for Ava, his little girl, the light of his life? There was nothing he wouldn’t sacrifice. He’d adjust, adapt, do whatever it took. They could hold their hearing, throw him into this system he despised, make him jump through hoops if that’s what they wanted. In the end, he would come out on top. He always did.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

She’d rather have been in a maximum security prison than where she was at that moment.

Nate sat on the edge of the leather couch in her father’s office, hands clenched on her knees, her leg bouncing uncontrollably, the only outward sign of the rolling anger and helplessness she fought to keep in check. Across from her, Katya sat quietly, perched on the edge of a small chair, her wide, innocent blue eyes darting between her father, who stood behind his desk like a general preparing orders, and Alexei, whose sneer seemed to cut through her like a blade.

Dimitri’s eyes fell on Katya as he spoke, his voice calm, measured, and entirely devoid of warmth. “In February, Yekaterina… You will wed Alexei. Preparations will begin immediately.”

Katya’s lips parted slightly, her faze frozen in a look of confusion that twisted quickly into despair. “Papa… February? I… I thought I was supposed to finish college… first…” Her voice faltered as Dimitri’s cold gaze pinned her back into silence.

Alexei smirked, sitting back in his chair with an arrogant sprawl, the kind that only a man like him—one who had never known doubt or failure—could pull off. His voice slithered through the room, each word a lash of disdain. “It will be a fine match, Katerina.” He turned to Dimitri. “It is good to follow the old traditions, Mitya. Keep the women in line.”

Boris gave a soft chuckle from his place on the couch beside Nate, sliding closer as if his presence would be comforting. “It is good that the young ones learn their place,” he murmured, his hand finding her thigh. Nate’s muscles tensed at his touch, but she stayed still—perhaps too still as her jaw locked and her gaze drilled holes into the carpet as she tried her hardest to hold her fury in check.

Katya’s face crumbled, her hope dissipating like smoke. “But Papa, please…” She looked at him, almost like a child begging for a reprieve. “This… it isn’t right. I don’t even know him that well, not like… like that.” Her voice wavered, and her gaze darted to Nate, a silent plea that only her sister would recognise, hidden in the way her shoulders slumped and her fingers twisted nervously.

Dimitri’s response was a harsh laugh. “Know him?” he echoed. “What do you need to know, Katerina? You will know what I have arranged for you to know. Alexei is a man, strong and powerful, as a husband should be. Your place is not to question, but to accept.”

Ivan and Sergei nodded along, coldly agreeing with their older brother. Dimitri was more than happy to adhere to traditions his father, and his father before him, lived by, no matter how much it ripped at the soul of his youngest daughter. Katya looked around the room, desperate for any sign of compassion. Her eyes lingered on Nate, searching for the strength she’d always seen in her older sister, the one person who’d never let her down. But what could Nate do? They were all trapped in Dimitri’s iron rule.

Alexei leaned forward, looking down at Katya, sharp and assessing, like she was a prized cow up for auction. “Besides,” he assed, “Obedience is what I expect in a wife. I am not like these… Westerners, letting women roam as they please. A real man does not tolerate disobedience.” His lip curled. “Do you understand me, malen’kaya devochka?”

She flinched, but eventually nodded. Cheeks stained red with humiliation.

And then Dimitri’s voice took on a new note, an unsettling one, as he leaned back and reached below his desk. With deliberate, almost cruel slowness, he pulled out an old-fashioned scale and set it on the floor before him. “Stand up,” he ordered Katya.

Hesitating, Katya glanced around as though hoping this might be some mistake. But everyone’s eyes were glued to her, even Alexei’s. Slowly, as if she were in a dream, Katya rose and moved toward the scale, casting a nervous glance up at her father. Nate’s heart wrenched, memories of her own years under that same merciless scrutiny flooding back with brutal clarity.

How many times had she stood there herself, willing herself to be lighter, smaller… good enough?

Years consisted of being paraded before this same scale, her own father’s critical eyes scanning every inch of her, picking apart anything he deemed imperfect. She couldn’t even remember the taste of her favourite foods anymore.

Dimitri leaned over as Katya steadied herself on the scales, peering at the dial with a frown as the numbers blinked beneath her feet. “Good,” he nodded. “You’ve kept yourself well. Continue as you are, no more, no less.” He gestured dismissively for her to step off, his approval as hollow as a gust of wind.

Boris’ hand slid a bit higher on Nate’s thigh, his fingers pressing down just enough to remind her of the years she’d spent doing the same thing, only for completely different reasons. “Relax,” he whispered. “This is for the best. She’s making a fine match. Why should you care?”

Nate shot him a look that could have shattered glass. “Get your hand off me,” she hissed through gritted teeth, her voice low enough to keep it from carrying across to the others.

He chuckled, but obeyed, settling back with an amused smile. “So fiery,” he mocked. “And yet so helpless.”

Across the room, Katya was pleading again, her voice cracking with a desperation that only seemed to tickle Alexei’s ego. “Papa, please, I don’t want to do this,” she whispered, barely able to look her father in the eye. “I don’t… don’t love him…”

Dimitri’s face hardened. “Love? This isn’t about love, Katerina… It’s about legacy. Family. You will do what it takes to maintain that, as will your children, and their children after. Love… is a disease, a distraction. You do not need it. You need strength, obedience, respect for tradition.”

“Da,” Alexei agreed, “A husband creates the wife. You will learn to love as I see fit.” He gave her a once-over, leering in a way that had Nate wanting to lunge across the room and claw his eyes out. “And you will thank me for it.”

All the while, Dimitri had shifted his attention over to Nate, taking in her stiff posture and barely concealed fury. “Is there something you wish to add, Natalka?”

Nate met his gaze reluctantly, swallowing the anger that threatened to spill over. “Nyet, Papa,” she replied. “Nothing at all.”

He held her gaze for a moment longer, as if searching for any hint of defiance, then nodded, satisfied. “Good. Remember that silence and obedience are virtues, especially for the women of this family.”

Katya looked at Nate, another flicker of hope in the depths of her orbs. But the machine had been set in motion, and any attempt from anyone to stop it would only end in ruin.

Alexei reached out, his hand closing over Katya’s shoulder with a possessive grip. “Come,” he gave her a squeeze, “It’s time you learn what’s expected of you.”

Nate, as much as it pained her, couldn’t look her sister in the eye as she recoiled in defeat and followed Alexei out of the room. Like she was walking to her own execution. When the door closed behind them, the office fell into an eerie silence. The only sound being the steady ticking of the old-school clock hanging on the wall. An ominous rhythm.

Dimitri stood by his desk, his expression unreadable as he scanned the faces of his most trusted men. But he stopped at Nate, observing her again, trying to read her, seeking out the hidden emotion behind her impassive facade.

Finally, he waved his hand, dismissing Boris, Sergei, and Ivan. “You may go,” he said, snapping them to attention. They left without hesitation, though Boris gave Nate one last look, a small smirk tugging at his lips before he disappeared along with Ivan and Sergei.

When the door clicked shut, Dimitri turned his full attention to Nate, his eyes narrowing as she stood to pace, a glint of suspicion sparking within them. He took a slow step toward her, eyeing her like a hunter on prey daring to challenge authority.

“Stand there if you like, Natalka,” he murmured, barely above a whisper. “In that defiant way you think suits you. But do you know what I see?”

She stayed silent, her eyes fixed on a point just past his shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tiny tremor at the corner of her mouth.

“You think this is strength,” he continued, prowling closer, hissing through his words. “But all I see is slabost’... weakness. A hollow shell where my daughter used to be.”

A flicker of something hot and raw sparked in her chest, but she swallowed it down. He studied her face with disdain. “What happened to you, dorogoy?” he asked through an acidic mockery. “You were once proud, sharp, disciplined. I saw myself in you. But now… you disappoint me.” He gave a small, contemptuous laugh. “And disappointment is something I have no tolerance for.”

Nate dropped her gaze, the sharp sting of his words pressing against her. Each one burnt into her skin a little harsher, fraying the veneer she’d worked so hard to build.

“You’ll be… nothing… but a burden… to any man,” he went on, his voice becoming progressively more venomous with each word. “Too fragile. Too…” he scoffed, curling his lip, “Emotional. And I see where that pathetic softness comes from.”

He let the sentence hang in the air, his silence more damning than any words could be. The implication was clear: her mother. Her failure. Nate’s throat tightened, a dull ache spreading through her chest. She looked away, her eyes glazing as she willed herself to remain unmoved.

Dimitri instantly sensed the tiny crack forming in his daughter’s carefully composed exterior. “Slezy?” he sneered, his voice soft yet brimming with anything but. “Are those tears in my daughter’s eyes?” He laughed, the sound harsh and grating, resonating through the stillness around them like shattered glass. “How revolting… I raised you better than this, but here you stand—useless, weak. You are becoming more like your mother every day.”

Again. Her mother. Again. The pain that had already infiltrated her heart just intensified. It was just too much. Memories cut through her defences like the edge of a blade. Her cheeks were wet with silent tears, spilling down in a quiet rebellion against her will.

“You dare show me this? This… pathetic display?” he asked, stepping as close to her as he could get without actually touching her. “You think I need a successor who cries at the first insult, who breaks at the mere mention of weakn—”

“Stop!” she snapped sharply, the words flying out before she could even start to stop them. “I never wanted it to be like this!”

Dimitri’s jaw tightened, but she pushed on in a rush, as though the quicker she poured her heart out, the quicker her punishment would end. “I don’t know who I am anymore, dad! You’ve taken everything from me, every hope, every dream, and for what? You’re taking Katya’s life from her, and you don’t even see it!”

“Enough,” Dimitri quietly demanded.

“No, it isn’t enough!” she cried, her voice pitching up in a fractured shout, raw with years of suppressed fury. “I have had enough of worrying about everything 24/7, worrying about if I am being the person you want me to be, marrying Boris, going along with all that, do you not understand how exhausting it is? How maybe the thought of being tied to someone as pathetic as that man is killing me from the inside out? I am my own person, and I will not b–”

The sharp crack of his hand across her cheek sliced through the air, cutting her words short. The room held its breath, silence heavy and suffocating as Nate staggered back, hand flying to her face. The sting of the blow radiating out in a searing line of pain. A metallic tang of blood filled her mouth, bitter and unmistakable as her lip sliced open against her teeth.

For a moment, she couldn’t move, her mind struggling to process the shock, the violation. The years of control, the careful obedience—all shattered in that one brutal slap, reducing her to nothing more than the scared, silenced girl she’d been all those years ago.

Dimitri’s voice was a low growl as he looked down at her, unfeeling. “You will never speak to me like that again, Natalka. Vy ponimayete?”

But she couldn’t answer him, the words trapped in her throat. She wanted to scream, to shout, to claw at him, to make him feel an ounce of the pain he’d inflicted on her, but all she could do was stand there, her eyes filled with a fury that burned hotter than anything she’d ever felt before.

Her lack of a response wasn’t sufficient enough for Dimitri Volkov. And his next words killed her.

“Leave, then,” he spat. “Run from your family, abandon your sister. But know this… if you walk away, you will lose everything. All the money, all the security… You know I will show no mercy to traitors, Natalka, no more than I will show the likes of Roman Reigns. You will be nothing… and you will die alone.”

It was the finality. The be-all-end-all in the words that stole the breath from her. And she knew he meant every fucking word. If she dared defy him, if she left, he would make sure she never saw Katya again, that her little sister would be fed lies about how she’d been betrayed. Nate would simply become another nameless casualty in his ruthless world.

With one last look of contempt, he straightened, turning away, dismissing her as though she were nothing but an inconvenience spilled on the floor of his office, a mistake he itched to erase. And Nate didn’t even wait for another word. She simply turned on her heel, making a swift exit as she grasped at the onslaught of emotions filling her to the brim; anger, pain, a bitter resolve that simmered beneath the very surface of her being.

She wouldn’t leave—not yet. There was still something left for her with the Volkovs, whether she liked it or not. But she could feel herself being pushed closer and closer to the edge, teetering on the brink of destruction and complete rebellion.

And one day, she knew she would fall.

Nate descended the stairs, her cheek still burning, the anger still burning from her father’s slap, only for the unmistakable rumble of voices to pierce her simmering thoughts. She stopped, catching the edge of Boris’ voice—low, goading, unmistakably his.

And then she heard a softer, nervous tone she would recognise anywhere. Katya.

The sound of her sister’s name alone had Nate’s muscles tightening. As Boris’ voice grew sharper, Nate bolted down the stairs, each step like the ticking seconds of a fuse about to explode. She reached the living room door, breath short and pulse pounding, catching the end of Boris’ latest insistence.

“Katya,” he said, his tone almost mockingly warm, as if reasoning with a child. “Alexei has earned his place in this family. You marrying him only makes sense. Can’t you see that?”

“But I… I don’t… I hardly know him,” Katya’s voice wavered, that nervous, pleading edge stoking something raw and protective in Nate.

Alexei stepped forward then, with a syrupy imitation of concern, talked down to the smaller blonde. “You’ll come to know me.” His eyes raked over Katya. “It’s better for your future, kukla.”

“Exactly,” Boris cut in harshly, “It’s not about what you want; it’s about what’s best for you, what keeps you safe. And that,” he pointed at Alexei with a firm nod, “Is him. You will marry Alexei, and the sooner you accept it, the easier things will be.”

Nate’s stomach churned as she crept toward the doorway, catching her first glimpse of the scene. There stood Katya, her arms wrapped protectively around herself, her face pale but with a small hint of defiance—or an attempt of something like defiance. Katya had always been more like their mother in that way; easily swayed, susceptible to peer pressure. Nate, on the other hand… She had more of Dimitri in her than she cared to admit.

Beside Boris loomed Alexei, his hands tucked into his pockets, casting a smug smile down at the youngest Volkov.

“B-but I… Don’t understand,” Katya trembled, “I-I don’t lov–”

“Love grows, kukla. Doesn’t it?” Alexei asked, glancing at Boris, who nodded approvingly.

Boris pressed forward, his voice a simmering threat under the guise of wisdom. “Love has nothing to do with any of this, Katerina. Like Mitya said… it’s survival. Security. A future.” He stepped closer to her, towering over her like a foreboding cloud. “Don’t fight it. Do you not understand the consequences of saying no?”

Nate’s brows narrowed, feeling her mouth tug into a snarl. She knew this game, knew exactly how Boris manipulated, how he painted terror as logic and control as safety. He’d tried it on Nate countless times.

“Or maybe,” Boris murmured, “You’re afraid… Are you afraid, Katya? Of what? A life without us, without security?” He lifted his hand to her face, fingertips gingerly grazing the soft skin of her cheek as her blue eyes blew wide, and she paled.

But it was when he took a firm grip of her chin that Nate had seen enough.

With a speed and ferocity that shocked even herself, she strode into the room, closing the distance in seconds. Before Boris could react, she’d seized him by his collar, yanking him away from Katya and slamming him against the stone mantel of the fireplace, her forearm pressed hard against his throat.

“It’s like you’re fucking asking for it,” she hissed, pressing him back harder. The fucker winced and his eyes widened at the sudden surge of energy bestowed upon him.

Katya gasped, and Alexei was wise enough to step back, the permanent smirk on his face quickly fading.

“Nate…” Katya whispered, though she wasn’t sure what she was pleading for. It wasn’t like Boris didn’t deserve it…

“I knew you were stupid, ty malen’kaya suchka,” Nate spat, hoping that every miniscule spray of her words hit him with the intensity of black mamba venom. “But did you really think I’d stand there and watch you try and manipulate, intimidate my fucking sister?”

Boris tried to appear unbothered; his eyes narrowed down at her but for all his “strength,” he couldn’t hide the flicker of trepidation behind them. He opened his mouth to speak, but Nate’s hold switched to the searing grip of her hand around his throat, her nails digging painfully into his skin before he could utter a word.

“I swear,” she continued with her razor-sharp tone, “If you so much as lay a finger on her again—if you even breathe near her with anything but the utmost respect—I’ll break every fucking finger, bust your kneecaps, and rip out your fucking teeth.”

A dark smile tugged at her lips as she leaned in closer, dropping to a whisper only he could hear. “I’m not afraid of you, Borislav… Never was, and I never will be. Vy ponimayete?”

Boris’ mouth twisted into a bitter sneer, but he gave a curt nod, the defiance in his gaze fading beneath the steely force of her scolding. She slowly let him go, stepping back, holding eye contact with him as he coughed, hand moving to his throat. Face flushed with a humiliation that satisfied Nate for the time being.

“You’ve gone too far this time, Natalka,” he muttered, his voice hoarse and bitter. “You never learn your place.”

“My place?” she shot back. “My place is wherever Katya is, keeping her safe from men like you. That is my concern, Borislav. Not you, not that piece of shit over there,” she gestured towards Alexei. “And certainly not some fucked up idea of loyalty.”

“When did you decide this was up to you?” Alexei butted in, clearly too stupid to keep his mouth shut. At least, for once, Boris wasn’t the dumbest person in the room.

“I didn’t ask for you to speak to me, bitch,” Nate rallied without giving Alexei the respect of even a glance.

Alexei huffed, audibly cracking his knuckles as he shuffled on his feet. “Ne mogu poverit’, chto zhenschina tak obo mne govorit…”

Nate’s head snapped in his direction. “And this woman will continue to speak to you like this if you continue to prey on my sister like you have been doing since you came back into our lives. And I promise you, Alexei…” She took a deep breath. “You are sorely… sorely mistaken if you think I’m ever going to allow someone like you marry someone like her.”

The man across from her didn’t budge. In fact, he actually moved closer to Nate. Squaring up to her. Puffing his chest, peering down at her like she was nothing but a subject.

“You think you can protect her forever?” Alexei asked.

“I know I’ll do what I can to keep her away from bottom-of-the-barrel scumbags.”

Something switched in his expression. Beyond irritated. Alexei was… ready to fight. The vein in his neck pulsed as his fists clenched at his sides. It was… humorous to Nate. Hence the little laugh that she couldn’t stifle enough to hold back.

“What are you gonna do, Alexei?” she asked, raising both her eyebrows, before whispering, “You gonna hit me?” At his non-response, she bit down on her lip to stop a cackle this time, folding her arms. “Really? Fuck, you really are an idiot…”

“Natalk–”

“No, Boris,” Nate held her hand up. “It’s actually funny to me… You wanna know something?” she asked Alexei. “Despite my rather contentious and unpredictable relationship with my father… not even he would tolerate such a little excuse of a man… laying a hand on his daughter.”

She watched the hesitation flicker over Alexei’s features before smirking.

“Just think about that, sweetheart,” she chided, mocking him. “So… back the fuck off me. And stay away from my sister.”

Behind her, Katya approached, gingerly reaching out to gently grab at her hand and tug her back. “Nate… come on, let’s go.” The tender chime of her voice brought Nate back down from whatever rage-fuelled rampage she was heading toward. Katya’s soft, manicured hand gripped onto her desperately. “Please, let’s just go…”

Nate ran her tongue over her teeth, still shooting daggers into Alexei and Boris as she took a couple of steps back.

“You can’t be everywhere, Natalka,” Boris said, standing beside Alexei. “You can’t stop what’s already in motion… You are marrying me. And Katerina is marrying Alexei. There’s nothing you can do about it, detka.”

Nate could feel the twitch in her cheek as she practically snarled at the two men in front of her, mainly focusing her disdain on Alexei. “We’ll see…” she replied with a deadly quiet timbre, filled with a certainty that left no room for argument.

With one last, contemptuous glance, Nate turned with Katya’s hand in hers, leading her toward the door. Boris’ gaze burned into her back, but she couldn’t care less. The only thing that mattered to her was the girl at her side, the girl who needed her protection more than ever.

As they left the room, she felt Katya’s hand tighten around hers, a silent thank you, a lifeline in the storm that loomed to engulf them both. She only let go of her hand as they both made their way up the staircase in the foyer. Nate moved quickly, glancing back a couple times to see her sister trailing close behind, head bowed, arms wrapped protectively around herself.

Reaching her bedroom, Nate paused, unlocking the door—a privilege she’d fought tooth and nail for. For years, Dimitri had insisted on leaving the door open, a reminder of his omnipresence, of the ways his authority bled through every corner of this house. To him, a locked door meant secrets, and secrets meant betrayal. But after months of relentless persuasion, and only after demonstrating her own dedication to family loyalty, he’d finally granted her this one, simple piece of sanctuary.

She gestured for Katya to step inside, closing the door softly behind them and sliding the lock into place. It was a small sound, but one that held the weight of a hundred unspoken promises: safety, even if only within these four walls.

Katya moved slowly to the centre of the room, her delicate frame outlined against the warm shadows cast by the dim light. She looked so young, standing there with that lost expression, her wide eyes sweeping the room as if looking for something to ground her, to cling to.

“Nate…” Katya’s voice broke the silence, soft and tremulous. “What’s going to happen? I can’t… I can��t marry him. I just… I can’t.”

Nate crossed the room and reached for her sister’s hands, pulling her close. She guided her to the bed, settling them both down, and without a word, wrapped her arms around Katya, pressing her to her chest. The memory was so immediate, so vivid; she was fifteen again, cradling an eight-year-old Katya in the dead of night, soothing her after one of their parents’ late-night fights. Back then, her words were filled with soft lies about everything being alright, whispering the reassurances she barely believed herself.

“Shh,” Nate murmured, stroking her hair as she felt the subtle shudders of Katya’s breathing, so fragile, like a sparrow beneath her hands. “I won’t let it happen. You’re safe here with me.”

Katya’s breath hitched, and a sob escaped, unbidden and raw. “It’s too much, Nate… I’m scared. I don’t want this, any of it.”

Nate held her tighter, the weight of her sister’s fear settling into her bones. She swallowed hard, memories of another time rising unbidden, the night their mother had left town for several days, leaving them to find for themselves under the rigid, watchful eye of Sergei and their father. Katya had been so young then, confused and frightened, begging Nate to tell her when their mother would be back. And now, here they were, years later, in a world more ruthless and unforgiving than she’d ever imagined.

“Remember when Mum went away for a few days?” she asked Katya. “And we had to stay with Uncle Sergei? You cried every night, said you hated it here.” She tried to chuckle, though it caught in her throat, sounding more like a broken sigh. “You hid behind me every time he was around. I don’t think you slept once.” She looked down at her. “It’s like that… We just have to push on to the other side.”

Katya gave a feeble nod, her fingers clinging to the fabric of Nate’s shirt. “I remember. I remember wishing so badly that she’d just come back.” She looked at Nate and gave a rueful laugh. “But this isn’t anything like that. Because Mum isn’t here. And she’s never coming back.”

Sucking in a breath, the words hit Nate deep in her soul. It was a grim truth. A truth neither of them spoke much about to each other.

“I know… but it doesn’t mean you’re alone. Because I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.”

Katya sniffled, pulling back just enough to look at her, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “But what if… what if he forces me? What if I really have no choice?”

Nate reached out, cupping her sister’s face in her hands, thumbs brushing gently over Katya’s cheeks. Her expression hardened a little, a vow written in the lines of her face. “Listen to me, Katya. You will never have to marry that man. I will tear down every wall, defy every order, before I let anyone make you do something against your will. Boris, Alexei, Dad—they can try to control us, but I will not let any one of them lay a hand on you. You’re worth more than that. You are everything, do you understand me?”

Katya’s face crumbled, her composure shattering as she buried her face in Nate’s shoulder, her soft, shuddering breaths sending a pang through Nate’s chest. She wrapped her arms around her once more, cradling her with a tenderness that belied the savagery simmering just beneath her skin. In this moment, Katya was more than just her sister—she was the last untainted piece of Nate’s heart, the one thing in this twisted world that still felt pure, still felt worth protecting.

“I’m so tired, Nate,” Katya whispered. “I just want it all to go away. Just… Want it all to disappear.”

Nate’s throat tightened, and she fought back the urge to let her own tears fall. “Look at me…” She searched her sister’s bright blue eyes once she looked at her. “I promise. You will never have to marry him.”

“How can you promise that? You can’t stop them… can you?”

Nate gave her a small, reassuring smile. “Let me worry about that. All you need to do is trust me. Do you trust me?”

Katya nodded, her lips pressed tightly together, as though trying to keep her emotions from spilling over further. “Yes,” she squeaked out. “I do.”

“Good. You just keep being you. And I’ll do everything in my power to keep that bastard away.”

They sat in silence for a while, the quiet filling the room like a balm, soothing the jagged edges of their nerves. Outside, the house creaked with the sounds of footsteps and muffled voices, but here, within the locked walls of Nate’s room, they were safe.

Katya lifted her head again, her eyes puffy, but betraying a softer, more hopeful twinkle. “You mean it?”

“More than anything,” Nate nodded, brushing a strand of hair away from Katya’s face. “I’d give my life to keep you safe, Katty.”

A faint smile flickered across the youngest Volkov’s lips and she reached up, placing a hand over Nate’s. “I don’t know what I’d do without you…”

“And you’ll never have to find out,” Nate replied sternly. “As long as I’m breathing, you will never be alone. And you’ll never be forced into something you don’t want. I’ll make sure of it.”

She pressed a gentle kiss to her sister’s forehead, a silent vow lingering in the air, heavy and unbreakable. She could feel Katya relax, her breathing evening out, her body growing heavier as the weight of fear and exhaustion began to release its grip. For the first time that night, Nate allowed herself to believe it, to imagine a world where they could be free—just the two of them, unburdened by the warped loyalties and oppressive shadows that haunted their family.

“Ya lyublyu tebya, Yekaternia… Vsegda.”

As Katya drifted into a fitful sleep, curled in Nate’s arms like she had been as a child, Nate stared at the ceiling, her mind racing with the promises she’d made, the lengths she’d go to in order to keep them. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for her sister, nothing she wouldn’t sacrifice.

Including herself.

TRANSLATIONS: Ty malen’kaya suchka - “You little bitch.” Ne mogu poverit’, chto zhenshchina tak obo mne govorit - “Can’t believe a woman is speaking to me like this.” Ya lyublyu tebya, Yekaterina… Vsegda - “I love you, Katerina… Always.”

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