#she may have fallen first but he loves her more | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

euthymiya · 2 months ago

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[ A LITTLE DEATH — FT. KINICH ]

synopsis: sometimes, he comes back to you with a beating heart. other times, his body is cold and limp until he reemerges from the flames. you never get used to kinich falling during the pilgrimage, but you’re certainly used to the feeling of his body

word count: 4.4k words of emotional porn. ty & goodnight

before you read: female reader ; major spoilers for natlan archon quest and kinich’s character story one ; kinich falls during the night warden war and resurrects so technical character death (but not for long) ; graphic descriptions of injuries and blood from war ; mentions of gambling, alcoholism and abuse (his father’s lore) ; slight exploration of mortality ; hand jobs ; orgasm delay (kinich to himself) ; cunnilingus ; fingering ; unprotected vaginal sex ; creampie ; not proof read because i wrote this all in tumblr drafts like the psycho i am

notes: this is an unhealthy progressing obsession. this boy is not good for my health unfortunately

“Will you stop crying?” He sighs softly, thumb tracing your cheek as it catches yet another rivulet of your sorrow.

You glare up at him, lips curled into a scowl as you sniffle and counter, “how about you stop dying?”

Kinich is no stranger to dying. He and death are good friends, in fact—he visits often, and in return, it houses him kindly for however short his visit may be.

He likes traversing the Night Kingdom, likes to speak to those who have borne his name before him. Dying isn’t so bad when you get a chance to see the things he does in the realm of the Wayob.

But you don’t like to see the aftermath. Blood. Bruises. Cuts. Gashes. Sometimes mangled limbs. Every time he falls in battle, the aftermath serves as a jarring reminder that revival is miracle you can’t take for granted.

Kinich doesn’t understand it, but he tries to. He holds you when he comes back, listening to you sniffle into his chest. He’s always silent as his hand rubs along your back, always unsure of what to say.

I lost you, you’ll always whisper first.

I was always going to come back, he’ll always respond.

The Pyro Archon, you think, loves fiercely enough to rival the God of Cryo herself. The Tsaritsa, God of Love, loves clearly. It’s delicate as it leaves chills, and yet, it is reserved, rare to find after she’s hardened herself. The God of War’s love takes form in the exact opposite. It’s blazing. Warm. Unrelenting. Irrevocably bright. It’s a flame that never dies out, that never needs a ceremony or ritual to keep burning like the contending fire.

She loves all of her children—you know that because you see it on her face, too.

The brief, fleeting flash of horror every time she sees a body. The bitter pride that comes with such a noble sacrifice. She loves her people, and that’s why, when your tears hit the ground as you cry for a fallen Kinich, she gives your hand a squeeze right before she brings enters the night kingdom to bring him back.

The people of Natlan are proud of their history. So much, that they find honor in dying for the cause.

You think you’re the only exception.

You and death are not good friends. You don’t like the way it mocks you with the limp hands of the boy you love and his beat-less heart. You don’t like the way it cozies up against him, dragging him away from you with its hand clasped firmly in his.

It never takes him away for too long before it gives him right back, but you don’t like sharing.

Not Kinich. Not with death.

Your broken out of your thoughts when his fingers gently press into your cheeks, squeezing them together as his hand tilts your head up from his chest to look into his eyes.

“I’m okay,” he insists bluntly, but never without that gentleness.

You’d laugh any other time. Always so straight to the point, you’d tease if it were some other day.

Instead, this time, you sniffle once more before you croak, “you don’t know what it’s like to witness.” Slowly, your hand creeps up his body, traveling over his abdomen before coming to a stop right over his heart. “This time…this time it was here.”

This pilgrimage, Kinich comes back to you with a stab through his heart. Other times, he’s returned pierced through his lungs from behind. Or perhaps with a bloodied head, split open by a blunt force.

It never gets easier. This time, however, you think it’s gotten even harder.

He’s quiet for a moment, like he’s contemplating what to say before he decides to toss the idea of words out entirely. Suddenly, his hands find your waist, flipping you to sit on his lower belly, legs straddling his hips.

Kinich isn’t always good with words. He can count on one hand the number of people he’s had in his life to love. His life has not been kind enough to him to allow keeping all fingers up at the same time.

One for his mother. Down.

One for his father. Down.

And one for you. Up.

He’s sure one day, he might be able to lift a finger for Mualani and Kachina, too. He cares a great deal about them, of course. But love is a difficult thing for him to grasp—perhaps because it’s always been something he never got in full.

Not until you.

More than most people, Kinich understands loss. You know that. He understands it too well, in fact. Sometimes, he wonders if he’d lost his father’s love long before the body was limp and lifeless to show for it. Sometimes, he wonders if his mother ever loved him enough to count as a loss at all. Maybe if she had, then she wouldn’t have walked away. Maybe she never loved him quite as much as she loved herself.

But you’re different for him. You love him more than you love anything else. More than yourself, too. He’s never been loved more than anything else. His father loved gambling, maybe even the burn of alcohol on his tongue, too. His mother loved freedom, and more than that, she loved the idea of living in the absence of fear. Neither loved him more than any of those things.

So, you’re different. You know that, too. You’re a loss he can’t comprehend. Not that he’s ever had to, of course, but his brain cannot handle the idea of being without you.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t fully understand your pain. Maybe that’s why he wonders why knowing he’ll always come back from falling isn’t enough to soothe you.

He’s never loved someone who he knew would come back even in the face of death. It’s a luxury, he thinks sometimes—you get to love him with the luxury of a safety net. But you’re too precious to feel the weight of a real loss. He hopes he can shield you from it for as long as he can, one pilgrimage at a time.

His hands settle for your hips, squeezing once, twice, a third time before he sits up and pulls you closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

You kiss back easily. Drinking the breath straight from his mouth is best proof that he’s alive. You take it in greedily.

“I’m okay,” he repeats one more time. This time, it’s a much softer tone. Like a gentle reminder. Like a plead to understand.

His hand grabs yours, pressing it right over his heart so you can feel the erratic beating under your palm. Just from kissing you, it’s rapid enough that he almost feels he should be embarrassed. But you close your eyes and let out a shaky breath, making him watch you carefully as he takes in the relief in your face.

“You’re okay,” you nod slowly.

“I am,” he agrees.

You don’t know when it happens or who starts it first. One moment, your hand is traveling under his shirt to feel his bare skin, to have better contact with him so you can feel more proof he’s alive.

Warm skin. Flexing muscle. Damp sweat. When your hand finds his heart again, his hand cups the back of your head and pulls you into a heated kiss.

Clothes come off after that. It’s a blur. It’s not until you untie the bandana to uncover his forehead do you really take it all in.

Bare under you, Kinich is alive. The proof his body is breathing and pumping blood through his veins is right there before you—standing tall between his legs in the form of a flushed, red cock. Blood rushed there to prove his desire for you.

“Last time, it was here,” you whisper, thumb tracing a pale, faint scar over his ribcage, right where his lung is. “Did it hurt?”

“It did,” he nods, studying you as you don’t meet his eyes. “I don’t remember much of that, though.”

“Do you like it?” You whisper. “Is that why you do it?”

He’s silent. And then, quietly: “Sometimes.”

“Why?” You breathe, cupping his cheeks as you search his eyes for an answer.

Finally, in a rare moment, he chuckles. “Because it’s good to remember I’m alive,” he murmurs, “right before you die is when you realize you’re alive the most. Why you’re alive, too.”

“I don’t understand,” you furrow your brows in frustration. He smiles fondly, kissing your jaw as he lets out a low hum.

“I think of you,” he whispers, sucking sweetly into your skin, “and then I remember how you’re alive, too. Every time I die, you get to stay alive a little more.”

The abyss never goes away. Now, more than ever, he’s aware of that. It’s a war he has to see the winning side of, no matter the price.

There’s a loss this time that he’s unwilling to pay. Can’t bear to witness. Can’t allow to happen.

You decide you give up trying to understand—much like you do every year. Instead, you throw yourself into feeling him, pulling him into a heated, deeper kiss as your tongue glides against his. You give into the battle fast, letting him take the lead and taste you.

You’re not one for battles, not like Kinich is. You’d rather relish in peace than remember the cruelties of war.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips. “I can’t lose you.”

“You’ve never lost me,” he argues.

“It doesn’t feel that way,” you admit quietly.

“Then let me show you I’ve always been right here.”

As if on cue, his cock twitches between your bodies, hot and throbbing as it presses against your lower belly. You reach between your bodies, wrapping around the thick girth before your thumb grazes the tip.

He shudders, stifling a groan as you slowly smear the dribbling pre cum along his length, taking gentle care to make sure you don’t hurt him.

You’ve seen Kinich hurt enough times.

“Does that feel good?” You grin slightly, watching his eyes flutter shut as you stroke him up and down, fisting around him in a tight squeeze.

“Feels great,” he breathes, “like I’m very alive.”

“Good,” you nod.

“Fuck,” he chokes when you squeeze around the tip, pace quickening as you glide your palm up and down along him faster.

Faster.

The faster he cums, the faster you’re proven he’s living once more.

But he stops you—right before he can spill into your hand, a shaky wrist comes to force yours to stop moving. You look at him questioningly, and he closes his eyes and takes labored breaths to calm himself from the slow, fading orgasm that would’ve shaken through his body.

“What are you—oh,” you gasp, when your body is flipped to lay on your back, Kinich hovering above you as he stares down at you.

You think love is the look in his eyes when he sees you like this, every time. That longing in his pupils, desperate and almost pained even though you’re right there.

Loving something is always a double edged sword. It hurts just as much as it heals—the scabs forming around your heart from his temporary departure is proof of that.

“I love you,” he whispers, kissing along your neck.

I love you isn’t something Kinich says often. You feel his love in other ways. The fresh fruit he brings you on his way back from a commission. The small kiss between your brows he always greets you with, and the delicate kiss to your mouth when he leaves. The hand on the small of your back as he guides you along places, never letting you feel his absence. The pillow he shares with you every night when you invade his space and take up his side of the bed.

You know he loves you. Being reminded is a good feeling, though. Your body shivers as you feel a familiar ache building up between your legs at his sudden confession.

“More than anything?” You ask.

“Yes,” he responds, amused.

“You better not be lying,” you warn playfully.

He chuckles—you’re slowly coming back to your usual self. Causal teasing and playful flirting. You’re all the things he’s not. Open. Vulnerable. So inexplicably bright. You smile and something in him heals. Something in him itches to do better—be better.

“When have I ever lied to you?” He challenges.

You pretend to think for a moment before caving and stretching your lips into a wide grin. The first real smile of the night. You pull him close, kissing him again. Just to kiss him. There’s no heat or desire this time around.

He kisses back sweetly. Just to kiss you.

“What did you see this time?” You whisper when you pull away. “In the Night Kingdom.”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, tracing shapes into your hip with his thumb, “I think I was too busy thinking of you.”

Kinich is only flirty when he avoids something. He’s only ever indirect when he doesn’t want you to know something. It takes form in less honest, more playful banter that he learns from you.

You sigh, rolling your eyes half-heartedly as you whisper, “don’t lie to me.”

“I did think of you,” he insists. “It’s not a lie. I always think of you.”

He decided to prove it by dropping down to busy himself between your legs, gently spreading them enough to press his nose against your clit as he breathes you in.

Sweet. You’re always sweet. You taste and smell it. You drip of honeyed, saccharine desire. When his tongue presses between your folds, he thinks he’s dipping it in gold.

“K-kinich, wait—”

“You say that every time,” he raises a smug brow. His fingers press into you, spreading you open as he inspects your fluttering walls. “But you never mean it, do you?”

Filthy, you think. He’s got an air of pure obscenity to him that you’re sure comes only when he’s tired of feeling alone. When he needs to know you’re here for good and not just for the moment.

“You play dirty,” you scowl, twitching when his tongue swirls over your clit, the smooth rumble of his chuckle vibrating against the sensitive bud. His fingers curl into you, pressing against a very delicate, very responsive spot in the back of your walls.

“Is that so?” He drawls, “you don’t exactly seem to mind it,” he murmurs.

And then his lips wrap around your clit, sucking as his tongue rolls in circles against it as you writhe. You can feel the tips of his digits bully into that same spot over and over, making your back arch as you whine.

“Fuck,” you breathe, “baby, please.”

You don’t know what you’re pleading for. He’s giving you what you want exactly how you want it—maybe that’s why you always say it, though. So you can never stop having him. Asking and asking and hoping he’ll give you everything without pausing.

He does, too. Kinich never gives half of himself into anything. For the right price, you get all of him. You pay the price in gentle kisses along his cheek and soft fingertips in his hair. In a warm lap under his cheek when he’s tired and a soft voice to remind him he’s not alone. In a worried look every time he’s scuffed and a soft smile every time your eyes meet his.

You pay the price of your love, and he compensates you with the reward of his. It’s a fair trade.

The only difference is that unlike his other deals, Kinich would still pay his love to you even if you stopped paying yours. He couldn’t stop if he tried. It’s an exception he doesn’t exactly choose to make, but doesn’t necessarily want to change, either.

Lucky for him, you don’t show any signs of pulling away.

“You’re beautiful,” he says quietly, whispering the words into your cunt like he’s speaking directly to your desire, “and mine.”

“G-gods,” you moan, hand flying to grasp at his hair and tug as his fingers quicken their pace, fucking into your heat mercilessly as his tongue rolls over your clit.

It’s hot. It always is in the Pyro Nation. But hotter is the growing desire in the pit of your belly, and the heat between your legs that only one person can ignite. The flames lick at your sanity before something erupts in your system and all you feel is a gush of pure, white hot pleasure.

“That’s it,” he praises, working you through your orgasm as you let out a soft cry of his name.

Kinich is alive. You know that because only he could make you feel this way, and he is. He’s making you feel like there’s love between your legs as he coaxes the height of pleasure from you, buried into the apex of your thighs like it’s the only place he ever wants to be. You’re reminded that instead of blood dripping from his fingertips, it’s the essence of your arousal.

You’re reminded that when you need him, he’s never not there. Never leaving you behind from this world into another.

“I love you,” you blurt out in a post-orgasm haze.

He looks up at you with a toothy grin. It’s so rare to see him smile so freely. It’s like a child’s, sometimes. Something youthful and joyful and almost innocent enough that it makes your heart ache a little more than it does feel full.

Only a little, though.

“You say that a lot when I make you cum,” he laughs smoothly, a boyish and sweet little sound. You huff with a roll of your eyes.

“You do too,” you counter. “Maybe we only love each other when we feel good.”

“I always feel good with you,” he grins.

“I can make you feel a whole lot better,” you wink, wriggling your brows in a playful, tempting offer.

He takes it. With another soft laugh, he climbs up your body to hover his face over yours, admiring the sweat clinging to your forehead like it’s proof of his good work.

“Go on then,” he whispers. “Make me feel better. I just died today, you know.”

“I know,” you grumble only slightly, “I remember that very clearly. It was very rude of you.”

“My sincerest apologies,” he offers.

When Kinich was young, love was transactional. His father loved him with a box of sweets when a gamble of wages doubled. His mother was happy enough to afford him her gaze when there were flowers in the vase. He knew from early on not to expect any of it unless the proper price was offered.

And then he learned necessities were transactional, too. To exist is to pay a price. He watched as strangers took away his home, the remainder of his family’s belongings packed away as his mother wiped her tears. Food is not free when she is not there to tend to crops. Clothes don’t come easy when your father spends his days drinking away instead of working.

Without mora, you survive more than you live.

He hated it. Hated not having enough. Not being enough. He wasn’t enough to make his father want to be good and he wasn’t enough to make his mother want to stay. Didn’t have enough to offer for something as simple as unconditional love.

Love with you feels a lot different than what he’s grown up learning. You love him even when he’s closed off and a little cold. When his blunt words are a little too blunt and his words press hard into you with force. When he’s tired, and can’t offer you proper company, you love him, too. When he’s gone for days at a time for a commission further away, you still love him as you wait.

It’s always enough for you even when what he gives really isn’t enough at all.

He stopped trying to understand a long time ago. He’s still human—not everything can make sense with the logic of equal transaction. Sometimes, he just wants. Sometimes, he can’t give enough for what he wants. You always give it, though.

He’s stopped trying to make sense of it all for the sake of finally knowing joy. Peace. Possibly even comfort.

“Why do you love me?” He asks softly, rubbing the tip of his hard cock against your thigh. You rub along his bare back with a gentle hand, feeling the goosebumps raise along his skin under your palm.

“Because it’s easy to,” you answer.

“That’s it?”

“Isn’t life hard enough?” You shrug, “it’s nice having something simple. Loving you is easy, and that’s enough.”

“I don’t understand,” he mirrors your words from earlier. “But as long as you don’t stop, I think it’s okay.”

You want to tell him you’ll never stop loving. Every flame in Natlan will have to burn out before you stop loving Kinich. You’re confident that it’s impossible that will ever happen. But instead of words, you gently reach between your bodies to grab at his cock—it’s been hard and neglected for long enough that he lets out a soft, needy sound at the sudden touch.

You bring him to brush against your entrance, murmuring a soft, “I want you,” before he groans in response.

“Fuck,” he says shakily, “me too.”

And then, finally, he presses his tip into you, pushing past your folds and nudging into the deepest part of you.

He’s alive. You know that because you can feel him in the most rawest, purest way. Bare skin to skin. Warmth on warmth. Sweat against sweat. Body tangled into body. He’s alive and here and you can feel all of him at once.

He’s everywhere. He’s in your lungs as you kiss him and steal his breath. He’s in your heart as you feel it skip a beat for him. He’s in your soul as it burns at the very idea of him. And he’s in your cunt as he presses himself into you with a roll of his hips.

You love him when he’s alive.

You love him when he’s dead.

You love him when he’s resurrected.

You love him when he’s yours like this.

“Kinich,” you gasp, letting out a breathless moan as his tip slams into that spongy spot in your walls, “there—y-yes, like that.”

“I know,” he murmurs, grinning a little smugly enough that you feel embarrassed to already be this fallen apart. “I know exactly where.”

“Smooth talker for someone who ruined my whole day,” you huff.

“I told you I’m okay,” he grunts lowly. He kisses your throat, right over your pulse as he whispers, “I’m right here.” You whine as he rolls his hips particularly harshly to slam his cock into your most delicate spot.

“Knowing something is coming back doesn’t mean you like losing it,” you argue. “I don’t want you anywhere but here.” He gasps when your legs wrap around his waist and pull him closer as you squeeze tighter around him.

You hate seeing Kinich fall because you’re reminded it’ll happen one day for real. There’ll come a time where he won’t be resurrected. You don’t like being reminded of this simple truth.

He doesn’t understand it because he’s always too busy denying your fall. He’s too busy making sure he fights every battle to win this war so you can live beside him. So you don’t have to succumb to the cruel likes of the abyss.

Neither of you can seem to grasp the other’s mortality very well. So you try to forget in the feeling of being lost in each other’s bodies. Where proof of life blooms in every inch of skin. Every labored breath and drop of sweat, every flex of muscle and rapid thrum of a heart.

You’re alive, and so is Kinich.

He’s not alone, and neither are you.

No one has had to bear a loss, and that’s all that matters. For now, at least.

“You feel so good,” he says hoarsely, letting out a soft, low whine when your walls flutter around him at the praise. “C-can’t…can’t live without you.”

“Don’t say that,” you sob, reaching your limit, “enough talk about living. I’m tired of it.”

“Okay,” he breathes, “then just cum again for me. I want to feel you do it around me this time.”

Your second orgasm makes you forget Kinich is alive. You’re too busy feeling the rush of life yourself. Your body burns with pleasure through every nerve, the familiar snap of pressure between your legs that has your entire form spasming under Kinich.

“’M c-cumming,” you sob, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a sloppy kiss, muffling your sounds into his mouth as he swallows them whole.

“For me,” he hums.

“F-for you. Always for you.”

And then he cums too. Hard. For the last time, you’re hit with the evidence that he’s here with you and not somewhere else. Somewhere unreachable. Somewhere in a world apart from you.

He’s spilling warm, sticky cum into your walls with shaky arms holding him up above you, desperate rolls of his hips as he lets out choked sounds.

Skin slaps against skin and a combination of your arousals leaves a mess smeared between your legs, spilling down your inner thighs.

“Fuck—ngh. I’m…I’m…” he trails off.

He’s never been good with words like you. So instead, he buries his head into your neck and presses his nose into your skin, letting you cradle the back to his head so he knows you’re there.

“I know,” you pant, letting him fuck himself into you and ride out the high of his orgasm.

I know you need me. I need you too.

When he slumps over your body, you can feel his heart beat against yours. Rapid. Erratic. Harsh. Pounding. All of it is proof you’re both painfully mortal as you are alive.

“I love you,” you both whisper at the same time, utterly spent.

“You’re alive,” you breathe out a sigh of relief as your eyes close tiredly.

He hums, lifting his head to press a soft peck to your lips before he slumps into your neck against. “And so are you,” he murmurs in exhaustion.

You both fall asleep together with another year behind you.

Writing an emotional Kinich is actually really hard I’m not sure I even got it right bc we haven’t seen nearly enough of him but 😭 I hope this was not ooc enough that it was slightly believable. IDK I had a hard time deciding how he’d be in an emotionally charged moment of intimacy

#writing tag #kinich x reader #kinich x you #kinich smut #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact smut

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imthebadguyyy · 11 months ago

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the bridgerton blues

pairing : anthony bridgerton x reader

fandom : bridgerton

synopsis : it's the first time after your wedding that anthony sees you sporting the signature bridgerton colour : blue, and it does things to him that he can only express in a much more....physical manner.

warnings : smut, heavy smut and excessive amount of fluff

a/n : i miss my grumpy viscount!!! happy reading :)

anthony huffed impatiently, foot tapping against the marble floor at bridgerton manor.

the season had begun again, and much to his relief, he would only be a spectator this year, having married the love of his life, lady, well, current viscountess y/n, which meant he didn't have to deal with the frills and fancies of the hawk like mama's in the ton, awaiting the right moment to swoop upon him with their daughters.

but by God, you were taking forever to get dressed and come down to leave for lady danbury's ball. beside him, benedict and colin sat, engrossed in a game of chess, while francesca and eloise lounged on the couch in the drawing room, catching up about life.

his mother was with his darling wife, much to his surprise, helping her get ready for a ball. he had been caught off guard when his mother had bustled in, dressed in a powdery blue gown, and had proceeded to shoo him out of the room.

"what exactly is keeping mama and y/n?" colin asked, brow furrowed in concentration as he focused on the chess board.

"if I knew I would tell you brother" anthony mumbled, checking the watch that hung on the golden chain from his waistcoat, smiling as he traced the cover, suddenly hit by a burst of nostalgia, and a surge of fondness for his late father.

he brushed it off when a giggling hyacinth came running down the staircase, leaping into his arms, forcing him to rush to catch her, eyes widening in surprise.

"hyacinth! you must always give me a prior warning or I may not be able to catch you" he chided, tucking a stray curl behind her ear and setting her gently on the ground.

"brother!! wait till you see y/n/n!! she looks like a princess!" his youngest sister exclaimed, almost vibrating with excitement. a shy gregory emerged, blushing a little as he nodded, making the three older bridgerton boys smirk, well aware of his little crush on anthony's wife.

when anthony had first befriended his wife, they had been at a mere age of ten, and anthony had rescued y/n when she had fallen off her horse at a picnic with his family and the cowper's.

ever since then, they had been inseparable, joint at the hip and at the heart.

it was of no surprise to anyone in the ton when finally, ages later, he had announced he was marrying the lady montgomery, or as everyone fondly knew her, "y/n/n"

"why so bashful greg?" benedict jested, watching his youngest brother turn a dark crimson.

"n-nothing" he stuttered out, darting in to see his sisters.

"it's because of y/n! I'm telling you brother, she looks like an absolute angel!" hyacinth chirped in, now bouncing about from step to step, just as the door of Anthony's room creaked open, and the dowager viscountess stepped out.

"she's ready" she smiled warmly at her son's, hurrying in to get her daughters to mark the momentous occasion.

brows furrowed, the eyes of the bridgertons rested upon the long winding staircase, awaiting to see what exactly was this magical outfit that had their mother and sister gushing like birds.

and what anthony saw, made his jaw drop to the very ground.

at the very top, his darling wife came into view, hair in sleek, meticulous curls, perfectly cast up in an intricate updo, adorned with pearls, framing her face with the delicate curls. her makeup was subtle, emphasizing her flowing complexion with a touch of rosy blush and wine coloured lips.

she adorned a pearl necklace and matching earrings, gifted to her by anthony himself, adding a timeless elegance to her stature.

but what really caught everyones attention was the dress that she wore, more specifically, the colour of the dress she wore.

a rich dark blue silk gown, carefully tailored, hugged her frame, showcasing the intricate details that add to its allure. the bodice, adorned with delicate embroidery, depicting subtle butterfly motifs that caught the light as the she moved down the stairs. the neckline gracefully framed her collarbone, delicate lace butterflies attached to the neckline,while the sleeves tapered down to her wrists, showcasing more of the exquisite lacework that adorned her body.

the skirt of the gown was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, flowing generously in layers of silk that rustled with each step. the deep, rich hue of the fabric evoked a sense of opulence, reminiscent of midnight skies. as she walked down, the silk caught the light, casting a mesmerizing play of shadows and highlights.

the dress matched anthony's waistcoat perfectly, and the sight was enough to make the viscount choke over nothing.

as he saw his wife adorned in the resplendent dress for the first time, his eyes widened with genuine admiration.

a hushed gasp escaped his parted lips as he took in the sight before him.

his wife, cloaked in the elegance of the dark blue gown, the bridgerton blues appeared to be like a living portrait of timeless beauty.

a warm smile formed on his lips, expressing both surprise and deep appreciation for the grace and sophistication she was emanating.

"my darling" he murmured as he swept forward, extending his arm to welcome you into them.

smiling sweetly at the bridgerton clan, you floated down, linking your arm with anthony's.

"sister, you look utterly perfect in blue!" benedict exclaimed, pressing a delicate kiss to your hand, as violet fondly caressed your cheek.

"doesn't she look like a princess brother?!" hyacinth squealed, looking excitedly at anthony. "just like one out of the fairytales" he said, looking at you with nothing but admiration and love and fondness.

"you really do look utterly regal" colin said, flashing a warm smile at you. eloise and francesca came upto you, with even eloise admitting that the dress you were wearing was nothing short of a work of art, while francesca gushed over how the silhouette was so perfect for you.

"alright, we must leave if we want to reach lady danbury's ball on time!" violet said, clapping her hands, leading her children out to where the carriages awaited.

"wait behind for just a second my love" anthony whispered into your ear, as he walked up to his valet to whisper something into his ear.

slowly, the other bridgertons departed, after you promised them to join them very soon, ignoring the smirks and nudges colin and benedict sent your way.

anthony pulled you into his study, hand gently caressing your waist, feeling the rich silk in his hands, the other hand gently reaching for your chin, lifting it to look into your eyes.

"you look utterly divine my beloved" he whispered fingers gently fondling your face, eyes absorbing every detail of your face, not that he hadn't already memorised it.

"thank you my dear" you whispered back, hands settling on his broad shoulders, taking in his waistcoat as well, the dark blue velvet clinging to every rippling muscle in his body, brass buttons complementing the coat.

"i always knew you'd look stunning in bridgerton blue but....it seems as though the bridgerton blue was crafted for you" he murmured, tightening his grip on your waist, "so stunning that infact, i do not feel the need to leave for lady danbury's ball, for I'd much rather stay here with my breathtakingly beautiful wife" he murmured again, lips ghosting over your own as his hands squeezed your waist, drawing you flush against his body.

"my lord, we cannot... we must be present at the first ball of the season" you lamely protested, heart hammering against your chest as the intoxicating scent of his musky, woodsy cologne filled your nostrils.

anthony dropped his lips to your neck, lips brushing a feather soft kiss to the sensitive skin, drawing a gasp from you.

"what if we do not go? what if we just stay here and...i worship my wife in the way she deserves? like the goddess she is?" he asked, like gently pressing kisses down to your collarbone, still as light as a feather, just enough to ignite something feral in you, but also enough to keep you wanting more.

"my lord it's the first ball of the season, and we have to-"

you were cut off by anthony's lips pressing against yours.

they were soft and plush against yours, pressing perfectly like a jigsaw puzzle, initiating a warm glow in the pit of your tummy.

as your lips met, the sensation was like a feather's gentle caress — soft, fleeting, and subtly warm. it feels like a delicate dance, a tender exploration that sparked a gentle flutter within you. the touch was akin to the brush of downy feathers, teasing and inviting, as if he was testing the waters of intimacy.

yet, as the moment unfolded, a magnetic pull takes hold, drawing you deeper into the realm of passion. the softness transforms, gradually intensifying into a fiery connection. the initial delicacy gave way to a fervent exchange, each kiss building upon the other with a growing hunger.

your lips, once feather-light, were now engaged in a rhythmic and passionate dance. the subtle warmth amplified into a blazing fire, and what began as a gentle exploration evolved into a fervent expression of desire.

the world around you faded and in that heightened connection, every kiss becomes an electric charge, a testament to the undeniable chemistry between your two souls entwined in the artistry of passion.

anthony's hands ran rampant on your body, clutching every part of your body through the silk dress, yet taking care to not scrunch the silk in anyway.

"you have no idea what you do me darling" he growled against your lips, drawing back for just a moment to watch your chest heave and eyes glaze over, hands clutching his coat and cravat so tight he feared you would rip it off.

"every breath you take, every word you speak, the very sound of your melodious voice and the very beat of your heart, all allure me to you, draw me to you like a moth to a flame" he continued, his own heart hammering against his chest.

his chest rose and fell with every word, eyes ablaze with burning passion. "every second of every day, i crave you, i long for you, i need you, and it drives me feral. but the sight of you in my colour makes me want to rip off that very dress off your body, claiming you as mine in more ways than one" he growled, hands scrunching the material on your behind.

"anthony..i crave you every second of the day as well. i need you" you whispered, a soft whimper slipping past your lips.

"hush my sweet darling" he said, sending you a saccharine sweet smile.

then, much to your chagrin, he took his hands off your waist, fixing the material and fixing his own coat.

"now, we must hasten to lady danbury's" he smirked" and you groaned, a painful throbbing between your legs becoming more prominent.

"but my lord-" you protested, only to be cut off by another searing kiss. he kissed you deep and long, and then drew back, pushing a stray curl on your forehead back behind your ear.

"our family awaits dearest" he smiled, and gently led you out to the hall.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

the grand ballroom at lady danbury's unfolded into a dazzling spectacle as it embraced the opulence of a gold and maroon theme. golden hues enveloped the space, casting a warm, regal glow. glittering chandeliers, adorned with intricate gold details, hung from the ceiling, their crystals refracting light in a dance of elegance.

luxurious maroon fabrics draped the walls, creating a sumptuous backdrop that added depth to the golden ambiance. tables adorned with golden tablecloths and maroon accents contributed to the harmonious blend of colors. golden candle holders flickered with the soft glow of candles, casting a gentle radiance on the rich maroon floral centerpieces.

the women's dresses shimmered with embellishments, and the men's attire featured accents, creating a visual symphony of sophistication, into which you walked with anthony, arms interlaced, as you bowed before queen charlotte, who had taken quite a liking to you.

"it's lovely to see the bridgertons led by a couple as magnanimous as you" she bestowed a rare compliment, bringing a hot flush to your cheeks and even to anthony's pale visage. "but now we anxiously await the news of a young bridgerton" she said pointedly, and you kept your eyes low, trying to ignore the heat blooming in your cheek.

around you, guests were engaged in a dance, the dance floor became a stage for a waltz of colors, with the many colours and tones reflecting in the mirrored walls. the orchestra, bathed in the warm ambiance, played melodies that echoed the richness of the color palette.

you noticed simon and daphne dancing, looking fondly at each other, and saw colin sharing a dance with young penelope featherington, which made you smile, always having harbored a soft spot for the girl.

you spotted eloise by the food table, with francesca, both enjoying the strawberries that were being served. benedict seemed engrossed in exploring the rich collection of paintings in the hall, and was surrounded by a group of friends.

anthony led you over to his sisters, a soft kiss to your wrist a promise to be back in a moment lingering on his lips, as he was dragged off by countless lords for a drink and a conversation about the next round of a hunt they were engaging in.

as eloise began to speak about the many cruelties of lady featherington, you spotted cressida cowper scowling over at the two of you, dressed in a pink so bright you felt momentarily blinded. she shot a contemptuous look at you, scoffing at your gown and sharing a laugh with lady cowper, that had your eyebrow creasing with insecurity.

much to your horror, she began to march over to you, along with her mother and lady featherington, much to your dismay. you searched desperately for your mother-in-law, but found her engrossed in conversation with the queen.

"my my, if it isn't the happy bridgertons" cressida sniped, flashing you a tight lipped smile. "hello miss cowper" you smiled, ignoring the anxiety bubbling in your tummy.

"cressida" eloise said coldly, linking her arm with yours. she was well aware of the contemptuous rumours she had spread about you when you had begun courting anthony and had made it her mission to protect you from her.

"what a rather unusual colour for you dear" lady cowper commented, eyes trailing down your body in disdain.

"it gives you the impression of being a little washed out" she stated, opening her fan to hide her smirk.

you ignored the tear that sprang to your eyes as she continued to comment, on the fall of the dress, the shape of the silhouette and the way your jewellery was far too showy.

you could feel eloise glowering beside you but silently begged her to keep calm, not wanting to lose her calm in front of everyone.

to your surprise, a familiar baritone cut in, a nd a strong arm wrapped around your midriff and waist.

your husband appeared beside you, a smile on his face that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"i see why you might think that, lady cowper, for all you can pull off is that rather obnoxious shade of viscous pink, and while i understand your envy at my wife's ability to outshine everyone else here in any colour she chooses, i must remind you are speaking to the viscountess bridgerton, and hence must adhere to the degree respect she commands" he stated coolly, hand gripping your waist so tight you were sure it would leave marks.

stunned speechless, the cowper's backed away, egos more than bruised and enraged , subject to sniggers and chuckles from the other lords and ladies in the room. your brother walked to anthony from across the hall, patting him on the back and whispering a "good man" to him as he hugged you, and eloise drew anthony into a hug as well.

anthony led the two of you over to his mama, who couldn't hide a smile herself at the love her son had for his wife, so reminiscent of the way their father had loved her.

"I am sorry if I caused humiliation to your name mama, but I cannot and will not let anyone talk to my wife that way" he said firmly, only to be cut off by his mother.

"I believe everyone here has been waiting to say that to miss cowper since the beginning of time, my darling, so take your wife and go home. you have done your job and proved your love and passion and told everyone that your relationship rhymes true" she said, drawing you into a warm hug and bidding you goodbye.

the carriage ride home was silent as your held anthony's hand tight, his thumb tracing patterns over the gloves you were donning, a pearly white to match your jewels.

"thank you my love" you whispered to him, eyes glimmering with unshed tears.

"my darling, i love you, all of you. please do not ever belittle yourself, because your beauty is awe worthy" he said, eyes contorted as if he was in pain at the thought of you being in pain.

"I'll try my best not to" you whispered against, leaning forward to press your foreheads together. and you stayed like that till bridgerton manor came into view.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

frenzied kisses were pressed against your lips as anthony lifted you into his arms, earning a singular gasp from your lips. his hands, one wrapped tightly under your bottom and the other around your back was strong, as you wrapped your legs around his waist and he led you upstairs, ignoring the scurrying valet and maids and your ladies in waiting as he made it to your shared bedroom.

he dropped you gently on the bed, towering above you, hands shoving the material of your dress up. his hands crept along your thighs stealthily, finding the hooks of your stockings to your thigh garter, slowly dragging it down, exposing your bare skin to him, suppressing a groan at the soft skin.

to his surprise you reached up and grabbed him by the cravat, untying it and pulling him down to meet your lips. you kissed him roughly, a frenzied battle, with teeth and tongue clashing as he shrugged off his waist coat and began to unbutton his shirt, watching as you removed your jewellery and kept in on the table beside his bed.

his hands reached for your dress, carefully untying the many laces and unbuttoning the many buttons on your dress, watching as your bosom heaved in the corset wore.

deft fingers unhooked the corset without a struggle, and you moaned when the cold air hit your nipples, making them harden, as you pushed your chest out towards him.

anthony growled, the sound reverberating in his throat as he reached down to unbutton his tan pants, leaving him in just his underwear. his lips attacked your neck, biting into the delicate flesh and pressing kiss after kiss, sucking deep marks and hickies that were sure to stay for days after.

you raked your nails up and down his neck, stroking the skin there and raking your hands upto his hair, gently scratching his scalp as he trailed kisses down to your breasts.

his mouth enveloped your nipple in his mouth, tongue flicking and swirling around the sensitive nub.

he continued his ministrations, taking only a moment to move his mouth to your other breast and leaving lovebites on the skin.

he settled in between your thoughts, hips gently grinding into yours, as he licked and sucked to his heart’s desire, attempting to alleviate the growing tent in his pants.

you were beginning to pant, and he continued to pinch and stroke your nipple. his tongue wreaked havoc on one while his fingers gently tugged on the other. anthony could not wait any longer, the pain of the straining in his pants making him more loopy than he would admit, and he pulled away from your breast, a string of saliva from his lips to your breast.

he came back up to your mouth, kissing you with desperation. "i adore you" he painted above you, before kissing down your tummy to your thighs.

he stopped at the junction between your thighs, inhaling the musk of your scent.

he reached for the cotton underwear you had on, gently pulling it down, and pushing your thighs apart, and a wave of cold air floated across your inner thighs, so open and exposed now.

anthony began to press hot, open mouthed kisses to the bare expanse of your thighs, stopping just below your pussy lips each time.

mere moments later, you felt an entirely new sensation— anthony's wet, warm tongue sliding through your folds. a cry of pleasure ripped from your throat, as you looked down at anthony, who had crawled between your legs with his tongue buried at the apex of your thighs.

your slick dripped down your pussy lips, costing them in your honey, and anthony licked it all up as if it was nectar and ambrosia, lowering his face to lick a long strip through your entire slit, before tilting his face even deeper into your pussy, swirling around up to your engorged clit and licking all around it and on the top of it.

the action had your hips jolting as he sucked on the nub, causing flashes of white to flash before your eyes.

"you taste more delightful than i could ever have imagined" he breathed licking the sour-sweet liquid off his lips. "my own precious honey pot" he cooed, making you flush again and your body heated up.

he sucked harder on your clit, fingers slipping into your slit to slide up and down, each stroking made your hips flail wildly.

“you taste so sweet” he murmurs, and the brush of his breath sears against your skin. the low rumbling of his voice, so characteristic of him, are dripped in hunger and arousal, the heat spreading under your skin and threatening to explode like a supernova.

"i have longed to have you squirming on my tongue my love. i will have you screaming my name until your lips know no other" he promised.

with a ravenous look at your heaving form, anthony lowered his mouth to your throbbing center again and licked a bold stripe up your clit, the sensitive bud jolting in shock and you scream in pleasure,

the ever composed lord bridgerton moans against your cunt when you tug his hair, hands holding down your hips as he watches you squirm. then anthony rolls your clit with his teeth and you come apart with a scream, hands gripping onto his hair for dear life.

you come, cunt clenching down, spasming around his tongue where he has you stretched open. everything else disappears for a moment, your body weightless with pure unadulterated bliss.

anthony shifts so he is in between your legs again, watching the fluttering of your pussy as you clench around nothing. your eyes are trained on his hips and he feels a surge of pride.

his cock was one not only of great size but of greater girth and greater skill, and he adored nothing more than watching your eyes become as large as saucers as you looked at his poor cock straining again as it had been ever since he saw you in his signature colour.

trained hands guided his cock to your entrance, tapping against it for a few seconds before he dragged the tip through your slick, making your body shudder at the stimulation. and then, he pressed a kiss to your neck, hips slamming against yours.

the first thrust was deep and claiming,and you cried out at the perfect stretch of him in your pussy.

you could barely think straight, hands digging into his back and nails sinking into his skin.

"so fucking perfect,” he murmured into your ear, rasped and breathless as he nipped on your ear. "'feel so good wrapped around my cock. so wet and warm for me my sweet sweet beloved. fuck, you're so tight right now. squeezing me so well, you love my cock, do you not my angel?"

"yes yes i love you and your cock" you changed as a prayer, eyes bashful at the use of the dirty word. "look at how your cunt clenches around me" he groaned, head dipping into the crook of your neck as his hips slammed into yours repeatedly.

you could hear the headboard banging against the wall as the pace of anthony's thrusts had your body sliding against the silken sheets.

and then he stopped

he stayed there, buried inside you to the hilt, and his cock twitched excitedly inside you. you watched the way he gripped the bedsheets tightly with his fingers until they went hite. it sent heat and pleasure into the pit of your stomach and you were sure you are going to burn. it was far too good, far too much, brimming on the edge of being overwhelming.

there’s no warning as he pulled out, leaving his pulsing tip in, and then he thrusted all the way back inside, in one long and slick stroke back inside you, deep and rough. his cock slammed into a spot in you that has you screaming, something absolutely fucking delicious and it steals away your breath and makes you cry out.

and then he grabs your legs, pushing them up towards your legs as he almost folded you in half, pushing your legs so far apart they almost touched your head, as he moved to his knees for a better angle.

his hips thrusted wildly as he kept fucking you, hand rubbing furiously at your sensitive clit, as you whined and moaned and screamed. he watched as your cunt, pink and perfect fluttered and twitched, and his ears revelled at the sound of the filthy, wet squelching that echoed in the room from your dripping cunt.

he landed a harsh smack to the back of your thigh that had you screaming as he then pressed his tongue to it, sucking a hickey on the spot.

sweat dripped down his forehead and yours, as you began to thrust your hips up to meet his perfect strokes, while feeling like his cock was going to split you apart.

"i want nothing more than to fill you with my seed" he growled, over the sound of your skin slapping together over and over again.

"fill me with your seed my lord. let me have carry your kin" you murmured, and you watched as anthony groaned, hand wrapping around your throat.

"such a minx" he grinned, squeezing and watching your eyes roll back.

without a warning, he flipped you over so you were on top, and his deft hands steadied you at the waist.

then he began to slowly pick your hips up, working you up and down on his cock, slamming you up and down on his cock, until you got the hang of it.

anthony felt himself drooling as he took in the way your tits bounced and you bounced on his cock as you ride him, nails now scratching down his chest as he laid a harsh spank to your ass that had you clenching on his cock harder.

he watched your body desperately ride him for all he was worth, thighs jiggling as they clapped against his own, and he pinched the fat around your waist and belly, teeth nipping at your nipple to increase the stimulation.

"m-my lord! I am going to cum!" you moaned loudly, only to turn to a wail as anthony's fingers unleashed a furious assault on your clit, as he rubbed it up and down and side to side and everywhere, covering his fingers in your slick.

with a scream of his name, you came all over his dick and his tummy, your juices spilling out of you like a fountain, watching as he scooped it up with his fingers to lick it clean.

he slammed your hips down on his even harder as you whined, and you felt his stomach tense and breathing stutter as he came, shooting his load inside you, and finally sinking into the pillow, limp.

panting, you rolled off of him, mind cockdrunk and unable to move. anthony peppered kisses to your skin and kissed the spots where he'd been rough.

"you were phenomenal, my love" he whispered, and to your intrigue, his fingers trialed down to your cunt.

you watched as he gently slid a finger in to your hole, shushing and kissing you as he blocked it with his fingers.

"i cannot have a single drop of me spilling out of you" he murmured and you moaned.

"i adore you", he mumbled, "my dear wife" he concluded.

"and i adore you, my dear husband" you smiled, meeting his lips in a sugar sweet kiss.

who would've known that wearing the bridgerton blue was all it would take for you and anthony to announce to the ton in the next three months that you were expecting the first bridgerton heir?

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

a/n : I've missed writing for bridgerton so much!! i really hope you enjoy this, and as always likes reblogs comments opinions etc are appreciated!! sending u all love and happiness and remember, my inbox is always open and i love making new friends!! happy reading ☺️♥️

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moonstruckme · 26 days ago

Note

hello, my love! i cometh to the with a poly!marauders request.

i haven’t fleshed it out in my head, but could you write something revolving around them talking about r while she’s “asleep”? the way it came was in the sh drabble, reader falls asleep on james after the tough convo. i thought of a nice follow-up where the lads talk about ways to support them while they think she’s asleep and she feels so safe and supported and it’s just fluffy and cute.

it doesn’t have to be around sh or anything like that! just something fluffy and cute where they talk about her when they think she’s fallen asleep on one of the lads. it could be about past trauma they want to support her with, a trigger and them discussing how to go about helping, etc. - anything you fancy at all. i could use some soft fluff ❤️

Thanks for requesting lovely <3

poly!maraudes x fem!reader ♡ 796 words

Sirius’ thumb is sweeping a slow back-and-forth over the baby hairs at your temple. You can feel his chest rising and falling beneath your head, hear his heart inside it, smell the heady spice of his cologne, but you’re sleepy enough that those things fuzz together, melt into the gooey softness of dozing.

James and Remus are tidying in the kitchen. You’ve been distantly aware of their low, continual sounds, but you don’t register the change until Remus’ footsteps near the couch where you and Sirius are lying, the floor creaking beneath his feet.

“Do either of you—oh.” His voice drops to a hush when Sirius shushes him. “Is she asleep?”

You have the notion to make some small sound, but your mind is sluggish. When Sirius murmurs, “yeah,” before you can, you decide to let it go.

Remus makes a soft tsking sound. You feel the couch bend near your feet. “Should we wake her? She might not sleep well tonight if she does now.”

“I don’t much care when she sleeps.” Sirius’ thumb keeps stroking at your temple, his voice as soft as you’ve ever heard it. You think that you may never get past the oddity of being held by him like this. When you first met Sirius, any tenderness had to be disguised as flirting. In a moment like this he would have woken you with sweet, tickling kisses mushed into your neck, growling about how you were too cute to let sleep before making some joke about how if you want to get me into the bedroom, gorgeous, there are quicker ways. And it was all in good fun, you’d enjoyed it and known the real sentiments that lay beneath all his levity. But over time that showy, over-the-top amorousness has morphed into a more sincere sort of fondness, and you like this version of Sirius even more. “Only that she does sleep,” he finishes. “She hasn’t been getting much of it lately.”

“No,” Remus hums. “I’ve noticed.”

There are a few moments of soft, blanketing silence between them. You start to drift off again, but then another pair of footsteps comes.

Remus must make some silent signal, because James whispers, “She’s sleeping?”

Two hums.

“It’s not like her to sleep during the day.”

“We don’t think she’s been getting much of it during the night, either,” sighs Remus.

James makes a low cooing sound. The throw piled by your feet finds its way up to your shoulders.

“James.” Remus’ voice is stern.

“What?”

“Don’t touch her face,” says Sirius.

“Sorry,” James laughs softly. “She just looks so cute.”

“Well, try to restrain yourself.”

“Okay, okay.” But a pair of lips touches down ever so softly on your forehead, and you hear Sirius’ amused chuff. “Why do you think it is that she’s not been sleeping?” James asks.

Remus hums. “M’not sure. I think she may just be a bit overwrought.”

Your chest aches at the caring in his tone. Sirius’ free arm bands across your shoulders, a protective, solid weight.

“She’ll be alright,” he murmurs. “She just needs a little extra help at the moment, is all.”

“Maybe we could bake something tonight,” says James. “She always likes that.”

Remus’ voice is warm with affection. “That’s sweet, Jamie. Maybe something simple, so she can just relax.”

“Like decorating cookies?”

“Do we have the stuff for that?” Sirius wonders.

James scoffs, and you feel Sirius’ chin bump your head as though a forceful kiss has been pressed upon the top of his. “As if you’d have any idea what’s in our pantry. Cute.”

A smile tugs at your lips. You shift slightly to hide it, turning your face further into Sirius’ chest. All three boys go quiet.

Sirius rubs your shoulder gently. “It’s okay, baby,” he murmurs, lips to your hair. “Go back to sleep.” Your boyfriends stay silent as you settle, and for a cautious while after that.

“She’s so precious,” Remus whispers, almost too softly for anyone to hear.

James makes a quiet sound of agreement. “I hate when she’s upset.”

“I don’t think she’s very upset,” Remus muses. “Or if she is, she might not know herself. It’s all just a bit much right now, I think.”

“She’ll be okay,” Sirius says again. His hand is moving over your shoulder still. You think he might do it for hours if it kept you from waking, he loves you that much. Your heart feels too big for your chest. “We’ll take care of her. Cookies, right?”

“It’s a start,” Remus agrees.

“James, I swear to god, if you wake her I will fill your shoes with cow shit.”

“I won’t,” James swears. “Relax.” He presses his lips to the tip of your nose, and both the other boys sigh.

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djljpanda · 10 months ago

Text

Lucifer Morningstar X Fallen Exorcist Reader

Ever since his split from Lilith Lucifer has been a reck feeling like no one can love him, need him, or understand him again

You have been an exorcist for a couple of thousand years now being one of the best exorcists Heaven could ever ask for

But deep down you always felt bad for those you had killed feeling like yes Hell is for those who have done wrong but what about those who did the wrong things for the right reasons

So on the next extermination day you tried to run away from it all but when Adam found out he took it upon himself to kill you

You were able to get away before Adam could finish you off but nothing could prepare you for meeting Lucifer himself

For some reason Lucifer took you in and helped you out and yes you did come out to him about you being a “fallen angel” and your ideals on heaven, earth, and hell

Lucifer just sat there and listened and for the first time since Lilith someone understood him

Now at first you two became roommates in a way, mostly helping him out with his work, giving him duck ideas, being his bodyguard and secretary, and you did try to push him into talking to Charlie more but you understood on why he couldn’t do it himself

You did face palm as when he called her all he did was tell her to have that meeting with Adam, at least it’s a start

Charlie dose know of you but saw you more as her fathers secretary or his best friend, like an aunt, she is happy how you think there is a way to get sinners in to heaven and how you told her if she ever needs help or to talk to someone you are just quick call

Lilith dose know of you and you may have never seen her face to face she is happy someone is keeping her ex happy

Now if you ever get together it would be the best for the both of you cause I’m sure you would want to confess first but with the thoughts of you killing his people and Lilith, it just made you hesitant but with a simple duck jester (making a duck quack an “I love you”) Lucifer confessed his feelings to you

Charlie I think would be happy for her dad to have found someone and yes at first she did see you as her aunt but she is happy to call you her step parent sand she isn’t afraid of telling everyone that either

That’s one of the major reason on why Lucifer likes you, his daughter loves you like a parental figure

This Lucifer is just a sad boy so if you just sit there and cuddle him he would love you forever and if add words of praise he is just melting

Definitely will vent to you cause he is that comfortable around you and he is happy that you feel the same way when you vent

You always support his duck creations and yes late nights would consist of you two role playing with the ducks, when you two started dating he made three duck versions of you, him, and Charlie all matching clothes sitting next to each other, this man had a whole collection of duck versions of you and he was embarrassed when you found out but you called it cute

When extermination day hits he could see how tense you get and when you told him on what happened before he found you he couldn’t help but hate Adam more and so every Extermination day Lucifer would hold your hand and comfort you may even play a little music and it just grew more loving when you two started dating

You do help out with Lu Lu World as it’s one of Lucifer’s passion projects and no one could believe how upset you were when Mammon created Loo Loo land, you almost put your exterminator skills to use but Lucifer stopped you and let Mammon have his way cause he didn’t want to argue with Mammon so you just had to let it go

You both do play music together as when you were both angels all you did was play music, duets and you can’t tell me you, Lucifer, and Charlie didn’t sing together once

You remember seeing Lucifer’s wings for the first time and how amazed you were as you kept complementing him and that just made his face all red and what made you stop was when he commented o how your wings could have been more pretty then his, you just smile at him

Now here you two have more of a bodyguard/ secretary and famous person kind of relationship even though he may not need it he likes keeping you around and that just help made his feelings grow for you

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dinogoofymutated · 7 months ago

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may i pretty please request a wolverine x reader where he gets super clingy when he’s tired and he’s just so soft with the reader following her around like a little puppy until she agrees to go to finally go to bed so they can cuddle and sleep and it’s just 🥹🥹🥹🥹

Wolverine/GN!Reader THIS!!! I absolutely love soft Logan and having this big, rageing machine of a man turn into an absolute puppy when he's sleepy and in love UGH. I need him to be real RN so we can go get married and live happily ever after in the mountains I stg Sorry that this one is kinda short. It's really fluffy and I hope yall enjoy! TWs: None! Reader is written pictuing fem but no pronouns mentioned.

You woke up a little while ago with the striking revelation that you had completely forgotten to finish grading exams. Sure, you could have waited till the morning, but you had become restless. At this point, the only thing that was gonna help you fall back asleep was to just get it over with.

You let out a sigh as you finish another exam, moving on to the next one in the stack. You remember when you had first joined the X-men, expecting it to all be adventures and saving people from immediate threats- you never would have expected to be where you are now. The thought makes you laugh a little bit. You, a teacher? Oh, how times have changed. For the better, but changed nonetheless. The door to your classroom creaks open slowly, and you look over to see Logan. His eyes are half closed as he shuffles over to you, leaning over the back of your chair to wrap his arms around your shoulders and set his chin atop your head.

“Come back to bed, baby.” Logan rumbles. You rub one of his arms back and forth with one of your hands as you continue to write with the other.

“Sorry, did I wake you up?” You ask. Logan only hums from above you, adjusting his head to press his cheek against your hair. You know what he means, even if he won't admit it.

“Okay, well just give me a moment and I’ll get back in bed with you, okay?” You tell him, admittedly feeling a little guilty for disturbing his sleep. Logan doesn’t respond, and instead begins to move to the other side of your chair.

“Logan?” You call his name curiously as he begins to sit down on the floor next to you. He huffs as he leans his head against your thighs, practically using your lap as a pillow.

“I’ll stay here, thanks.” He says, and you can't help but laugh a little.

“Logan, There is no way that’s comfortable.” You protest, but he simply shrugs, closing his eyes as he nuzzles into your lap.

“ ‘ve been through worse.” Logan sighs, and you swear you’re smiling so hard your cheeks hurt. You can’t help but shake your head at him anyway, writing a graded letter on the latest exam before moving it over again.

“You’re actually ridiculous, you know that?” Logan only hums in response to you, his breathing beginning to slow as you run a hand through his hair. The two of you sit like that for a while, and although you do feel bad about how uncomfortable it must be for him to sit down there like that, Logan doesn’t complain. You rub your eyes when you’ve finally finished grading the last exam, setting it neatly on your desk with the others. You’re ready to finally get up from that god-forsaken seat, but the weight in your lap is keeping you from doing so. When you look down, it’s clear to see that Logan has fully fallen asleep in your lap. You try to keep yourself from smiling too hard as you brush your hand across his shoulders and try to wake him up.

“Logan.” You call for him gently, and all he does is grunt in a sleepy way. “Come on, I’m gonna get a glass of water and then I’ll meet you in bed.” You shake him just a tad bit rougher, and Logan grunts again, slowly blinking his eyes open as he sits up. You run your hand through his hair one more time before standing. You wait for him at the door of the classroom, giving him a kiss on his cheek before you turn in the opposite direction, headed towards the kitchen. At first, you think you’re hearing things, but after a few more heavy steps from behind you, you turn around and are face to face with a sleepy, grumpy, Logan. You look at him in disbelief.

“I’m not going far. I’m just getting a drink and I’ll meet you in bed?” You can’t believe that he’s still trailing behind you, looking like a lost puppy. He almost pouts at you. Logan Howlett, the one and only Wolverine, pouting at you over something so silly.

“Lo. You cannot be serious.” You say, once again trying your best not to laugh. Logan huffs at you, walking forward to take your hand before he’s leading you to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

“You’ll get over it.” He grumbles. The walk to the kitchen to get water is just as quick as you thought it would be, if not a little longer due to Logan being stuck to your side the whole time, being built wide like a fridge and being in the way no matter what with how close he was. He’s got his arm draped over you on the way back to bed, refusing to be less than three inches away from you at all times. You hardly have time to lock the door to your shared room before he’s grabbing you by the waist and tugging you under the covers. God, he was so ridiculous like this and you love him so much for it. It takes a moment for you to get settled under the covers, Logan’s hold on you being equivalent to being held in a steel cage and leaving very little room for movement.

When you turn to tell him goodnight, he’s already fast asleep. You lean in and kiss him goodnight anyway, and you swear that you see him smile unconsciously before you tuck yourself into his chest, finally resting in his comforting and secure arms.

#Pure fluff yall come and get your juice #x men 97 #x men #x men comics #x men headcannons #x men 97 x reader #wolverine #x men wolverine #x men x reader #wolverine headcannons #wolverine x reader #logan howlett headcannons #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #wolverine and the x men

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cloudybarnes · 1 year ago

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Busy Bee

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x slytherin!reader

Summary: you may have accidentally fallen asleep on draco, but in your defense, he was really comfortable to sleep on! now, though, you're forced to face your feelings for him and do something about them

Word Count: 2.6k+

Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰

“Blaise, move your big arse away from my comfy spot.”

You had a tiring day of classes, and wanted nothing more than to just relax for the rest of the night. You had gone back to the Slytherin common room to hopefully see some of your friends and just wind down for the night.

Everyone in Slytherin knew there was one special spot on the lounge couch that was reserved for you. You had spent countless hours and dozens of nights in that exact spot either studying or just hanging out with friends. That was your spot, and when you came into the common room, everyone knew to make way for it.

Blaise chuckled and raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry, (Y/N), didn’t realize you’d be back so early.”

“Early?” You exclaimed as you jumped into your spot. “I’ve been busting my butt all morning for these stupid exams. I’m exhausted.”

Pansy groaned from her spot on the floor. “Why don’t you just cut yourself a break once in a while? It’s no fun when my best friend is too busy for, like, anything anymore.”

You frowned. “I’m not too busy for you! I’m here now, aren’t I?” You grabbed a blanket from the stockpile you kept in the common room, and wrapped yourself tight in it.

Pansy rolled her eyes with a smile. “Yeah, yeah. You’re just in time to hear about the latest shit with Emma.”

Pansy had a wild grudge against this poor Hufflepuff girl who didn’t even know that Pansy was beefing with her. It was quite funny, honestly, but you loved Pansy enough to let her moan on about what annoying thing Emma does everyday.

“Oh goody.” Draco came out from the stairwell into the common room with a roll of his eyes. “Another go round of how insufferable you think that Hufflepuff is.”

He glanced over to see you cocooned in your blanket and let out a soft laugh. Draco took his seat next to you and laid his arm over the back of the couch behind you.

Draco intrigued you. Over the last year, the two of you had grown quite close. You considered Draco a good friend, but you would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t wish it were more. Draco was kind. He was flirtatious and charming, but he was sweet and gentle with you as well. Sometimes you thought Draco may have feelings for you in return, but you were far too scared to confront him about it.

“Well, for starters, we already know how much of a know it all she is, but for some reason she has to showboat just how smart she is. You’d think she was a Ravenclaw what with how obsessed she is with being correct.” Pansy said.

Blaise started to respond to her squawking when Draco shifted closer to you. Blaise’s voice drifted away as you focused your attention to Draco.

“You alright, Dray?” You asked.

He smiled slightly. “Yeah, just trying to get comfortable. Salazar knows Pansy will be talking about this nonsense for hours.”

Draco dropped his arm from the back of the couch to wrap around your shoulder and pull you into him. You could feel your heart beating out of your chest, silently hoping Draco couldn’t feel the intensity of it.

You tried to hide the grin threatening to break out on your lips as you snuggled closer to his chest. This was definitely a first for you guys. Though you and Draco had been quite flirty, he’d never been so open with his physical touch before.

“Then she had the nerve to choose me as her partner. Like I would ever consider her!” Pansy glanced over at you and did a double take when she saw you wrapped up in Draco. Her eyes grew slightly, but she averted them with a clear of her throat as to not make it obvious.

“And then, she had the audacity-“

“She really is quite obsessed with this hufflepuff, huh?” Draco whispered to you, quiet enough for Pansy not to hear.

You looked up at him. His face was so close to yours, your noses were practically touching. You bit your lip as a smile threatened your face.

“Yeah,” you whispered back as you stared into his eyes. “Leave her be though, it keeps her entertained.”

Draco chucked, his minty breath hitting your face due to your close proximity. Your own breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t realized just how close you were to him. You could feel your stomach doing cartwheels as you took in all of his glorious features up close. The glimmer in his eyes, the point of his nose, the curve of his lips.

“I didn’t see you earlier,” Draco shifted the conversation, pulling your gaze from his lips back to his eyes. “What were you doing all day, busy bee?”

You blushed at the nickname. “I was just in the library writing up essays and study guides for our finals.” You let out a yawn, the reminder of your morning making you realize just how exhausted you were.

“Sleepy?” Draco murmured in your ear.

You nodded your head with a mumbled ‘yes’, then rested your head on his shoulder. Draco wrapped his arm tight around your waist, pulling you as close to him as possible. With his other hand, he softly combed his fingers through your hair.

You hummed as you closed your eyes. “You’re comfy,” you sleepily mumbled.

Draco chuckled. His fingers brushed against your cheeks every once in a while as he gently continued combing through your hair.

As you felt yourself falling asleep, you could hear Draco shushing Pansy and Blaise to ensure they didn't wake you.

✰ ✰ ✰

The next morning you wake in your bed, unsure of how you got there. You must have gone up sometime in the night and just not remembered.

With a shrug, you stood up and stretched your arms over your head. Pansy was snoring in the bed next to you. You tiptoed over to her and gently shook her awake.

“Pansy,” you called as you shook her some more. “Come on, babe, time to wake up.”

She just grumbled and swatted your hand from her shoulder. You huffed. Pansy was terrible in the mornings, and for some reason unknown to you, she didn’t believe in alarm clocks so you got stuck waking her up every morning.

A mischievous idea came to mind, and with a smirk you jumped on top of her sleeping body.

“Ahh!” She shouted as you frantically shook her awake.

“It’s wake up time, Pans! We’ve got to get ready for our charms exam this fine, beautiful morning.” You said with a laugh.

Pansy sat up and pushed you off of her so you laid on the bed instead. “Geez,” she grinned as she rubbed at her sleepy eyes. “Who knew a night with Draco would make you so chipper this morning.”

You sat upright in crisscross as your smile fell. “Wait, what?”

You had spent the night with Draco? But that didn’t make sense, you woke up by yourself in your own bed. Plus, you would have remembered if something had happened between the two of you.

Pansy saw your confused expression and chuckled. She grabbed a pillow and gently swatted you in the face with it. “Not like that, you silly. Salazar knows if you slept with Draco you’d have probably died of happiness.”

“Hey!” You whined as a blush started creeping on your cheeks. “I’m not that crazy for him.”

“Oh, please,” Pansy scoffed with a slight smile. “I saw the way you cuddled up with him last night. I almost had a heart attack for you when I saw how close you were! Go (Y/N), go (Y/N)!” She cheered.

You laughed and pushed Pansy away from you. “Shut up!” Your giggles died down as you recalled how you laid with him last night. “Was it really that obvious?”

“Girl please! I thought Draco was gonna scoop you up and run away with you. You should have seen the look on his face when you fell asleep on him. He looked at you like you hung the damn stars in the sky.”

Your heart fluttered. You knew there was something going on with you and Draco, but by the way Pansy was talking, though she had a knack for exaggeration, it sounded like he really did have a thing for you.

“So, what do I do now?” You asked as you slightly rocked back and forth on her bed.

“Are you joking?” Pansy deadpanned at you. “(Y/N/N), you gotta go get your man! I’m tired of watching you two drool like little puppies over each other just for nothing to come out of it.”

Your cheeks flushed. It had been a long time of this back and forth with Draco, and you decided you were ready to see where it got you.

“Okay, I’m gonna tell him next time I see him.” You said.

Pansy cheered. “Yes, finally! Now hurry up, I’ll help you pick a cute outfit that has ‘date me’ written all over it.”

You chuckled as Pansy eagerly jumped up and ran to your closet. She grabbed your shortest skirt, a white button up top, and your Slytherin robes.

“Pans, how is this any different than my usual outfit?” You asked as you stood from the bed and joined her near the closet.

“Ah, my sweet (Y/N), it’s not about the clothes you wear, but how you wear them.” She grinned as she threw the clothes into your hands. “Put them on so I can work my magic.”

You chuckled and stripped out of your pajamas to put on your school outfit. Turning back to Pansy, you said, “Okay, now what?”

She devilishly grinned. Pansy pulled your skirt even higher up your legs to expose just a bit more of the skin there. She unbuttoned the top two buttons of your shirt and fixed your boobs so they popped out a little bit more. She wrapped the robe around your shoulders, but let the front open so you could see everything underneath.

“And no tie,” she added, “that way your shirt can stay that way.”

You chuckled. “You get me into all these crazy shenanigans, you know that right?”

“You know you love me.”

“Yeah,” you added wearily, “but what if it’s too much? I mean, we still have to go to class. It’s not like I'm only going to see Draco.”

“Who cares?” Pansy asked as she started to dress herself in a similar manner. “Let the other boys stare and show Draco that you’re a hottie who other boys can get at if he decides he’s gonna be a wuss today.”

You laughed. Pansy always knew just how to make you feel better. “Alright, let’s get out there, then. Don’t wanna keep all the boys waiting.” You winked at her.

Pansy smirked and wrapped her arm with yours. You walked out together and down to your first class that you shared.

Luckily for you, Draco did not share the same period for charms as you. You thought if Draco was in the class you would have surely failed your final.

You felt pretty confident in your answers, and soon enough class was dismissed.

Your heart beat out of your chest as you said your goodbyes to Pansy and walked to your next class: one you shared with Draco.

Nervously, you picked at your clothes as you walked to potions. On your way there, you couldn’t help but notice all of the random students staring at you. Boys, and girls, sneaked peaks at you as you walked past them.

It felt nice to be noticed, you just hoped Draco would react in a similar way.

Speak of the devil.

There Draco stood in all his glory. He leaned against the wall outside of the potions room looking you up and down. Draco’s lip was trapped between his teeth and he sized you up.

“Bloody hell, (Y/N).” Draco mumbled, just loud enough for you to hear over your rapidly-beating heart.

Draco pushed himself off the wall and started walking towards you, meeting you halfway. He didn’t say anything. All he could do was stare. Draco knew you were gorgeous; he’d be a bloody fool to not have noticed it before, but there was something about the way you looked that made his head spin.

While he shouldn’t say it, Draco had always imagined how you would look after he’d had his way with you. He didn’t ever want to seem like a creep, you were too sweet for that, but that just made him more curious.

In all honesty, he didn’t know you had this in you.

“Uh, Draco?” You asked. Draco had zoned out as he stared at you. You could feel your cheeks getting warm and you took in how awestruck he looked.

“Hm?” He glanced back up into your eyes. “Sorry, sweetheart, you just- you just look incredible. Well, you look gorgeous everyday, just you look gorgeous and sexy if that makes sense.”

You raised an eyebrow almost teasingly. “Oh, so you think I look sexy now, huh?” You don’t know where this newfound confidence came from, but you liked the way Draco’s eyes widened as you crossed your arms over your chest, pushing your boobs out ever so slightly.

Once he recovered, a smirk adorned his handsome face. “I always think you look sexy, now I'm just seeing it in person rather than my dreams. And speaking of dreams,” Draco grinned devilishly, “how did you sleep last night, darling?”

You had almost forgotten about the confusion of the night. “I slept well. I think.” You chuckled as you pushed a piece of hair behind your ear. “I don’t exactly remember getting to bed, though. Care to enlighten me?”

Draco chuckled, “You fell asleep, quite adorably I might add, and I as the gentleman I am had the privilege of carrying you up the stairs and tucking you in for the night.”

You smiled, “how come you didn’t just wake me?”

Draco’s cheeks tinged pink. “I, uh, I just knew how tired you were from your morning and I didn’t want to disturb you. Hope that was okay.” Draco rubbed the back of his neck a little awkwardly.

You grinned and reached up to squeeze his arm. “It was really sweet of you, Draco.”

The two of you stared at each other for a minute, the silence held some tension, it had some longing imbedded into it.

“Draco…”

“Do you want to go out sometime?” Draco cut you off.

You gaped at him. “Like a date?”

Draco smiled, “yeah, exactly a date. I knew I’ve liked you for a little while, (Y/N), but when you cuddled up against me last night, I had this thought that I wanted to do it again. And then again after that too. You held onto like you needed me, and, uh, I really liked that.”

Draco blushed a little at his confession and shuffled his feet around nervously.

You couldn’t help but grin and wrap your arms tight around his neck. Draco was a little taken aback by your quick movement, but surely sunk into your hug and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“I’d love to go out with you, Dray,” you whispered as you were pressed so close to him. “I’ve been hoping you would ask me out for a long time.”

Draco pulled away, but still held his hands on your waist. “Sorry for keeping you waiting so long, darling.”

You giggled and grabbed Draco’s hands to pull him towards the classroom. “Come on, Slughorn doesn’t wait for anyone and I need to do good on this exam.”

Draco chuckled and let you pull him along to class. He couldn’t wait to finally take you out on a date.

#draco malfoy oneshot #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #harry potter #harry potter x reader #draco malfoy x slytherin!reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #ron weasly x reader #ron weasley #cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader #fred weasly x reader #george weasley

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lavenderspence · 3 months ago

Text

A runaway kitten | A.H.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Content warning: fluff, cuteness overload to be honest.

Word Count: 1.5K

Summary: A troublesome kitten prompts quite the meet-cute

Request: May I please request a meet cute with Hotch? Maybe they become new neighbours or reader has a child jacks age and they meet like that? I honestly don’t mind I just love the cuteness that comes from first interactions 😫💛

A/N: for once, I'm not really sure what to say...except, I forgot this blog's three-month anniversary, so...happy over 3 months? writing's been a bit hard recently, but I do hope it's going to get easier. enjoyy

Request are closed! | masterlist

“Olive?” You called out, setting his water bowl down. You clicked your tongue a few times, hoping he’d come out of hiding to drink some water, or at the very least, show you he was slowly acclimating to the new space.

Olive was your very pretentious, borderline-dramatic, six-month-old kitten. You’d found him near your old apartment building 3 months ago, cowering in fear and shivering because of the rain.

One look at him, and you knew, this little fella was your new roommate and cuddle buddy. You’d brought him inside, bathed, fed him and the rest was history.

But Olive did have a flair for the dramatic, at least that had been the case for the last three and a half weeks, ever since you’d moved into your new apartment.

The moment you’d opened his pet carrier after moving in, giving him a chance to look around and get familiar with the space, he’d turned his small head around a few times, hissed, and walked back into the carrier.

He’d spent most of his time inside, venturing out for only a few minutes to investigate the space, and then making it inside again. He did slip into your bed every night but still refused to explore the space or get used to it.

He started looking around more the last few days, sometimes spending some time in your closet or at the back of the couch, but that was about it.

“Olive?” You looked around. He might hate the space, but he always showed up when you called for him. No meows, no movement, and no kitten in sight made you worry a bit. You checked the places he usually visited, if for a little while, and then you checked everywhere else just in case.

No sight on him, not a peep anywhere. And that’s when you saw it - your bedroom window was open. You ran towards it, head ducking outside to check. You looked around frantically, looking for any sight of him, and finding none.

But there was a small ledge outside the window, running around the whole building, and any neighboring windows. It was a big enough ledge for Olive to walk across and make it to your neighbors’ apartments.

You closed the window and ran towards your front door, straight to apartment 123. The lady who lived there always greeted you with a smile, and this time was much the same. But a frown, and a sad one at that made its’ way onto her face when you told her about Olive, and she replied with a shake of her head.

Olive hadn’t made it to her apartment, all her windows were closed.

You made your way to apartment 121 and knocked on the door. Your heart was pounding, worry overtaking your senses. Thoughts, about whether he’d made it to apartment 121, or if he’d fallen down. Thoughts about him missing and you trying to find him and failing.

Deep in thought, you didn’t hear the lock click, or even the door getting opened, until a man stood in front of you.

He was handsome - black hair sprinkled with a touch of grey, chocolate brown eyes. Dressed in jeans and a fitted polo shirt, his hair was messed up like he hadn’t expected any company. He was fit, not overly so, and his posture was a little guarded.

You remember seeing him, once or twice just in passing, but he hadn’t been dressed that casually. No, he’d been sporting formal attire - a suit and tie, dress shirt, and slacks. You’d barely glanced at each other then, but now standing at his door, you could fully take him in.

You watched him arch a brow, waiting for you to speak up. You shook your head the tiniest bit.

“Hi.” You started with a small voice and equally a small smile on your face.

“Hello.” His mouth barely moved, but you caught the small lift of his lips.

“I know this is going to sound very strange. Do you, by any chance, have a grey kitten that showed up out of nowhere, possibly getting in using any of your windows?” You were fidgeting, picking at your cuticles as you waited for his reply.

He relaxed a little, an actual smile making way for a row of white teeth, and the most adorable dimples you’d seen. He chuckled. “Well, I may have an even stranger answer for you. Why don’t you come in?” He moved aside and pulled the door open.

Upon walking in, you took in the place. It was tidy, with minimal decoration, but also full of personal touches. Throw pillows and a blanket over the couch, pictures on the walls, and photos neatly arranged on the bookshelves. A blond woman, beautiful, smiled in one, her eyes striking.

A photo of a small, adorable boy, no more than three, holding a small plush koala decorated another shelf. A small carbon copy of the woman.

A chest of toys sat close to the bookshelf, and a lone toy truck was on the coffee table.

“Sorry about the mess.” There was no real mess, to begin with, just a laundry basket full of clothes waiting to be folded and put in their rightful places. “This way, please.” He led you towards the back of the apartment, his strides small.

The hallway was well-lit. A child's drawings were framed and put up, making the space homey.

You made it to a half-opened door, “Jack, buddy?” Your neighbor called out, pushing the door open. On the floor next to the bed sat the same, cute boy from the picture in the living room, and close to him, lying on his back, paws in the air, was Olive.

“Oh, Jesus.” You laid a hand over your heart, willing your heartbeat to slow. The little troublemaker was okay.

“Who’s this daddy?” The boy, Jack, asked as he reached to pet Olive’s tummy gently.

The man turned towards you, opening his mouth, but you beat him to it, “Hi, I’m Y/N, your neighbor. And this bad boy you have there is Olive.” You missed the soft look the man gave you when you introduced yourself to his son.

“Oh, he’s yours?”

“Yes, this little devil is indeed mine.” You shook your head with a chuckle.

“Why did he walk through the window then?” He asked, expression earnest and sweet. This might just be one of the cutest kids you’ve ever seen.

“Jack!” The man, whose name you had yet to learn, crossed his arms and shook his head, sending you an amused look.

“Well, I left the window open, and he’d been very vocal about not liking the new apartment much, so he decided to go on an adventure.” You kneeled, getting to his level where he still sat on the ground.

He looked like he was thinking for a second before he smiled, “He’s been liking my room, maybe he should stay here?”

A choked laugh fell from the brunette behind you, “Jack, no. You can’t say stuff like that.”

“It’s okay.” And it really was, because Olive was still flat on his back, looking at you in boredom.

“Worth a try.” He grinned back at you, one of his front teeth missing. You laughed in earnest, overcome by his cuteness.

“We better get going, we’ve taken enough of your time…” You trailed off.

“Aaron.” He reached his hand forward, offering it for a handshake.

You accepted his handshake with a timid lift of your lips, watching as his big fingers enveloped your smaller hand. You swore a small spark went through you at the contact - the feel of his skin on your own. Like a zap, an electric current - even your heart skipped a beat.

There was something about his touch, maybe him as a whole, that you reacted to. A nice reaction.

“Nice to meet you, Aaron.” You said, repeating your name to him too.

His eyes shined just a tiny bit in wonder, he wanted to know more about you, to get to know you. As his new neighbor, he hadn’t paid you much attention, any at all. But now? Stood in his son’s bedroom, in search of a troublesome kitten and speaking softly to Jack as if he was the most precious thing ever? He felt a small piece of his heart crack, making space for a new person to enter - a new person to get to know better.

You clicked your tongue, calling for the kitten again. He turned on all fours, looking bored, and started walking towards you.

Just when he was mere centimeters from you, he stretched, his whole body shaking. Aaron expected the grey creature to walk up to you, but instead, it stopped at his feet and stretched again.

This time it stretched up his leg, his small eyes widening in plea.

You laughed, and Jack’s small giggle followed.

“Well, maybe Olive does like it here.”

“Maybe he does,” Aaron added, looking at you. Your kitten may have liked his apartment, but Aaron liked seeing you both in it just as much.

comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#aaron hotchner x fem!reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x you #hotchner x reader #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner request

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ladyofrosefire · 2 months ago

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fuck it, bg3 companions shower routine

Shadowheart: Shar hates self-care, but a Shadowheart does take pride in her hair, and a Shadowheart who has learned to be kind to herself can indulge. Long, complicated hair routine, very specific water temperature, and a tendency toward long-ass depression showers. LOVES a bubble bath and will make a whole event of it with flower petals and candles just for her. Will bring a book with a little book tray and a glass of wine.

Astarion: Similarly complicated hair routine. Gotta hydrate the curls, and being dead does not do nice things to your hair. Less prone to standing there staring at nothing while the horrors set in, but prone to scrubbing too hard. Similarly fond of a bubble bath, although without the book or flowers, although he will fuck with an essential oil heater and likes to make his own blends.

Lae'zel: Queen of the 4 minute shower. She has been accused of not even waiting for the water to heat up, but she likes it blistering. Does not actually use 3-in-1, thank you. Having fairly short hair helps. She finds the other companions baffling. Would get bored in a bubble bath unless she had company (rubber duck counts).

Wyll: Sings. If someone called him on it, he would be embarrassed, the first time, for about a minute. Neither wildly efficient nor inclined to standing there for ages and ages and prefers to shower in the morning. Washing his hair is a chance to relax and take care of himself, although before he has his family back, it can be a bit melancholy. He has fallen asleep in the bath before. I feel like he'd love a bath bomb and he'd love the full romantic evening with candles and flowers and music.

Karlach: Please, please someone boil her. Once she gets her engine fixed all the way, she tries a cold shower just to remember what it feels like and keeps up a running commentary about how much it sucks while also not turning up the temperature. Absolutely loves sharing a shower with someone and will also sing. Should not attempt her little jig on wet tiles. May try anyway. Someone should introduce her to proper hair/skin care because if anyone is using 3-in-1, I'm sorry, it's Karlach. Genuinely cannot sit still for a bubble bath unless she has company to cuddle.

Gale: Voted Faerun's Most Likely to Relitigate Arguments in the Shower, Even if He Won Originally. Loves to pamper himself, canonically, loves a spa day, also canonically. You simply are not getting the bathroom back for a good hour, although not all that time involves running water. Plays around with different products and researches the living hell out of everything. Loves a long soak. The only person with a feline in their house to ever bathe in peace. Constantly torn between wanting a book with him when he has a bath and not wanting to get the pages steamy and damp, much less actually wet.

Minthara: Her ideal hair wash involves someone else doing it for her while also having the utmost certainty that the person will not attempt to murder her. If her partner washes her hair for her, she turns into a puddle. She has an incredibly specific lineup of products. If she shares, understand that she has bestowed upon you a great gift. More about bath salts than bubbles and could be persuaded to a sufficiently elegant bath bomb (it would not be a difficult check).

Halsin: Low-flow showerhead user. Hell, he might be the kind of person to turn the water off entirely when not soaking/rinsing out his hair... However, he is not immune to the "shower together to save water" line even though he KNOWS it doesn't work that way. He needs low-scent soaps/etc considering his heightened sense of smell. And listen, this man does not fit in a bathtub unless he goes somewhere special or finds a particularly large one. He made everyone floaty ducks, properly sealed against water damage, and he has one for himself that holds his soap.

Jaheira: Understands that having a chair in the shower is just being kind to yourself and proceeds accordingly. Will revisit arguments she had that day, but despite that has a quick and fairly simple routine. She needs the water pressure to pound the everloving hell out of her back. Loofa on a stick user. Like Wyll, she has fallen asleep in a bathtub, in part thanks to having and using a bath cushion. Truly, the expert on bath-based comfort.

Minsc: Also sings in the shower. LOUDLY. Boo is allowed to sit a shelf out of the way. The best way to get him to use lotion is to give him something that smells yummy. He has similar problems to Halsin regarding fitting in bathtubs. He tries anyway. He has been banned from at least one hotspring for doing a cannonball.

#text #bg3 #wyll ravengard #Shadowheart #Astarion #Karlach #Lae'zel #Jaheira #Minsc #Minthara #Halsin #Wyll #tadfools

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soundlessdreamss · 10 months ago

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Can I have a Lucifer vs Alastor fighting for the reader romantically, please if possible yanderes...

Lovely riddance

part two

pairings: y!alastor x reader & y!lucifer x reader

Note: reader will be a fallen angel for this! (Also this is prolly ooc)

You were a normal sinner (totally a sinner and not a fallen angel) living in hell you were in hell because of you questioning heaven which led to them throwing you down here… but you realized how different the other people in hell were compared to you. it just made you feel very weird, a total standout!

it made you miss heaven. A lot. Since you had made so many friends there and now you just lost it all. Well not all of it to be exact, your old friend Lucifer is the king of hell because he was the first one to rebel against heaven. You admired him for being so fearless against heaven themselves.

as you were in your own thoughts on the street of hell suddenly you passed by a poster that snapped you back to your senses. You suddenly scooted back to the poster and read it “want to be redeemed so you can live a gorgeous life in heaven? Well visit the hazbin hotel and let yourself be purified!” Oh my god. This could be your chance to meet other people like you! You decided to fly over there since the other angels didn’t rip off your wings when you fell down.

after like 69 minutes of flying (lol) you finally made it to the hotel! You couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious though, what would they think about you? Would they make fun of you? Would they humiliate you if you did one thing wrong- no you couldn’t let that stop you. This could be your chance to find your friends in heaven again. You knocked on the hotel door and waited for a response. It felt like it was taking forever until a blonde haired girl opened the door. (It only took 3 seconds for them to open the door but okay.)

she nearly screamed out of joy when she realized someone actually came to the hotel to be redeemed. She gave you a hug and welcomed you into the hotel where all the people there introduced themselves. There was Charlie, Vaggie, Angel dusk, Husk, Nifty, (nifty is a cutie) and a snake who you didn’t bother remembering his name cause it was too long. (Totally not an excuse to not have to write his name)

you almost choked though when Charlie said her last name was Morningstar, like Morningstar as in Lucifer Morningstar? She was his daughter?! You had no idea him and Lilith had a child but you felt happy for them. Not until she told you her mom left her 7 years ago. (Lol)

To your surprise (and relief) they accepted you and treated you nicely. And you recognized Vaggie but didn’t out her because you had a feeling that she didn’t want that to happen and you respected her.

All of a sudden a man just teleported out of the floor and tapped you on your back which made you scream so loud. He chuckled and said not to worry as it was him, the radio demon! And he also introduced himself as Alastor. He grabbed your hand and kissed it which made you a bit confused but you rolled with it. Over the couple of days you had spent there you bonded really well with all of them, but alastor specifically wanted to spend a lot of time with you.

he often invited you to brunch, dinner, and to help him work on the hotel. Had you caught his eye? Maybe… maybe you had caught his eye more than you thought you did. (He also may or may not be planning to make a deal for your soul.)

timeskip to when Charlie invited her dad over. ——————————————————————————————————————

you had all prepared for the place to look nice since the king of hell was coming to visit! Aka Charlie’s dad, and you wanted to make a good impression on him after you haven’t seen eachother for such a long time. He seemed happy that his daughter was inviting him over based on the tone of his voice when Charlie called.

You guys all got in position and Charlie was about to open the door until Lucifer barged in and greeted his daughter with a bear hug! He looked around the place awkwardly after and Charlie introduced him to everyone in the hotel. He stared at you for a couple of seconds not knowing if it was really you. He was about to speak to you until alastor teleported right next to you.

Alastor put his hand on your shoulder and had a death grip on it. Like he didn’t want Lucifer to even be near you. They both introduced themselves to each other and as they were talking about the hotel ideas, Alastor pointed out a thing you did for the hotel which helped them a lot. He brought your face to his as he put his hand around your neck pulling you closer. Your face was squished with his. He only did this though to simply piss Lucifer off and trick him into thinking that he had got to you first and that you guys have a deep connection.

as you pulled yourself away from him and looked at the two it suddenly felt as if there was an intense aura in the room all of a sudden. You laughed nervously and tried to excuse yourself before Lucifer grabbed your hand.

he was nervous and tried to compose himself to talk to you as it had been so long since you two had talked. Wtf was he even suppose to say? He decided to finally speak after an agonizing 5 seconds.

Lucifer: “oh [reader]… it’s been so long since we’ve last seen eachother! How have you been doll?”

[reader] : “oh I’ve been just fine. Well despite the fact that heaven kicked me out, it feels better here. Like I can actually breathe in this place.”

Lucifer: “good to hear. Would you mind visiting my palace sometime? Id like to show you some of my latest creations, especially one I made just for you!”

his smile became wider and his eyes seemed more sincere like he really wanted you to visit. I mean after all you guys haven’t seen eachother in eons!

before you could reply to his offer, Alastor grabbed your other hand and yanked you away as he chuckled.

Alastor: “I’m sure they would love to visit you sometime, but they’re busy with me today as I invited her to dinner and they accepted. Didn’t you dear?”

you suddenly remembered that you and Alastor were gonna go out for dinner tonight and you nodded your head.

[reader] : oh that’s actually right! I totally forgot about that for a minute. Well Lucifer would you like me to visit anytime I’m free if that’s okay?

Lucifer: oh, that’s just fine! Just try to make it soon cause I can not wait to spend time with you again!

his smile faded a bit and he seemed to give a glare to Alastor. In response Alastor simply had a wide smile as he continued to hold your hand after yanking away Lucifer’s.

After the argument with Lucifer and Alastor over Charlie was done.

───────────────────────

Finally everyone calmed down after they argued over who Charlie preferred as a dad. Thank god Mimzy barged through the door before another fight broke loose. After a couple minutes Alastor decided to tell everyone you and him would be leaving for dinner about now, you thought it was later but alright!

as you guys left through the door to go to your favorite restaurant, Alastor couldn’t help but giggle feeling Lucifer’s eyes burning a hole through him. He knew it pissed him off and he was glad that it did. And little did you or Lucifer know the Alastor was making more and more progress to his plan. His plan was to woo you enough so that you’d made a deal with him for your soul.

of course you’d get benefits aswell! Alastor would be at your every beck and call and you would do the same for him. It would just be a matter of time before he proposed the idea to you. He just hopes a certain someone wouldn’t mess it up.

part two coming soon…

note: hiii to everyone who read this, I’d like to thank you all for all the likes on my previous two posts! I’m going to be working on part two sooner or later. Also sorry is this is a bit ooc, I’m new to writing fanfics and tried to make alastor manipulative like he is in the show. :)

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel

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lis-likes-fics · 1 year ago

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A Deal’s a Deal

Pairings: Tommy Shelby x Gold!Reader Word Count: 11.7k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, swearing, smoking, oral (f and m!receiving), dom/sub themes, degradation, virgin!reader, gun kink, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, Tommy is mean and she wants him to be ... A/N: So this was absolutely filthy and I will not apologize. I am American, but I used to British spelling for (as many of) the words that I caught because sometimes I like it better and it also just fit more for the fic. Also, when I say “gun kink”, I mean gun kink. This is filthy shit. Who knows? I may consider writing a second... Enjoy.

Keen eyes were the first thing Tommy noticed as Aberama Gold walked onto the yard, a sly smirk set in place among blond hair and a suit likely just as expensive as his own. The way his eyes surveyed the yard, examined every inch he could without touching any of it, even stopping by Charlie for a word, made Tommy aware it was for more than just surveillance.

Aberama finally approached, his men following after with their own vigilance. "I just took a look around. I like this place," he announced. "Fire for melting silver, canal to get it away." He stopped in front of him, well out of reach but just as imposing as the growing headache Tommy felt nagging at the back of his head. "How much?"

Tommy took a long look at him, still as a statue as blue eyes pierced through blue eyes. He considered not even regarding the question, moving on to more pressing business and pretending it had never been asked, but he knew better. Arthur drank from his flask.

"Nothing you see here is for sale, Mr. Gold."

He disagreed. "Oh, everything's for sale. Everything."

Tommy pinched his cigarette between his fingers, bringing it to his lips but not quite slipping it through yet. Aberama spilled the rest of the tea in his cup into the fire, which roared with the fuel to its flames.

"You tell Mr. Strong I'm going to buy his yard." He didn't leave room for debate.

But Tommy didn't care. "This yard has been in his family since they settled." He moved the cigarette between his lips.

"But I've decided to make it a part of our deal."

There was a long pause as the men stared each other down, testing the other's strength, their tolerance of cold eyes. The sounds of metal and fire and cups on tables next to them filled the silence and fueled the suspense of a standoff.

"Charlie?" Tommy finally spoke, calling to his uncle. "Charlie, come here." He obliged with a sigh. As he stood next to him with a dirty rag to clean dirty hands, Tommy continued. "Gonna spin a coin for your yard, Charlie."

Frustration was quick to settle at his words. He dropped his hands at his sides. "You're goin' to what?"

Tommy didn't spare him a glance, never breaking contact with Aberama as he spoke. "If it's heads, Abbie here takes all of this with my blessing."

"Tommy?" Charlie warned, upset.

"And if it's tails…" he considered for a moment, gesturing to Aberama with his cigarette in hand, "I fuck your daughter, Mr. Gold."

Aberama's grin fell. Arthur laughed, a stifled laugh into his arm at the offer. Tommy's demeanour did not change.

Now, Tommy was a smart man who did his research. He knew all about Aberama Gold's family, but more specifically about his daughter—and, even more specifically, about his oldest. He knew she was a primary school teacher, how that came to be, he was sure it was with the help of her father. He knew she was Aberama's firstborn, born from another woman he'd fallen for but lost too quick to be left without love. Lastly, he knew she was without a husband, or even a suitor with the potential of wedding bells. With how beautiful you had been rumoured to be, he didn't understand it.

He was shocked he hadn't already had you yet.

"You have three daughters, I hear, and Y/N is the oldest and also the prettiest, so I'll have her. So make her part of the deal and spin against the yard." He replaced his cigarette between his lips, putting his hands in his pockets.

Arthur was still amused. The same could not be said for Charlie as he stepped closer. "Tommy, for fuck's sake."

Tommy fished for a coin in his pocket, flicking it over. "Here, you toss the coin, Mr. Gold."

He caught it easily, staring down Tommy before moving the coin in his palm to examine it thoughtfully. Then he smiled, a slow smile spreading over his lips, ready to call a bluff.

Tommy shook his head, just as serious and solemn as before as he took in his grin. "No." He shook his head, raising a finger to point at him with grim intent. "Please don't believe this is a joke, the coin to us is sacred. Yes, Arthur?"

"Sacred," Arthur agreed, his eyes as still and as menacing as his brother's.

They continued to stare. Aberama continued to think.

Tommy gave his warning. "You toss that coin, you take a bet before witnesses, and if I win…"

"Then we'll insist that the terms of this agreement…" Arthur tried again, "wager are fulfilled."

Tommy's eyes held a threat. "Toss the coin, Mr. Gold."

Aberama considered, setting the coin on the crook of his finger and propping his thumb underneath. He contemplated, debating himself and his luck silently as the sounds of metal and fire raged against the silence and pulled the tension taut. Loud, defeaning.

"Tommy Shelby, OBE," he mumbled, still considering. Tommy saw the moment of decision behind his eyes before it reached his face. The challenge, the question of "Perhaps?" warring in his mind. Aberama smiled a small smile. "I'll take your wager."

The Shelby boys tilted up their heads.

Aberama flipped the coin into the air, watching as it twirled and twirled and twirled. The coin made its descent into his hands and he sighed as he closed his palm and slapped it onto the back of his hand. The coin seared his flesh as he stared at Tommy, hoping to see the right side of the coin staring back at him when he unveiled the result.

They stared, tense. "Well?" Tommy raised a brow.

Aberama removed his hand.

And his luck drained as he stared down at the coin tails up to the world.

He lingered for a moment, feeling the eyes on him burning into his skin just as the coin did. "...Congratulations, Mr. Shelby," he breathed. He took the coin and showed the boys. "Tails."

Tommy's lip twitched, although it was hardly susceptible to the eye. "Tails," he repeated, his voice darker than before. He readjusted his stance, regarding Aberama as he spoke to the uncle at his side. "Go on back to work, Charlie. Your yard is safe."

Charlie stepped closer, asking the question as though he was whispering it just to him. "Are you actually going to fuck his daughter, Tom?"

Tommy still didn't look at Charlie, watching Aberama intensely, as if to remind him that this was all his fault.

People seemed to forget who he was. They seemed to forget that you shouldn't fuck around with Tommy fucking Shelby, OBE.

"A deal's a deal, Charlie," he said. "Isn't that right, Mr. Gold?"

He stared back with fire in his eyes. "Aye, Mr. Shelby."

The cab slowed to a stop in front of the large estate you were an expected guest in. Looking out of the window and through the dark, your stomach flipped at the prospect of the meeting you were meant to attend.

Your father had told you that the infamous Thomas Shelby was interested in meeting you. You were grading loads of papers at the time when you stopped to look at him, frozen in confusion. You asked him why and he brushed off the topic like he hadn't even brought it up, giving you a time and date and leaving it at that.

And now you're here, staring at his house and feeling the anxiety of how this evening would go as you stepped out of the car and watched him drive off. You fixed your dress, straightened your spine, and released a breath before beginning the looming evening with a walk up to the door through the dark, guided only by the lamps outside.

You clicked the knocker three times, waiting with your clutch held tightly in front of you. As the door was pulled open, you were somehow relieved to be met with an older woman. Though her blue eyes were shocking and her quirked brow was intimidating, she offered a kind smile and you were put to ease.

You really shouldn't have been as anxious as you were. You were a Gold and a gypsy—if something bad was going to happen to you, you would know and you wouldn't be there in the first place.

But this was Thomas Shelby, and you were terrified. He was rumoured to be the devil himself.

The woman opened the door wider. "Hello." She looked you up and down before stepping aside. "Come in."

You thanked her quietly, walking into the house and glancing around. It was nice. "How may I help you this late in the night?" she wondered, clasping her hands behind her as she awaited your answer.

"Um…" You smiled bashfully but not without the air of respect you've grown into and been taught to demand. "I don't actually know why I'm here. My father, Aberama Gold, sent me to see Tommy Shelby. I am to have an appointment with him?"

She hummed, "Of course. Wait here while I go fetch him." She began to walk off before correcting herself, looking back at you with a respectful smile. "Would you like a cup of tea while you wait?"

"No, thank you."

She left.

You stood in the foyer, twiddling your thumbs atop your clutch as your heart skips in your chest. With a calming breath, you steadied yourself, closing your eyes and waiting patiently.

You swung a foot out, taking a step forward as you wandered farther down the hall to see inside the main room. It was large, decorated sparsely with paintings and tiny statuettes. You didn't get a good look.

When she came back, she was not alone. Turning at the sound of shoes descending stairs, you saw him.

He still wore a suit. Although his jacket was removed, his timepiece was still in place connected to its chain. His sleeves were rolled up—you weren't sure why you noticed that so clearly.

He stared at you with a cigarette between his lips as his cold, blue eyes pierced your soul. Your heart jumped again. Anxious.

He watched you, looking you up and down and taking you in. He brought his hand up to remove his cigarette from between his lips, releasing a long, smoky breath. The look in his eyes shook you.

"Thank you, Mary." His voice was deep as it rumbled in his chest. "You can go to bed now."

Mary looked you up and down briefly. She bowed her head. "Yes, sir."

You didn't break eye contact with Tommy as she ascended the stairs. Even when she was completely gone, he didn't look away. The intensity of his gaze was hard to keep up.

You looked away.

"Come," he finally spoke, walking down the rest of the stairs and meeting you. He lingered in front of you for a moment, as if he just wanted a closer look, before continuing to move. You willed your feet to do so, following slowly behind him.

He took you to his study just off from the main room, pushing the door open to allow you inside. You entered silently, glancing along the room to take it in. He had a library, a burning fireplace, plenty of sofas, and a large wall of windows. The drapes were already drawn for the night, and the large room was illuminated by a small chandelier. You set your purse on the nearest table.

You watched Tommy walk toward his desk in front of the windows. He leaned on it, crossing one leg in front of the other. He stared at you again, and you quickly became frustrated with his gaze as you sighed gently and stood across from him, keeping plenty of distance.

Silence stretched on as he continued to stare and smoke, and you were growing impatient as you stared back. The longer he watched you, unyielding, the more you felt the need to squirm. It was only when you broke his eye contact again, like you had before on the stairs, that he decided to speak.

"Do you know why you're here, Miss Gold?" he asked.

Now that this was finally going somewhere, you sighed. "Y/N, and no," you replied.

He raised his brows. "What did your father tell you, Y/N?"

You shrugged. "That you wanted to meet me and nothing else." His vagueness was really beginning to frustrate you after enduring all of that staring. Why had he stared for so long?

Tommy hummed deep in his chest, looking you up and down with a little nod of his head. He put it bluntly as he gestured toward you with his cigarette. "Your father lied."

It was your turn to raise your brows. "I'm sorry?"

Tommy reached behind him to put his cigarette out, stifling it against the ashtray on his desk. "Your father flipped a coin for a bit of property and lost. In return," he looked at you again, speaking slowly, "he gave you to me to fuck."

Your heart was slamming into your ribcage at the knowledge. Images of such a thing flashed behind your eyes, and your throat went dry. You looked down at your shoes for a moment, blinking rapidly as you stretched your jaw. "I-I don't understand," you confessed, releasing a humourless chuckle and licking your lips. "He… he wouldn't do that."

"Wouldn't he?" he shrugged. When you didn't reply, he furrowed his brows. "Why else would you be here?"

You still didn't respond. He allowed you to process, though part of you felt like he was enjoying all of this, and you did not.

The anticipation started at your heart and spread through your body as it made a home in your chest, curling and writhing there in a bundle of anxious energy.

You swallowed thickly, "Are you going to hurt me, Mr. Shelby?"

He considered your question, mumbling quietly to himself as though he was mocking you, "Am I going to hurt you?" His eyes raked over your body, considering something silently in his head before he spoke again. "Come here."

You didn't move, otherwise frozen in place as you stared at him. Your disobedience seemed to astound him for a moment as he raised his dark brows and pointed to his shoes. "Here. Now." His voice was deeper with the command. He left no room for defiance.

Your body responded before your mind, not eager to see what would happen if you refused a second time. Your feet took you carefully toward him, slow steps treading the space between you until you were hardly a foot apart from him. His expression seemed to ease then, just enough to tell you that you were close enough now.

He took in your face from this distance. You could almost feel his breath. He spoke to you in a low voice, one that rumbled deep in his chest and resonated with you.

"I am a devil, but I'm no monster." Where you expected a crook of his finger to lift your chin, he gave you his hand to take a hold of your jaw and pull you close. "I won't force myself upon you, but if you agree to this, I will not be gentle. So, yes… I am going to hurt you."

You didn't respond—you couldn't. His words echoed in your mind and your mind warred with your body over what you would do in response and, thus, created none. You were frozen, staring at him as he held your face in a slight grip and held your attention in a much tighter one. You forget the fire burning smoke up its chimney. You forget the rows and rows of books lining the shelves of the office. You forget the clothes on your back, for his stare had stripped you bare for him to see.

He let go of your face, but you were not sure how well your brain registered that as you lingered in the same position, gripped in the same attention.

"If you want to leave," he said after a moment, "you'd better walk out of that door right now under the lie that the wager between your father and me was fulfilled. Hell, I'll even make you a cup of tea while you wait, and you can be on your way."

You considered that option. It would be like you never even came—except you did. And you knew you did. The stain of his stare, the hole he had burned into your clothes, into your skin, would never wash away. You would feel it every hour of every day as a reminder of the time you met the Tommy Shelby and lived not to tell the tale.

"But if you stay…" the corner of his lip twitched up at the idea, his pupils darkened and his voice deepened, "you're not leaving until I say you can." Even with their simplicity, his words made you shiver.

"Now, I will ask you once and one time only…" he leaned forward, his head very slightly tilted, his nose nearly brushing yours, "Are you leaving?"

As if you could say no with him this close to you. As if you could say anything with him this close to you.

Your options were idiotic.

Leave and live with the memories you gained here—the closeness, the silent obedience, the cold stare you could never wash from your soul. You would always feel it, feel him. He would never go away, plaguing your mind like a ghost of what could have been.

Or…you could stay. You could stay here and see what happened. You could let him ravage you, let him tear you apart and lick at your flesh and bone as he took you under his primal gaze. You could succumb to the ice in his eyes and let the burn of his touch mix together in some powerful, searing concoction. You would never wash his stain off, no matter how hard you scrubbed, but some part of you was alright with that.

And Tommy seemed to see that in your eyes.

He was amused as he shook his head, leaning back and away from you. He was teasing, you knew it now, heavily amused by the tiny reactions he earned from you as he pulled away to make you suffer a hint of withdrawal. It was with that distance that you realised you'd fallen in his trap, gone in too deep to turn back and be rescued from this tragic and ungodly addiction.

"No, you're not," he said—and, for a moment, you forget what he was talking about. "I can see it in your eyes, the same look your father had before he flipped that coin. You want to know what'll happen if you stay."

You seemed to snap out of it almost as you took a step back, establishing a bit more space as he revealed things you didn't want revealed. In doing so, you proved his point.

"You know exactly what happens if you leave. You go back to your regular life as a school teacher with siblings and a father to take care of." He chuckled silently, and you clenched your teeth. "No, you want to see how far this will go."

He raked his eyes over you for the hundredth time, and he knew the rumours were true. Pretty eyes, pretty lashes, pretty lips, pretty blushy cheeks. There was not a flaw on you that he could see. You were a beauty, an unconquered beauty he intended not to leave uncharted.

You looked away from him, glancing down between your feet and your hands and anywhere but his face as you processed his words, digesting them for what they were—the ugly truth you wished you could throw a blanket back over, swept back under the rug and hidden from view.

Tommy tilted his head as something dawned on him.

"Are you a virgin, Y/N?"

You kept your eyes on the ground, like you were watching his shoes—which you probably are—and shook your head. "I change my mind. You can call me Miss Gold." He could almost laugh at the idea, in fact, he almost did laugh. You brought yourself to look at him, your eyes stern with poorly hidden dismay. "And if I was?"

It made sense. No husband, no suitor, no time for one anyway. His lip lifted very slightly in the corner, and it felt like he was laughing at you. "The proper phrasing is 'and if you are?'" He leaned in, taunting you. "Because you are, Y/N."

You huffed to keep your eyes from fluttering at the effect he had on you. "How do you know?" you asked, doing your best not to sound as upset as you were. Your best was very poor.

He breathed a silent chuckle. "Because if I say the word 'sex'..."

You licked your lips and shifted your weight to your other leg, realising your mistake as soon as you made it but not showing it. You glanced away from him, and that was when you showed the realisation of your second mistake.

He pointed at you, ever amused. "You do that."

You thought for a moment over a way to say your next words without confessing anything—even if you knew it would be rendered unnecessary, as he seemed to read you like an open book.

"What if I did want to see what would happen?"

He inclined his head, lifting a brow. A small huff of a breath made up a tiny chuckle at your words. "Look at you," he said. "A good girl so bored she wants a go with a gangster."

You shrugged a shoulder. "All my family's gangsters and gypsies. It's in my blood."

He stared at you, cold and frozen like a statue. You stared back, gaze darting from eye to eye.

"In your blood," he muttered to himself.

You had no time to process what happened next. All you felt was his hand on the back of your neck and then your cheek against the cold wood of his desk. You groaned at the suddenness of it, stunning you completely—especially when his body pressed against the back of yours, crushing you against the desk and keeping you there.

Your breath was erratic, your pulse loud in your ears. Everything had happened so quickly, you were still catching up. The only thing that grounded you was the cold shock of something against the back of your head and the cock of a gun in your ears.

It was all suddenly very real—the anticipation, the suspense. You held your breath.

"Maybe I lied," he rasped in your ear, his voice just as dangerous as his gun to your head. "Maybe I want to see what's in your blood instead, eh?"

Your lips parted as shallow breaths passed between them, loud in your ears but likely nearly silent to him. You swallowed hard, frightened and exhilarated. "You're not going to kill me, Mr. Shelby."

"Oh, yeah? Why is that?" He seemed to press the gun even closer, trying to scare you some more. But you were a Gold, and guns to heads were not as effective to you as it might have been to someone else from a family that wasn't yours.

"Because you want to see what will happen."

Surprised by your answer, he scoffed. "Maybe you are a whore." He pushed his hips harder into you, thus pushing you harder against the desk. The edge of the wood cut into your thighs, aching and proving very uncomfortable. A strained breath grunted from you.

You smiled slyly, looking back at him as best you could. "Which is it?" you chuckled, "Whore or virgin?"

He took pause, shaking his head as he uncocked the gun. "No," he chuckled darkly. "Just a twisted little girl who gets off to guns at her head."

Your smirk dropped, amusement gone at his words. You furrow your brow, thoroughly upset that he would accuse you of something so crude. "I don't."

"No?" he asked before leaning in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear and making you shiver. "Then why are you so wet?"

You stilled. You hadn't realised it until he said it, the wetness between your thighs, the arousal hiding beneath your thundering pulse. That tingling sensation of simmering lust was now weighing down on you like an anvil, a terrible sentence you wanted to escape but found yourself physically incapable of. Your legs trembled, but you couldn't tell if it was from the ice or the fire rushing through your veins. God forbid it be both.

Your silence made him smirk against your ear. "You really are," he scoffed again. "That was just a guess, sweetheart."

You huffed, doing everything you could to avoid clenching your thighs. With how close he was to you, his body pressed against you so tightly, he'd surely feel it. The shame was thick enough as it was.

"Fuck you," you spat.

He was not fazed by your aggression. "I intend to."

With a sudden burst of defiance, you pushed yourself up from the desk, turning around to face him. Your faces were so close, breathing in each other's scent as the both of you refused to back down. You heard him uncock his gun, tossing it onto the table behind you without breaking eye contact.

"This isn't the first time I've had a gun to my head, nor will it be the last," you told him. "And it's definitely not the first time a man's expressed his desire to fuck me."

"But it's the first time he's been able to, eh? Because before you had Daddy's protection." His hand landed on your waist, roughly pulling you toward him so your bodies were touching. It was useless to try to hide to fluster he put you in, but you did your best anyway. His voice was nearly a growl. "Well, where is he now?"

You shook your head, breathing shallow breaths. "I don't need his protection."

His smirk was small and taunting as he stared at you, his eyes darting between your eyes and your lips.

"You do from me."

His lips crashed down upon yours as he pulled you close. Your surprised gasp was cut off, silenced by his harsh kiss. The feeling was foreign but not entirely unwelcome. Even as the force of his lips had his teeth smashing yours, cutting into the top of your own lip and greeting you with the taste of blood, you welcomed it.

You kissed back, moving your lips with his and following his lead but doing no more than that. Even if you had already compromised yourself, it would help not to encourage him.

When he pulled away from you, you chased his lips and felt the shame of it hot on your cheeks. He smiled at your eagerness, even chuckled at your breathlessness as he shook his head.

"My, my," he goaded. "You really do want this, you twisted little whore."

You shivered at his words and still denied. "And if I don't?" you countered, practically staring at his pink lips and proving him right.

He shook his head. "You should've walked out that door."

He kissed you again, silencing you once more until his lips had a moan clawing up your throat. He placed a hand on your chest, pulling you forward just a slight from turning you in one arm and shoving you back.

You stumbled backward, catching your footing again as you stared at him between the long distance he had put between the both of you. It surprised you and now you were trying to put your mind back in order, as though it hadn't been scrambled enough from his kiss.

"If you want to go so badly, prove it to me." He pointed to the door, urging you to leave with dark eyes and darker words. "Run. Run away, before I catch you."

You stared at him, catching your breath and contemplating. He was giving you one last chance for an out, one last chance to turn away and forget about tonight.

But you could never forget what happened here, especially not now, and not ever. Staring back at his dangerous eyes, you made your choice, knowing there was no turning back.

So you would prove that you wanted to stay as you trudged the distance between you and closed it with your lips on his, addicted to the taste of him—the taste of danger and intrigue and all things twisted in the world.

His hand cupped the back of your head as he opted to devour you, allowing your fingers to work at the buttons of his vest to remove it. You gasped into his mouth and made your decision before your inexperience could talk you out of it, separating from his lips only to kneel down before him with your eyes locked on his.

Amazed by your initiative, he encouraged you by leaning his hips out as you worked at his belt. You fumbled for a moment too long before you finally got his trousers open, finally reaching what you were aiming for as you pulled him from his underwear.

You stared wide-eyed at him as you took in the sight of his cock, the tip flushed red and the vein along the underside pulsing with his well-disguised lust. You looked up at him, finding him staring back down at you with those cold, dark eyes.

"Well, go on then," he mumbled as you continued to stare, conflicted between different courses of action.

Your body heat seemed to rise at the realisation that you were staring like a fool. You swallowed thickly, reaching a hand up and wrapping it gently around him, gliding your thumb along his tip and feeling a little more confident when his unyielding eyes fluttered. You continued on, rubbing your thumb at the head of him before stroking your fist along the length of him, up and down in a steady rhythm as you navigated what he liked and didn't like.

One of his hands cupped the back of your neck, urging you forward as your face pressed into his hips with the warmth of his cock on your cheek. Slowly, you kissed it, your lips gliding along the length as you took in the unfamiliar sensation. You slipped your tongue through your lips, licking along the side until you reached his flushed tip. Kissing the slit at the head of his cock, the bead of pre-cum there spread over your lips as you darted your tongue out to lick it.

You opened your mouth at the taste, setting his tip on your tongue and shivering at the feeling as you closed your lips around it. You built yourself up for it as you felt his heavy stare at the top of your head, bobbing your head slowly back and forth as you took the smallest bit more with each comeback. As he reached the back of your tongue, that tickling feeling in your throat began to tease you before the threat of gagging became too much to try to pass through.

By now, his cock was glistening with your saliva. As you looked up at him with eyes beginning to tear from your efforts, he stared back, lost in the pathetically illusioned look on your face. "You can't be done already," he said, his fingers tangling in your hair.

You spoke breathlessly, "Tommy–"

"No," he shook his head. "Not Tommy. You call me 'sir' while you're sat there on your knees with my cock in your mouth. You understand?"

You took in his authority, deciding whether or not you would listen. You began to scoff, "I'm not–"

"You will," he said finally, giving you that look that demanded respect. You knew, staring at him now, that he held the key to your pleasure. If you wanted to feel good, you would have to obey. As much as that annoyed you, it thrilled you all the same as he continued to look down on you like he was.

Your jaw ached with resentment, but you knew it was a front, you fighting the submission you were not meant to have. But you wanted it. You wanted him to break you down to some common whore, to strip you of your importance as a Gold and turn you into his plaything. But it was so firmly embedded, you would just have to keep fighting against it.

But that didn't matter right now, not with you on your knees with his cock in your hand.

"I can't do it…sir," you replied.

He raised a brow. "Can't do what?"

He was taunting you, insulting you by trying to make you say something you didn't want to say. It sat on your tongue like venom. Admitting what you classified as "it" felt like a new kind of torture.

"What is it you can't do, eh?" he questioned, even smirking at you like he knew he held all the cards. Because he did.

"I can't…" you swallowed thickly, bowing your head.

"No, no," he tsked, lifting your head with his hand in your hair to force you to look at him. And he wasn't lying before—he wouldn't be gentle. "Look at me and tell me what you can't do."

You huffed, speaking in a squeak of a voice. "Can't… take it all."

"What was that?"

"I can't take it all," you repeated, not yelling but not whispering either.

He smiled at you then, an evil, nasty smile that you wanted to wipe from his face. "That's all?" he questioned, laughing when you broke his eye contact. "Well, sure you can. Let me show you."

The exchange was promptly ended as his hand in your hair guided your head back to him as you took his cock in your mouth again, and he pushed you down, inch by inch, back onto him. You felt his tip pushing into your mouth, deeper and deeper on your tongue until he brushed the back of your throat. You gagged around him, feeling the sensations of the invasion rushing down your spine, resting in your belly and tingling all over.

As your nose brushed against his pelvic bone, your eyes welled up as tears spilled over your cheeks. He shushed you as you gagged on his cock, your throat adjusting around the intrusion. His hips bucked a couple of times, pushing his cock further until he could go no deeper. When he pulled out, you took as much air into your burning lungs as possible before you were interrupted by a few coughs.

As much as you wanted to slap him for the assault on your throat, one look at the pleasure on his face calmed the fire of frustration and fed the ache of arousal between your legs.

"Don't– do that again," you huffed, still catching your breath as you leaned forward on your knees to take him into your hot mouth again. You didn't go nearly as far again as you licked along his length, suckling around his cock and laving your tongue along his tip and the vein on the underside.

"The hell I won't," he mumbled, not the biggest fan of your telling him what to do but not necessarily put off by the idea. His hand remained a tangled mess in your hair as you continued to suck and lick and kiss.

You weren't expecting it when he pushed you down the second time, but at least you knew what to expect as you shut your eyes tight and took it, accepting the twisted pleasure that blossomed in your belly until he pulled out of your mouth again, keeping you back as he groaned.

You wiped your mouth off, staring at him with wet eyes and breathing through an open mouth. A deep breath exhaled from his lungs as he hoisted you to your feet, searching out your lips to bring you into another kiss. He turned you both around and pressed your back into his desk as he continued to kiss you roughly, pushing you back until you collapsed on the dark wood.

You gasped in surprise but barely had time to process as his lips continued to attack yours. His hands grasped the neckline of your dress, encouraging shivers down your spine. When he suddenly ripped and ripped at your clothes tearing them off you like a beast, you gasped and watched him turn your dress to rags.

It wasn't long before you were bare in front of him, save for the pantyhose hiding nothing from him. Then those were gone, too. Your hands instinctively flew to your body, trying to cover yourself up. There was really no reason for modesty, not now that you had already seen his cock and had it shoved down your throat, but this was entirely new and you would have rather liked a warning beforehand.

"Don't cover yourself now," he said as he entwined his hands with your own and pulled them away, spreading you out to see every inch of you with those hungry eyes. Your body trembled with the feeling of his eyes on your bare skin. You squeezed your eyes shut, whimpering quietly at the mix of emotions ruling you.

Where some would take pity, Tommy just smiled darkly and tsked gently as he leaned forward and began kissing your neck. Your mouth fell open as your eyes fluttered to see him. A slight moan caught in your throat escaped at the sensation of lips to skin and your hands struggled where he restrained them, wanting to touch him again.

His kisses were not so patient after a moment as teeth began to scrape skin, sucking and nibbling on flesh in order to mark uncharted territory. The pleasure it gave him to know that no man had ever done this to you before was intense, driving him crazy with lust, a desire to claim you as his hips cant into your own, pushing you further into the desk and otherwise hurting you—if you had not been so preoccupied with his kiss.

You moaned into the air when his hand tightened around your thigh, squeezing roughly as he groped and kneaded the flesh. His other hand busied itself around your throat and tilted your head off to the side, sitting securely there but not quite squeezing the same. Your fingers wrapped around his wrist nonetheless, though you didn’t know whether you were trying to make him stop or keeping his hand there, wrapped around your throat and effectively putting him in charge.

The hand on your thigh travelled up, smoothing along your skin until he reached your hip. It never stayed there, moving back down as his fingers brushed over your exposed cunt. Your breath stopped in your throat when you felt his fingers ghosting over your lips and gasped when you felt his middle finger slip between them before biting down hard on your lip in an attempt to silence yourself.

His lips brushed your ear as he spoke in his low tones. “You like being touched by me? Eh?” A whimper left your throat when his finger pressed into you, pushing past your folds and into the warm, wet feeling inside of you. You clenched around it, the feeling foreign and but so good. "You're practically a whore now. I did buy ya after all—cost me a penny."

Your legs trembled as he stretched you out around his finger, a second playing at your pussy before carefully joining the other. "A penny?" you stuttered. "I personally think I'd be worth at least two."

"Well, let's see then," he said, lifting his brows as he pulled his finger out of you.

You whimpered, granting him an annoyed expression at the absence of his touch so soon. "See what?"

"If you taste good enough for two pennies."

You stared at him as his lips kissed your chest, sucking on your nipples on the way down and continuing on down to your thighs. A shocked yelp came from you when he bared his teeth around a chunk of flesh, only soothed when he kissed over it.

He gripped your thighs and pulled them over his shoulders, taking your hips in his hands and pushing himself up so your body was nearly folded in half. He didn't stall you at all as he buried his head between your thighs, licking and sucking on your folds as he shoved his tongue between them.

Your head flew backward, banging against the table. You hardly noticed, even with the full throb at the back of your head, the slight dizziness in your brain. Your hands flew to his hair, tangling in dark strands and tugging him forward. His tongue was just as skilled here, commanding your body to his every will, as it was during his speeches while he commanded armies of men to join in his cause or to intimidate against their own.

One hand left your hip to play with your cunt, toying with your clit. He pushed two fingers into your fluttering hole, swirling his tongue around your clit as you moaned for him to continue.

"Fuck," you mewled, closing your legs around his head and digging your heels into his back. He didn't seem to care, not until you messed up. "Please don't stop, Tommy."

But he did. His fingers and tongue retreated as he pulled back, straightening his back and letting one leg fall from his shoulder, though he kept the other firmly held to his chest.

You whined, looking at him with shallow breath. You watched him lick his kiss-swollen lips as he stared at you with black eyes. The emotions in your belly swirled between lust and frustration and fear and intrigue. He was so intimidating and you wanted more. You wanted him to keep kissing you, to keep dragging his tongue along your wet pussy. But you also wanted him to push you into the floor and take you from behind, his hips slapping into you, his hand planting your cheek against the cold floor, his mouth whispering filthy things in your ear.

"Please," you whimpered, too desperate to care about how pathetic you sounded.

He lifted a brow, saying nothing and staring. When you tried to sit up to reach his face, he pressed a hand into your chest and pushed you down roughly, leaning forward himself to paralyse you with his dangerous glare. Even with his hand on your chest, you tried to sit up still to kiss his pretty lips but he wouldn't let you. Your thigh ached from the position.

"Please," you whispered again, a broken moan as the lack of pleasure became too much, welling in your chest and making your body tremble.

He tilted his head.

You let out a shaky breath, moving your free leg outward to spread yourself even wider for him. "Please, sir," you concede. "Please keep going. I want it."

He didn't continue. His eyes bore into yours and you shuddered. With a gentle huff, you handed over the last of your dignity. "Please, sir, I need it."

He lingered there for a moment longer before smirking. You thought he was going to kiss you when he leaned forward, but instead he took your bottom lip between his teeth and but down before returning to his previous position between your legs.

He began again with the same intensity, devouring you as though you were his last meal. You whimpered and moaned and cried from the pleasure he forced into you. As he shoved his fingers into you, spreading them apart and thus stretching you wider, suckling on your clit and kneading it with his tongue, a coil tightened in your belly as everything seemed to follow.

Your moans built to whining breaths—too high and pitchy to be real—but genuine nonetheless. He didn't let up or slow down, drunk on the taste of you and too far gone to stop just yet, not without his reward.

The warm, wet feeling of his mouth became too much, the suckling of his lips even moreso. You squeezed your eyes tight, arching your back as a loud moan ripped from your throat. Your breath was rough and forceful as it rasped in and out of your throat, and your hands clenching in his hair tugged and tugged as his tongue continued to work. The pleasure took siege of your body, attacking every nerve ending until you were naught but a pile of flesh and blood and bone.

The high slowly descended to bring you back to Tommy Shelby's study, his tongue at your pussy a distant sensation in the back of your mind before it burnt with oversensitivity. You tugged at his hair, grunting as you pulled his head away to catch your breath.

His chin glistened and his lips were plump with blood as he stared at your recuperating body. He pulled his fingers from your fluttering pussy, taking them between his lips to taste you.

"Too much?" he asked, not in any way sensitive as he stared. "What, it feels too good, it hurts?" All you could do was nod. He breathed a laugh. "Have you ever touched yourself before, love?"

You didn't have it in you to be shy as you shook your head. He didn't take that answer this time—not humiliating enough, you supposed.

"Eh?" he urged, lightly smacking your arse to get a proper answer.

You grunted, shaking your head. "No, sir."

"That's your first time cumming then," he said more than asked, watching your dazed eyes slowly return to the dull bite of their natural rebellion—though he knew he broke you down enough for it to be too weak to matter.

He still awaited an answer. "Yes, sir," you obliged.

"Well, congratulations," he said. "Most men don't know how to please, so most women don't get to cum."

You disregarded his comment, still stuck on the aftershocks of pleasure as your eyes wandered the room. You whimpered when he licked you again, suckling around your clit and earning a jerk from your body.

He sat up, moving your legs off his shoulders like they were nothing important to him. He wrapped a hand at the base of your skull and pulled you up to sit. "Come here," he said, bringing you close to his face. "Have a taste."

He pulled you forward and crashed his lips against yours, too rough but just as amazing as all the rough ones he'd given before. The taste of you was strange but addictive as you came back for more, even as he pulled you away.

Tommy backed away from you, leaving you bare and hot on the desk. His hair was a mess, and he licked his lips again. He gestured toward you. "Stand up." You did as you were told, steadying yourself on unsteady feet. "Turn around."

As you obeyed, he came up behind you and pushed you onto the desk again, just as he'd done before. You grunted at the impact and clenched your thighs at the effect it had on you. You hated how good it made you feel, his treating you so roughly, without a care to just how rough. You hated even more how much rougher you wanted him to be.

Your prayers may have been met with extremity when you felt his gun to your head again as he spoke into your ear.

"I could kill you," he considered, pressing the gun further.

Your heart kicked up, and the adrenaline took over as his unwavering voice promised your demise. You held back your moan and responded, "But you won't."

"Why not?"

"You need me," you insisted. He laughed. "It's true. You kill me, well I'm Daddy's favourite. There'll be war. You make me go, I'll just keep coming back to finish it. You fuck me now, your wager is fulfilled and you get to fuck a virgin. What man doesn't want that, eh?"

Oh, you were good. Even if he was going to kill you, your words were enough to persuade him otherwise. He pressed the gun into your temple and the clicking sound of him clocking it reverberated in your ear. You moaned a long, deep moan as you clenched your thighs tightly together.

He smiled, laughing quietly to himself as he shook his head. "A proper whore, you are."

"Then fuck me, sir. That's the purpose of a whore, isn't it?" You gripped the edge of the table when he pushed his hips into you, aching that same spot on your thighs from before and making your lust all the worse.

He lingered, the cold barrel cocked and ready. You held your breath and awaited his decision before he removed it from your head. You sighed gently, missing his warmth when he stepped away from you.

Your hips jolted when the cold tip of his gun pressed to your pussy, spreading your lips apart to see you still wet for him. With the gun still cocked, your heart pounded against your ribcage and you felt the anxiety building deliciously in your body. He hummed, considering something in his head. You stayed as still as possible, certain your breath was loud as you wondered what he was thinking.

You heard him kneel, hyperaware of every sound he made behind you. His hand nudged the other side before he was leaning forward to taste you again.

You whimpered. "You're a dirty whore for being this wet," he said. You bit down on your lip.

He stood again and bent himself over your body. "You got my gun dirty," he tutted, shaking his head like he was scolding you as he shoved the barrel in your face. You could see your arousal gleaming off of it, shaking at the sight of it so close. "Clean it up."

You didn't move, paralyzed by fear. He didn't like that. "Clean. It. Up."

You let out a wavering breath, "Yes, sir." You leaned forward slowly, not even certain you were actually moving, and stuck your tongue out the slightest bit. You shut your eyes, making contact with the gun and a tiny whine slipped.

He watched you do as you were told, licking your slick from his gun and loving every second. A tear slipped down your cheek, slow and beautiful. He kissed it from your skin as you cleaned the gun.

When he deemed that you'd done well enough, he uncocked it and put it away. Your body relaxed, all of the pent up energy inside of you calming a slight as the threat of so much danger lifted from you.

He slipped his hand around your throat and leaned into your ear again. "Such a good girl, crying for me" he husked in your ear. "I'm gonna make you scream."

You felt the head of his cock push between your folds, coating himself in your slick, and there was plenty to go around. He straightened his spine as he took a hold of your hips, just as rough as you were expecting, before he shoved his cock into you. You moaned loudly as the harsh drag of his cock invaded your cunt, stretching you out around him.

"Fuck," you cried, gripping the desk harder. He held you steady as he fucked into your tight pussy, snapping his hips in and out of you without sparing a second for you to adjust. The slick you'd gathered would have to do.

You clenched down on him, thighs aching and trembling and becoming too much already as the tears built in your eyes.

Chants and cries of "yes" and "more" and "harder" spilled from your mouth and into the air, a loud and filthy cacophony of blasphemous praise. He held you down and he held you still, dominating your body as your new god as he ruined you for any man.

"You want more? Sure you do, so desperate for a fuck," he taunted, his harsh words accompany the harsh smacks of his hips. It was loud and continuous and it felt so good. "Such a dirty little thing, filthy and twisted. You like having a gun to your head, you like me being mean to ya. Where's all that pride gone, eh?"

The tears streamed down your face, decorating you in a way that Tommy could only describe as "beautiful".

"That's right. Cry for me, little whore," he grunted.

You did. Your thighs hurt and your throat is sore and your fingers ache from grasping the desk so hard, but you cried for him and the overwhelming pleasure, a depraved sound he fed from.

One of his hands left your hip to toy with your clit as he pressed his chest to your back. He bit the juncture between your neck and your shoulder, cruel and uncaring, before kissing the spot like an absent-minded apology. Your voice was raspy as he drew quick circles at your clit, chasing your next high as though it were unattainable.

And who knows? With Tommy, it might be.

"More," you begged, despite the loss of breath in your lungs, despite the haze of your mind. You chased the pleasure, pleading for it to swallow you whole as you took all that he gave you. "Please, sir, more." He cursed under his breath.

That crashing high from before curled in your belly again, hot and searing, like molten lava. You shuddered when it erupted, squeezing around his cock as you nearly sobbed. "Ahh, fuck!" Your head went fuzzy at the sensations as you gushed around him, sucking him in tighter.

Tommy grunted, his hips stilling before he pulled out of you. You thought he was done, but he seemed far from it as he wrapped his arm around your midsection, lifting you from the table and turning. You thought he was heading for the sofa, instead he lowered you to the ground on your hands and knees, which shook with the aftershocks of an orgasm you were still recovering from.

He pressed down on your back, pushing you onto the floor so your hips were angled up. He grasped your waist, smacking your arse once and earning a cut-off shriek.

He steadied you before burying his cock in you once more, sighing from the warmth your body provided. You whimpered at the feeling so fresh after cumming, slowly adjusting to the pleasure as he fucked into you with the insistence of a starved man.

Once you settled into it again, you moaned into the sensitivity, easing the rock of his hips rubbing you against the floor with your palms planted on the wood. It was cold and hard but the way his cock brushed in and out of you was so electric that you didn't care.

"There we are," he said, guiding your hips quickly as he pulled you in against him. "Fucked on the ground where you belong. Don't you agree?"

You struggled with nodding—though you knew he wouldn't accept it anyway. "Yes, s– Ah!– sir." He rutted into you, his thrusts almost animalistic, and he kept on.

He leaned forward, bracing one hand next to your head as you reached out to grab it. His breath was loud in your ear, full of broken moans disguised as heavy grunts.

"Good," mewled. "Feels good, sir."

"Yeah?" he asked, a particularly harsh slap making you whimper. "You want more, you pathetic whore?"

"Please, sir."

"So polite all of a sudden," he spoke breathlessly.

When he pulled out of you again, you thought you'd scream. But he eased you up to flip you onto your back, standing on his knees and staring down on you. You watched him unbutton his shirt, undoing each button one by one until he was able to shed it from his arms. You stared at the bare skin of his chest, taking in his tattoos, his muscles, the light patch of hair.

Grabbing you by your legs, he pulled you into his lap after leaning back. He set your legs over his shoulders once more, guiding himself back into you before he leaned forward. Your legs ached from being put in this position so much—but hell if you cared, because when he seated himself fully inside of you, the moan you left out was deep and guttural. He reached so much deeper than before, brushing a spot inside of you that set your body ablaze.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close as his hips snapped into yours. His thrusts were shorter in this position, grinding into you and brushing that spot over and over and over again. You whined and moaned through every moment of it, your eyes tearing up and the tension in your muscles building.

Your hand splayed out over his cheek as you tilted his head toward your face, wanting to watch him as he fucked into you. His eyes gazed at you, the intimidation from before not quite as cruel as it melted into the intimacy of the moment. His forehead pressed against yours and you breathed in each other's air as he shoved your hips together.

The sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you were intoxicating, filling the air with a filthy cadence that mixed with the carnal pleas on your tongue and the raucous groans on his.

"Look at you," he said, planting his hand next to your head once more as the other held your hips up for the right angle. "So desperate, pathetically beautiful."

You gave him a drunk smile, looking between his eyes and lips. "You think… I'm beautiful?"

He rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless, shutting you up with a rough thrust. Your head fell back and exposed your neck, which he graciously nipped between his teeth.

You yelped when the pad of his thumb pressed against your clit again, sinking into a breathy moan as you looked between your bodies to see it. You looked back up at Tommy, allowing him to do as he pleased with your body, succumbing to his touch.

"Fuck," you breathed, clenching around him at the feeling of your aching clit being stimulated again. You weren't sure you could cum again, but to hell if you weren't going to try.

Your arms wrapped around his back as your nails took root in his shoulders, scraping down his flesh to find purchase for the overwhelming passion. The sound Tommy made was nearly a moan, which he covered with a hiss as he clenched his teeth.

You kissed him, lips bruising, teeth clicking, tongues flicking as you drank the pleasure. "I'm gonna cum again, sir."

He raised his brows, though his rhythm was wearing. "Oh, you think so, do you?"

You corrected yourself, kissing him again to add in your favour. "Please, sir, can I cum again?"

His grin was almost sinister as he regarded you. You were learning, and fast. His unsteady hips rocked you back and forth on the ground, and his breath was timed with each little thrust. You could tell he was going to lose it, so close to joining you as you encouraged him by clenching and squeezing, sucking him into your cunt and getting him addicted to it.

"Fuck, yes. Go on and cum for me, sweetheart," he groaned, giving you the permission you needed as the pleasure washed over you like a wave of fire.

Your back arched, your weak moan stuttered in your throat, and you couldn't help but utter his name as the ecstasy shook you. Your cunt fluttered around him, and your moan continued until it melted to helpless little whimpers which then dissolved into each breath.

Tommy buried his face in the crook of your neck when he came after you, growling in your ear and his muscles tensed under your hands. His hips rutted into you, sinking in nice and deep and putting you in a position that would have been fairly uncomfortable, had you not been so devoured by his deep fucking that you hardly even noticed. All you could feel was the pressure of his body on yours and the feeling of his hot seed spilling into you, your cunt so tight around his cock that you milked every drop.

Slowly, his muscles loosened and his grip on your hip let up. He sighed, a long, deep sigh that released the rest of his tension as he began to straighten his back again. You stopped him, wrapping your hand around the back of his head and pulling him down for one more kiss. This one was so soft, a slow kiss that rendered your body useless. Everything was limp and lazy as the tender kiss changed the entire dynamic of the night.

It lasted longer than it properly should have as you both came in for more, treasuring it, cherishing it, until it had to come to its imminent end. He pulled away from you, staring at your face for a moment longer before he sat up, pulling out of you and making you shudder from the sudden loss and the even more sudden chill.

You stayed on the floor as he walked toward his desk and tucked himself back into his underwear. Your eyelids were heavy, drooping down as you lacked the strength to stand. As Tommy picked up his case of cigarettes, he looked at you over his shoulder, still laying there. Your legs were still spread out, your pussy dripping with both your cum on display and your arms framing your head. You'd passed out.

Tommy rubbed his cigarette between his lips before he lit it. His eyes never left you as he took the first puff before discarding the light and walking over to you. He knelt, tucking his hand under you to take you into his arms and set you on the sofa. He readjusted your body, your legs closed and one of your arms covering your chest.

He stood there a moment. You looked peaceful as you slept—absolutely debauched with your messy hair, tear-stricken cheeks, and swollen lips—but peaceful. Your face nuzzled into the cushion, and your lips twitched with whatever was going on in your head.

It took more than he would like to admit not to brush the apple of your cheek as he cleared his throat quietly. He picked up his disregarded shirt and draped it over your shoulders before choosing to walk back to his desk. He sat down and sifted through some files he pulled from a drawer to busy himself.

He didn't keep track of how long you slept or how long he sat there. He hadn't realised when he dozed off, tired out from you and from work.

You stirred from your place on the couch, opening your eyes and wondering why the floor was so soft. It took a moment to remember where you were, why you were naked, and why your thighs were so sticky.

Taking a deep breath in, a familiar scent filled your nose as you noticed the shirt over your body. You sat up slowly, pulling it to your chest and taking another deep breath. The scent made you dizzy, and you slipped it over your arms. The shirt was big on you, hanging low as you pulled it closed around your body.

Your body ached as you moved to stand, running a hand through your hair and stretching your sore limbs. Why were you so sore?

You took two steps, examining the floor and taking in all the clothes—scraps and fully intact—laying there, before you looked up and saw him. Tommy was passed out at his desk, bracing his face on his arms as he slept.

The events of that night flooded into your mind all at once and suddenly, everything made sense. You looked down at your dress of scraps again with a frown as you picked it up, rolling your eyes before using it to wipe away the cum glueing your legs together and discarding it back to the floor.

You padded over to Tommy, glancing over him and silently making your way to the window to peek behind the curtains. It was still dark out, so you hadn't slept long.

You returned to Tommy, lifting up his half-burnt cigarette and putting it out properly in the ashtray it was sitting in. You stared at him, watching him sleep.

You never thought the devil himself could ever look so peaceful.

You couldn't help yourself—you reached out and brushed some of his hair from his face. You just wanted to see him a little clearer. In doing so, he woke. It wasn't a slow waking like yours. His was fast, nearly startled as his eyes opened and his sharp inhale shocked his senses. Before he could jolt up to his feet, his blue eyes found you and his dark brows almost convinced you that he despised you as he granted you a hard stare.

But his expression shifted at the sight of you, after he'd properly taken you in and recognized you. He blinked away and sighed, sitting up slowly and leaning back in his chair. He tilted his head as he looked you up and down before reaching for his case of cigarettes again.

He picked one out, rubbed it between his lips, and lit it up in silence. And, in silence, you took it from between his lips and set it between your own. He stared at you, lips parted and amused—though, you had to look closely to notice.

"Apologise."

You stared at him with a raised brow, blowing out a billowing breath of smoke. He was surprised you smoke.

He looked you up and down before sighing and leaning back again. "Alright, I'll bite," he said. "What for?"

You took another deep breath before moving it again, blowing it out before gesturing toward him with his cigarette. "You called me pathetic."

"You are pathetic."

"And you called me a whore."

"You are a whore."

"You called me a pathetic whore."

He opened his arms, shrugging as he watched you. You raised a brow and blew out some more smoke.

"Apologise."

You weren't harsh as you said it, and you didn't look particularly hurt. In fact, you looked like a fucking angel dressed in his shirt, smoking his cigarette, and demanding he apologise for something you so obviously enjoyed.

He gave in, smiling as he rolled his eyes. "I apologise for calling you a pathetic whore…even if you are a pathetic whore."

You watched him for a moment, considering whether you'd accept his apology.

"I also want you to apologise for pointing a gun at me. Twice. And then touching my fucking cunt with it."

"No." He said it so simply, so finally. There was no way you'd get him to budge. "You liked it too much."

You thought about that and shrugged. Fair enough.

"I also–"

"Shut up and come here," he said, turning toward you with his open legs and arms.

You smiled and stepped between them, letting him take hold of your waist—even if you were still sensitive there because you didn't want to give up the affection. You guided the cigarette back between his lips, your fingers pressing against them as you did. He smoked it before taking it out and staring at you, blowing the air out as he thought.

Tommy reached into his pocket, digging around to pull out a coin. He handed it to you, and you shook your head at him. "That's not funny," you mumbled, stifling a laugh.

"Congratulations, you're worth two pennies."

"Fuck you," you laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I've already done that." You laughed again, shaking your head and ignoring the warmth in your belly.

You stared at him, rubbing the coin between your fingers as you toyed with it. He watched you think to yourself, biting your lip as your eyes so obviously flicked between his eyes and lips.

"Thank you, Tommy," you told him softly. "I needed this."

His smile faltered slightly as he continued to watch you. He sighed, unaware of his thumbs stroking patterns into your sides, "I didn't do it for you… but I'm happy to have helped."

You chuckled weakly, half-hearted. Looking down at the penny, you smiled slowly and held it up. "How about a wager?" His subtle amusement encouraged you.

"If it's heads…you get me a new dress because you ripped mine to shreds."

He let out a small scoff, shaking his head gently.

"And if it's tails…" you smiled. You lifted your leg, slipping into his lap as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His hands found your arse, pulling you forward so your bodies were flush against each other. Your eyes fluttered as his cock brushed your pussy, already exciting you for the probable future. You focused on him again, "...you fuck me again—this time naked."

He smiled and nodded his head. "Toss the coin, Miss Gold."

You licked your lips as you readied it between your thumb and finger. Your eyes locked for a moment between moments, drinking each other like forbidden wine. You flipped the coin into the air, watching as it twirled and twirled and twirled. The coin made its descent, you caught it, and you took a moment to close your eyes and hope before you let it show.

You couldn't hide your elation as you picked up the coin and showed him. "Congratulations, Mr. Shelby," you smiled. "Tails."

"A deal's a deal." His hand wrapped around the back of your neck and he pulled you in, "I would've fucked you otherwise." He kissed you in a mix of the roughness and sweet tenderness from earlier.

Between breaks, you sighed heavily. "Thank God because I need you," you confessed, kissing him again.

You undid his pants once more, this time pushing them down his legs and finally ridding him of them. He let you wear his shirt, refraining from admitting just how much he liked seeing you wear it.

The kiss was a mess as you devoured one another. He rocked your hips in his lap and you moaned at the pressure as his cock spread your lips apart. "Fuck, this is gonna be a long night," you hummed.

"Shut up and ride my cock," he demanded, not nearly as harsh as before but just as breathless as you now.

You smiled. "Yes, sir."

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