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neverknoah · 9 months ago

Text

Pillow Talk

18+ nicholas ruffilo x afab!reader smut

It's the morning after Nicholas returned back from touring in Europe and the two of you catch up ;)

warnings: dom! nick and sub!reader, cussing, heavy petting, digital penetration, penetration, she/her pronouns used, no use of "Y/N" only pet names like "good girl" "baby", cock warming.

AN: please please please let me know if I missed anything in the warnings! I am always open to criticism on my warnings! I never want to leave anything out that could potentially trigger someone. Lots of love and enjoy <3

The distant chirping of morning birds gradually rouses you from slumber. As you awaken, your gaze is drawn to the suncatcher hanging by the window. Its crystals reflect the morning sunlight, casting a cascade of rainbows across the bedroom. Yet, your attention is swiftly captured by the warmth of arms wrapped around your middle and the gentle breath against your neck. Snuggling closer, you find solace in the heat behind you.

Nicholas had been touring in Europe for two months, and it was a long enough stretch for you to yearn for him to be back in your presence. But, finally, after a long two months, your lover is back in your bed, and you're finally back in his embrace.

You feel him begin to stir, and he tightens his hold on you, nuzzling his face closer into the crook of your neck, ticking you with his nose and scruff, eliciting a giggle from your lips.

“Good morning.” you whisper softly, reaching a hand back to card through his unruly bedhead.

“Am I still dreaming?” Nicholas asks, squeezing you tighter.

“Nope,” you say, popping the “p.” “I’m very real.” you reassure him, twirling a piece of his hair.

“God, I missed this. I missed waking up with you in my arms, sleeping in my own bed, and not having to sleep in a moving coffin on a tour bus with multiple other guys,” he groans out the last part, kissing your shoulder in appreciation. “Missed sleeping with my baby,”

“I’m so happy you’re home too. Missed you more than you can even imagine.”

You turn in his embrace and meet his sleepy grey eyes full of love and devotion. His lips turn up in a half-smirk as he brushes a couple of rouge baby hairs from your face while you admire him.

“Hi, pretty baby.” he smiles, cupping your jaw and caressing the apple of your cheek.

“Hi, Nicky.” you smile.

“There’s no way I am leaving you when we pick back up in April,” “I need you in my bed every night and every morning.” he states, dropping his hand from your cheek to your neck to trace his thumb against your jawline. You sigh at his words,

“It kills me more than you know not to be able to go with you. I promise it does. But, you know I can’t just quit my job and go awol from school to follow you around the world,” you frowned, placing your hand atop the one he has on your neck. “But l don’t want to think about the future right now, ok? I just want to enjoy the time we have right now and lay in this bed with you and admire you a little longer.” The last part of your statement gets a bashful grimace out of Nick. You pick up the hand he hand on your neck and turn it over to give him palm a kiss, punctuating your statement.

Comfortable silence overtakes the room while the two of you bask in the warmth of the sunlight and the warmth of each other’s body. Gentle touches and kisses full of devotion are exchanged in utter blissful silence. Just enjoying each other's presence and affection. However, the soft touches just aren’t enough to satiate the need quickly burning between your legs, so you shuffle closer to his body and slot your legs between his, hoping he gets the memo. When you glance from his eyes to his lips and back to his eyes again, he understands your look, but he wants you to vocalize your needs.

“Kiss me, please?” you whine, cupping his jaw.

Nick's hand comes up to grab your neck possessively as his lips collide with yours in a needy, passionate kiss. He tastes like mint chapstick, nicotine, and morning breath. You’d missed the way he tasted. His grip on your neck is comforting and tight enough to make you dizzy with a need for more. The kiss quickly delves into messy territory, going from passionate and sweet to a messy dance of gnashing teeth and tongues fighting for dominance. Your hands migrate from his jaw to the nape of his neck, fingers threading through his bedhead and tugging, drawing a deep moan from him. Nick’s warm, inked hand moves from your neck to snake around your back, where his other hand rests on your hip to pull them against his groin. You moan against his lips, feeling his hard cock through his pajama pants against your warm heat. He smirks against your lips, enjoying the rise he can get from you with just a little bit of making out and heavy petting. You roll your hips against his groin, pulling another deep moan from his lips that makes him draw back from the kiss.

“God, fuck, I missed you.” he groans, rolling your body atop his so that your hips straddle his and your chest presses against his.

“I was so fucking tired last night that I didn’t take care of you like the good girl you are, did I?” he asks, looking into your lust-filled eyes. You nod in agreement, staring into his blown-out eyes, pupils overtaking his stormy grey irises. Staring at him only fuels the fire growing in your tummy, and out of embarrassment, you fist his dark grey sleep shirt and hide your face against his neck.

“Nuh uh, none of that. Sit up,” he states, pulling the nape of your neck away from his neck so he can look at your face. You whine in protest at his action but submit.

Your hips haven’t ceased rolling, and Nick takes notice as you create a wet mark against his pajama pants.

“Poor baby is just so needy. Don’t worry. I’m gonna make it all better. Let’s get you undressed, ok?” he asks, playing with the hem of your sleep shirt.

You nod too enthusiastically, and Nick snickers at your display. He slides your sleep shirt over your head, and he exposes your boobs to the crisp air of the room. He takes both of them in his hands and kneads the warm flesh in his hands before he tweaks your nipples. You whine at the stimulation, receiving a deep chuckle from Nick when you press your chest into his hands, chasing more sensation.

Without the cover of your sleep shirt, the wet mark on your modest cotton panties is revealed to Nick’s lustful gaze.

“Been neglecting her, huh? Haven’t given her any attention in a couple of months now. And oh, baby, she’s just begging for it. Drooling all over your poor panties.” Nick coos, rubbing his thumb over your soaked, covered entrance, rubbing tight circles into your bundle of nerves.

“Mmmhmm.” you mewl at his lewd words and grip his shoulders for stability at the sudden direct stimulation to your clit. Nick’s words get you more flustered, which sends you deeper into your submissive headspace.

Sliding your panties to the slide, he drags two fingers through your slick, then through your entrance, penetrating and curling into your heat. You gasp at the intrusion but melt into his hand, and you grind your hips with the motion of his fingers as he stokes the growing fire raging deep within your belly. Even though he’s given you a taste, you’re greedy for more.

“Nicky, please.” you whine, grabbing his wrist and giving him a pleading stare.

“Ok, ok baby, was just making sure you were nice and wet for me. It’s been a couple of months,” he shushes you, pulling his fingers from between your legs and moving his previously occupied hand to join the other he has gripped on your waist.

Honoring your request, he rolls your body over so that your head lands into the pillows he was previously on, caging you between his tan tattooed arms. You smile mischievously up at him, and he smirks back, craning his neck toward your ear, to whisper,

“What’s going on in that head of yours, huh?” and punctuates his question with a nip at your ear lobe.

“You,” you gasp out. “Need you, Nicky.” you state, scratching down his shirt-clad back.

“You have me, baby,” “Be a little more specific.”

“Fuck, Nick!” you whine in frustration, throwing your head back into the pillows.

“Need you to take your fucking clothes off and fuck me like the patient girl I’ve been.” you huff in frustration, clawing deeper into the skin of Nick’s back.

“See, knew you could be a good girl and use your words. But lose the attitude, Princess.” he growls, nipping at your exposed neck.

Nick sits back on his knees as he tugs off his sleep shirt, exposing his colorful tattooed skin and the little patch of chest hair that adorns the middle of his chest. One of your favorite parts about seeing Nicky undress is his chest hair. The little patch of chest hair he keeps that trailed down his soft tummy, and his navel that disappeared under his pants makes your mouth water whenever he takes off his shirt. He wouldn’t admit it to you, but he knew how much you loved it and that he kept it just because seeing your eyes get big and glassy made him feel a little cocky and confident. Nick has always leaned more on the self-conscious side, but ever since he met you, in moments like this, where it’s just the two of you in your little love-filled bubble, he rarely feels those thoughts arise. Next to go are his pajama pants and boxers, which frees his thick hard dick. Nick definitely wasn’t long, but he sure as hell was the thickest you’ve ever taken, and every time he revealed himself to you, you couldn’t help but stare in pure awe at how beautiful he is. Nick smirks at your ogling, and you clench your knees together as he crawls back over your body, slotting his knee in between your thighs.

“Open.” he demands, pulling your hips forward, prying your legs open to his gaze.

“There she is.” Nicholas smiles at your exposed heat. Whining at the lewd attention, you bury your face in the pillow next to you.

“What’s got you all shy, baby? I thought this was what you wanted? Come on, lemme see that pretty face.” He grabs your jaw, turning your face to his as he cranes his neck down to kiss your cheek gently.

“There she is. My beautiful girl.” Nick smiles, foreheads touching as his lips meet yours in a tender kiss.

“I don't want to keep you waiting. Are you ready?” Nick asks sweetly, rutting against your thigh impatiently.

“Mmhmm.” you respond, nodding your head, hand coming up to cup his cheeks as he pulls your legs up to hook around his hips.

He gives you one last kiss, before lining up with your entrance and sliding home. Seating fully inside you, you moan at the fullness and the warmth that you’d been deprived of for months. He feels like warm velvet as your heat clenches around him. He gives you both a moment to get your bearings after being away from each other for so long that you both need a second to catch your breath.

“God, you feel like heaven. So fucking perfect.” Nick groans, placing a kiss on your neck. You whimper at his praise as he sucks the skin of your neck, definitely leaving a hickey for you to admire later. After a while, you squeeze around him, and he jerks within you.

“Please move.” you moan out.

Hearing you loud and clear, he pulls out and trusts back into you, setting a deep, sensual pace that punches little “unghs” from your lips.

“How are you feeling, baby?” Nick checks in with you, keeping pace.

“So fucking full,” you whine against his lips, back arching against the mattress and breasts pushing into Nick’s sweat-slicked chest.

“Fingers, I need your fingers.” you moan out.

“I gotcha.”

Nick leans back just enough to unhook your legs from his hips and press them against your chest, deepening the angle he’s hitting inside you and giving him access to rub tight circles into your clit with his thumb. You gasp at the sudden change in depth he’s hitting within you and the new stimulation to your clit.

“God, you take me so fucking well. Sucking me in so deep.” Nicholas grunts as he quickens his thrusts to the pace of his fingers, causing him to slap the back of your thighs with each thrust.

“Oh fuck, Nicky. I’m close.” You grit out, hands grasping his shoulders to ground yourself.

“I know I can feel you clenching me. Come on, baby. Give it up. Come for me.”

The band in your tummy snaps at his words, and you’re thrown head-first into your orgasm.

“There we go. Cumming so hard for me. Making such a pretty mess.” Nick states, talking you through your orgasm as he chases his own.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Where?” Nick groans, hips faltering as he approaches his peak.

“In me. Fuck cum in me, please.” you mewl in your post-orgasm haze, grasping onto him for dear life.

“Fuck, take it like a good girl then,” Nick growls, thrusting a few more times before spilling his load deep into you. He falls face-first into your neck, body encapsulating you in his sweaty warmth. You hold him in your shaky arms as he releases his last spurts of cum into your spent cunt. What you couldn’t keep in slips out from between your lips and slides down your inner thighs, making you shiver, but so happy. Sighing out in pleasure, you thread your fingers through his sweaty hair, letting him know he can rest for as long as he needs to against your chest.

After a few minutes of resting your eyes and playing with Nick’s hair, he uncovers his face from your neck to look up at your fucked out state.

“Thank you. You were wonderful, baby.” he says in thanks, peppering your collarbone with kisses. His words of affirmation and kisses stir you from your rest, and your eyes flutter open to look at him.

“Thank you. I feel incredible, Nicky.” you smile, twirling a piece of his hair between your fingers. As he pushes up on his arms to pull out of you, you stop him from doing so by grabbing his neck. He halts his movement in confusion as you begin to speak,

“Wait, can we- can you-” you stutter, trying to find the right words.

“What is it, baby? What do you need?” Nick asks, brushing some hair from your face.

“Can you just stay inside for a little bit longer? I just…I wanna feel close to you for a little longer. I Missed you.” you say, tears welling in your eyes.

“Of course, but there's no need to cry, little love. I’ll stay with you as long as you need, and we can snuggle. How does that sound?” he asks, soothing you by caressing the expanse of your thighs with his calloused hands. You nod your head enthusiastically and pull his neck to lie back down on your chest, spending a couple more minutes in your little love nest where it’s just the two of you and the love you share, away from the real world.

#bad omens #bad omens cult #bad omens band #nicholas ruffilo #bad omens smut #bad omens fic #bad omens fluff #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo x reader #nicholas ruffilo x reader smut #nicholas ruffilo x reader fluff #nick ruffilo

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ninyard · 5 months ago

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omg your hypotheticals about the aaron murder trial are making me THINK! A core part of the defense’s argument has to be that Aaron isn’t a criminal and doesn’t have a murderer disposition. That means he needs witnesses to testify to his character.

Since you established the only witnesses from the Foxes will be Andrew (who’s obviously biased as his twin brother and the one Aaron was protecting) and Neil, it will be up to Neil to give the jury testimony on Aaron being a good person seeing as he spends a lot of time with him but they are not close personal friends. But murder trials are a big deal so they would probably bring in Katelyn and his other friends to also testify to his character, realistically speaking.

However, the comedic potential of Neil being forced to say nice things about Aaron is unmatched. How you do think that would go?

(Sorry for rambling I love your posts about the trial and I’m interested in criminal defense )

OH MAN like

imagine andrew on the stand having to talk about the Good Times with aaron just to defend his character and neither him nor neil talking about the fact that him and aaron actually hardly speak, the only reason they were at nicky's parent's house was to work on repairing their shitty family relationship, they literally had to go to therapy to be able to talk to each other

but also picturing katelyn & aaron's other friends outside the foxes talking about him makes me wanna SOB

katelyn talking about how aaron has been plagued by nightmares every night since the murder. how he barely sleeps, and he cries all the time, and she's spent the last year worried about him because what he did was so against what he would ever do it's literally destroying him from the inside. marissa talking about how good aaron has been for katelyn, how he makes her happy, how gentle he is with her.

keauna talking about how kind hearted aaron is. jonah talking about how aaron has pulled him back from the brink, how supportive he's been to him when he's been in crisis. paolo talking about how aaron has been tutoring him because he feel behind on one of their classes. all of these people neither andrew nor neil have ever even heard of talking about aaron in such a way that couldn't be real. aaron is full of joy? relaxed and outgoing? caring and attentive and empathetic?

idk. none of those people even exist. because we don't know what kind of a life aaron had outside of the foxes. all we know about is the aaron who gets chills each and every time he picks up a raquet, who had to leave practice to have a panic attack when he accidentally picked up a raquet that wasn't his own, a racquet heavier than his own, a racquet he'd only held once before, when it was quickly covered in blood and then shown in court during the worst week of his life.

hmm.

yeah.

i love the idea of neil having to talk about aarons character. but i love the idea more of andrew, neil, kevin, and nicky sitting in court while aaron's friends describe a person that simply couldn't be the aaron they know.

#aaron is happiest when he is not playing exy #and if he could he would drop it in an instant #ask

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nalyra-dreaming · 8 months ago

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Hi Nalyra. I would love to hear your thoughts about Nickistat because Virginia is very biased against the relationship and often romanticizes Loustat and ignores all the clues that Nicki was Lestat's first and deepest love. Lestat might have fell deeply for Louis, but he would never have left Nicki if Nicki and Gabrielle didn't tell him to. I just don't understand how anyone can diminish Nickistat and say Nicki didn't love him because if Lestat had to pick between the lover that wanted them to struggle because of his own depression and the lover that literally tried to kill him, I'm opting for the first. I honestly believe that Nickistat would still be together and Lestat would have never paid Louis a second glance if Nicki never died. If Nicki never unalived himself, I don't think anyone could deny that if Nicki showed up during Loustat's "raccoon era", Lestat would not have thought twice about leaving Louis to be with Nicki. Lestat would have been out of there so quickly and I wouldn't have blamed him. It's unfortunate that the depression got the most of Nicki because they had the potential to be on a far grander and happier scale than Loustat. Louis would have been the Antoinette to Lestat had Nicki lived.

My brother in Christopher.

Louis would have been the Antoinette? Lestat would not have thought twice about leaving Louis?

Nonny. Dear.

So totally apart from the fact that I also think Antoinette was a bit different than meets the eye right now...

You said that "you would opt for the first" and I think that's the crux of the matter. You would, and that's okay. However, lets take a look at some facts.

Louis did not try to kill Lestat, that was Claudia

Nicolas depression started way before his relationship with Lestat

Nicki isn't someone who comes into the relationship with Lestat "untainted". He's already rebelled. Already went against his father's wishes, already sold his watch when his father smashed his violin. Gabrielle notes that "the worst part is that he plays rather well", because he is too old make it as a career.

Nicolas must have been told that and must be aware of that, because he literally builds that first connection with Lestat by using the quite self-aware admission that he, too, is "impossible".

Nicolas is sarcastic when he tells Lestat of Paris: "But in rapid, sometimes sarcastic speech[...]"

He's also not too fond of his own experiences: "I'll tell you, " he said finally, "it all sounds a hell of a lot better in this room than it really is. "

Right after this, there is this note from Lestat: "I was beginning to understand why he was so sarcastic arid cynical.

Sarcastic. Arid. Cynical.

These are Lestat's first impressions of Nicolas. He also gives us what drew him nonetheless: "But no matter how deadening was this sarcasm of his, a great energy poured out of him, an irrepressible passion. And this drew me to him. I think I loved him."

This passion drew Lestat. But he recognized the darkness within Nicolas even then.

Nicolas was doomed from the start. He calls the violin the "Devil's Instrument".

He literally tells Lestat that he thinks Paris a "miserable hellhole" in their first conversation.

As others, Nicolas is drawn to Lestat's light though (as it is called in the books), and there is this... let's call it helpless love that develops. They are young, they have common ground, and they click. First love.

I absolutely believe that the love they felt was real, and that they were infatuated, and loved each other very much.

But Nicolas never wanted to go back to the "hellhole". When he later tells Lestat that he wanted them to "go down", to starve on the streets, then that calls right back to that very first conversation. It is right there, from the beginning.

"I make music and it makes me happy, " he said. "What is blessed or good about that? " I waved it away as I always did his cynicism now.

Lestat... waves the darkness away, but he perceives it.

Nicolas believes that "sin always feels good". He sees what they have as a sin. And he revels in it.

"Lestat, we're partners in sin, " he said, smiling finally.

When they talk about running away, Lestat is mightily excited... but not excited enough to miss the warning signs: "All his cynicism had vanished, even though he did throw in the word "spite " every ten words or so."

Nicolas does not run away to Paris for a new start. He does it to spite his father.

"All a misunderstanding, my love, " he said. Acid on the tongue. The blood sweat had broken out again, and his eyes glistened as if they were wet. "It was to hurt others, don't you see, the violin playing, to anger them, to secure for me an island where they could not rule. They would watch my ruin, unable to do anything about it. " I didn't answer. I wanted him to go on. "And when we decided to go to Paris, I thought we would starve in Paris, that we would go down and down and down. It was what I wanted, rather than what they wanted, that I, the favored son, should rise for them. I thought we would go down! We were supposed to go down. " "Oh, Nicki... " I whispered.

Oh, Nicki, indeed.

Lestat loved Nicki.

Despite the darkness. Maybe because of it. He certainly was aware of it. Just as he is aware of the darkness in Louis later.

But...

Nicolas... wasn't love at first sight for Lestat. Gabrielle had to tell him to go and make a friend of him, to which Lestat's first reaction was: "Why the hell should I do that?"

"But why don't you go down to the town and make a friend of him? " she asked. "Why the hell should I do that? " I asked. "Lestat, really. Your brothers will hate it. And the old merchant will be beside himself with joy. His son and the Marquis's son. " "Those aren't good enough reasons." "He's been to Paris, " she said. She watched me for a long moment. Then she went back to her book, brushing her hair now and then lazily. I watched her reading, hating it. I wanted to ask her how she was, if her cough was very bad that day. But I couldn't broach the subject to her. "Go on down and talk to him, Lestat, " she said, without another glance at me.

Now, I am not trying to diminish Nickistat here.

It's beautiful, and tragic. I love their relationship, because of all the facets it has.

But it was doomed from the start.

If Nicki had survived, then this would have led to catastrophe, not relief. Nicki showing up through the "racoon era"... I mean, you are aware that Lestat stayed with Louis intentionally and voluntarily. (And that Louis did the same, something that somehow tends to be overlooked. They both could have left, could have moved out. But they didn't.) Lestat did not want to leave Louis, and Louis did not want to leave Lestat, despite everything. It is that simple.

If Nicolas would have showed up his darkness would have been festering for decades/centuries. He was already spiraling in Paris, and definitely so after turning, he would have been mad by then.

A mad vampire, hell-bent on relief for his pain, trapped in the darkness, fueled by twisted love.

If Nicolas would have showed up then, Louis would have been in danger, and Lestat would have been forced to kill him, eventually.

And Lestat always protects Louis.

Let's finish with Lestat's own words on Louis, and Nicolas:

Shortly after reaching the colony, I fell fatally in love with Louis, a young dark-haired bourgeois planter, graceful of speech and fastidious of manner, who seemed in his cynicism and self destructiveness the very twin of Nicolas. He had Nicki's grim intensity, his rebelliousness, his tortured capacity to believe and not to believe, and finally to despair. Yet Louis gained a hold over me far more powerful than Nicolas had ever had. Even in his cruelest moments, Louis touched the tenderness in me, seducing me with his staggering dependence, his infatuation with my every gesture and every spoken word. And his naiveté conquered me always, his strange bourgeois faith that God was still God even if he turned his back on us, that damnation and salvation established the boundaries of a small and hopeless world. Louis was a sufferer, a thing that loved mortals even more than I did. And I wonder sometimes if I didn't look to Louis to punish me for what had happened to Nicki, if I didn't create Louis to be my conscience and to mete out year in and year out the penance I felt I deserved. But I loved him, plain and simple.

I know the fandom jokes often about how stupid or shallow Lestat is, but he actually is quite aware. He reflects. He sees the parallels, and his own faults in the game. He owns up to his mistakes, too.

At the end of Blood Communion there is this little conversation, between him and Louis (and a nice little nod towards memory):

“Yes, Nicolas,” I answered. “Seemed all the little victories of life and life after death were so hard for him, happiness was so hard for him...joy was an agony I think, but I don’t want to think of it now.” “Some of us are infinitely better at being miserable than happy,” he said gently. “We’re good at it, and proud of it, and we get better and better at it, and we simply don’t know what it means to be happy.” I nodded. My thoughts were as thick and confused as the dancers, the music. But the dancers and the music were beautiful. My thoughts were not. I could not recall ever having spoken of Nicolas to Louis, never ever even mentioning Nicolas’s name. But then I do not remember everything, as I once thought I did. There is something in us, even us, that will not allow for that, something that pushes the memory of suffering that is unbearable slowly away. “I have no gift for being miserable,” I said. “I know,” he said. He laughed. Such a human face. Such a lovely face. There must surely have been twice as many blood drinkers now in this ballroom as there had ever been, and I sensed that I had ought to stop having such a marvelous time and return to greeting newcomers as the Prince should. But not before holding Louis for a moment, and then kissing him and telling him low in French that I loved him and always had.

This is where Anne ended the books.

With their dance, and Lestat telling Louis he loves him and always had. With the awareness that for Nicolas joy was agony. And Louis understanding. Because Louis has been there.

Other than Nicolas though... Louis manages to overcome his darkness. Eventually. He knows. He sees. He accepts. And he does not shy away from Lestat's "light".

And that is why, at the end, it is Louis, for Lestat.

_______

So, "biased" or not, I'm not sure I see it very differently to V?

Nicolas was doomed from the start, and so was their relationship.

Unfortunately.

Also, last but not least, if I may: "unalive"? You mean killed himself. Committed suicide. This isn't TikTok. Please use the proper words. Self-censorship is the way to preemptively accepting censorship. Thank you.

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bestjeanistmonster · 8 months ago

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Hey! Love ur DC au, and I don’t mean to be rude and don’t know if u take ideas/prompts- but I thought it would be really cool if tails/robin and Amy/batgirl had a chance or something happened and they were sent back to the past before Nicky became Sonic/Harley and they could stop it from happening- but something in the future becomes worst because Nicky wasn’t Sonic/Harley- idk how the ending would go- maybe something like they have to let Nikey go and become Sonic or Nikey sacrifices himself to become Sonic in order to save the future. But I don’t know if you take prompts but I love ur art and AUs!

Okay okay so i usually don’t take plot ideas but im making this time an exception cuz i actually rlly rlly like this idea!!

Cuz apart from the running plot going on in the background for the most part it’s a lot of monster of the week type adventures going on most of the time and this is a rlly fun adventure to think about

(And! This actually reminds me of an episode of batman the animated series where Mad Hatter puts Batman to sleep and putting him into a dream reality where his parents never died and therefore batman didn’t exist and he has to break out of it and i just LOVE it!!)

The idea of them learning to ‘keep moving forward’ this way would be so goo! Like everytime they change the past in some way to save their friend it ends with them losing something else, so they keep making changes and the present keeps getting worse and they keep just obsessing over getting it right this time! They had to find a way to get the ideal life with their friend, there had to be some way to get it

And then there’s this breakdown moment of not knowing what to do cuz the present just seems fucked up no matter what and then maybe Nicky himself unknowingly gives them the advice they needed to fix the present

Like yeah, the past sucks, but obsessing over stuff you could’ve done differently or trying to obsess over some potential future would just end up driving you crazy. At the end of the day you can’t change the past, and you can’t control the future either, all you can really do is do what you can do in the present and hope for the best

“I mean present can’t be all bad, right?”

Like yeah they lost someone important to them, but they realise that they also gained some people too, new friends, a new life.

So they let Nicky become Sonic

It hurts so much to let it happen but they know they can’t change what happened to Nicky… but they can still try to help Sonic

It might be a lost cause, it might even be too late but they’ll sure as hell try anyway

#god i rlly wanna draw smthn for this now #ty for the idea!!!#jeanist answers #sonadow harlivy au

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savagewildnerness · 7 months ago

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Let’s talk about the Theatre Des Vampires & its potential impact!?!

First Lestat: pretty sure Lestat is a vampire here: he has the eyes, the nails & Armand is watching him. (Why would Armand watch mortal-Lestat? Unless watching Magnus and I’m sure we won’t see Magnus this season.) And that back bend has all the vibes of Lestat describing how as a vampire he can do impossibly graceful dance movements if he so chooses! (To delight and beguile, or so inhuman as to disturb!)

BUT book-Lestat does not theatre once he is a vampire. There’s only that one time that goes horribly wrong. To me, this does not look like it’s going horribly wrong!?! It looks like Lestat is still being “the greatest actor to have ever graced the stage”…??

Book-Lestat is horrified by vampire theatre. Including himself on the stage! He used to love how theatre conveyed something human & true & real. He felt it was a truly *good* think he could do. Being unable to read, human Lestat did a lot of improvised theatre (& Nicki taught him lines for some plays later on) - I’d argue improvisation being the most spontaneous & human theatre can get… so he finds it even moreso repellent how false it is as a vampire.

Compelled to go out on stage, Lestat looks out & sees a grinning skull behind every face. He feels he cannot find the natural, human meaning in words that was so instinctive to him when mortal. In the theatre, Lestat’s love as a mortal, Lestat truly feels what he has lost & will now never be. He could beguile & trick, but instead he intentionally horrifies the audience & himself - I think he does it `s he is so personally horrified and yet as theatre always was, still it must remain a place of truth for him? In the moment, there on stage, he realises his inhumanity and sees himself almost from outside himself as a horrific (though perfectly natural) monster “the mortal world seemed some desperate dream of rationality that in this lush and fetid jungle had not the slightest chance.” He sees himself like a cat or a rat or the evil vampire he is - he is a creature, but he is not human.

Until this point, other than when killing, Lestat has passed himself off easily amongst mortals as one of them. Yet, here on the stage he feels the Monster he is & cannot bear the artifice and the difference to what he once was, what he had the potential to be and what he was on the cusp of becoming. The theatre is like a reminder to him that his human life is over. This is a quality he will later be unable to bear in Nicki’s virtuoso violin skill once he becomes a vampire too. Nicki leans right in to the parody & evil manipulation of skill as opposed to mortal expression of humanity & performing with the devil’s instrument. Nicki finds a purity and truth in that & it’s the antithesis of what Lestat adored from & felt in Nicki’s mortal violin playing. Just as mad-Vampire-Nicki is the antithesis of all Lestat loved & they immediately despise each other (albeit Lestat will never truly not love too.)

Anyway, back to just-turned Lestat: at the same time, it’s Lestat’s *need* to return to the theatre that is really Nicolas’ downfall. Nicki was always fragile, and moreso when Lestat was stolen away. And of course when Armand kidnaps Nicki he is completely mad & unsaveable by then. But he had a small chance at some life... until this visitation to the theatre by Lestat, where Nicolas truly sees for his own eyes that something awful has befallen Lestat & he doesn’t understand it & nobody but him will believe it as they just want to believe Lestat the wondrous benefactor who has gifted them so much money and the theatre and charms everyone still.

This is in my opinion the point of no return for Nicki. He is a mad thing who I don’t think has any way back to sanity and life from here on. Gabrielle recognises it already even where Lestat cannot admit it to himself when she asks Lestat if he'll turn Nicki. At that time Lestat says he is appalled by the idea... but obviously he would have thought on it. Once Lestat showed his vampire self to Nicki, Nicki’s mortal life was done for. He begins drinking to extreme excess & cannot cope with life at... and this is before Armand snatches him.

Now, if the show have Lestat at the theatre for longer & actually using his skills to trick audiences for a while, will the impact this has on (presumably still mortal) Nicki be even deeper? It surely would be given the scenario…? And so will Lestat feel even more guilt o we Nicki’s eventual downfall? I can almost see it in my mind playing out now. Lestat using his vampiric skill to beguile audiences for a time, Nicki grieving increasingly mad & all the other people at the theatre merely adoring Lestat & not wishing to see anything wrong. And maybe even Nicki wanting to believe in moments that all is well? But really, Nicki growing increasingly fragile until, as in the books Armand steals him away. I just feel like something like this might be in the TV show and I feel that it could be an interesting deepening of the emotion (although it would alter Lestat in the theatre a little and the impact of the theatre to Lestat's self… but then, that was Lestat’s thoughts and horror as a new vampire. He feels very differently by the time he becomes a rock star… so…?!)

And this ties in: the recent clips suggest Claudia loves the theatre & Louis hates it. Louis always hated the callousness of the theatre, but Claudia loved it mainly as a clever way to ensnare victims. In the theatre in the book she is immediately in danger. Will this be different feelings here. This older Claudia may initially love the idea of joining the theatre! It may appeal to her nature! But oh, what awaits her…

Anyway: just some train-of-thought ponderings….

Anyone have thoughts on this?

#interview with the vampire #anne rice #lestat de lioncourt #the vampire lestat #iwtv lestat #amc interview with the vampire #amc iwtv #iwtv amc #nicolas de lenfent #lestat x nicolas #nicki de lenfent #lestat x nicki #louis de pointe du lac #claudia de pointe du lac #claudia de lioncourt #iwtv louis #IWTV nicolas

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s-exy-sapphillean · 2 months ago

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I've recovered enough from the horrors of academic writing that i'm able to write for my own enjoyment again so here's a Runaways snippet. A little insight into how i'm writing Andrew on meds in this. Also me unveiling the stupid fake name i picked for Jean, one with intentional big potential to be mispronounced in the most painfully american way.

This was entirely written on mobile so formatting might look stupid on desktop.

Canon typical CWs for violence + mild dissociation

`Neil Josten and Louis DuBois. Louis and Neil. Josten and DuBois,’ Andrew rolled the names of the two men they were here for around in his head while idly plucking at the netting of some random highschooler’s racket. It wasn't that he was particularly interested in the two teenagers or their sob-stories, he honestly couldn't care less, but it helped keep the boredom at bay. The same way keeping his hands occupied kept him from chewing his fingernails any shorter.

He was here because Kevin had insisted on coming, so Andrew had to follow. Not because Andrew had chosen to come. Kevin was obsessed with that striker – something about the way he played – and felt the need to be here to make sure everything would “go smoothly”.

To Andrew, the only thing that had stood out as mildly interesting about the recruits was the reason they were here for two and not just one, the reason why they were getting another fucking backliner. He did not care about the ramifications for the team but he did care about the additional new idiot in his proximity. But it seemed inevitable with how fixated Kevin had become on Josten.

“A package deal” is what their coach had pitched them as. Can't have one without the other. Which worked out great for Josten, considering he only qualified for Wymack’s recruitment criteria by association. Of course he was still willing to take it, considering it meant getting both the striker sub they needed and a new broken pup to save, even if they were not the same person.

Andrew had not been amused when Coach had drawn a comparison to his, Aaron and Nicky’s own recruitment. He could still feel that ball of tension in his gut and at the base of his head, even now as he was just thinking about it. A coiling feeling just out of reach, no real tangible emotion, just physical reaction. But it felt just a little bit closer as he half listened to the raised voices sounding through the door.

Apart from Wymack predictably matching the volume, there was only one loud unknown voice. A lot of “we” and “us” and “he” besides the “I”s. Someone certainly liked speaking for others. Or just one other. Controlling boyfriend?

Andrew didn't care but thinking about it was like reaching for that tension at the base of the skull, like hooking his finger into a rubber band rooted there and pulling, straining it even further. Irritation? Annoyance? Anger? Still not quite an emotion but closer.

The door to the locker room banged open, slamming into the wall with even more noise and in stormed two men. Or rather, one stormed, seeming to drag the other behind him. It looked almost comical, someone Andrew’s own size dragging a man almost two feet taller behind him like that. So it must have been Josten speaking for DuBois.

Zeroing in on where the smaller man’s fingers held DuBois by the wrist, Andrew wrapped his own around the racket and pulled that rubber band until it snapped. A violent release of tension, a swing of a racket, an impressively quiet gasp of pain and chaos erupted.

“Are you fucking insane!? You could have broken his hand! He needs it to play!” Kevin was screaming at him immediately. Predictably mixed with the anger was fear and Andrew watched Kevin clutch his own hand like he was the one who had been struck.

But there was a new voice as well, DuBois finally opening his mouth to curse Andrew out in what he assumed was french. The frenchman’s focus swung between glaring daggers at Andrew and cradling Josten close, trying to check on his wrist.

Andrew watched the scene, feeling nothing. He’d gotten some release but it wasn’t particularly satisfying or entertaining, and now he had no tension to prod at anymore. Lazily swinging the racket up over his shoulder, he drawled: “He’ll have to sign the contract for it to matter at all to you if he plays or not.”

Andreil first meeting. Yay?

Tagging @bisexualfagdyke

#aftg au #aftg Runaways AU #Runaways AU #aftg #aftg fic WIP #wip fic #all for the game #neil josten #jean moreau #andrew minyard #all for the game AU

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 1 year ago

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Daddy Duty - The Forgotten Nest AU

AU Series Based on The Forgotten Nest

Summary: Bradley watches Nickie by himself for the first time.

Additional Warnings: Referenced Past Teenage Pregnancy; Nickie Crying (he's a baby y'all); Baby Functions; Bradley Struggles; Maternal Concerns

Word Count: 2.1k

Main Master List

Series Master List

Cora didn’t think that she was going to be a helicopter mom or one of those moms who would struggle with letting other people watch her baby. After all, she was raised in a predominantly ‘hands off’ household. Carole was working a lot when her and Bradley were growing up and Maverick was often away. Cora and Bradley weren't heavily supervised during their childhood, and especially not when they were teenagers.

But maybe Cora wanted to make a few changes to how she was raised with Nickie. So, yeah, maybe she was becoming a bit of a control freak mom.

Cora trusted a select group of people to watch Nickie. She trusted Ice and Sarah and Penny to watch Nickie without concern. And after some time, she trusted her dad to watch Nickie. But she wasn’t quite there with Bradley yet.

Bradley was Nickie’s father, obviously, but that didn’t change the fact that he hadn’t spent a lot of time around babies. He was still playing catch up for the months that he missed and maybe Cora wasn't fully ready for him to watch Nickie on her own yet. And she knew that made her a bad co-parent, but she thought that she had a little bit of a right to be concerned.

But it looked like she was running out of excuses these days.

“I can’t, Mara,” Cora sighed, wiping Nickie’s chin with his bib.

She was sitting in front of Nickie’s high chair while on the phone with Mara Kazansky, who was the year below her and Bradley. Cora and Mara always had a close relationship and Mara, much like her father, never shied away from telling the truth whenever she felt like Cora needed to hear it. And she definitely needed to hear this.

“I don’t have anyone to watch Nickie," Cora continued, sitting back in her chair.

“Isn’t Bradley home this weekend?”

“Well . . . yeah, but . . .”

“You don’t trust him to be alone with Nickie?” Mara guessed, causing Cora to sigh.

“That’s not what I meant,” Cora replied, holding out more food for Nickie to eat. “It’s just . . . he’s still learning and everything. And it can be a lot to watch a baby.”

“Nickie is his baby too. If Bradley can’t survive an afternoon alone with him, then he needs to get his shit together three months ago,” Mara pointed out without skipping a beat. “And it’s not like we’ll be across the country. We’ll be two hours away and my mom is still in town, so if he needs anything at all, he can call her and she’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Cora stared at Nickie for a moment. She felt incredibly guilty for even doubting Bradley’s ability to watch their son by himself, but she didn’t think it was entirely crazy either. He had spent about a grand total of two months with Nickie and for most of it, Cora was right there with him.

“Come on, Cora, you need a break. You haven’t spent more than three hours away from Nickie since he was born. And every parent needs a break. Especially you.”

“I’m turning into Ms. Mom, aren’t I?” Cora sighed quietly, holding out more food to Nickie.

“Hey, there’s a lot of worse types of moms that you could be,” Mara amended her earlier sentiments.

Mara knew how sensitive the subject motherhood was with Cora. And Mara, though she wasn't majoring in psychology, had a slight inkling that Cora's style of motherhood, the sort of helicopter and potentially excessive worry, was a direct reaction to Cora's mom's style of motherhood. Abandonment, that is.

“But you need to have fun too. And there will be times where you can't always be there for Nickie. And as much as I love my godson, I think that you can have fun away from him and it doesn’t make you a bad mom, Cora.”

“I’ll talk to Bradley about it,” Cora stated softly after a few moments, causing Mara to let out an excited noise.

Bradley returned to the Mitchell home two hours after Cora hung up with Mara. Heading inside, Bradley smiled when Nickie came toddling around the corner, dragging his blankie behind him as he moved to greet his dad. Setting down his keys and the food that he brought home for dinner, Bradley held out his arms for Nickie.

“Hey, Nickie,” he called, scooping his son up. Pressing a kiss to his chubby cheek, Bradley set Nickie on his hip. “You have fun with your mama?”

“Hey,” Cora greeted Bradley, walking around the corner. “How was your day?”

“Good,” Bradley returned, offering her a kind smile. Turning to the side, Bradley pointed at the bag of food that he picked up for Cora. “I bought dinner. Your favorite.”

“Thanks,” Cora replied, glancing into the bag. After a moment, she turned back to Bradley. “Do you have any plans on Saturday?”

“No, why?”

“Mara wanted to take me out and someone needs to watch Nickie if I wanted to go,” Cora started off with, building up to the question.

“You think that I wouldn’t watch my own kid?” Bradley asked, honestly sounding a bit offended.

“No, I just, I didn’t know if you would be comfortable with that since you’ve never watched him alone before and I didn’t want to pressure you into doing anything,” Cora listed off quickly.

“I can watch him,” Bradley stated, straightening up a bit. “He’s my son too.”

“I know,” Cora assured Bradley. “Thanks.”

“I’m pretty sure that you’re not supposed to thank me for me watching my own son,” Bradley pointed out, adjusting his hold on Nickie. "We'll be fine."

~~~~~

“Alright, it’s just you and me today, buddy,” Bradley told Nickie, squatting down in front of him. “Mama’s out with your Aunt Mara on a girl’s day. So, today, we’re having a dada and son day. Sound good to you?”

Nickie shot Bradley a one-tooth smile as drool dribbled down his chin before going back to gnawing on his favorite toy. He had been doing that for the last few days and anytime someone tried to take it away from him, Nickie threw a huge fit. So, for his own personal sanity, Bradley would not be touching that toy today.

“What should we do, huh?”

Bradley was a bit nervous that if he screwed up today that Cora would lose what little trust that they had built up over the last few months, and he would be back to square one. So, he was going to clean up the house, he was going to keep Nickie happy, and he was going to do everything that Cora managed in a day.

If only for his own pride.

And for the first hour, it was going well. Nickie was easily entertained and mostly kept himself busy, walking around the playroom area and playing with his toys. Bradley cleaned up the kitchen and did the dishes before starting a load of laundry. And he was feeling confident, perhaps overconfident, in his own abilities as a dad.

And then Nickie got into the baby powder.

“Fucking shit,” Bradley whispered when he spotted the mess that Nickie made in the playroom.

The entire six-foot radius around Nickie was covered in a layer of white powder, which Bradley deduced came from the probably now empty bottle of baby powder that was in Nickie’s hands. And when Nickie heard his dad come into the room, he smiled proudly at Bradley’s horrified look.

“Nickie,” Bradley sighed, walking forward.

Forced to wade into the baby powder a bit, Bradley picked Nickie up and took the bottle from his hands. Closing it and setting it aside, Bradley held Nickie at arm’s length. Nickie, of course, was covered head to toe in baby powder.

“Oh, God,” Bradley breathed out, looking at the mess.

Bradley carried Nickie into the bathroom. Running a bath, Bradley held a squirming Nickie in his arms as he tested the temperature of the water. Adding some soap and bubbles, Bradley tossed in a few rubber ducks to keep Nickie entertained and hopefully happy. Washing the baby powder out of his hair, Bradley struggled as Nickie was getting increasingly frustrated and annoyed and was starting to fight back against his dad.

“Nickie, just hold still,” Bradley stated, dumping water over Nickie’s head.

Sputtering and waving his hands around, Nickie stared up at his dad with betrayal in his big brown eyes. Pouting something fierce, Nickie whined and pulled away as Bradley poured some more water over his little head. And in a fit, Nickie smashed his hands onto the water, splashing Bradley with a whole bunch of water.

“Nickie!” Bradley scolded, staring down at his now soaked shorts. “Alright, that's it. We're done with the bath.”

Bradley started to drain the water and scooped Nickie out of the tub. Setting him on the ground, Bradley kept a firm hold on Nickie and reached for a towel, drying him off despite Nickie’s increasingly loud protests. Getting Nickie into another diaper, Bradley turned to grab Nickie’s shirt when his son decided to go AWOL.

Nickie turned and hurried as fast as he could out of the bathroom, which wasn't very fast, but he still managed to get outside of Bradley's reach. Bradley let out a growl of annoyance and got up. Moving quickly, he grabbed Nickie before he could get too far and held him to his chest. Nickie whined in frustration, kicking his little legs out.

"Nickie, stop fighting me," Bradley sighed, opening the baby gate and heading back downstairs. "If you hadn't gotten baby powder all over yourself, you would have been fine."

Bradley set Nickie down in the gated play area in the family room and hurried to wash the baby powder out of the floor before it had a chance to set in. Bradley returned a few minutes later to find Nickie gnawing aggressively on something that wasn’t his teething toy and hurried to take it away before he hurt himself.

"Don't put that in your mouth," Bradley sighed, tossing the toy away.

Nickie immediately burst out into tears, holding up his hands for the toy. Bradley winced at his loud cries and quickly turned to grab Nickie’s teething toy from where it had been earlier. Except, the teething toy wasn’t where he left it. Starting to panic a bit, Bradley looked around frantically for the toy while Nickie screamed and cried in his playpen.

“Shit,” Bradley muttered, getting to his feet.

Tearing apart the family room, Bradley ran out to the playroom to look for it there. Nickie kept crying, flopping onto the ground as his sobs echoed around the whole house. Bradley finally found it under the dresser and after quickly washing it off, Bradley rushed back to try and pacify Nickie with the toy. But when he offered the teething toy to Nickie, Nickie simply threw the toy back at him.

“Nickie, please,” Bradley begged, really starting to lose his sanity.

Pulling Nickie out of the playpen, Bradley tried to soothe Nickie with hugs and rocks, but Nickie seemed to be content to scream his heart out. It was almost like he was trying to teach his dad a lesson there. Rocking Nickie back and forth, Bradley started to pace around the room, hoping that it would get Nickie to quiet down. Offering Nickie toy after toy, Bradley just got rejected over and over again.

"Nickie, please,” Bradley pleaded after a few minutes, rocking Nickie again as he looked around for something to calm Nickie down.

Rushing into the kitchen, Bradley grabbed one of the bottles that Cora left for him and tried to offer it to Nickie. And even though Nickie rejected it at first, eventually, Nickie latched on and started suckling from the bottle. Bradley held his breath for a moment, not fully trusting his son to actually settle, before he felt Nickie relax and curl up into his chest, happily sucking on the botte.

“It’s okay,” Bradley assured Nickie as Nickie closed his eyes slowly. “You're okay." Resting his back against the wall, Bradley closed his own eyes for a second. "We're all okay."

~~~~~

Cora walked inside after her day out with Mara and nearly dropped her purse where she stood when she saw the state of the house. There was a trail of baby powder all over the floor. Toys were strewn everywhere and it looked like most of the furniture was out of place from where she left it.

“Bradley?” Cora called nervously.

Rushing into the family room, Cora nearly panicked when she didn’t see Bradley or Nickie anywhere. And Nickie’s blankie and teething toy were right there on the floor. Taking the stairs, Cora sprinted to the nursery to find neither of them there.

“Bradley!?”

Running down the hall, Cora quickly checked her room before moving onto Bradley’s room. She pushed open the door and immediately let out a breath of relief when she spotted Bradley and Nickie together, safe and sound.

Bradley was laying flat on his back in his bed, shirtless, and with Nickie on his chest. His head was kicked back and his mouth hung open with soft snores coming out. Nickie was curled up on Bradley’s chest, breathing slowly. Nickie’s mouth was hanging open as well with some drool slipping out of his mouth. Bradley's hand rested on Nickie's back, keeping him in place and close.

Cora smiled to herself at the image and slowly slipped out of the room. Returning a moment later, Cora took a few pictures of Nickie and Bradley with her camera before slipping out of the room again, knowing better than to wake a sleeping Bradshaw.

Tags: Tags: @praline357 @luv4kani @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo

#top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #top gun #tgm #tgm fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster fanfic #bradley rooster x oc #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #rooster top gun #rooster #rooster x oc #bradley bradshaw x oc #rooster bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw fic

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ladylaviniya · 10 months ago

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The Negatives of Shooting People

Chapter 5 || MasterList || Chapter 7

Chapter Summary: You get the ultimate privilege of meeting Nicholas Tortano who grants you the ability to surprise August Walker

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Sexual tension, P in V intercourse, fingering, petnames, dubious consent, hate sex, rough sex, gun violence, threats with a gun, forceful handling, belittling, manipulation The reader vomits and is kissed briefly at some point. Mentions of dacryphilia, sadism.

Pairing: Kingpin!August Walker X F!reader

Word Count: .I dont honestly know but it's definitely more than 6k

Author Notes: the chapter and editing process was very rough I'm very sorry full stop my life has been in a business because I'm trying to find a new place to live and I've started going to the gym and missing out on a lot of sleep. I'm about to pass out which is why I'm posting this now. Again sorry for any mistakes granrma and otherwise

Inspiring Song: "girl with one eye " Florence and the machine. (Yes I know it's a sapphic song- I sing it like every day but let me have this pass to add it in)

08:09am Monday 19th August 2024, Robertson, Brisbane.

'What the hell is she thinking?'

Henry shook his head as he reached the complex exit and walked out onto the street to the waiting car.

He wanted to smirk but the frowning scowl would not drop from his face.

'If I was anyone else, God what I'd do to her-' his hand clenched the passenger side door handle hard and slammed loudly behind him. His eyes shut and his head tossed while the car swayed and rocked.

Jude, his driver and loyal friend smirked, “You must like this one...or is there a pile of meat up in that apartment that I need to fetch? I can call Riggan the pig farmer in the Lockyer Valley, anything left over he can throw in Wivenhoe dam.”

August sighed and chuckled, "She's alive and well. No sweet treat for Coles piggies...but...I need you and Wesley to look into the Pig she has been accompanying."

Jude smiled and leaned over, clicking the button of the glove box compartment. Inside was a yellow envelope. August's eyes fluttered before his face broke out into a grin.

"You are a fine friend Jude," he said as he plucked the envelope and spilled the printed notes out onto his lap, "Do you ever sleep? Jesus mate."

The raven hair man giggled and started the car to a silent hum.

As the driver put a hand behind Augusts car seat and reversed the car out onto the main roads he smugly said, "I take pride in investigating, especially bastards like him."

August's fingers flicked through the pages of graphic intel. With racing eyes he soaked up the words and photos. Lloyd Hansen...an absolute moron. His nose flared at what he was reading. He grit his teeth. Especially when he recognised a name in bold he hadn't thought about in at least half a decade.

"Well, well, well, he's got kittens for sale," August scoffed.

Jude hummed, "And meddles in the dogs pack, it would seem little Nicky is out of the jailhouse."

Both men smirked. But August was by no means pleased.

He was grumbling to himself. You were now sticking your toes into the deep end of the pool without floaties and he was worried he wouldn’t be able to catch you in time for the dunk.

Entering his club, sneaking in with the detective, he didn’t think you were dumb enough to think you’d distract him... He read through your charade the moment his eyes laid down on you from above walking in with that man.

His eyes and ears were turning red.

It was tricky but thankfully he had the means to warning that cop not to touch what belongs to him...however how close could he really get to that bastard without potential outlash. He knew he needed to order another grandeur meeting. While everyone was in town, it might be his only opportunity.

When August forced you to watch the murder of the embezzler, he had every hoping intention that it would persuade you to never talk to the cop again. A normal undercover pig would’ve stopped the show then and there, called back up.

But there was no back up...no...there was only sweet little innocent you and your pathetic phone camera. If Lloyd was after information he would’ve wired you up...Lloyd wasn’t there for him...he was there for some selfish reason...

When you ran off and pulled the alarm a dozen things went through his head. You were going to get yourself killed if you kept running. So he chased you. If the other men of his circle saw August Walker hunting, they would have been inclined to hunt you down too. And if they caught you...they would have done more than rip your head off.

He couldn’t tell you. He wasn’t sure how. You were already distrusting and scared of him there was no way he would be able to explain all the details and with your pure heart, you wouldn’t understand his world and why his side of the fence did such heinous things.

But...he would keep you safe. He wanted to gain your trust while not mistaking his authority...he knew what he had done was traumatizing.

He was no stranger to rape. Especially the european parties...those special events where he would join his friends like Kenny Strong and Arthur Kingsley ran the highlife of elite gentlemen and some lucky women born into those elite families. He wasn’t entirely fond of the practice. He didn’t like to beat women, but he did love to tie them up and humiliate them to tears.

Something about crying made his cock hard- no, something about you crying did...

He made you cry and he tried to bend you to his whims...he had already begun the conditioning where you would call him Daddy to gain his affection and praise. It pleased him significantly. He would shield you from those terrible memories even if it meant torturing you into talking about them. Externalising, confessing, it was all a form of therapy and he knew he had finally cracked the surface of your mind. He wouldn’t break you but he would chop at you and cut the mould. He would heal you. He would rebuild you and give you all the happiness you could ever want.

Sitting back and shoving those papers into the glove box he licked his bottom lip in thought.

When he woke up that morning, he watched you sneak out of the room. He smiled and amused himself. He watched the cameras from his phone. You were in his room...now that was very silly...he watched you choose his shirt and his shorts. He bit his lip to hold back a laugh. You looked so confident but so ...innocent...particular. He watched you grab a knife from the kitchen, he half heartedly believed you were coming back to stab him.

When your hands reached for the glass doors he launched up. He hadn’t warned you about Kal and he knew that dog could rip a man up, probably kill you easily if his fangs cause your wrist or neck.

He wanted to spank you and fuck you hard until you screamed mercy for trying to run away.

Rather he chose a simpler and easier punishment, one you essentially consented to the night before. Watching you suck cock was an interesting spectacle. There was a certainty you’d never done it before or not that many times before.

As you gagged on his cock with those big beautiful eyes of yours, he imagined all the things he’d buy for you...all the things he’d do for you... You might’ve been on your knees but something screamed at him to serve you as a slave.

Jude broke the silence eventually. He smirked, “So, am I right? You like this one?”

August smirked back, “’Like’ isn’t a word I’d be using.” He was fucking obsessed.

09:06am Monday 19th August 2023, Woolloongabba, Brisbane

You didn’t make a call. You couldn't. August broke your phone as you recalled.

You showered and scrubbed your face until you could feel the slight peel of your skin. It stung, but it was better than the sting you felt from the memory of his cum over you...in your mouth. You brushed your teeth for probably fifteen minutes just to erase the muscle memory of his cock brushing the back of your throat.

You changed out of August’s clothes and threw them into the bin. You couldn’t take off the collar and it made you feel suffocated. The kitchen scissors managed to scratch up the leather but the metal ring that encased inside was too strong.

You shook your head and felt nausea rise in your belly again. Without any food, all that came out was bile and acidic spit. You fell to your bedroom floor and started hitting the carpet, awful noises of grief and need bellies from you. You felt strangled. You huffed and spat random threats and insults, pretending he was there to hear them...he...August or your father? It didn’t matter.

You clenched your fist and smacked your head trying to regain your thoughts.

You kicked your dresser and rose from the floor. You found your bus pass and left the apartment, walking out in some jeans and a loose tshirt with a pair of running shoes.

The bus trip wasn’t a far trip to the police station.

You didn’t have the intention to report the kidnapping. No, no...now you were pissed off. You were scorned more than once by men around you. There was only one person you could trust in this world.

“Hi,” said the administration clerk, “How can we try an help today?” You fought the urge to roll your eyes, 'oh bitch if only you knew.'

“I’m after Detective Lloyd Hansen, is he here?”

You needed to confirm if the man was still alive. When you pulled the alarm, things were run or die in that moment. You hoped the man had the wit to run instead of confront the mafia or whatever this criminal group was.

The office was feeling slower today. It was filled with idle chatter and coffee machines grinding beans and a printer scanning documents.

“Do you have an appointment today?” she hummed, tapping at her keyboard.

You blinked and your teeth sneered.

You almost strangled that worker with the telephone cord. No. You didn’t have an appointment.

You just wanted to see he was alive. To tell him you were alive...and to collect your fifteen thousand promised reward for your “services”.

Your hands uncontrollably slapped on the desk cause the admin clerk to roll a little away in their office chair.

“I want to see the detective, now.”

“It’s alright Sandra...I can see her...” Lloyd said behind you. You flipped around. He was coming out of a small cubicle.

He looked...tired...shocked...relieved. it was all over how he looked with his loose tie, bags under his eyes and the clench of his hands on some paperwork.

He slowly stood to you and guided you away from the service desk. He whispered, “The white corolla...I’m about to finish shift.”

09:14am Monday 19th August 2024, Sunnybank, Brisbane.

You remembered his car well. The day he drove you home, you were so scared and confused. That day you’d reported that August may have sexually assaulted you...that day he definitely did...

This time you weren’t waiting in the cold for Lloyd, the sun was hot and beating down.

He came jogging down the front stairs of the station and hastily unlocked the car.

You wordlessly slipped in and buckled up.

When he got in he slammed his door a little too hard. He pressed his face to the top of his wheel and swore softly.

“I thought,” he swallowed nervously and sat up to look you up and down, “I thought he really had killed you. I tried calling thirty fuckin times these last two days. What happened? Were you hiding?”

Two days....god...you had been gone, missing, for that long?! Missing Friday...return Sunday.

You shook your head, “I was the one who pulled the alarm Lloyd...he knew what we were doing...he was going to kill you. When I made a run for it like everyone else in the club, he managed to track me down...he...” you trailed off unsure if you wanted to repeat the actions, the words, the confession.

Licking your lips you said, “August Walker is a dead man walking...and...” your stomach started to growl, “I’m starved, and I’m sorry to be bitchy but you...you at least owe me a meal Lloyd.”

Two days...you had only a few pieces of chicken in two days. No wonder you felt like total crap.

Lloyd didn’t argue. He took you straight away to the closest fast food drive thru. You ordered so much and Lloyd didn’t dispute a single item. He settled for a simple burger, fries and larger soft drink.

Lloyd drove you both to the kangaroo point lookout, it wasn't too far from where you already live. You stared out at the city buildings and Brisbane River with a strained sigh.

You chewed silently on a nugget for a moment before you explained what happened. How you were caught, how you almost got away...

“Jesus,” Lloyd rubbed his eyes and sighed, “I...I think I...I’m sorry I took you for granted Y/N. When I left the building I search everywhere for you. I thought...well- I didn’t know what to think.”

You munched on a handful of fries, you didn’t care if you looked like a pig as you did it. Stuffing your cheeks full of a burger and then a massive gulp of an extra large drink. You swallowed and thrived off the heart burn aching in your chest, reminding you you’ve eaten too quickly.

You burped and then softly moaned, “I need to feel safe.”

“You need to move...Y/N please,” The begging in his tone was loud and clear. There was serious fear in Lloyd.

You wouldn’t submit to August Walker and you refused to run from him. You were now met with the choice...you were either going to destroy his reputation or literally destroy him....your blood pumped loudly. He made you talk about your father....your fucking father...and on top of that, he made you call him daddy.

What mind fucked you was how you were yet again able to walk away...not unscathed but definitely alive.

“No,” you dismissed unwrapping your second burger, “He will find me...I know he will...and even if he kept me alive both times, a third is pushing my lucky, I know you understand that.”

Lloyd shook his head at you and put his hand over your burger, stopping your next starved bite, he hissed “You think staying where you are is safer? You don’t know-“

“Lloyd!” You snapped, you slapped his hand back and shoved your pointer finger into your chest, you sucked down a shakey breath, “...I know...I do know. I need to protect myself when he strikes again...it’s worse now...I have too much collateral... He let me witness that murder in the club.”

The detective raised his brows at you, “You mean...” the blood drained from his face.

“Cameras were in the VIP rooms Lloyd,” you grit your teeth and glared at the view of the city buildings, “I saw a lot more than just a fucking man’s brains being blown out from his skull, hookers, coke... Auctions...he’s got it all in The Lion Lounge.”

The detective rest his fingers on his top lip. He was slowly nodding.

You sucked down a long drag of your straw and gasped, asking in the same breath, “Lloyd I want a gun. I won’t let him rape me again.”

You needed the protection from August or any man he sent to kill you.

Lloyd chewed his bottom lip and shook his head.

“Do you have a gun license?”

“Do I look like I have one?” you snipped. You knew it wasn’t fair on him for your attitude but you didn’t have the time to focus on his hurt feelings in regards to your mental health and physical safety.

“Have you ever even shot one?”

“Nope. But it only takes one shot to kill him close up.” You threw the wrapper out of his car window and rubbed your face.

If he didn’t come near you, he would be safe, and you could just work on collecting evidence for the courts.

The detective sucked his bottom lip and shook his head, “It’s too dangerous.”

“Oh piss off!” You stomped your foot and twisted your body to face him, you grabbed his loose tie and tugged it as you seethed, “Lloyd, you practically thrust me into his arms and you have the gall to say now, me owning a gun is ‘too dangerous’?”

He gently grabbed your wrist and pulled his tie out of your fingers as he shook his head at you. His nose flared and he started to raise his voice at you, spit flying from his mouth as he hit the wheel with the palm of his hand. You expected a detective to hold a little more composure.

“Fine. Fine! But are you really willing to go to prison for life if you do manage to kill him? Think about this logically.”

His eyes were wide and his brows twisted with worry.

You fell quiet. You wanted to say yes. You wanted to stamp your foot again and scream that you’d spend two lifetimes behind bars if it meant his demise...except...was your demise worth the cost of his? Would you drown with him in the end of all of this if you killed him.

You noisily sucked at your straw.

“No...” you whispered, you didn’t want to cry in front of Lloyd but your tears were coming up, beading in the dips of your lids.

“No, that’s right,” Lloyd rubbed your shoulder with his thumb, “He isn’t worth it.”

Your lip pouted, “Why can’t you just...arrest him.”

He sighed and rubbed your back as you started to break down into pathetic frustrated sobs.

“Lawyers, laws and money,” he whispered and fluttered his eyes shut, “He has his ways. The only way we can take him down is if he is caught doing the hefty, big crimes. If I could’ve gotten the proof of the weapon dealers he would’ve been considered accomplice to the crime.”

“S-so if...if you..” you wiped you snotty nose on the back of your arm, “If he was caught on camera...he’d be sent to prison?” You started to laugh mechanically, “What if...what if I let him rape me. A nanny cam on my night stand or something?”

The office shook his head for the dozenth time, “By the law that wouldn’t be considered rape...only a messed up porno, especially if they see you set up the camera.”

Your fingers aggressively clenched another handful of fries, you didn’t eat them, you just threw them back into the bag.

“...I...what do I do Lloyd?” A fear of hopelessness tapped your brain.

He was quiet for a solid minute. He stared at you all over. You knew the bruise on your face was visible. He kept looking at your cheek instead of your eyes. And his gaze fell down to your neck. “It’s a collar Lloyd...he chained me to a bed for two days...”

His lips parted and with a impatient voice he asked, “Do you have a gym membership?”

“No? Why?”

He started his car and made you put your seat belt back on, “Okay, I don’t care, you’re getting one, right now."

Your eyes shrunk, “Why?”

Lloyd gruffly snarled, “Because I’m going to teach you how to fight.”

He would teach you at least some self defence. August might’ve been twice your size but if you could get the chance to get away...Lloyd would make sure you would take it..

05:30pm Monday 19th August 2024, East Brisbane Anytime Fitness Gym, Brisbane.

“Again.”

Your back hit the padded wall, your knees hit the floor as you cupped your middle and tried not to puke up the fast food from earlier.

“We have been at this for three hours!” You groaned, trying to use the foam wall to stand up again.

You were convinced Lloyd liked to beat you around, the red marks and bruises that were rising were the evidence.

“Until you can take me down,” Lloyd nudged you with his hand causing you to almost fall back down, “We aren’t leaving.”

You hissed angrily and stood up tall “Fuck sake.”

You held up your arms like he showed you. He started throwing his blows, you blocked him with your forearms and ducked away from his large swipes. He kicked your ankle and watched you crumble to the ground again.

“Watch your feet.” He scolded, “You are smaller and surprisingly speedy, use that to your advantage!”

You rolled your eyes and bit your lip. Getting to your feet you pushed up and launched your body at Lloyd who was checking out one of the yoga classes in the other room window.

He crashed to the floor. Your knees straddled his hips as you huffed with glee, “Ha! Home time!” your palms rested on his naked sweaty chest.

He chuckled and shook his head. He pushed you up by your hips. He shut his eyes, panting, “Again...then home time.”

You grumpily groaned, “Fine!” your ribs hurt bad and your knees felt swollen.

It was agreed by you both that if you needed to reach out you needed to use a burner phone or a payphone. Any calls or emails were going to be noticed.

When you felt the spray of the hot shower water at home, you cried. It felt good. You touched the collar still around your throat. Training to protect yourself reminded you the pain was worth it.

10:16am Wednesday 21st August 2024, Brisbane CBD

“Mr Luther, I’m so sorry for not calling in sick,” You wrung your hands in front of your boss, “Please forgive me for the unwarned absence.”

“Please!” He laughed heartedly, “I just assumed you were clicking some more photos!” He stood out from his chair and sat on his desk above you, “Did you hear about Walkers club almost burning down?”

Looking down at your lap, you reminded yourself that Mister John Luther was not a man included in the circle of trust. Nor were you convinced he understood the severity of the crimes the criminals he wanted to chase for gossiping stories committed. Your hand touched the ends of the scarf you wore, covering up the hideous black leather around your neck. You tried all morning to cut it off with a pair of scissors but you came to feel the metal circlet inside and gave up. There was a hole in one of the bottom cabinets where you had kicked in a hole...that was okay, you had an extra fifteen thousand pounds in your bank account.

You assumed Lloyd finally sent the money through.

“Did it?” you coyly asked.

“No clue how damaged the place was but the massive party was cancelled. The fire engines went zooming down this street Friday night.”

“What happens now then?” You glanced up at him and chewed the inside of your cheek, “With the smuggling case?”

“Put on hold for now,” he sighed and squeezed your shoulders, “I don’t have any sources about the next possible meet and greet. I was hoping you could keep the same production rolling. I have a new project involving a Nicholas Tortano. I want to get an interview with him.”

You didn’t recognise the name at all. Your fingers pinched at your long sleeve shirt. “An interview?”

Luther nodded, he winked and went back to his desk draw, slapping out a manilla folder.

He rubbed and clapped his hands, pushing and opening the new case to you.

“He has a history of his employed persons going missing. He has criminal history ties with Irish gangs and the italian mafia. I have a page of questions, I would like someone to ask him.”

You cleared your throat, “Me?”

Wagging his finger the elder man laughed, “No one has quite the balls as you deary...”

It sounded...Too dangerous.

“In that case,” you shuffled forward in your chair, “Can I be paid upfront for this job?”

You would not die at the hands of one gangster when you had your eyes set on another. Luther almost looked like he was going to tell you to get the fuck out of his office until he looked at your photos of August you’d taken. He was quickly reminded you had the best skills and to lose you would be suicide for his paper... You were the best thing to have happened to him. He accepted.

You sat in your work cubicle and aggressively jabbed at the key pad of your work phone. It’s not hard to find phone numbers. Nicholas Tortano had a nickname, “The Black Dog.” He was caught by paparazzi coming out of court a few times. His business empire related to charities. He was a philanthropist with a dirty history of crime connections. He had only been found guilty of third degree murder but many news articles in the past twenty years all labelled him as a omen of death, because anyone that had done him wrong was found dead not too long after...

You found the phone number and took a lucky gulp. There wasn’t an address for any business so if no one picked up, you were worried Idris might fire you for that mere disappointment alone.

The phone rung out once. You dialled again, the receiver picked up. You held your breath.

“Hello, Tortano and associates, who is calling?” the masculine tone soothed out.

“Hello, my name is Y/N Y/L/N, I’m a journalist from the local paper. Is there a chance I may be able to book an interview with Nicholas Tortano?”

There was a steady silence and a soft hum, “What does this pertain to?”

You rubbed your eyes and looked over the notes Luther had given you in the folder, “....People think he is ‘a mass murdering psycho with a thirst for crime’, I’m hoping to ask him some questions to seek the truth.”

“How ludicrous,” the man chuckled, “I am a gentleman. A businessman. Not a criminal.”

You strained over the phone as you spoke to the secretary, “I am sure but this is in regards to Mister Tortano.”

The phone went quite again, you thought maybe you’d lost the connection.

The sweet condescending waved through the sound, “I am he...are you free today for lunch?”

With widened eyes your voice caught in your throat. You felt like an idiot...you never imagined he would answer the call to his own company. CEOs never answer the call of a civilian first hand...

You cleared your throat and nervously clicked a pen, “I am, where would you like to conduct this meeting.”

You could hear him click something too. He sounded warm, and inviting on the phone, “Do you like Italian? Have you ever heard of Vapianos?”

A tiny smile touched your lips. When was the last time you were asked out to lunch? Your eyes rolled, for fuck sake, this was a job...not a date.

“I don’t mind it.”

11:54pm Wednesday 21st August 2024, Brisbane CBD, Vapianos.

Nick Tortano had invited you to a side of town with skyrise buildings. The Vapianos restaurant was on the bottom floor of some massive buildings.

You wrapped your scarf around your neck again. The leather was tight around your throat. It was like he was there with you...holding you...as you cried over a father that you loved and hated.

You shook your head and looked down at the notebook and piece of paper you were given by Luther.

You looked around at the tables and the waiters. The place was sparkling with a quality of...the wealthy and corporate. The palm leaves, the tinted glass windows that raced from floor to ceiling, the champagne glasses on a nearby table. It was all glorious decoration.

All the people there were beautiful...not a single appearance that resembled you...a pauper.

The awkward steps you took towards the receptionist resembled a weak lamb. You felt stupid for being there.

The server looked you up and down and it caused a sting to any confidence you had left. You touched your scarf.

“Hello, I’m looking for a Mister Tortano we have a meet-”

A hand glided across your back, you jumped a little and became confronted with a pair of dark brown orbs and handsome white teeth, “Hello, Miss Y/N.”

Nicholas...he was tall and wearing a simple sweater. Despite his causality he held an air of regality. Not to be overly romantic but you felt he would be a stunning prince if he was a royal member.

“I hope you don’t mind but I’ve had them set a table already.”

He held out an arm to you.

“Not at all,” You flushed and happily accepted it. You tucked it around and let him lead you carefully to a table. There was a set of plates and two wine glasses.

“Just give me a second or two to set up, is it alright if I tape your voice?” you asked reaching into your handbag.

He pulled out a chair for you and explained, “I would prefer no tapes, but I’m not adverse to photography.”

It wasn’t an unusual request. Lots of people didn’t like the sound of their voice. He must’ve been one of them.

It didn’t matter, photos were more your talents anyway.

“In that case, may I take the photos first and then perform the interview?”

He nodded and flashed a bigger beautiful smile.

“Where would you like me?”

You pulled out a office camera from your bag, you didn’t have time to go home and grab one of your ten others. You started to turn it on.

“If you could look away from the lens, relax your shoulders, lean back and look like you’re thinking. No smiling.”

“Do I look ugly with a smile?” he cheekily asked.

You couldn’t help but smile. He was charming and flirtatious and incredibly handsome.

“Terribly,” you teased, “No, my boss would just prefer a little more seriousness I believe. To make the page appear professional...plus the topic regarding the article with a smiling photo you’d look like a madman.”

He nodded promisingly and fell into the pose. When he heard the camera clicked a small smirk pulled at his lips before quickly trying to compose his face.

When the photos were finished you stuffed the camera back in your bag. He relaxed from his falsified stern appearance.

Now came the interview. You pulled out the sheet of questions Idris provided. Under no circumstances were you meant to ask anything but these....except....the questions....well...they were...

“So, you...ugh...hold on a moment....”

How many people have you killed?

What is currently the cheapest drug you can achieve from your circle?

Are you a homosexual?

What the fuck?! You weren’t even sure if you were legally allowed to ask these questions due to discrimination laws.

“Um...I...”

He smiled at you from across the table. You felt a pearl of sweat forming on your forehead.

“Stage fright?” Nick asked softly, tilting his head. He snapped his finger and a waiter came over and poured water into two cups. A basket of breadsticks were placed in the centre.

“No, well...yes...um. the questions I’m meant to ask you I stupidly didn’t read before coming here...” your cheeks felt warm. The embarrassment rose fast.

“So they’re not your questions?” his eyebrows lifted. His finger traced the lip of his glass.

“They’re my boss’s but I said I would ask them.”

Nicholas' lips parted back into a smile, “Enlighten me, I will be less offended knowing they’re not from you.”

You smoothed the paper out on the table and pulled out a notepad, clicking a pen after finding the least offensive one you licked your bottom lip and stuttered, “How...how would you describe yourself?”

He sighed and held the cup to his lips, “Vain, rich with a dominating grace.”

Those weren’t usual qualities someone described themselves as, usually people preferred to remain humble and soften their reality. It was an interesting new perception to attach to Nicholas Tortano the criminal who covered his wrong doings with funding medicine for sick children.

You noted it and looked at the page again to try and find another less offensive question. Frantically your finger scrolled down all the words. Your heart started to pick up. These were so ridiculous and disgusting. Right I go the jaws of the black dog- that’s what Luther had done to you.

You shyly laughed, “hmm, I...let me...-”

Nick slapped the cup back on the table. His smile had fallen, “Politely, Miss Y/N I don’t like my time to be wasted...how about you hand me that piece of parchment.”

He reached over with lightning speed. He pinch the paper and dragged it to him.

“Hey!-”

“Now now, here’s what we will do,” he peaked up at you and licked his bottom lip, “I’ll answer these questions and so will you.”

You lifted your chin and looked at him cautiously.

“But they’re not for me.”

“That doesn’t matter, I can see you’re nervous darling...so...let’s break tension.”

He trailed his thumb down the page and sighed, “Let’s see...ah yes I see how these would make you less inviting to involve yourself.”

After a moment he glanced and smirked at the questions, god you could throttle Luther right now for letting you go through this stupid interview.

“How many years did it take you to be where you are now as one of the most notorious crimelords?”

You tried to put on your best smile, “...yesterday...I stole this scarf...” you lied.

“Why Miss Y/N you must be a terrible influence!” He feigned a gasp of horror which made you lightly giggle, “I don’t label myself as a crime lord. As over the phone I stated simply, I’m a business man...my business so happens to involve crime. I’ve been in this business since I was thirteen years old. My first offence was Car theft. That was almost twenty years ago.”

Your throat shut. He was in his forties!? The damn bastard had the option of early 30s or maybe 20s if he shaved off his stubble entirely.

He looked between your face and your hands, “Are you going to write that down or do I have to do that too?”

You blinked and jumped with a start of noting down the new information, “Oh yes! Sorry!” Scribbling quickly you watched him, watching you...he was staring...like you were...something unusual.

“How many sentences have you been charged with?”

You shrugged unsure why you felt ashamed to say, “None.”

The pen in your hand twirled as the handsome gentleman scratched his nose, “Too many...in all up it has kept me behind bars for nine years total but I’ve been in and out for years. I only returned to the public eye a month ago.”

“Woah,” you whispered.

Nine years? A month? You didn’t have a lot of time to research him considering the call for lunch was so quick and speedy.

His fingers tapped the table softly. He shrugged, “Its not as bad as tellie makes it out to be...in fact it’s a way to network well. You can learn lots of new tricks when you’re forced into tight confinement.”

You started to take dot points. It’s interesting...being in prison for nine years...not all together but all total. Making connections and friends inside prison didn’t really click at first. You always assumed prison was a scary and lonely cell where you had to pee in front of everyone.

Nick looked back at the page and laughed, he rubbed his mouth and shook his head, “Are you a homosexual?”

You also laughed but it was more a awkward shyness, “No, I think I’m bisexual if anything but strictly gay I’m not. I can’t understand why that question would be even asked, I’m so sorry.” You grit your teeth and looked away.

He tilted his hand and shrugged, “It’s vicious rumour that I’m a pillow biter...I am not a homosexual.”

Its all he said. And that was something you really didn’t like writing down...it was so unnecessary.

“What is currently the cheapest drug you can achieve from your circle? Miss Y/N don’t tell me you sell drugs?” he giggled and folded the paper back a little.

'Jesus Christ'Luther!!!...you really wanted me to ask that!?' Your fists clenched under the table.

You dismissed it and grinned, “No, I do not. Sorry to be so boring....you?”

“Paracetamol,” he answered, “I can sell you some right now, I like to keep some nearby.”

Anyone could sell paracetamol...he deliberately said that, you knew.

“After the interview I think I might just,” you laughed and rubbed a little at your temple.

“How many people have you killed?”

You gasped. Your chest was like a loud metal band concert with your heart as the instrument racked, you didn’t understand how that was possible.

“None.” Well...your father....maybe...Nick didn’t need to know about that.

The philanthropic crime lord aka ‘businessman’ remained totally silent. Your hand paused.

“Are you not going to answer the question?...”

He put the paper down and plucked the menu, he unfolded the cardboard covered in matte black and gold designs, he looked down at the wine selection, “I think you might need to do something for me to answer that.”

“What?” you wanted to say you’d do it. But why would you promise anything to a man with his bad record.

“I’d need you to kill someone. And you don’t strike me as a murderer Miss Y/N.” His dark gaze flickered up at you, “Now...what would you like to eat?”

You bit your lip. He’s definitely killed before, or else he would’ve just said no. He wanted to you to know he was a murderer...you knew because his eyes remained perfectly still as he said it. No tremble or lying shame in those pupils.

You sat forward and drank a bit of your water.

Perhaps meeting Nick wasn’t just a benefit for the paper gossip. Maybe he could help you...you heard his voice ask you another question, probably about the menu, you do not remember...instead your thoughts tumbled out of your lips.

“....do you sell weapons Mister Tortano?”

The question caught him off guard. They weren’t on the paper your boss provided.

“Weapons?” he asked cautiously.

Shit, you had gone too far now to recall your thoughts, “Would you sell a gun to a woman even if she doesn’t have a license?”

His eyes sparkled.

“Whatever would you want a gun for Miss Y/N?” he leant back in his chair and pressed his fingers to his lips.

You tried to explain, but it was hard. You looked over your shoulder. It was too public to be discussing this. You whispered, “... There’s a rat who won’t leave me alone. I’d like to scare him...”

His eyes narrowed a little at your speech. He knew you weren’t being literal, so he replied coolly, “Are you asking for a gun or pest control?”

You whispered again, “A gun.”

He fluttered, you could tell he was staring down your shit to check for a wire.and clapped his hands loudly. The entire restaurant went from idle chatter and laughter to utter silence...it was eery...like a dream or a nightmare.

Nick shouted at the top of his lungs, echoing off the walls, “Leave us!”

The entire assembly of guests started to rise from their chairs. They packed up their brief cases and hand bags. Abandoning the half eaten food and untouched wine and champagne. Your nose wrinkled. What the fuck... they were all heading to the stair well, ignoring the elevators.

You looked back at Nicholas, confused, wondering if he meant you to leave too...you pinched the table cloth worryingly.

“Have you thought it through?” Nick asked now that the restaurant was empty, and quiet.

“What?” you didn’t understand. The entire perception of Nick Tortano was collapsing. He was so powerful...all those people were his. All of them under his thumb...all of them so obedient...

“Do you intend on threatening or killing?”

You felt trapped by his words.

“That’s my business Mister Tortano, politely speaking...” how could you confess to your intentions.

It was bad enough that he knew you wanted a gun.

You wondered if there was any chance you you make a run to the doors and run away. You were stepping from one scary man to another at this point.

After a while of sitting ashamed in silence, he stood up from his chair. His fingers lazily brushed the table, until he paused in front of you. He dragged his hand under your chin. He made you look at him, standing above you. His hand violently tore off your scarf and he tutted, “Is he the one who put the collar on you? The man to cover you in bruises? Might need a better foundation darling...I’m not stupid. I’d like to know if it’s going to reflect back on me. What’s the chaps name?”

You didn’t like how personally close he was standing above you. You felt small and trembled beneath his pinning dark brown eyes...they were practically black like some soulless shark. His white teeth looked starved.

You lied again, “...Lloyd...Ha-Han-Hansen...” perhaps Lloyd could handle Nick? But how? He couldn’t handle August. You regretted saying his name but that was it...you threw the only friend you had under the bus.

“Hmmm can’t say I know him well...”

“He’s um...a lawyer,” you lied again.

He smirked and whispered, “Is he?” his eyes narrowed with a glint of mischief.

He flipped his cardigan sweater up, on his hip, inside tucked in his jeans was a scary black gun... A hand gun.

“Well I do hope you get what you want out of him,” he pulled out the gun and set it on the table in front of you, “Here, consider it a gift...I find your disposition incredibly pleasing...”

You glanced at the gun and felt a rush of something...adrenaline? Anxiety? Arousal? Something became alive...

“I need to go. I’m so sorry,” you rushed to stand up, you pinched the weapon and carefully tucked it into your hand bag, “I need to leave.”

This was too easy. Far too coincidental. Maybe this was your father's spirit watching over you?

“Until we meet again,” he chuckled and stood aside. You could hear his wickedly laughter as you fled to the doors. As the doors closed behind you, you could see in the distance, Nick standing by the windows smelling your scarf deeply. Your hand touched your throst and felt the jagged material. You weren't sure if you wanted to go back for the scarf. Watching him press his face into the soft material- the action was perverse...he was perverse...just like August. A mighty shiver rolled up your spine. You didn’t have time to worry about that.

You were filled with all the raw emotions of the last month. Anger, grief, revenge....

You now had a gun... The power to wield death easily. Now you just needed your chance.

You kept hearing Lloyd in the back of your mind...would killing August be worth your own life?

Especially life in prison.

You shoved it back and focused on the pain you felt, the agony as you cried in his lap under threats of his spanking. He wiped you when you used the toilet...he called you puppy...he forced you to cum and cry....he made you beg and suck his cock just to hold you...he treated you as a subhuman.

02:06pm Wednesday 21st August 2024, Woolloongabba, Brisbane

You opened your front door, slamming it behind you. And as you started to slide the bolts and chains, you heard something down the hallway...a small crash? No? A grunt...

Angry eyes and a sneer grew on your face. You marched down, your father’s door was wide open.

And there the fucker was. August... Folding clothes into your father’s bed from a washing basket.

You saw red.

“Wh-what the fuck...get out!”

He lifted his head and finished folding a pair of your jeans, your head leaned back to your bedrooms opened door before you looked back at him inside your father's room.

“Your home is a mess,” He said nonchalantly, “I won’t have you stomping around in squalor.”

He had gone into your room and cleaned it. And on any given day, that would’ve earned a man a blowjob, not him though, no...he was in your space and invading your life too much.

With a flared nostril you snarled, “I am giving you five seconds to leave. Or I'll-”

He snickered at your defiant demand, “Or what? You’re going to call the cops?”

You didn’t want to kill him here...You dug into your hand bag and it felt impossibly slow and heavy in your hand. You pointer the gun at his head and fought the trembling in your body and your voice, “Or you’re going to choke on your own blood August.”

His eyes widened, he didn’t expect your display. He paused and continued to fold the laundry. You didn’t like being ignored and moved inside of your father’s room. It wouldn’t be the first time a man died in this room.

“You’re not going to shoot me,” He said without a single hint of fear.

You held the gun now in both hands. You stood strong and came closer around the bed.

You scoffed, “No, of course not, you manipulate me, drug me, hit me, and raped me but 'oh nooooo I won’t shoot you'?”

He smiled and shook his head slowly. He appeared so unafraid and that caused a spit of hate to hit your face. You wanted him to be on his knees, begging for his life, pleading for forgiveness while he pissed himself. This was not at all what you imagined, him folding the washing and sorting to find pairs of socks.

“One,” You said.

He sighed and threw your underwear back into the basket. He started to walk around the bed gradually.

You screeched, “Two, stay the fuck away from me!”

He stopped and raised his hands. Slowly he perched himself on the corner of your dad’s bed.

“Three,” you said a little shakily. He still didn’t flinch. You felt suffocated. Why wasn’t he scared?

You pissed in his lap when he pointed one at you in the club. This wasn’t fair.

Tears uncontrollably started to fall from your eyes. You didn’t want to kill him...god you hated him...but if he wasn’t going to beg you, you didn’t want to kill him. Especially in this room...besides ...what would you do with his body?

“F-four, don’t make me do this August!”

You moved closer and closer until the tip of the metal weapon pressed into his forehead.

It was now or never...“Pl-please, don’t...” you begged, hoping he would walk out of the room and apartment. You squeezed your eyes shut.

You pulled the trigger and screamed as you did it. The trigger didn’t move...it felt stuck. You pulled it again and nothing happened. You opened your eyes and noted how the gun hadn’t gone off and August was still happily breathing with a dark, sadistic grin on his moustached lips.

“Five...” he hummed and wrapped his palm around the barrel, pulling it up and tugging it away from your trembling hands, “your safety is still on, and...” He clicked off the top and sighed, “It’s not even loaded.”

You crashed to your knees and vomited right over his leather shoes. You weren’t prepared for the rush of exhaustion to hit you. Your body shook. Your fingers clenched the soaked carpet. The metal of the unloaded gun lifted your chin up. Tears ran down your cheeks beautifully.

“Tell me, did the piggy give this to you?”

Your swollen lips blubbered, “No!” Lloyd didn’t need any more wicked men following him around.

You shut your eyes and sniffled. Surely August would kill you. This must’ve been some sort of a strike three, yes?

“Then where did you get your paws on one of these?...” he bit his smile lip.

“A friend...” it wasn’t a total lie. Nick liked you, you somewhat found him intriguing. Yes you’d only met that day...but he was a friend now for a moment in your mind.

August pulled you up into his lap by your hair. Hot lips pressed into your neck and nuzzling your ratty leather collar, “You were really going to kill me...weren’t you?” he cooed as you started to sniffle and choke on your tears, “You pulled that trigger. I underestimated you sweetness...don’t worry. I won’t punish you for that.”

He cupped the back of your head, pulling you in for a big kiss. His lips soft, but his hand tight and filled with dominance.

You felt light. He was kissing you just after you vomited. Gross.

He pulled away and spat at the floor, he chuckled and pressed his nose against yours.

“In fact...I got you a gift.”

You whined and fluttered your eyes, “I don’t want a gift from you.”

You weren’t mentally prepared for any sick sexual torture he had in store for you. You could see his jaw shift and his eyes dash back and forth.

“Are you sure? I think you’ll like it.”

Your hands touched the collar hopefully. Maybe it was the key?

He slid his hands under your armpits. You heard your bag hit the dry side of the floor.

He lifted you with ease to your feet and pressed a hand at the small of your back, pushing you to the bathroom.

He was so huge compared to you. The lower ceiling made you have a flash of worry...what if he hit his head?

He was fine.

He turned on the shower and peeled away your clothes. He wasn’t rough, and he wasn’t leering...he was soft...and patient. He pushed your long sleeved shirt up and gasped at the sight of bruises Lloyd created from the gym. His thumb unkindly pressed into one. You whined and tried to step away but your ass pressed into the vanity sink.

He knew he hadn’t given you these.

“And who has my puppy been playing rough with? Don’t tell me you’ve spread your legs for someone else now...”

He turned you around slowly, inspecting the marks he had not made on your skin. His hands palmed over your flesh.

The steam from the shower began to whaf out. You tried to not imagine the water bill ticking up.

He pinched your bra off and watched your arms circle to cover your chest.

He turned you back to face him. Unbuttoning your jeans, he tugged them down and helped take off your shoes. He pressed his lips to a bruise on your outer thigh. The temptation to throw your knee into his throat was great.

His hand cupped the back of your knee. His nose was so close to your underwear covered pussy, you could feel his hot breath tickling your clit.

Your panties were gradually pulled down to your ankle and you used his shoulder for balance as you stood out of the flimsy material.

He stood back and opened the shower door for you. He left the bathroom door open and you didn’t want to risk a punishment for locking him out. He took your clothes to the laundry and heard him open your cleaning supply closet where you kept a mop and broom and vacuum cleaner.

As you soaped your body, the suds building along your skin and back you sighed. The collar rubbed against your neck. It was a reminder...

He was powerful. He was scary and you were risking death. You had just tried to kill him...at any moment he could bash your head in until your skull caved, no one would find you for days...maybe weeks...he said he wouldn’t kill you but that was before you pulled a gun on him.

You were angry at yourself...angry at Ben....why would the gun be empty?! Couldn’t Nick have told you that? Maybe he assumed you knew how to handle one...

August came back into the bathroom after ten minutes of cleaning. You didn’t dare to leave the shower in that time.

He was back. And now...he was naked. You uncontrollably worried and pressed your back into the bathroom tile. He stood into the shower, stealing the hot spray when it hit his back.

He was so hairy, and huge. He was like a bear.

You gulped and glanced at his dick. He was flaccid but you knew he could fuck you with a soft dick or just his hands alone.

He held out his hand and whispered, “The soap, please.”

Your hand shook as you shakily handed over the small white bar. It was the cheapest shit on the shelves you could find.

Now you regretted not spending the money you saw in your bank account. You would die feeling poor.

You tried to cover your nakedness. A hand between your thighs. You felt the bareness and cringed your face. He would’ve waxed you again or shaved while you were ‘in his care’ after the club incident.

The huge man started to rub the soap along his thighs and his arms and chest.

He smelt of your vomit...he cleaned it up for you...his clothes...you could hear the laundry machine.

He either was cleaning evidence or he was staying the night.

His face...was soft. He wasn’t angry...he was deep in thought... He was pleased. The faintest of smiles was on his furry face.

When he was finished. He touched your waist and pressed you to turn around him in the cubicle. Now the hot water covered your shivering skin. He rubbed some more soap into his hands and rubbed the bubbled into your skin. Along the back of your neck he rubbed and pinched. A tiny moan imminently slipped from your lips. You hoped he hadn’t heard it.

He did...

You knew he was gliding his hands down to your bottom and rubbing the darkened skin he planted when he spanked you. You hissed and softly swore as his thumb pressed in. A small threat, a warning? A reminder...

He touched you everywhere except your tits and your cunt...which shocked you as you braced from his hands every time they drew near those areas. The sense of denial played in your mind.

Your body felt warm...humming as it was teased.

He did touch the leather around your neck and tutted at the parts you damaged with scissors, where the metal you couldn’t cut poked out.

Turning the shower off, August opened the door again and guided you out onto the soft floor mat. He took a towel from the vanity draw and wrapped it over your shoulders like you were some kid at the beach.

He wrapped a towel around his waist. His body dripping and soaking into the edge.

You were poked out of the room and made to go into your room. Your dad’s door was still open however and that made you uncomfortable.

On your bed...was a box....

The gift...was an actual gift!? It was wrapped in white and gold paper with a pink tulle ribbon around it.

You shifted your towel around to wrap yourself in and looked between the man leaning on the doorway and the wrapped box on your bed.

He nodded to it. Open it. A silent command.

Your curled your lips into your mouth as you pulled the tulle ribbon away and scratched the paper back.

A deep gasp left your chest, “A phone?...”

It was one of the newest if the models you used. This type of phone usually cost three thousand dollars!

Behind you the awful man laughed softly, “For stepping on the one from the club.”

The tiny smile that was coming to your lips, disappeared. If he hadn’t reminded you of that night, you might’ve kept smiling. Your fist clenched. You were angry. Did he know how scared you were as you ran in the dark? Did he know you hated him even more because of this gift. This wasn’t a gift, this was a bribe...

Your jaw ticked and you turned on your heel, you held your towel tightly, “I am not saying thankyou.”

He chuckled at that and nodded, he tilted his head to the side and wagged a finger at you, “I swear every time I see you, you become twice as fiery.”

When he stood forward you got scared and tripped back and fell onto your bed. The phone box slid to the floor. Your heart raced. You noted how you accidentally flashed him as the towel fell from your hands.

He paused, not moving any further. He could see how frightened you were. And if you didn’t know any better...he didn’t want to scare you today.

His smile fell and he sighed, “Before I forget...your sex toy arrived.”

You crept off your bed as he left the door way. He was quickly back before you could make an escape.

He held a box and threw it to you. Without thought you let go of your towel and caught the box with the erotic images and product on it.

Stark nude and wet you stood. You turned away from him and put the box with your newly bought toy on the bed. You put your phone box beside it.

He was watching you with bird eyes as you tried to pick up the towel and cover yourself again.

“So let me see,” he hummed, he crossed his arms over his chest and clicked his tongue, “First you threaten to kill me,” he pushed away from the door, “You then attempt to actually kill me,” and he shakes his head chuckling, “and now I find out my cock isn’t enough to satisfy? Good heavens...have I neglected my greedy little puppy?”

Your hands lifted... Your towel was loose but you had tucked it to your body. You prepared your fighting stance like how Lloyd showed you.

“Get out...” you spat.

“No,” he smirked, “I will not.” He launched forward.

He grabbed your towel and you slipped from the material. You ran around his body, ripping his towel off as you ran out.

You slipped on water droplets in the hall and slid down the hall to the kitchen.

As he came around the corner, you flung a cupboard door open hard that smacked his hard in the face. You smiled hearing his painful groan.

"Fuck!"

He pushed it back and tried to grab you as you ran around the mini island. You threw his towel at his face as you made a rush back to your room. You managed to lock a chain and bolt on the bedroom door. You panicked and climbed under your pathetic single bed. You heard him behind the wood.

“Open up little puppy...or I’m gonna huff...” he said, “and then I’ll puff...”

When you made no sign of opening the door and remaining beneath the bedframe. The door burst open. The locks tore through the metal nook. He walked through. He nakedly crouched by the side of the bed and sighed at you curled up under your bed. He shook his head and softly smiled. He laid flat on the floor beside you.

“Watcha doin down there sweetness?”

You felt a breath escape you. A soft laugh. Was he fucking serious?!

“Hiding,” you mumbled into your wrists.

He fluttered his eyes shut. His hand rested on his Bare stomach.

“Well I found you, so you might as well come out. You’re black and blue. I don’t want to drag you over the carpet, don’t want rip up your knees pup.”

You couldn’t understand why he kept calling you that. You weren’t a puppy...you...you were human and you still weren’t sure how that pet name even fit you .

You knew he was right though, there was only way out and it didn’t matter. You would need to face him. If he wanted to kill you, nothing could’ve stopped him from strangling your throat. After a minute or two you finally gave in... Wiggling your butt from under the bed. He moved up to his knees. He watched you stick your head out and shimmy to the open air.

You knew trying to run out the door was useless and there was no other locks other than the front door. You rubbed your lips, staring at the broken locks and the door that hung off only one hinge...you really hated him...

His large soft hand rubbed your cheek and the back of your neck, cupping you closer to his body.

Both in your knees, he pulled you into his chest.

You pleaded softly, “Please...”

“Kiss me puppy,” he begged and looked down at your lips. You glanced to his eyes and shut yours as your pushed your face up.

He was gentle. His tongue poked Into your mouth and your lips closed. He kissed you and sucked on your bottom lip loudly. God it felt good. It felt hot and inviting. This kiss was like a deep hot bath or a cosy blanket. His hands squeezed your arms and cocooned you closer to his damp skin. You just wanted to wrap yourself in his body and sleep...except your body felt attacked by an invisible electricity, like a dozen bees rumbling down from your chest to the folds between your thighs.

Your could barely breathe.

When he pulled back he shuddered, “Are you turned on?”

You gasped, “No, why would I-”

“You’re trembling.”

“I’m scared,” your nose twitched and your gazed over his chest, feeling his cock twitch against your belly.

He chuckled and shook his head, he pressed a hard kiss against your cheek, “Merely two sides of the same coin...”

You whimpered and felt his hands smooth down your ass to your thighs. He lifted you up and pushed you onto your bed. You were at the same height now. Him kneeling on the floor with your sitting on your bed.

“You are safe, trust me,” he kissed your lips briskly, “Say it.”

“I...” you hesitated, “I am safe...and I trust you.”

His thumb pressed under your jaw, he kissed you again, “Good girl. I am not going to hurt you...truly...I promise.”

He dragged his lips down to your chest. He sucked in one of your tits. His lips smacked as he licked and sucked around your skin, you felt strange. Dirty but in a good way. Your own back curled to push into his mouth.

He pulled up after one satisfying suck, “That felt good yea?”

“S-so good,” you stuttered. Your cheeks felt warm it was like you were drunk but you knew you had a full sober conscious..

“Would you like to feel that again?” he asked, his hands ran up your thighs, spreading your knees.

You sighed as his thumb licked at your clit. You rocked your hip a little and whined. Fuck it felt good.

“Answer me puppy”

“I- oh god- I want to feel that again.”

He kissed your belly and pushed you back a little. Your head thudded against the wall. Your hands shakily grasped some pillows and put them behind your back. Your gleaming cunt glistened...that was totally you...no lube...no spit....just your arousal alone.

“Look at this pussy.” He marvelled as he pushed two fingers inside. You gasped and let out a feral moan.

“It just swallows up my fingers...do you like my fingers fucking your wet pussy?”

You whined and but your lip. When you didn’t answer, he pulled them out. He started licking them lewdly as he waited for your reply.

“I...” Your hands covered your eyes as you moaned, “I don’t know.”

“Are you turned on?” he asked you again.

“Yes,” you admitted. You just wanted his fingers back there again.

“Do you want my cock?” He purred in a soft belittling time.

“Y-yes...” you almost sobbed. God admitting it now made yourself sick. How could you admit to that? Your entire goal was to kill him. Take him down. Destroy his reputation. But here you were.

In your bedroom, crying for him to fuck you with his huge dick.

He climbed on top of you and tugged your ankles over his waist.

You felt his hard head press into your hole. His cock popped inside and his hips started the deep defend inside of you. He held your hips, lifting you up.

“Do you hate me?” he crooned, his teeth gnawed at your earlobe.

“I do,” you growled, in his ear, “fucking hate your guts.”

He laughed and groaned, “You hate my fucking guts?”

“Yes, fuck,” you gasped and scratched the back of his neck.

He was stretching you out and you drowned in his touch. You felt his cock tapping at your special spot and felt your knees clench tighter around his ribs.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he asked despite being balls deep and jerking his hips into yours.

“Yes. Oh god,” you gargled as he decided to slam himself harder and faster. Your nails dug into his biceps. Your teeth were grit tightly. You kept swearing. It hurt and felt so good altogether.

“Who do you belong to?” he sighed, his eyes winced while your pussy clenched him tightly.

You grunted angrily, “No body.”

He punctuated with his jerking hips, “You. Belong. To. Me.”

“N-no!” You yelped, his finger curled under your collar and tugged up you neck until you were forced to put yourself up on your elbows. He slowed his speed but kept his deep entrance.

“Oh but you do puppy, you do. You already know it. You just don’t want to admit it.”

His other hand pressed against your clit and your eyes rolled a little. Your nostril flared. Fuck that was painfully good. He tugged you up by the leather strap until your nose pressed against his. His moustache tickles against your lip.

“Whose collar is around this throat?” he growlee.

You grunted, “Yours.”

“That’s right...it’s. Mine. My. Collar.”

He kissed you hard and possessively. Not once did he let the collar go. He shoved his mouth into your ear as he ground down hard inside your cunt.

“Would you fuck any other man with this collar on?”

Your hand hugged the back of his neck and scratched, “No!”

“So tell me, who do you belong to.”

Your gasped, spit flying from your mouth against his as you said it, “Y-you.”

“That’s right, good puppy. You belong to me. I own you. You are my pet. You are mine to look after...mine to protect.”

It was a mantra, a speech that planted itself into your mind as a new fact...like a new commandment that always had been yet unspoken until now.

“Say it you little bitch,” he barked.

“Yours, I’m yours,” your eyes rolled as you started to cum, your words caught in your mouth until you Released a ear piercing scream, “I belong to you!!”

You felt him cackle as you wailed through the orgasm. The pressure was like a water balloon bursting in your belly and shooting a burning pleasure through your cunt.

It took you a while to calm down. You sobbed. The pleasure was too much...you felt confused and consumed. His cock twitch and he grunted loudly before freezing. His cock moved again and you felt him pull away, his cum rushed out and dripped out of you.

You felt full and empty. It was an unusual sensation.

He was sweating, your were drenched. Leaning over your trembling body, he pressed a soft kiss to your temple and sighed, “what are you?”

“Yours,” you whined.

He chuckled and shook his head. His fingers pinched your jaw, “No, what are you to me?”

“I...” you paused and blinked lazily. Your brain was too fuzzy. “I don’t understand...I don’t know.”

Your hand wandered up to your throat. His hand was fiddling with the metal. You heard the collar pop and click. He pulled the collar away and threw it over his shoulder, “You’re my puppy.”

"And..." You voice rattled through your teeth, "And you're...daddy?"

He kissed you again and nodded, "Good girl."

HELPLINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers. .

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

#tnosp #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat

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