#took some liberties with his clothes

[serafisolaris]

[msphagime]

Speaking of dead fandoms, I happened to watch a certain musical recently

These two. Have my heart.

[lorroakans-archive]

Lorroakan is from Amn (Athkatla, specifically) and according to the forgotten realms wiki, status in Amn is all about money and ostentatious displays of wealth. This is likely related to his expensive tastes and shortage of funds mentioned in Descent into Avernus.

I'm very curious as to why he left as well. Was he studying magic in secret and got found out? Or was he a cowled wizard who got expelled (for not being very good at magic, or for some offense?)? if he had to leave because his magic abilities weren't up to their standards, that would explain a lot!

[violetrainbow412-blog]

A fair payment [W. W.]

Willy Wonka x fem!reader

word count: 1.5k

People who might be interested: @strugglingwriterwattpad @cattail5 [Timothée masterlist]

some minor Wonka spoilers I guess! If you like it, tell me in the comments, that will make me happy :)

“Can you mend it?” Willy asked, carefully holding his emerald green jacket that had the sleeve seam torn.

The boy had arrived a couple of weeks ago to turn the world of everyone present in the laundry upside down and, honestly, you were already beginning to enjoy his presence. You looked in the background at the blackboard that Noodle used at night to give him lessons in the hope that he would learn to read because, according to the girl's words, because of that he was almost eaten by a tiger. But in the man's words, what was important was the almost part. 

However, tonight he had asked you especially to go to his room, because he had a problem that he thought only you could solve.

“I think so, I just have to pass the needle a couple of times” you smiled.

Since your arrival Mrs. Scrubbit had used your sewing skills for her own benefit, because after all you had ended up in that mess trying to save a little to be able to buy the necessary materials to make a pretty dress that would be worth enough to advance in the business. Although, obviously, that had not been possible.

"Thank you! I'm afraid that's my only jacket."

“It will be ready in no time. I’ll just go to my room and come back, okay?” you said kindly, placing the garment in the boy's lap and earning a sweet smile from the aforementioned.

Just as Willy had his little briefcase for his chocolates, you had your own, full of threads, needles, and buttons, which you just had to grab from the floor to get everything you needed. When you arrived back you settled at the little table and he remained attentive to your every movement, pulling out a chair so he could observe what you were about to do.

“There was a boy on the ship who helped me with these things,” he began to tell you, keeping his curious nose on your shoulder “But I never thought about learning. You know, for when I had to be alone”

“Well, it's lucky you ended up here. We are a curious collection of workers,” you murmured ironically, referring to all the people gathered there against their will by the work of fate "What did you do on the ship?"

"Cook. Mostly sweet things, but I also know a couple of useful non-chocolate-related recipes. I was the chef,” he said, and you laughed at the exaggerated way he pronounced the last bit.

Willy began to tell you about some of the adventures he had had on the high seas and you listened attentively as the tip of the needle went in and out to join the fabric. It only took a few minutes to get his clothes looking like new, taking the liberty of repairing other places that also needed it.

“Put it on,” you asked, trying not to look at him too much when he did so or pay attention to the way the jacket fit him perfectly.

"It is perfect! You can't even tell it was torn, huh?” he said with emotion, feeling with his hands as much as he could. “How much do I owe you?”

“Oh, it's nothing.”

“I insist,” the man murmured. His curly hair bounced across his cheeks as he sat next to you and he lifted his small briefcase off the floor, opening it to reveal all the little bottles of ingredients. “Your talent for mine. It's a fair exchange."

You had to admit that the chocolates you had eaten were a complete delicacy, but a part of you didn't want to get used to that luxury or you knew that when Willy was gone you would miss his sweetness. In the literal and figurative sense.

Locked in that laundry it was impossible to meet many people your age and Noodle was your greatest company, as if he were a little sister to you. But now that he was there, there was a certain happiness in chatting with him, much more now that his ingenious mind had devised a way to get you out of there even if it was just for a few hours to see the light of day and get coins from the sale of the chocolates to free you of the enormous debt to Mrs. Scrubbit.

“What flavor do you want to try today? Do you want me to add some unicorn skin glitter? Rays of sunlight from a twilight on the seashore? Tears of an African crocodile?”

“Just give me something you think I need,” you replied softly.

Willy thought about it for a moment, because it wasn't the kind of answer he would have expected. What was he supposed to give you that night? A little hope? Happiness? Nostalgia? It was difficult to decide.

Through his bright eyes you watched him reflect and just a second later his hands began to work. You noticed there was a hint of mischief in his smile as he poured milk, chocolate, and the contents of a couple of jars into the processor, glancing at you from the corner of his eye from time to time.

“What are you going to do when we get out of here?” he asked suddenly, not neglecting the tasks.

“Working in a sewing workshop, I guess.”

“Why don't you open your own fashion house?” Willy suggested carefreely, as if it were a very easy thing to do, “You are a great dressmaker.”

“And you are a great dreamer”

“It's my best quality,” he exclaimed, almost offended. You waited a moment before answering.

“I just don't think it's that simple. It requires effort, time, and a lot of money…”

“We will have everything,” he interrupted you, with that optimism that characterized him. Suddenly he stopped what he was doing and one of his hands traveled to take yours. “When I open my factory, we will all be able to fulfill our dreams. And you are going to have a fashion house, I promise you.”

“You make a lot of promises,” you responded, blushing.

“And he planned to fulfill them all. I always do it"

Maybe there was something about the softness of his grip on your hand or perhaps the sparkle in his eyes that made you look away out of sheer nervousness. He seemed to be good and innocent, to the point that he probably didn't even realize how close he was to you or how inappropriate the position would be if Noodle ever walked in.

A tap interrupted your moment and then he abruptly pulled away, excited to show you the product he had just made. It was a pretty circular candy that was bright pink and seemed to be emanating smoke from the inside.

"What's that?"

“You'll have to try it to find out,” he murmured, as he extended the treat in your direction.

You had to admit that you were somewhat curious to discover what the man was offering you, so you took it between your fingers carefully, and even under his watchful gaze you took a bite.

At first it tasted like ordinary chocolate, but then it took on a strange tone, which made you feel a certain warmth in your chest that spread to your cheeks. It was a most pleasant feeling, like bubbly joy combined with the embarrassment of a hug.

You thought for a moment about what flavor that could be, without any success, until after a few seconds you realized that it wasn’t a flavor in itself, but a feeling, an experience... Was it love that Willy had given you?

“How does it taste?”

“Yummy,” you responded, covering your mouth so he wouldn’t see the wet chocolate on your tongue, but also to hide your smile “Delicious, actually. What does it contain?”

“A special and secret ingredient”

"Oh, come on! Aren’t you going to tell me?”

“I just want to know if I got it right,” he murmured and you frowned slightly, not understanding him “About what you asked for. Did I give you something you needed?”

You had to bite your lip to keep from smiling again, your cheeks feeling hot from the simple fact that he was looking at you. You thought that this could even be a love potion that you had consumed without thinking about it, just because he was the one who was offering it to you.

“We could say yes”

“We're even, then,” he exclaimed as he waved the sleeve of his jacket and you nodded in amusement, eating the rest of the chocolate he had made for you.

A yawn leaving your lips made you aware of how exhausted you were and although you didn't love the idea, you knew it was time to leave.

“It's late, I should go to sleep before we wake anyone up.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Willy said quickly, getting up from his seat to accompany you to the exit. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Rest,” you said kindly, and, gathering courage, you leaned forward a little to say goodbye with a hug that he gladly returned.

As you walked down the hall to your shabby, damp room, you thought that it probably wouldn't have even taken a love potion to fall for the charms of the pleasant chocolatier. You just needed one of his smiles.

[wifeyoozi]

ot13 seventeen : backstage quickie

seungcheol : it took one pout from you after you saw him all dressed up in that sexy purple suit and slicked back red hair for him to pull you aside in an empty restroom. Didn't even bother taking off his clothes, just pulled down the zipper and took his dick out and railed you pinned to the wall. Precisely 15 minutes later he was scolded by the stylist for messing up the hair and getting all sweaty over the make up.

Jeonghan : he'd been making out with you right there in front of everyone, shamelessly, holding you down on his lap and grinding against you. Someone (seungkwan) begged him to get a room and not cum all over his pants in front of everyone.

Joshua : he'd gotten so horny thinking of how he'd be able to fuck you all night after concert since it was the last day and had a very embarrassingly visible tent in his pocket. He'd call you backstage and scurried you off to an abandoned room to have you up on his cock.

Junhui : the concert was starting in exactly 10 minutes and he had his fingers knuckle deep in you in the restroom. He knew everyone had been searching for him to get on his position but he also refused to let go of you undone.

Hoshi : it was just a simple good luck kiss which turned into deep kissing which turned into heated make out which turned into him ramming his dick in you as fast as possible which turned into the manager and stylist scolding him for the mess he's made of himself.

Wonwoo : he wasn't even that horny when he pulled you into the janitor's closet and lifted your skirt up and started scissoring you to prep you for his dick. He just thought the orgasm-induced endorphin and dopamine release would make him more energetic for the stage. And it was probably one of the best performances he's ever given, thanks to you.

Woozi : it wasn't his fault when you came into the green room wearing that tight red leather mini skirt to wish him goodluck, that too paired with the hot red lipstick. He's brain is just associated you wearing anything red with sex enough for his dick to come back to life immediately and having you take care of him backstage.

minghao : he was usually very self-composed and has a good control over his dick. But he is, at the end of the day, a man. And seeing you wink and openly flirt with him in front of everyone sends heat directly to his crotch. And since you caused it, you gotta sort it. He'll find you an empty room, lock it and sit on any available chair, giving you the liberty to sate his arousal however you can.

Mingyu : fucking before shows is a ritual. If he can't fuck you before show, he'll be (secretly) sulky the whole time. He's very adamant about blowing your back and filling you full of cum and have you keep that cum in you till the show ends.

seokmin : the first time he did it, he was so nervous, wanting to get done as quickly and quietly as possible. After a few times, he's confident enough to fuck you at his pace without having you shut up. If anyone hears, it's their problem to be wandering around unused changing rooms.

Seungkwan : he loooves the part where he fucks you. Gives him the energy pump needed to be the greater entertainer on the stage he is. Loves eating you out, your juices are his lucky potion. What he hates tho is when everyone started teasing him after he's come out of the restroom with you, all messed up. If the stylist scolds him, he'll whined and somehow pass the blame on you. Tho nothing will stop him from doing it again.

Vernon : I think unironically the only smart one because he'll have you suck him instead of getting in your puss cuz that's the least messy way to do it. He initially only did it that way to avoid cleaning up mess after but realised this way no one scolds him after he goes missing for some time for messing up his hair and outfit and make up.

Chan : excited and agrees immediately when you ask him for a quickie and steal him to the restroom. Locks you two in a restroom stall and sits on the bathroom seat before you ride him. You have to cover his mouth when you hear someone enter, for it to turn out to be the leader calling him to get his make up done immediately. He calls out five minutes in a shaky voice and you have to hurry yourself on him to get you both orgasm immediately.

Bonus : cheol scolded chan for not using condoms in the heat of the moment when he knows of it. How he knows of it? That's cheol's business how he looks after his kids.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Ok, it was basically a request where the batboys brought their significant other as their date to a gala for the first time, they leave for a second (to get drinks or go to the bathroom or something to that end) and when they come back the see their S/O being harassed by a group of socialite women that keep talking about how they can’t believe someone like the batboy is with such a plain little nobody. That was the gist of it. Sorry 😣

I kinda made Tim’s as bit different than requested, but I couldn’t help but see him grill an entire household and their business ventures. Then again I kinda took creative liberties with all of them.

Dick

Is the type to put on an extremely strained smile across his face as he puts his arm over your shoulders.

‘What’s wrong my love, why the saddened face?’ He asks you sweetly, intentionally ignoring the rich and powerful in front of you both.

‘Oh don’t worry yourself with…that thing dear Richard, they’re too emotional to be in a room with people they could only dream of being in the presence of. I wouldn’t get so close to it if I were you, you might catch their filth.’ One of them sneered and Dick’s jaw tensed in agitation as his eyes remained on you.

‘Do you wanna leave?’ He says in a whisper as he wipes a tear away from your cheek, lightly pinching it in hopes of seeing you smile at him.

‘Yes please, I want to go home and be with Hayley.’ You whispered back, griping his arms tightly, thankful that his body blocked out the rich people that were berating you. Dick’s face softened as he kissed the top of your head, hoping of giving you some form of comfort in your time of distress, before looking back at the rich people with a faux grin.

‘If you please excuse us, my lovely sweetheart, my beloved cutie and my forever lover wishes to leave this drab place and who am I to deny my love of her wishes, for I shall wait on them hand and for forever if it pleases them so because between you and me?’ He then leans close to them. ‘You don’t have the heart to sacrifice everything for the one you love, if you even have hearts in the first place. You posses no freedom and no personality whatsoever for anyone to love nor adore, them however?’ He points towards you as you look at him with a small smile, a smile so sweet that Dick couldn’t help but smile back.

‘They are my everything. I couldn’t think about living without them, not when they’ve don’t nothing but be kind and respectful of me and my time. I don’t deserve them but neither does this city, they’re an angel in human skin that I wish to worship as long as they’ll let me.’ You could feel your cheeks burn at his words as your smiles widened at the twinkle of love within his gorgeous eyes. Dick had a way with words unlike any other and despite being on the receiving end of them for a while now, you still find yourself becoming alight with emotions because of him.

‘So if you’ll excuse me kindly.’ Dick says as he takes your hand and walks you both out of the door where he stops to look at you with concern.

‘I am so sorry you had to deal with them, apparently money makes someone feel entitled to speaking on someone else’s relationship.’ Dick spat as he glared at the grand double doors and you touched his cheek, making him melt into your touch, kissing your palm.

‘It’s okay Dickie bird, let’s just forget this night and go home, get out of these clothes and into some comfy pyjamas and cuddle on the couch as we watch soaps.’ You say as you attempt to calm him down from his passionate outburst and declaration of love, which seems to work as Dick’s eyes twinkled with excitement.

‘Can we wear the matching pyjamas that I got us and Hayley?’ He asks and you couldn’t help but kiss his lip, finding him too adorable in this moment in time, which is something of a occurrence as you’d soon find as you reflect back on your relationship. ‘Of course my sweetie, of course we can wear matching pyjamas.’ You replied and Dick cheered as he leaned to kiss you fully on the lip, his happiness having been contagious as you smiled into the kiss.

Damian

Wishes Bruce didn’t confiscate the sword from him.

He’s the type who can silence anyone with a single fucking glare. So when he sees that you, his beloved, was being harassed by the elitist snobs.

He’s quick to step in and start berating them himself, all dignity and respect has gone out the window for these cretins don’t deserve an ounce of it as far as he was aware. ‘I don’t believe that my relationships are your concern,’ he begins, ‘you’re not kin and thus should’ve learned at an early age that not every topic of interest requires your out of touch input.’

‘Wha-‘ they tried to say but Damian was back on them with another verbal assault.

‘Also I could hear you from across the room, didn’t your parents or paid teacher teach you about volume control? or did they get paid extra to not say a thing in fear your fragile little ego gets crushed under the harsh truth?’ Damian then spits out as he feels you clinging onto his back, which only fuels his need to berate these vile people as karma.

Damian would be their karma if it was the last thing he did.

The rich people chocked on air, not knowing what to say as it was hard to do so when Damian was staring them down, wanting them to say something, anything so that he could verbally beat them down until they submit. He lives for a verbal spat but unfortunately the people whom he’s up against have never had to fight for their honour and dignity, they just paid people to shut up or have people who encourage their pathetic, self entitled behaviour.

‘Enough, don’t hurt yourself trying to think with whatever’s behind those pompous eyes of yours.’ Damian sneered as he looks to you with a soft look. ‘Let’s go my beloved, I have already informed my father of the situation and has Alfred come pick us up to take us back to the manor.’ He says softly as he takes your hand in his as you both began walking away form the group of gobsmacked rich folks, a sight to behold truly as those entitled Individuals love nothing more then the sound of their own voice.

‘Why’d you do that?’ You asked and Damian looked at you as though you grew a second head.

‘Do what? Defend your honour, is that not what a lover is meant to do?’ He says with a raised brow and you couldn’t help but feel a little silly, of course Damian would defend your honour to the death but still insecurities tend to make you forget his undying loyalty.

‘You’re right I’m sorry, I’m just being a little stupid.’ You replied as you downcast your eyes to the floor and Damian stopped to lift your head up by your chin as his emerald eyes glint with concern. ‘Do not heed their words my treasure, for they lack a love that isn’t in due to money. Ours is genuine, if there’s anyone who has to fear for our relationship it is me for I am not the easiest to deal with at times.’ Damian admits as he lets go of your chin.

‘That’s not true.’ You retorted, holding his cheek in your free hand, caressing his cheek. ‘You’re perfect the way you are! A work in progress in being even more beautiful than before and I’m happy to be by your side and watch you grow into an amazing person dami.’ You add as you kiss his cheek, making him smile softly as he rubs against your hand.

‘See, this is what I’m talking about.’ Damian says softly. ‘You are perfection, a being beyond words and I’d be a fool if I didn’t treasure you entirely.’

Jason

That’s it, you’re leaving.

Jason tried to be civil but it’s hard to be civil with out of touch, tone deaf, Botox having, plastic surgery abusing, elite snobs that couldn’t fucking lace their own shoes because their filthy money had that be someone else’s job.

He’s not fucking staying and neither are you to deal with verbal abuse by people who single handedly have run Gotham into the ground with their shady tactics, personally funding the corrupt police officers, police officers that dare spout words like ‘protect and serve’ as though they know the meaning of the fucking word.

He’s marching over to you and grabbing your hand, intertwining your fingers together as he’s walking you both out of the room, leaving the elites to talk amongst themselves as he guided you outside where thankfully no elite snob can eavesdrop on either of you.

‘Are you okay?’ He asks you as he holds your face between his hands.

‘No… I want to go home.’ You admitted, their words cutting deeper than you’d ever think imaginable.

Jason felt anger flowing through his veins but he knew that you needed him more then ever at this moment, so shouting at some elite snobs can wait for another day, you were his highest priority as he brought you into his chest and kissing your head. ‘Then we’re going home.’ He says with certainty.

‘What about Bruce?’ You asked, looking at him with tearful eyes, not wanting their relationship to fracture just as it was slowly starting to mend.

Jason shrugged, uncaring of what the old man would think, you got insulted and he wasn’t going to let it slide in the slightest. ‘Fuck Bruce, you’re what matters to me.’ Jason says as he kisses your nose, cheeks and lips softly before resting his head against yours. ‘Now let’s ditch this place and go get ourselves some burgers, how does that sound chipmunk?’

You chuckled. ‘Can we get some fries too.’

‘Of course we can, whatever my sweetheart desires.’ Jason replies as he takes your hand again, this time leading you both out of the grand building in a quest to satiate your feelings with the most greasiest of foods.

Tim

Has the most dirt on the elite in my eyes.

Every scandal, every controversy, every crime they’ve committed and gotten away with by covering it up. He has a file as thick as a book on them and he’s not afraid to use it.

And needless to say that the idea to destroy their reputation was more then tempting then ever when he sees that your being harassed. So when he confronts them on their behaviour, he gets really cryptic about how much he actually knows about these people to such an intimate level.

‘I know what you did.’ He’d say.

‘What are you on about?’ They’d ask, thinking this was all a bit to make them laugh.

‘Friday 12th, 12:55am. The incident that cost workers their lives, families whom of which you’ve failed to compensate for who are now threatening to take you to court before you dealt with them in hush money. All just so it doesn’t leak to the press that you knew what you were dealing with was highly unstable and willingly let those workers in unstable and dangerous working conditions.m Tim watches as their faces drop, preparation visible on their foreheads and he continues on, feeling you squeeze his arm.

‘Only to end up illegally selling the product to unground crime syndicates to make ends meet in due to how much money you’ve initially lost.’ Tim then says in response, watched as their faces become unsettlingly pale as they excuse themselves while exiting the room.

He’ll say or this or just say ‘they are after what they’re owed.’ And leave it at that.

Once he’s satisfied that he’s silenced them and damaged their egos, he looks to you with concerned eyes. ‘Are you okay lovely?’ He asks you as he sees just how small you’ve made yourself because of them.

‘I’m fine Tim thanks to you.’ You said as you hugged him tightly, kissing his cheek as he pats your back before rubbing it soothingly. ‘ I thought they wouldn’t shut up, or follow me whether I went just to degrade me for walking or whether else they could degrade me for.’ You add as you burrowed your head into his neck, wanting to forget this had ever happened.

‘All you need to remember is that they’re more flawed and easier to expose, you however,’ Tim kisses your temple, tightening his hold, ‘are more then they could ever comprehend and have more heart and soul then they do and I couldn’t be prouder to be your partner. Thank you for choosing me.’ He finished.

‘I’d choose you every time Tim.’ You replied.

‘Then expect me to do the same bedside there’s no one else I’d rather have them you.’ Tim promised as you stayed in this embrace for a good while before deciding to leave and watch your favourite show on his laptop for comfort.

[doitforbangchan]

Captiv(e)ate - H.H

Pairing:Mafia boss! Hyunjin x Doctor/EMT!reader

Requested: Yes, you can see the original ask here.

Warnings: Fem/afab reader, Guns, blood, kidnapping?, cursing, kissing, suggestive, petnames (angel and darling), and probably more

WC: 4.4k

Sorry to the original asker that this took literal months 🙃i also want to add that i took a lot of creative liberties here and changed it up a bit. Hope you like it! Not proofread Masterlist

“Are you sure we’re in the right area? I don’t see any businesses, only abandoned buildings. Wasn’t the call for a business injury?”  

“This is where the address is showing on the gps, Y/n.”

“Yeah, I get that,” you sighed, looking out the front window of the ambulance. “But doesn’t it just seem a little… off?” 

Ray, the driver, shrugged, “ Guess we’ll see when we get there. The building should be right around the corner.” 

You continued to look out of the window, doubt etched across your face. Being an EMT has taken you to many sketchy places since you started your career, but nothing has ever set the knot in your stomach so tight as it is now. A few minutes later the gps alerted that the destination was directly in front of you. With a deep breath you prepared to enter work mode and put your nerves aside and as the vehicle stopped you opened the doors. 

Immediately you saw a small swarm of men filter quickly out of the building. Before you could hop out, the one who came out first reached behind him and pulled out a silver pistol, aiming it directly at you. You froze, eyes wide with terror and a chill down your spine.You slowly put your hands up to show you are unarmed. You could hear Ray behind you yelling in fear but you remained silent.

“No one move an inch.” The man with the gun growled menacingly, he had an Australian accent. “This is how this is gonna go. We are all getting into this ambulance, and you are going to treat our friend. You cooperate- you leave with your lives. You don’t… then you don’t. Capisce?” 

You both nodded quickly, keeping your hands up. The man was satisfied with your choice and he motioned for you all to move aside. Once you did all the men began to hop into the ambulance, two of them carrying another who was nearly unconscious. 

The men dropped the injured one onto the gurney then shut the doors harshly. “First things first,” The man with the gun said. “Give me your cell phones. No calling the cops.” The two of you shakily took out your phones and handed them over to the man. “Alright now do your jobs. Driver, head south towards Gangnam.” 

It was incredibly cramped in the ambulance with all of the people but nonetheless you scooted closer to the man on the gurney. Your eyes did a quick sweep over the men; some were glaring at you in intimidation, others were looking at the injured man with deep worry on their faces.

With a deep yet shaky breath, you snapped on some rubber gloves and began to access the patient in front of you. He was a young guy, probably early 20’s. His lips were plump- the shape reminded you of a dumpling. His eyelashes were long and dark, flitting on his cheeks as he twitched with his eyes closed.  Overall he was a very handsome man, they all were really, but something about this man in particular made your heart flutter. If he wasn’t bleeding out in front of you you might have taken a little more time to eye him up, but now was not the time to get distracted. Especially since your life was on the line if you didn’t save this man. 

You could see that the blood was pouring out of a wound on his side and you lifted his shirt to find a bullet wound. You winced, finding a cloth and holding it on the wound quickly to help with the copious amount of blood. When you pressed into it, he gasped from the pain and his eyes shot back open.

 “Nnnnhgggghh” He choked out and suddenly his hand was grasped from beside him. A young looking man with shoulder length blonde hair held his hand and with an unexpected deep voice tried to sooth him. 

“Shh easy, Hyune. The docs gonna patch you right up.”

Another one spoke up from behind you, “Yeah you’re gonna be alright boss!” 

Hyune, as he was called, looked over to you, his teeth clattering as he tried to hide his pain, and with a shaky nod he motioned for you to continue.  You steeled yourself the best you could and got to work. 

‘Hyune’ was banaged the best you could, but you would need a more steady place to work that wasn’t speeding down a highway. When you conveyed that to the men around you, you were met with glares. 

“No, you will get it done here and now.” The one with the gun still out stated with a growl. 

“C-chan..” Your patient croaked, “H-home..” They all did a double take at the man on the gurney, some scoffing and looking like they wanted to disagree but before they could he held up a hand and instantly they all stopped talking. “That’s an order.” 

The man with the gun, ‘Chan’, sighed. “Ok, you got it.” Then he turned to you with hard eyes, “Do you know how to drive this thing?” 

You were taken aback, “Uhh, no I don’t.” 

He hummed, then looked at a man with copper colored hair and thin eyes, “You’re up, maknae.” the both of them went over to where Ray was. “Pull over in this cluster of buildings.” Ray did as he was told and pulled over behind a large factory. 

The copper haired man reached behind him, “Sorry man, this is the end of the road for you.” 

You couldn’t help the gasp that left you at the man's words. “No, please no!” 

Both the men looked at you as if you were dumb, and then the younger one pulled out a wad of cash from his back pocket. He shoved it into the hands of Ray who was shaking in his fear. 

“Take this as a token of our appreciation for your help and your silence about this.” 

Ray nodded and got out of the ambulance, not even sparing you a glance. The younger man got into the driver's seat and began to drive the large vehicle with ease. You looked out the window to see Ray counting his large stack of cash with a smile on his face. It almost made you sick with how easily he was bought off. 

One of the men who was still standing near you pulled a dark piece of fabric out from his pocket - a blindfold- and smirked at you. “Sorry, we can’t have you knowing where our hideout is.” 

He sure didn’t sound sorry… 

Your thoughts were cynical as the man wrapped the fabric over your eyes. He tied it tightly and then held your arm for the remainder of the ride. 

It had felt like hours (though it had only been about 15 minutes) before you could feel the vehicle coming to a stop.The doors to the ambulance were quickly opened and you could feel the heat from outside immediately seep in. You yelped as you felt someone lift you into their arms.

“Shut it, I’m just helping you get out.” It was the voice of the one who blindfolded you. He hopped out with you in his arms and set you back down on your feet. You wobbled and almost tripped when he started to usher you to move, keeping a hold on your arm the whole time. You were led into a building and down a hall.

 Suddenly the fabric was ripped from your eyes as the other men hurriedly wheeled in the gurney with ‘Hyune’ on into the room. The blonde one rushed in behind them with his arms full of medical equipment. The items were laid on a table and you were pushed closer to the injured man. 

Chan threw a pair of rubber gloves at you, “Get to work doc.” 

You put on the fresh gloves and breathed deeply to steady your nerves. You were a medical professional that worked as an emt, you thrived under pressure. This was no different… at least that’s what you told yourself as you got to work removing the bullet from this very good looking man. 

You were able to breathe a sigh of relief when you finally finished sewing up the man. The entire time you worked you had been supervised and scrutinized by Chan and the blonde one, both of them keeping their gaze trained on your every move. You had worked in silence the whole time, and you were thankful for the quiet as it allowed you to focus. The silence also helped you think about the circumstances you have found yourself in. 

You came to the conclusion that these men were part of the mafia- or some kind of gang- and the man you operated on was their boss. The realization did nothing to ease your anxiety, nor did the awareness that once you were done here they would most likely be done with you. You ignored the sick feeling within your stomach as you took off your bloodied gloves and stepped back from your patient. 

“I-i’m done.” Damnit, you didn’t mean to stutter. “He just needs to rest and heal for a while. I gave him some morphine for the pain so it’s imperative that he relaxes to avoid further risk.” 

The blonde one was by his side in an instant, grabbing his hand and checking him over. “Hear that, Jin? You’re gonna be fine.” Hyune tried to lift his head up but he was lightly pushed back down by the blonde. “Nuh uh you have to rest.” 

“Felix..” He mumbled and tried to speak but it was coming out so quietly you couldn’t hear what was said, you only saw the brow raise from ‘Felix’ at what Hyune was saying.

“Uhh yeah, ok. Whatever you say.” Felix waved over Chan who came over. Chan side eyed you as Felix whispered something in his ear, making him sigh in frustration. Then he waved you closer to them. 

You gulped and shuffled over to them. You were surprised when the injured man reached out and grabbed your hand, and he turned his head to look directly in your eyes. His eyes were droopy as if he was struggling to stay awake and he had a dopey grin on his face that made him look even more boyishly handsome. 

“You saved me..” He started, staring directly into your gaze. “You must be an angel.” 

“Uhh.” You felt your face heat up despite the small tinge of fear that still remained inside you. “No, m’ just a doctor. My name is Y/n.” 

Your response caused him to burst into a fit of giggles, which in return made both men next to him let out a few chuckles. Seeing them laugh so casually made you feel slightly less anxious and you felt your shoulders relax a little. 

“You’re funny. I like you.” He squeezed your hand again, his grip was shaky and clammy but for some reason it comforted you. His eyes flickered over to Chan, who rolled his eyes and approached you. “Be nice to her, Channie. S’ not everyday we have an angel among us.” 

Chan snorted and grabbed your arm again, leading you away from the others and down a different hallway. He led you to a room and he opened it, motioning for you to enter. When you were apprehensive he ended up shoving you in and closing the door quickly behind you. The pit in your stomach grew as you heard the distinct click of the door being locked. You spun around and grabbed at the handle of the door but it didn’t budge. 

Fuck. 

It was at that moment that all the emotions you’ve been holding onto since this whole ordeal started came rushing to you all at once. All of the fear, frustration and anger began to pour out of you in the form of tears. Your hands went to your face as you sobbed and your back slid against the door until you were seated on the ground. 

How did you get yourself into this mess? All you did was come to work. And now look at you. Locked away in some mobsters house. You finally lifted your head to look at your surroundings and saw you were in a bedroom. There was a small bed in the corner and another door that led to a small bathroom. You looked around for windows but there was only one tiny one with thick looking glass. So you couldn’t break it and escape.. 

You supposed there were worse places to be held, at least you weren’t in a jail cell,  though you would have preferred to not be captive here in the first place. For what had to be two hours you sat there and thought about how unlucky you were, until finally there was a knock on the other side of the door. 

You scrambled up and to your feet just as the door was unlocked and opened, revealing a man whose name you did not know. He had chunky cheeks and big dark boba eyes. He offered you a gentle smile when he saw you standing there. 

“Hi. It’s uh- it’s time to check on Hyunjin.” So that was his name. Hyunjin. “He started complaining about the pain again.” 

“Oh, ok.” You let him lead you out and down another few halls and up a set of stairs. The house you were in was huge and gorgeous. Beautiful floral paintings lined the walls and crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings. Obviously these people had taste. 

The man with you- who had introduced himself as Han- opened another door and led you inside. Laying in a massive bed was Hyunjin, blinking up at you as you carefully approached his bed side. He beamed when he saw that it was you who entered his space. “There's my angel.” 

You shook your head, “I’m not an angel, sir. I’m just a doctor. How are you feeling?” 

“Don’t call me sir, my name is Hyunjin. But my friends call me Hyune.” He winked after he said ‘friends’ and it brought more heat to your face. “And I’m feeling alright, Angel. Just a little tender with the morphine wearing off.” A quiet scoff and a ‘little tender my ass’ was heard from behind you, then Hyunjin sent a glare at Han who mumbled his apology quickly with a giggle. “How are you, Angel? My boys treating you well? You are my special guest here after all.” 

“I’m your special guest?” You asked, shocked at his words and that he cared that you were being treated nicely. You tried not to show your surprise as you got back into work mode, checking his wounds and beginning to replace the gauze. 

“Of course. You saved my life and I don’t take that kind of thing for granted. So you are the specialist guest I’ve ever had.” He gave you that dopey grin again and you felt your heart palpitate. Why are you reacting this way? Get a grip! He’s just a man! A dangerous one at that..

But a really really cute one.

Han cleared his throat, “Uhh boss, I don’t think your in your right mind yet, seems like the morphine is still-” 

Han was cut off by another harsh glare sent his way by Hyunjin, “ I think I’m perfectly in my right mind, Jisung, and I appreciate your concern, but what I would appreciate more is you shutting up.” Han mimicked zipping his lips and locking it, raising his hands in surrender. Then Hyunjin turned back to you just as you finished wrapping him up again with that charming smile. 

You offered him a small one in return, “The wound has been cleaned, it’ll have to be cleaned and rewrapped twice daily to avoid infection. No strenuous movements for a few weeks while it heals and make sure you’re drinking enough water and eating.” 

He grabbed onto your hand once again, “Ah thank you so much, Angel. Speaking of food, have you eaten? Are you hungry?” You shook your head but he didn’t accept your answer. “ Oh come on you must be a little hungry, you’ve been working so hard today. I’ll have dinner set up, whatever you like, hmm?” He nodded over at Han who pulled out his phone and sent a quick text. “So what will it be? Steak? Lobster?” 

You said the first thing that came to your mind in a panic, “How about pizza?” 

“Pizza?” He laughed, crinkling his eyes. “You could have anything in the world and you choose pizza? Oh Angel, you are surprising.” He brought your hand up and laid a kiss on the back of your hand. “It’ll be done before you know it.” 

You found your confidence in that moment, the burning questions rattling around and begging to escape. “Can I ask you something, please?” Your voice came out more timid than you intended and you mentally cursed yourself. 

“Of course.” He didn’t even hesitate, having an inkling about what you wanted to know. 

“I’m still not totally sure what is going on here.. I mean I get that you guys hijacked my ambulance and you needed medical help, but I don’t know what I’m still doing here or why you’re being so nice to me or even who you guys are.” You twiddle your thumbs and avoided eye contact, though you were not sure why you were so nervous. 

Hyunjin chuckled, patting you on the back of your hand, “Promise not to freak out?” You nodded in agreement. “This is the Straykids headquarters. You’re still here because you have been more than useful to me and you saved my life.” 

Upon hearing the name ‘Straykids’ you knew exactly who he was. This was the leader of the most notorious mafia group in Seoul; Hwang Hyunjin. This man was known for being dangerous, violent and bloodthirsty. His whole gang was, really. You had seen first hand the leftovers of one of their shootouts, having been called to the scene a few months prior to try to find any survivors. There were none. 

But this man doesn’t seem to be the cruel criminal that he had been made out to be- though maybe it was the drugs you had administered that was altering his mind. So far he had been kind to you, and had worried that you were being taken care of. 

It was like he could see the gears turning in your head and he let out another chuckle. “Don’t worry, Angel, you’re safe here. No one here is going to do anything to harm my special little Angel.” Hyunjin winked again, then a ding was heard from his phone. He leaned over and read the text, “Pizza is here. Hannie will take you down to the dining room, I will join you in a moment. Ok?” He finally let go of your hand and sent you off with Han. 

You were seated at this long elegant oak dining table, a gang member on each side of you as they call scarfed down the slices of pizza. Hyunjin sat at the end of the table, keeping his eyes on you as you picked at your food. He could see how nervous you were to be surrounded by infamous criminals but he was also intrigued by how well you were holding yourself together. He was starting to like you more and more. 

“So how long have you been an EMT?” The question came from the boy next to you- I.N he was called- as he shoved another bite into his mouth. 

You cleared your throat, “About a year. I worked in the hospital for a while before this as a resident.” 

He nodded, swallowing . “What made you leave working in the comfort of the hospital? Seems like it would be a pretty cushy gig” 

“Yeah it was.” You agreed, “But it was so boring. I like to be out there in the action.” 

That had caught everyone's attention. A few looked at you with raised brows. “Action huh?” Minho had asked from across from you. “Like what?”

They noticed how you lit up as you started talking about some of the medical emergencies you had seen, how passionate you sounded as you described how you helped people. Hyunjin especially could see all your emotions as you spoke. 

“Sounds bloody.” Minho said, earning him a light hit to the head from Seungmin. “Fuck off!” He grouched at the boy next to him.

You shrugged, already feeling more comfortable. “It can be. Nothing you guys aren’t used to, I’m sure.” 

All eight men started to laugh, some nodding along as your words rang true. They were all much more personable now, acting like normal guys and cracking jokes and laughing together. In fact they were all so normal it was almost unsettling. These are not the kind of men you envisioned when you imagined the deadly mafia. They seemed more like a family than a gang. 

You felt a hard pat on the back from Chan who was sitting on the other side of you, “You’re kinda funny, doc.”

“Thanks I try.” You gave a small grin to him and finished your pizza. 

It had gone like this for the next two weeks. Every day you were let out of your room to treat Hyunjin and keep the wound from getting infected, and then you would either go back to your room or were allowed to hang out with some of the mafia members. 

Every day Hyunjin would flirt with you, calling you Angel and telling you how much he valued you. You didn’t want to fall for his charms but you were just a girl. And he was one appealing man. He made sure you were cared for, and showed you kindness. There was never a moment (other than that first day) that you had felt like you were in danger with him or the other members.

His injury was healing nicely and you knew that soon there would be no use for you, and that was the only thought that brought you any kind of anxiety. You doubted they would just send you on your way; you knew way too much about them and their ‘organization’. They hadn’t been exactly secretive about it since you’ve been there. 

You went to find Hyunjin to do his exam and found him sitting at his desk in his office. Since he was healing he was able to do more behind the scenes work and as the leader he definitely had work to do. Organized crime required more work than anyone realized. 

You walked in and he looked up from whatever he was studying and offered you one of his dazzling smiles. “Hiya Angel. Is it that time again?” 

You nodded, “Uh huh, lemme see it.” 

He smirked and lifted his shirt to reveal his toned abdomen. “If you wanted me to take my clothes off you should have just asked. I would never deny an Angel.” There he was with his flirting that always brought a deep heat over your face and ears. 

“Yeah yeah, just come ‘er.” You muttered and took off his bandage. You examined the wound. Just as you thought, it was healed enough that you would no longer need to take care of it. “It’s healing very well, Hyunjin. You have been taking great care of it.” 

“That’s all thanks to the incredible doctor that stitched it up and brought me back from the brink.” He said, looking down at you and dropping his shirt back back. 

“Well you’ll be happy to know that you no longer require my expertise, it should be just fine as long as you keep it clean.” You tried to smile but it didn’t reach your eyes and Hyunjin could see right through you. 

“What’s wrong, Angel?” He cupped your cheek with his big hands, making you face him. 

You tried to shake your head, “Nothing, I’m happy you're doing better.” 

“Buuuut” He prompted. 

You let out a sigh, embarrassed you even feel this way. “ But I’m done treating you. And now you're going to toss me out.” 

His eyes widened and confusion washed over his features. “What? Who said that? Did one of the boys tell you that?”

“No they didn’t say anything but I just assumed tha-” 

“Don’t assume anything, I had no plans of getting rid of you.” He stared hard into your eyes. 

“B-but you don’t need me anymore..” 

He tsked, “You silly girl. Haven’t you come to realize that I’ll always need you? Who else would take such good care of me and the boys. Don’t think I didn’t see it when you patched up Minho after his cooking incident. Or when you cured Felix's cold last week.” 

“Oh that was nothing.” You protested, your hands coming up to fist his shirt as he got even closer.

“Not to me.” He leaned closer to your face, getting his point across. You thought he was going to kiss you but instead he pressed a peck to your forehead. Then he pulled back slightly. “If you want to leave, then I will let you go. I know you wouldn’t say anything about us to anyone. But before you have to know that I want you here. I want you to stay by my side. Not just as my medic but as my woman. You are the most interesting and incredible woman I’ve ever met. You captivate me like no one ever has.” 

Your hands wrung in his shirt at his sentiment. You didn’t know how to answer. You knew the smart thing would be to go- to leave this place and never think twice about these mobsters. But for once you wanted to follow your heart, not your brain. You wanted to stay and you wanted him. 

“I-I want that too..” You said quietly and screwed your eyes shut. “I would like to remain here. With you, Hyunjin.” 

You heard him hum in satisfaction and then you felt your face being tilted up and suddenly the softest pair of lips you had ever felt were on yours. You let out a squeak of surprise and then melted into his kiss. You groaned when his tongue swiped on your lower lip asking for entrance which you gladly gave him. 

Hyunjin suckled on your own tongue for a moment then pulled away from you, leaving you breathless. Both of your lips were swollen and you couldn’t stop gazing into each other's eyes. He ran a thumb along your cheekbone, “Welcome to heaven, Angel.” 

©doitforbangchan

Im not the proudest of this but it took me so long 😭😭 plz enjoy. comments and reblogs are appreciated

Tagged; @jehhskz @athforskz

[clare-875]

Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, (even Jinbe or Chopper or Usopp whichever one you would prefer?) Comforts reader who was having a panic attack (like is remembering a dark childhood past or a past toxic relationship or something?) they hug her or hold her hand and telling her that everything would be alright.

We all could use a little comfort in our lives? 🥺

Dark Times (Luffy, Sanji, Zoro)

_____ Pairings: Luffy x Reader; Sanji x Reader; Zoro x Reader Summary: They comfort you when you remember your dark past Warnings: Toxic/Abusive Relationships, Abusive Childhood, Panic Attack, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Female Reader A/N: I hope this is what you had in mind <3 [One Piece Masterlist] _____

- Luffy -

(TW: Abusive Ex-Boyfriend)

You and your crew had finally arrived on a new island and were instantly excited about the prospect of being on solid ground. You had been wandering around with Luffy, who was enraptured in the markets that filled the streets. You could see some of your crewmates in the distance. Sanji bought from food vendors and fell at women's feet, Nami and Robin looked at clothes, and Zoro wondered in the wrong direction; the usual. You let the smile on your face linger, this crew meant everything to you.

"[y/n]!!"

Your gaze turns to your Captain and boyfriend who meets your eyes with a wide grin. He's holding an abundance of foods that you hoped he took the liberty to buy. "Come on, we have to try everything!" A laugh bubbles up within you as you watch him point to another food vendor, beckoning you to join him. His gaze goes from yours to the food, as he sprints a short distance away, and you shake your head going to follow him. However, lost in your thoughts you hadn't been paying attention to where you were walking and coincidentally bumped into a man who hadn't been paying attention either.

You instantly topple, losing your balance but are saved by the steady hands of the person you bumped into. You are about to apologise, but strange dread seeps in as a familiar scent fills your senses.

"Hey, sorry I didn't see you there-"

You hear the man speak, but your hands start to tremble, and suddenly his hands on your forearms feel like fire on your skin. Stop, it isn't him, you're safe. Your mind frantically tries to settle and ground itself, but your lungs contract and your heart beats faster. You gaze upwards meeting eyes with the stranger who now looks at your clear distress in concern.

"Hey, are you okay?"

He lets you go and you feel slightly lighter, but the scent of his collongue still remains and you know nothing can stop the dread. "I-" Your throat tightens, sweat lingering on your skin. Suddenly everything sounds muffled and your vision distorts. You faintly remember pulling away from the confused man, twisting through the many stalls surrounding you. You faintly remember the shapeless voices of people who look at you in confusion, pulling away from worried eyes.

It's all too much. Your breathing harshens.

When you break free of the markets, you slide down a wall of a building, the distant voices of crowding people lost in panic. You can't breathe. All you can think about is him; your ex. He who bought you years of torture. He who hit and cursed and berated you. He who made you feel worthless and terrified of even the dream of leaving. Your hands tremble as you make yourself smaller to keep out his distant words or the remembrance of his harsh touch.

You know that the man who bumped into you bore no resemblance to him, but the familiar scent ignited terror in your system. It was a life you left long ago, but it feels like your past has crept up onto you so suddenly that you were paralysed in trepidation. Hot tears now cascade down your cheeks as you try to frantically remember something as simple as taking in oxygen. Breathe. I can't. Breathe. I can't. I can't. I can't-

"[y/n]?!"

What reaches your muffled ears is the distant voice of the man you loved. He looks at your curled-up and panic-stricken state in shock.

"[y/n], what's wrong? What happened?!"

Luffy doesn't understand what is happening. All he sees is his partner, who had disappeared so suddenly, lost in dread and he didn't know why. No words come to him, but his heart rate quickens at the tears that pour down your face, your trembling hands, the tight grip you have on your arms. He is confused and he is angry. Had someone done something? Are you hurt? Luffy could see clearly your distress, but he needed answers; he needed to do something or know that you were okay.

"[y/n]-"

But you can't reply, you can't wretch yourself free from the panic in your system. "Luff-" You gasp out, and it prompts the raven-haired captain to come closer to you, but he hesitates. He feels his own panic because he doesn't know what's going on. He doesn't know how to help you. "I- I'll go get Chopper-" Luffy's words break through to you, and your trembling hands react before he can pull away.

"N- no, Luffy-"

Your words are masked with an unfamiliar undertone that Luffy scarcely hears from you: fear. Luffy watches you clutch onto his shirt tightly, knuckles white as you try to ground yourself. He doesn't know what is happening, but he sees so clearly now that you need him. So, he does what he always does: he follows his instincts.

Warm arms pull you in so that your head is buried into his chest. He holds you tight and you are provided with the rhythm of his lungs that you try to match. Your heart rate slows briefly, as you take in his scent and his being. Luffy only holds you closer.

"It's okay, [y/n]. I'll protect you. You'll always be safe as long as you're with me."

Luffy might not know what had just happened to you, or what caused you to fall into your current state, but his words were somehow all you needed to hear. Hot tears of relief pour from your eyes as you nod into his chest in acknowledgement. He holds you to him until he's sure you're alright once more. He won't pry but he will listen when you need to talk, he will be there with you even if you don't wish to share your darker past. "You're safe."

He was all you could ever need.

- Sanji -

(TW: Emotionally/Physically Abusive Childhood)

Laughter brims as you look at the man who looks back at you fondly. You see Sanji's eyes widen at the sight of your smile aimed at him, and instantly the flush on his face deepens. You gently nudge him with your hip, holding out a hand for the plate he had just washed. "What is it?" You ask as you notice Sanji looking at you for quite some time. He turns to you in wonderment as he replies. "You're just too beautiful, love." You feel the heat rise to your cheeks, and your smile impossibly widens.

You wonder how you got so lucky as to call a man such as him your own.

You look away shyly as you dry the dish he passed you, repeating the rhythm you both had going. Sanji washing, you drying. Sanji loved the domesticity of it all, and he adored the smile you now try to hide from him even more. His heart beats faster, but the flirty atmosphere is lost when he hears his Captain calling to him. "Oi, Sanji! We need you out here for a second!" There is urgency in his tone, and so Sanji turns from the dishes and gives you a quick smile.

"I'll be right back."

You nod easily before he disappears beyond the door. You decide to continue as you await his return. You reach for another plate in one hand, a cloth in the other. You hum a tune as you go on, but because of your absent-mindedness, you underestimate the concentration necessary to complete your task. As you put down plates and reach for another, you mistakenly lose your grip on the dish in your hand and it slips from your fingers.

In an instant, it’s like your heart stops in your chest.

Your eyes widen, movements freezing as the sound of glass breaking fills the air. You look down, dumbfounded as you eye the mess you made. No. You start to panic. There is a voice in your head telling you that it would be okay, but there is a greater franticity that prevents you from reason. Your hands start to tremble as the sound of glass hitting the floor still echoes in your mind. It takes you back to a past you feel will always haunt you. It’s okay, he’s not like them. You try to convince yourself to breathe but there is no silence in their voices.

“[y/n]!! You little shit, you can’t do anything right!”

“You’re worthless!!”

“Hopeless!!”

“Get out!!”

No, Sanji wouldn’t.

In your state of pure panic, you can now scarcely breathe, the rhythm of your lungs lost in your terror. Your chest squeezes painfully and you find yourself falling to the floor reaching blindly for the glass that is scattered around. It’s a mistake as you feel a faint sting, knowing you’ve cut yourself. It only makes your panic worsen.

He’ll be back soon… He’ll hate me… He’ll yell at me. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t-

You start to lose yourself in the dread and you can no longer keep up with your rapid heart. Your breath comes in short increments and nausea fills you. Your trembling hands pull your legs close as the painful tightness in your throat worsens at every passing moment. Your thoughts are scattered and twisted in your mind. But the past you thought you moved on from had crept up onto you before you even heard the breaking of the glass.

The faces of your parents.

Of a father who didn't know how to love and so took out his rage on you and your mother. Your mother who saw the source of his hatred as you.

"You're a disgrace."

"This is all your fault!"

"I never wanted you for a daughter!"

You start to gasp out and you start to feel lightheaded from the trauma that now reverberates in your mind. Sanji would come back soon, and you couldn't do anything to clean the mess you made or put a bandage on your bloodied fingers.

What will he say? Will he be angry? Will he shout? Will he see just how worthless I am-

“[y/n]?”

You feel your heart jump harshly, cold sweat rising on your skin as you hear the startled voice of your boyfriend who has returned to the kitchen. Your breathing worsens, and your chest is tight with apprehension. You start to mumble incoherently between short breaths, but you refuse to meet his eyes.

"I- I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it- I’ll fix it-“

Your cries harshen and Sanji's heart clenches against his chest at your state; he knows the feeling.

"L-love, hey, love it's okay. Breathe."

He kneels down in front of you and his eyes widen at the sight of your hands, one of them is still bleeding from when you had tried to pick up the glass in your panic. Your hands still tremble and your lungs still squeeze painfully at the lack of air. You can't hear his words.

"I- I'm sorry. I'm sorry- I'll fix it- I'll be better-"

Sanji feels his own tears well in his eyes as he watches you lost in your mind. He moves before he can help himself. One hand reaches for your hands and he grasps it gently, despite you slightly flinching at the touch. The other hand pushes away hair that has fallen into your tear-stained face, low and hiding from him. His touch is what brings you back; his gentleness. You reach out for his shirt and he takes it as a sign to embrace you.

His hug is warm and comforting and all so familiar. You breathe in his familiar scent and relish the warmth in his skin that allows you to find the rhythm in your breaths once more. You listen to his quietly murmured words like they are all that pull you to the Earth.

"That's it, love. You're safe. You're okay."

As you bury your head deeper into Sanji's chest, he pushes his face into the crook of your neck so you don't see his own tears. How could someone do such a thing to you? The love of his love? The one he swears to protect from everything wrong in the world?

Your breath shudders and long moments pass before you find yourself free of your distraught and able to release your senses to the world again. "Sanji..." Your voice is a murmur but it only makes his heart clench even more. "Thank you." Sanji pulls you closer.

"Of course, love."

- Zoro -

(TW: Sexually Abusive, Manipulative Ex-Boyfriend)

You are travelling around the vicinity in search of drinks, not a care in the world. You were getting your boyfriend another bottle from Sanji after he had downed two quicker than you could blink. You smile softly at the thought of him. He was so different from all the men you found yourself with before. Yes, he seemed closed off and distant and quite honestly the last man you would think desired anything in the shape of love, but he had surprised you. Never did you hold even a glimmer of hope that the green-haired swordsman returned your growing feelings, and yet he did. He confessed to you many months ago and the rest was history.

You smile absentmindedly. How did you get so lucky?

Finally shaking free of your thoughts you spot Sanji in the distance, hoarding drinks you know he will willingly give you. You make your way over but are suddenly stopped unexpectedly.

A hand clutches your right arm.

"What-" You stop in surprise at the unfamiliar touch and your eyes travel upwards to the face of a stranger who looks at you in a way that makes you internally shudder. You feel your heart rate quicken, but you force yourself to calm down, glaring at the man in irritation.

"Can I help you?" You ask with a frown, but the stranger doesn't falter. The whole time you feel your chest clench despite your internal thoughts that it would be okay; you were strong, you had dealt with worse. But his reply is what sends you into a sudden spiral.

"You sure can, princess..."

Instantly, your brave facade falters and suddenly, there is untamed panic. Your mind fills with the remembrance of a time you thought you left long ago. You remember his hands, you remember his touch, his stench, his words.

"Come on princess, it'll be quick."

"After all I've done for you, you can't even help me with this princess?"

"Not everything's about you, princess."

You had screamed at him no, you didn't want what he offered you or what he forced you to comply with, and yet he had continued anyway.

His princess; his toy.

No. You wrench free from the man fear twisted on your face and you have no control over your emotions anymore. "N-no!" No no no no no. All you feel is him. You need to get away. Your chest squeezes tightly with the racing of your pulse and oxygen isn't a thing your body can hold anymore. Even the man who had just harassed you looks at you wide-eyed at your reaction but you can't see him. Everything becomes a blur, the very air is suffocating you. You need air. You need safety. You need...

"What the fuck is going on here?"

Zoro had been out of his seat the moment he eyed you in the distance with a man who dared lay hands on your skin. But now as his sharp eyes travel to you - his lifeline, his woman, the strongest person he knew of - crumbling because of this lowlife, he is fuelled with blind rage.

"What did you do?!"

He pushes you behind him, gentle but protective as he eyes the stranger with a wrath that could not be matched. His words are a yell that causes more eyes in your direction, and the shouting and the murmured whispers only make your panic worsen. Your apprehension is too much to bear and you feel the gazes on you like fire on your skin. Whilst Zoro unsheathes a sword you feel yourself shakily sinking to the ground. To your luck and everyone's utter surprise, it is Sanji who spots your obvious distress first and Sanji who gets Zoro to calm enough to see the damage that his brash words cause.

"Oi Marimo!"

He quickly makes his way to the swordsman, eyeing your distress with clear worry. Zoro basically snarls at the cook to get out of the way, but he pauses at his quiet words.

"[y/n]. You need to take [y/n]-san away from here. We'll take care of him. She needs you."

The chef's eyes flicker to your trembling form buried behind Zoro, concern flickering in his irises. Zoro follows the cook's eyes begrudgingly, but his gaze widens at the sight of hot tears running down your cheeks, your chest contracting erratically.

"[y/n]..."

Your eyes are glazed over, and Zoro knows instantly that despite everything, Sanji is right. Zoro turns from an enemy that Sanji all but kicks to oblivion. His hands are gentle as they reach for you but Zoro sees you flinch at the sudden contact. He feels his heart clench harsh against his chest at your reaction. He gently pulls you to your feet and holds you tight against him. He sees your tight grip that holds any fabric of his clothing. Out of the vicinity and into a more private area, he still holds you to him. It takes Zoro aback to see you trembling.

It's heartbreaking.

Finally in the open air, away from the crowds of people that surrounded you before, did you register his warm arms that hold you tightly to him. You hear his heartbeat strong beneath your ear and you try to match the rhythm of his breathing. Your knuckles are white with your grip on his shirt and Zoro doesn't know what else to do but continue holding you until you can breathe again.

"Zoro-"

Your words are barely above a whisper and they rasp in the absence of air just moments before. Zoro can't help but feel the relief that fills his system at seeing your eyes clear of the panic they bore. He gently turns you from his side but he doesn't let you out of his grasp. He pulls you instantly into his chest.

"Z-Zoro?"

Your words are quiet but they are now shrouded in surprise, the lasting tears fall from your eyes as you find yourself buried in his chest. You are shocked at his sudden embrace, but you do not know that it is because Zoro doesn't want you to see the clear pain he fights on his face. There is silence for a long while, but you let the quiet be. It is a nice change from the frantic pace of your dread. It is only when Zoro finds his rage and emotion subsiding enough for him to speak that he does so.

"You're safe with me [y/n]... don't forget that."

His deep voice softly fills your ears and you suddenly feel hot tears pouring from your eyes in relief. You were safe. He would protect you. You bury yourself deeper in his chest and nod.

He holds you tight like he would never let go.

[jezebelblues]

𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 | 𝐇.𝐒 ݁ᛪ༙ ꫂ ၴႅၴ ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐭.

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐧—𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐰𝐧, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲.

pt. i, pt. ii

𝐂𝐖: fem!reader, blood+blood drinking (bro is literally a vampire there's going to be blood) 1700s!harry, mentions of death

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: approx 7.3k

❏ yall this excruciatingly long so i just figured it was better to split this into four parts. it starts off kinda slow i knowwww but i feel like it fits his character. anyway I hope u will like. mwah :* also YES his heart beats idk i took creative liberty in assuming the blood he drinks would give him some sort of circulation and YES i drew inspo from tvd i like their vamp lore the most ok bye

Fourth of November, 1701

The English flag thrashed wildly in the biting wind, its edges snapping above the clank of chains and the groan of wood as boats were fastened to the harbor. Hooves clattered against the cobblestone, mingling with the grumble of cart wheels as townsfolk hurried homeward, eager to escape the deepening chill of evening.

Winter crept in with an ill-fated air, a shadow over the town. The fishermen’s hauls dwindled to nearly nothing, their nets coming up bare. Squash and pumpkins, once abundant, softened and rotted on their vines before they could be harvested. Livestock, struck by a strange sickness, perished too soon, their spoiled meat no longer fit to eat. Lately the townsfolk scraped by on what little they could hunt—rabbits, mostly—a meager fare that barely stretched to sustain a family for more than a few days.

YN stood at the end of the dock, the sea’s bitter wind pulling at her hair. A basket woven by her mother dangled from her arm, half-covered by a cloth beneath which a few herbs and stunted vegetables peeked through. She waited for Niall, a fisherman she’d known since childhood, to come ashore. His face was grim, his knuckles pale as he secured his boat. “Any luck?” She asked over the wind, though she already knew the answer.

His mouth twisted into a scowl as he wiped his hands on his trousers and approached her. “Lucks got nothin’ to do with it. s’the new king, swear it. God turned his back on us ‘cause of him.”

She winced and swatted his arm lightly as they started toward the stone walls encircling the town. “Don’t say such things, not out loud.” She kept her voice low, though she too had her doubts about the new ruler. “Best not to tempt fate with those words.”

He rolled his eyes and took the basket from her arm, letting it hang from his own so she could tuck her hands into her sleeves. “You agree with such things. S’pose God does as well from the lack of bloody fish.”

They passed under the worn stone archway marking the entrance to town, their footsteps echoing against the ancient stones. Dover was nestled between the English Channel and rolling green hills, hemmed in by rocky shores and the stark rise of the cliffs, standing watch like grim sentinels over the troubled little town.

As YN and Niall made their way up the winding path from the square, the quiet crept in around them, settling like a thin mist. The evening was thick and gray, heavy clouds stretching over Dover and flattening the light into a cool, uneasy dusk.

Each face they passed, they recognized. it was impossible not to, in a town so small. There was old mrs. Harris, hunched beneath a weathered shawl, who gave them a knowing nod as they went by, as if she alone were privy to the day’s secrets. And mr. James, pulling his cart toward home, who offered a quick tip of his hat, but avoided meeting their eyes too long, as if a weight hung over all of them that no one cared to mention.

Niall, walking beside her, held his silence longer than usual, and there was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes when he finally turned her way. “You’re still makin’ that stew, yeah?” He hummed, nodding toward the basket swinging lightly in his hand. His tone was casual, almost lazy, yet she sensed something else beneath it, like he was testing the waters of a conversation he couldn’t quite bring himself to start.

“Mum has already started it,” YN replied, keeping her voice as light as his. “Cabbage, onion, bit of thyme. barely a stew, more a broth.” She cast a sideways glance his way, catching the faintest hint of a smile pulling at his mouth.

“No doubt you’ll have your sister servin’ it, then?” He asked, as though it were an afterthought. “I hear she has a way of makin’ anything taste finer.”

YN’s lips twitched, a hint of humor flickering in her eyes. She knew well enough where this was going, but she didn’t indulge him outright. “Oh, she has her charms, but she’s picky ‘bout who gets to see ‘em.”

He laughed quietly, a low sound that seemed to carry on the breeze, soft and uncertain. “She's got the whole town near dreamin’ of her, from what I hear. never seen her eye stray toward anyone, though.”

YN glanced away, her gaze drifting over the clustered rooftops, the narrow chimneys stretching into the dimming sky like spindly fingers. “You’d need more than a bowl of stew to catch her fancy, Niall. You’d best hope for a rich merchant or a duke comin’ ashore.”

His chuckle died off, and for a few quiet moments, they simply walked, the soft scuff of their shoes blending with the distant murmur of the sea. Yet something hung between them, unspoken, like the faintest shadow shifting at the edges of their conversation.

It was Niall who broke the silence, his voice lower this time, his words careful. “Have you heard the talk? About the old watchtower?”

YN’s gaze drifted to the far side of town, where the dense stretch of forest gave way to a steep rise, the silhouette of the abandoned tower just barely visible through the trees. “Folk say all sorts of things,” She muttered, almost to herself. “Been empty as long as I can remember.”

Niall’s eyes narrowed as he looked out toward the darkening line of trees, his jaw set. “Empty, maybe, but someone’s taken to hauntin’ it now. The lads swear they’ve seen a figure up there at night, just a shadow movin’ about, like he’s watchin’ the town from that high window.”

She felt a faint chill that wasn’t from the cold, and she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “They say a lot of things,” she repeated, her tone steady but soft. “Could be nothin’ but the wind playin’ with shadows.”

He tilted his head, the edge of a smirk softening his face. “Aye, that’s what I'd think, too. But seems each person’s got a different tale to tell. Some say he’s a protector, sent to keep us safe.” He shrugged, his gaze still fixed on the distant woods. “Others say it’s somethin’ darker—maybe one of the king’s men, sent to spy on anyone who dares breathe a word against him.”

YN’s lips parted, but she hesitated, the words hanging unspoken as her gaze lingered on the watchtower. Her grandmother had told her stories of that tower once, years ago, when she was still young enough to believe in the old tales without question. But she’d since brushed them off as the ramblings of an old woman long passed. Now, though, the stories flickered back to her, sharp and vivid as they’d once been.

“I heard some folk say it’s not a man at all,” She murmured, so quietly that her voice nearly vanished into the chill air. “Gran said it’s a spirit—a demon.” she let out a breathy laugh, sending a glance his way. “You believe my ol’gran true?”

Niall made a sound, halfway between a scoff and a chuckle, though he didn’t argue with her. “You don’t seem the sort to believe in demons,YN.”

She didn’t answer him, and for a moment, they stood in the gathering dusk, looking out toward the distant, looming shape of the tower, as if something there had caught them both in its thrall. A strange, unsettling weight hung in the air, pressing down around them, and neither seemed willing to break it.

The faint toll of the chapel bell echoed across the town, marking the evening hour. The sound seemed hollow, almost mournful, as it resonated through the narrow streets, slipping into every crack and crevice, lingering like a warning in the growing dark.

The path wound through the clustered homes of their town, each one narrow and stacked close beside the other, the rooftops tilting like old friends leaning together to brace against the coming winter. Flickers of candlelight peeked through small, thick-paned windows, casting brief glows over doorsteps worn smooth by years of footsteps. Voices drifted out faintly as neighbors settled in for the night, the low buzz of comfort after a long day’s labor.

As they neared her door, YN glanced sideways at Niall, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Well, no use lettin’ the stew go to waste with just me. You might as well come in and help make somethin’ decent out of it. And,” she added, with a playful glint, “my sister will be there, too. Might be the only chance you get to impress her.”

Niall feigned indifference, though she caught the hint of a flush in his cheeks beneath the dimming light. “Well, if it’s to spare you from that sorry excuse of a stew, I s’pose I could lend a hand,” he said with mock reluctance, yet his steps quickened as they approached the small wooden door.

Inside, the house was simple and small, with a low ceiling that sloped slightly, forcing even YN to duck beneath the beams as she led him in. A narrow hearth crackled with a weak but steady fire, casting warm shadows across the modest room, which served as both kitchen and living space. The scent of herbs, drying in bunches along the walls, mingled with the faint tang of smoke from the hearth. A single table stood in the center, its edges worn smooth, surrounded by a handful of mismatched stools and chairs, each one slightly wobbly but bearing the marks of care and countless meals.

“Is that you, YN?” Her mother’s voice came from the corner, where she was bent over a pot, stirring with steady, practiced hands. She looked up with a gentle smile, her face flushed from the warmth of the fire. “And Niall too! Just in time. I was about to send Arthur to fetch you, but he’s off fiddlin’ with somethin’ in the corner.”

Ten-year-old Arthur looked up at the mention of his name, a wide grin splitting his face when he spotted the blonde. “Niall!” He called, scrambling to his feet and darting over, a wooden sword in hand. “You’ll stay for supper, won’t you?”

He placed the basket next to the older woman before he tousled the boy’s hair, giving a wink to YN. “That depends—will your sister cook, or will your ma have mercy on me?”

YN rolled her eyes as her mother chuckled, stirring the stew with a knowing look. “I'll make sure to keep it fit for eatin’. Now, why don’t you both make yourselves useful and set the table?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Niall replied with a quick bow, flashing his best charming smile, though his eyes lingered on the slender figure by the fire.

YN’s older sister, Ella, sat with her needlework in hand, her fingers nimble as she embroidered a delicate pattern into the edge of a linen cloth. She looked up as Niall approached, offering him a nod and a faint, polite smile, though a flicker of amusement danced in her eyes.

“Ella,” Niall greeted, taking the opportunity to lean a bit too casually against the edge of the table. “Now there’s a sight finer than any supper, if I may say.”

“Oh, you may say.” Ella sighed, her tone as mild as her smile. “But sayin’ doesn’t make it so, does it?” Her eyes sparkled with a touch of mischief, and she kept her gaze on her stitching as if he hadn’t said a word.

YN snorted, reaching past Niall to set the bowls on the table. “She’ll need more than empty flattery to be wooed, Niall. You’ll be talkin’ all night before she so much as bats an eye.”

“Empty flattery?” he echoed, feigning shock as he helped with the cups, placing them with exaggerated care. “This is pure honesty, YN. Your sister’s a vision, though I'm not sure she sees it herself.”

Ella finally looked up, one eyebrow arched. “Perhaps that’s ‘cause it’s hard to see with all the bluster in here. Is it flattery or just another of your tales, Ni?”

Arthur laughed as he climbed onto his chair, his wooden sword clattering to the floor. “Tell a tale, Niall!” He urged, his eyes bright.

He obliged with a grand sweep of his arm. “Ah, tales are easy to tell when the company’s fine.” His gaze drifted meaningfully to Ella, who only smirked, clearly unbothered.

“Enough of your foolishness, Horan.” YN’s mother cut in, though her tone was warm as she dished the stew into the bowls. “There'll be time for tales when your stomach’s full. Now, all of you—sit, before this stew turns cold.”

They settled around the table, the simple meal set before them steaming in the flickering firelight. YN ladled out servings, keeping her own expression solemn as she dished out the rather grayish stew. Niall took a tentative sip, raising his brows in mock surprise.

“Well, I'll be,” he declared, setting his bowl down as if astonished. “Tastes just like stew!”

YN kicked him under the table, rolling her eyes. “Don’t sound so shocked, else we’ll make you eat the scraps.”

Ella, watching them from across the table, hid a smile behind her hand. “It's better than you deserve,” she teased, offering Niall a faintly teasing look that sent Arthur into a fit of giggles.

As they settled into their meal, the conversation turned to the familiar rhythms of the day—the fish hauls, the scarcities at the market, the latest mischief Arthur had managed, and the townsfolk they’d seen along the way. Laughter bubbled up around the table, filling the small room with warmth as the stew slowly disappeared, their bowls clinking softly with each spoonful.

It wasn't until they’d nearly finished eating that YN’s mother’s voice turned low, a faint shadow crossing her face as she glanced at arthur. “Arthur,” she said gently, “I don't want to hear any more of you playin’ outside the town walls.”

The boy frowned, his spoon paused halfway to his mouth. “But ma, I’m careful,” he protested, glancing between her and YN as if hoping for support.

“She's right,” Ella added, her voice calm but firm. “The woods aren’t safe, especially with winter comin’ on.”

He looked to Niall, his face a mask of confusion and a bit of defiance. “Niall plays near the woods, don’t you?”

He shifted in his seat, his smile fading just slightly as he glanced at YN. “Aye, lad, but it’s different. I'm older, and I keep my wits about me. Besides,” he added lightly, though his voice held a trace of something darker, “there’s been talk of someone wanderin’ near the old watchtower.”

YN’s mother sighed, folding her hands on the table. “Too much talk.” She said quietly, her gaze drifting toward the narrow window. “I don’t care if s’only lore, you’ll be safe rather than sorry.”

A hush fell over the table, and Arthur's wide eyes darted from face to face. “Who is it, then?” He whispered, his voice trembling slightly. “A man?”

Ella reached over to ruffle his hair, her voice soft. “No one knows. could be a man, could be no more than shadows. But some say it’s best not to linger too close to it, just in case.”

Niall, watching Arthur's reaction, leaned in with a grin. “There now, it’s probably nothin’ more than a lonely ol’ fox. But best stick close to home, eh? Can’t have you disappearin’ on us.”

YN tried to keep her voice light as she chimed in, though she felt the faintest prickling unease beneath the laughter. “You heard him, Arthur. best keep to the town, else you might end up a story yourself.”

The boy’s eyes grew even wider, and he gulped, glancing nervously toward the window as if expecting to see the mysterious figure standing just beyond. He fidgeted, his hand reaching instinctively for his wooden sword on the floor beside him.

With a faint, tired sigh, YN’s mother rose and began clearing the table, signaling the end of the meal. The warm glow of the evening seemed to have dimmed, and even Niall’s usual cheer was muted as he helped gather the bowls, his gaze drifting back to the light flickering along the walls.

Outside, the wind picked up, brushing against the windows and rattling the latch ever so slightly, a whisper against the warmth of the firelight. The small house was silent for a long moment, each of them lost in thought, each glancing occasionally toward the dark window where the night gathered, close and watchful.

Morning seeped slowly into Dover, pale and cool, bringing with it the damp scent of the sea and the faint call of gulls overhead. YN was awake early, as was her habit, slipping quietly out of bed while the house still lingered in the soft dimness of dawn. The fire in the hearth had died to embers, and a chill clung to the air, but she moved quickly, tucking a shawl around her shoulders as she crossed the small room.

Arthur, already up and dressed, was tugging at the latch on the back door, eager to start his morning chores. He looked back when he heard her steps, his face lighting up with a grin. “Thought you’d sleep through it, lazybones.” He teased, though his eyes sparkled with mischief.

She snorted softly, pinching his cheek as she passed him. “Cheeky lad,” she muttered. “Come on, then. Let's get to it.”

They stepped out into the brisk morning, their breath puffing in the cold, and began making their way down the narrow stone path that wound through the small patch of yard behind their home. Frost clung to the grass, glinting in the pale light, and the chickens shuffled restlessly in their pen as Arthur went to check on them.

“Careful now.” 

He bent down next to them to scatter their feed. The hens fluffed their feathers, clucking contentedly as they pecked at the ground, and Arthur kept one eye on the rooster, who strutted about with his chest puffed, keeping watch over his domain.

“Look at him,” he whispered, stifling a laugh as he threw a handful of seed. “Thinks he’s king of all creation, that one.”

She grinned, crouching beside him. “Well, he’s a rooster. not much else to do but look important, is there?”

The boy giggled, tossing a bit of feed toward the rooster, who eyed him warily before puffing up even further. YN kept watch as he finished the feeding, carefully securing the pen’s latch when he was done.

They moved on to check the small patch of herbs and vegetables that clung to life in the early cold, though the frost had already done its damage. The leaves hung limp and dark, and YN  frowned, brushing a thin layer of frost from a withered cabbage leaf.

“S’not lookin’ good, is it?” Arthur said, his voice dropping to a murmur as he followed her gaze.

“No,” she replied softly, her fingers brushing over the leaves. “But we’ll manage. Always do.”

He gave her a solemn nod, but she could see the worry in his eyes, the way he seemed to glance toward the woods, as if he might glimpse the shadowed figure their mother had warned him about the night before. She reached over and squeezed his shoulder, offering a smile.

“No need for lookin’ so glum, Arthur,” she said, keeping her tone light. “We've plenty to keep us busy, and I'll wager you’ll see that rooster crowned king before anything happens to us.”

He managed a faint smile, his spirits lifting just enough to reassure her. They finished up quickly, making their way back inside, where the warmth of the house greeted them. YN set about preparing a quick meal for Arthur and her mother, who was just beginning to stir, her tired eyes softening at the sight of her children.

Once breakfast was sorted, YN returned to her small room to ready herself for the day. She tugged off her worn nightdress, slipping into the fresh linen undergarments she’d set aside, and carefully pulled on a plain woolen dress that hung neatly from a peg beside her bed. It was a simple dress, but a neat one, its modest collar and long sleeves making it suitable for the chilly weather. she straightened the fabric, adjusting the waist so that it lay just right, and wrapped her shawl back over her shoulders, pinning it at the front with an old, weathered brooch that had once belonged to her grandmother.

She caught her reflection in the small, scratched mirror by the window—a young woman with steady eyes and a hint of determination in her gaze, her hair braided behind her, a few strands slipping free to frame her face. After a moment, she tucked a few stray wisps behind her ear and gave herself a brisk nod, turning to head out.

The streets were beginning to stir as she made her way down to the docks, the early morning light casting a soft, muted glow over the cobblestone. A few shopkeepers were already sweeping their doorsteps, preparing for the day’s trade, and a handful of townsfolk passed by, nodding their greetings as she walked.

When she reached the docks, she found Niall already there, standing by his boat, his hands working quickly to secure the ropes. His coat hung loose over his shoulders, and his hair was tousled from the morning breeze, but there was a contented look in his eyes as he glanced up and saw her approach.

“Well, if it isn’t the queen of the cabbage patch,” he greeted her, a grin breaking across his face. “Come to see if I've hauled in a king’s feast for ye?”

YN rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she stopped a few feet away from him. “I wouldn't go that far. but I'll settle for a decent fish, if you’ve managed one.”

He laughed, giving the rope a final tug before stepping back, wiping his hands on his trousers. “Oh, a decent fish, she says. Well, lucky for you, I've got just that.” He reached into a small wooden crate and held up a plump haddock, its scales glinting in the early light. “Not a king’s ransom, but it’ll do for stew, won’t it?”

She eyed the fish, unable to suppress a smile. “Aye, it’ll do. Might even save us from havin’ to wrangle another cabbage.”

Niall chuckled, tucking the fish back into the crate. “Couldn’t have that, now, could we? I’m doin’ my part to keep your cookin’ passable.”

“Passable?” She laughed, nudging him lightly as she stepped up beside him to peer into the crate. “You’re just glad to have an excuse to come round, steal our bread, and charm my sister.”

He gave her a mock-offended look, though his eyes glinted with humor. “Now, that’s hurtful, YN. I'm here for the food and the fine company, naturally. If your sister happens to be nearby, well, that’s not my fault, is it?”

She rolled her eyes, unable to help the small laugh that escaped. “Poor Ella’ll need more than a fish to be impressed. Best not get your hopes up too high.”

“Aye, she’s a hard one to please,” he admitted, a faint, wistful smile crossing his face. “But I'll manage somehow. or at least, I'll keep tryin’.”

They both fell silent, their gazes drifting out over the water, where a thin mist clung to the surface, casting an eerie calm over the harbor. The other boats rocked gently in the quiet, and the gulls called out above them, their cries echoing faintly across the empty stretch of sea. Together they turned back toward the town, the mist curling softly around them as they walked, side by side, in the quiet of the morning.

The midday lull brought a hush over the town, as folk took their brief respite between the day’s labors. The soft light of afternoon slipped over the rooftops, and YN found herself winding her way down one of the quieter streets toward Maura’s, a modest little cottage that doubled as the gathering place for the women in town. Here, around a crowded table of mismatched cups and chipped saucers, town gossip simmered as steadily as the tea.

Maura's door was open, the sound of voices spilling out into the cobbled lane, and YN slipped in quietly, greeting the women with a polite nod before finding a seat near the end of the table. The familiar faces of neighbors turned to greet her—Maura herself, with her cheeks flushed from the warmth of the kitchen, mrs. Harris with her ever-watchful eyes, and a handful of others who paused only long enough to give YN a quick nod before returning to the subject that had clearly held their interest long before she arrived.

“I'm tellin’ you,” mrs. Harris was saying, her voice low and edged with certainty. “There's somethin’ in that tower. maybe it’s a spy, maybe it’s worse.”

Maura scoffed, shaking her head. “If it were a spy, we’d know by now, wouldn’t we? why bother lurkin’ about if there’s nothin’ worth seein’ here?”

“There’s plenty to see, Maura,” the older woman sighed, leaning forward, her teacup nearly sloshing over the rim as she gestured toward the window. “Who’s to say he hasn’t been watchin’ us all along, takin’ note of who’s loyal to the new king and who’s not?”

Maura snorted, but one of the other women, Anna, leaned in, her voice barely a whisper. “or worse—what if it’s no man at all?” Her gaze darted to the others, her eyes wide with a kind of fearful excitement. “There are tales, you know. Of things that wander the woods. Spirits that linger in dark places, things that only come out when the days grow short.”

Mrs. Harris crossed herself, nodding solemnly. “Aye. folk say it’s a night creature—a demon, even.“

YN listened quietly, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup, but she held back a smile. as the women exchanged anxious looks, she leaned back, sipping her tea, the warmth of it calming her nerves. To her, the stories felt like little more than old wives’ tales—a way for folk to pass the time when the days grew cold and bleak. A lonely man, perhaps, who’d taken to the tower for solitude, a soul with nowhere else to go. Nothing so sinister as the women here believed.

“You've a skeptical look about you, dear” Maura said, catching her eye with a wry smile. “Don’t tell me you’d walk up to that tower yourself, would you?”

She met her gaze calmly, setting her cup down. “I'd sooner believe it’s a wanderer, Maura. Maybe one who wants peace more than anything else. Don’t see why we should fear him.”

“Peace, or no peace, he’s still up there, watchin’ us all.”

YN didn’t reply, only nodded politely as the conversation swirled on, the voices around her swelling in speculation and rumor. After a while, she quietly rose, setting her cup aside and offering Maura a grateful nod before slipping out the door and into the fresh air.

The chatter of the women faded behind her, and she took a deep breath, the cool air filling her lungs and clearing her thoughts. She knew she was unlikely to shake their unease or convince them of her view, but as she thought of the lonely figure up in the tower, something tugged at her—a kind of curiosity that gnawed gently at the back of her mind.

Without a second thought, she made her way home, moving quickly and quietly, her mind already set. She slipped through the door, pausing only to grab her small woven basket from its hook. Her mother glanced up, but YN offered her a calm smile, murmuring something vague about a quick errand before supper.

IN the small corner of their kitchen where they kept their stores, she selected a handful of berries from the last of their foraging, a few slightly bruised carrots, and a small bunch of herbs tied with a thin scrap of cloth. Modest offerings, but enough, she hoped, to serve as a token of peace, a sign that she meant no harm.

She took a deep breath and headed toward the edge of town, her footsteps light as she made her way past the familiar lanes and toward the narrow path that led up to the old watchtower.

The path leading to the watchtower was narrow, winding its way up the hillside in gentle, uneven curves. YN had walked these woods many times before, though never with the purpose she had now. Above her, the sky was beginning to darken, clouds gathering in ominous clumps, casting long shadows across the land as the sun slipped lower.

Her heart thudded in her chest, not from fear, but from a strange mixture of curiosity and anticipation. The stories she’d heard that morning lingered in her mind like faint echoes, each warning a small reminder of the mystery ahead. But she felt something else too—a quiet resolve, an odd certainty that she had to see this figure, whoever he might be, with her own eyes.

The watchtower loomed before her, its crumbling stone walls climbing into the sky, weather-worn and scarred by time. She could see now why the townsfolk feared it; it looked like a relic from another era, half-hidden by the dense growth of ivy and the creeping fog that clung to the base of its walls. It was silent here, too silent, as if even the birds dared not sing in the shadow of the old tower.

Steeling herself, she moved forward, her footsteps muffled by the damp earth. The closer she got, the more the watchtower’s age showed itself in cracked stones and vines, a darkness that seemed to pool between the stones, deepening the gray of the twilight. At the base of the tower, a narrow door sat slightly ajar, barely wide enough for her to slip through. She paused there, glancing up, feeling an odd twinge of nervousness as her gaze drifted to the upper windows, dark and empty.

Drawing a deep breath, she pushed the door open, stepping into the dim interior.

The inside of the tower was colder, the air thick and still. Faint light seeped through cracks in the walls, just enough to reveal the sparse furnishings—a wooden table, books, a chair beside the hearth, long since gone cold. Dust motes hung in the air, catching the dim light like fragments of stars, and a faint, earthy smell lingered in the space, as though the room hadn’t seen another soul in years.

Yet something else lingered too, something that made the hair on the back of her neck prickle—a sense that she wasn’t alone.

A figure stepped forward from behind a wall, emerging so quietly she almost missed it. He was tall, with dark curls that tumbled around his face, shadows clinging to his features as though he belonged to the darkness itself. His eyes met hers, a piercing green that seemed to hold an entire century’s worth of secrets, and for a brief, unsettling moment, she felt as though he could see straight through her.

“What brings you here?” His voice was low, quiet, each word clipped and precise, yet holding a softness that surprised her.

YN swallowed, her hand instinctively tightening around the basket she held. “I–I thought you might be hungry,” she stammered, offering the basket forward with a hesitant smile. “Folk talk of you up here, you know. Thought it might be nice to see if you wanted some company.”

He raised a brow, a faint trace of amusement softening his gaze. He didn’t reach for the basket, but instead continued to watch her, as though trying to make sense of why she would come here, alone, to his solitary refuge.

Didn’t seem exactly the safest thing.

“People rarely visit me,” he said finally, his voice barely more than a murmur, as though he were speaking more to himself than to her. “Especially not with offerings.”

“Well, it’s no great feast,” she laughed breathily—nervous, setting the basket down on the table. “But it’s enough for a quiet meal.”

He looked down at the basket, his expression unreadable. The shadows seemed to deepen around him, and for a brief moment, she wondered if he would turn her away. But then his gaze shifted back to her, gentle, as though something in her gesture had reached him in a way she couldn’t quite understand.

“I don’t need much,” he breathed, finally stepping closer, his movements careful, almost tentative. “But thank you.”

The silence stretched between them as Harry’s eyes lingered on her, his regard tracing every movement of her face, the subtle rise and fall of her shoulders, the way her lips pressed together as if searching for words. He could feel it—her pulse thrumming in her neck, the warmth radiating from her skin, the soft, steady rhythm of blood rushing through her veins. It was maddening. The sound alone clawed at the quiet corners of his mind, stirring that old, cursed hunger he’d worked so hard to bury.

But he couldn’t let her see that. Couldn’t let even a flicker of it touch his face.

With a composed nod, he turned his attention to the basket, using the small action to steady himself, to pull his focus away from her and fix it on the modest offering she’d brought. Herbs and roots, earthy and clean, none of it touched by blood. He forced his breath to steady, aware of her watchful eyes on him as he sorted through the items, careful to keep his hands stable.

“Are you here… often?” She asked softly, breaking the silence in a voice that felt almost hesitant, as though unsure whether it was allowed. Her gaze darted around the room, taking in the sparse surroundings, the thick shadows that crept into every corner.

Harry let his fingers linger on a sprig of thyme, keeping his voice level as he answered. “Yes,” he confided simply, his tone giving nothing away. “I find it… peaceful.”

“Peaceful,” she echoed, a faint smile touching her lips as she looked back at him. “It doesn’t frighten you, being all alone up here?”

He allowed himself the smallest of smiles—him—frightened? How sweetly ironic. “Sometimes solitude is easier than the alternative.”

She studied him, and he could feel the weight of her eyes, searching for something beneath his answer. Her heartbeat quickened just a bit, a small, steady thump that seemed to reach straight through him, its warmth coiling like a spark inside his chest. He could almost taste it—the sweet, heady pull of her pulse.

But he forced the thought down, burying it beneath years of restraint. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, redirecting the focus onto her. “And what about you?” he asked, his tone soft but steady. “Doesn’t it frighten you to come all this way, alone?”

She gave a small laugh, shrugging one shoulder. “Maybe it should. But I suppose I don’t scare easily.” She paused, her gaze slipping to the narrow window where the trees outside swayed gently in the wind. “It’s quiet here, almost like a different world. Sometimes it feels like our town is shrinking, like it’s closing in. Out here, it’s–it’s freer.”

Harry’s gaze softened, though he said nothing. There was something in her words he understood, something that echoed faintly in his own memories of why he’d chosen this place—this forgotten, lonely tower—to escape. A life he could no longer live, a curse he couldn’t risk unleashing.

She looked back at him, curiosity bright in her eyes. “People say you’ve been here a long time—I mean, they say the tower’s been abandoned forever. But you don’t seem…” She trailed off, biting her lip as though she didn’t quite know how to finish.

“Don’t seem what?” he asked, his voice low, inviting her to continue.

She waited, and he watched her carotid flicker in her throat as she searched for her words. “You don’t seem like someone who belongs in a place like this,” she murmured. “Like you’ve got more in you than—than just seclusion.”

He felt a tug deep in his chest at her words, something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time—a faint longing, a half-forgotten ache for a life he’d once dreamed of. But that life was gone. He’d buried it the night he’d been turned, when the world as he knew it had collapsed into a semblance of hell.

“It’s strange,” he replied carefully, his eyes drifting toward the flickering shadows on the wall. The hunger gnawed at him, unrelenting, every second reminding him of how close he was to her. She was standing barely a foot away, her warmth filling the small space, her heartbeat a steady, maddening drumbeat that drew him closer, closer…

He straightened slightly, pulling himself back. “Solitude,” he said quietly, almost as if reminding himself, “sometimes feels simpler.”

She nodded slowly, but her eyes stayed on him, and he could see the spark of curiosity still there, unquenched. She was brave, this girl. Far braver than most. And something about that bravery—the quiet way she stood her ground in the face of shadows and rumors, in the presence of a stranger—intrigued him. She wasn’t running away. And a part of him, despite everything, wanted her to stay.

“Thank you,” he mumbled—almost a dismissal, gesturing to the basket, his voice softened with a touch of genuine gratitude. “Not many would bring gifts to a stranger. Especially not one so isolated.”

She smiled, her cheeks flushing faintly in the dim light. “Well, maybe I’ll bring something better next time,” she replied with a small laugh. “If you’d want that.”

He paused, her words lingering in the air between them. Next time. It felt dangerous, allowing the thought of it, letting her return. But as she looked at him, her smile warm and unguarded, he found himself nodding almost without thinking.

“Yes,” he murmured. “I’d like that.”

But even as he spoke, he felt the old thirst stir beneath his words, a dark reminder that she was flesh and blood, and he was anything but.

Harry watched her retreating figure until the last of her shadow disappeared down the winding path. The silence settled thick around him once more, yet it felt different now, charged with the lingering warmth of her presence. The faint echo of her heartbeat still pulsed in his mind, like a phantom drum that refused to fade. He drew in a slow, deliberate breath, pushing down the hunger that had clawed so violently to the surface, fighting a void that had nearly overpowered him the entire time she’d stood there.

He had always been a weak man for the living.

Turning back into the tower, he closed the door and leaned against it, his hand flexing as he grappled with that old, familiar agony, the ache that thrummed through his veins whenever he was near a human. After all these years, after countless nights spent mastering his restraint, he still struggled. The curse was unrelenting—an obstinate thirst that he could never truly silence, only suppress.

Memories rose in him unbidden, dark and sharp, clawing their way out of the places he kept them buried. He could still recall the crisp air of that autumn night in 1601, back when he was alive, when he’d believed his life was bound for something beautiful. He’d been a poet then, a young man enamored with language, eager to make something of himself. He’d had dreams of attending university, of pursuing a life dedicated to literature and ideas, a life where he could spend his days wrapped in thought and art.

But all of that had been shattered in a single night. He had been walking back from a small tavern in London, tipsy and laughing, still reciting lines of poetry in his head, the night air filling him with a light, exhilarating hope. He remembered it so clearly—the dimly lit street, the damp chill creeping into his coat, the rough hand that had seized him by the throat and dragged him into an alley. He’d thought it was a robber at first, maybe a cutthroat from the docks looking for a quick coin.

But then he’d seen his attacker’s face.

The man’s eyes were inhuman, glinting with a feral hunger, and his skin was pale, almost translucent in the moonlight. Harry had fought, struggling against the impossible strength of those arms, but it had been useless. The man had pinned him down with a brutal ease, baring his teeth—a flash of something razor-sharp, malevolent—before sinking them deep into Harry’s throat. The pain had been excruciating, and then everything had gone dark, his life draining away into a cold, endless void.

He hadn’t known what had happened to him for days afterward. He’d awoken alone, hidden in the dark recesses of a forgotten basement, his body shuddering with an unholy thirst that tore through him like wildfire. The transformation had left him a half-mad, hollow shell, consumed by an insatiable need he didn’t understand. He’d stumbled through the streets, eyes wild, hunting without even knowing what he was hunting for. And when he’d finally cornered a man in the dead of night, tearing into his throat with a frenzy he could barely comprehend, he’d learned what he had become.

The first months were a blur of blood and horror, a nightmare he hadn’t known how to escape. He had been controlled by an ache, a greed—enslaved by it, a wretched creature lost to bloodlust. He’d fought it as best he could, but each time he tried to resist, the thirst only grew stronger, until he was reduced to a brutal, savage need that erased everything else.

It had been a year later, in 1602, when he encountered another vampire. His name was Thomas, a wily, unrepentant creature who fed freely and without remorse. Thomas had found Harry alone and ravenous, nearly mad from weeks of starvation in an attempt to restrain himself. He’d taken Harry under his wing, teaching him how to survive in this new, cursed life, how to hunt, how to kill cleanly. But while Harry had been grateful for the guidance, he quickly saw that Thomas reveled in the whispers of the devil, that he viewed humanity as little more than prey. He was malignant. 

His own heart was too soft for such cruelty. He’d hated the feel of human flesh beneath his hands, the way his victims’ eyes widened in terror as he held them down, the way their life drained away in his grasp. He hadn’t wanted this life. But the need was too powerful, too all-consuming, and he had been too weak to fight it.

And then, in 1643, came the night that shattered him completely.

Her name had been Beatrice—a young woman from Manchester, one of the few souls who’d looked past his oddity, his quiet reserve, and seen something in him worth knowing. She’d been kind, curious, always showing up at his door with a warm smile, her laughter lighting up his otherwise bleak existence. For months, she’d been a balm to him, her presence a brief reprieve from the loneliness that gnawed at him. He’d been so careful around her, so painfully restrained, never allowing himself to get too close. But one night, after days of starvation, he had faltered. She’d come to visit him, concern etched on her face, her hand reaching out to touch his cheek.

And in that moment, he’d lost himself.

The memory of that night was burned into him like a scar, the scent of her blood, the warmth of it cascading from his lips and developing him whole— the sound of her heart slowing as he drank from her—all of it haunted him, even now, decades later. He had tried to pull away, tried to stop himself, but the hunger had overpowered him, consuming her life, taking everything she had. When he finally came to his senses, she lay cold and pale in his arms, her eyes staring up at him, empty and accusing.

After that, he’d fled, haunted by the horror of what he’d done, determined never to let it happen again. He’d hidden himself away in this tower, learning to feed from the animals that roamed the forest, forcing himself to endure the hunger rather than inflict his curse on another innocent soul. He would never again allow himself to feel that agony, that terrible loss.

And yet tonight, with her presence in his small, empty world, something had stirred in him, a strange, aching reminder of what it meant to be human, to crave connection, companionship. It was dangerous, foolish to even entertain such thoughts, yet he couldn’t deny the faint spark she had left behind.

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe slowly, steadying the wild, restless energy that surged in him. She couldn’t come back. He couldn’t risk it. He would have to find a way to make her think the tower was haunted, or evil—something to scare her off for good. Because he knew himself, knew that he was a creature of hunger, bound to a curse he couldn’t escape.

And if she returned—he wasn’t sure how long he could resist.

[buckets-and-trees]

hii i have a request this can be for Ransom or Andy

But imagine y/n and him are in an arranged marriage. y/n is doing everything she can for him to sign the divorce paper for examples smashing his cars, serving overly salty food, cutting his expensive clothes into pieces, disrespecting his workers, and spending his money on the most useful things (but if it ransom spending money at “low class” retail shops only bc I feel like he’ll hate that), etc.

instead of giving her a divorce, he just randomly starts acting like a romantic gentleman until the night ends he punishes her 🙊😈

I have to apologize for taking so long to answer this ask... and forgive me for not using all the inspo you dropped my way, but from the MOMENT I read this, I knew it was going to fuel something very specific for I'm Your Man Andy and his entrapped fiancé reader., and so I still needed to post it as an answer to this to give some credit where it's due. So even though it took months and months to get to here, this is the result.

Title: Don't Look Too Far

Characters/Pairings: soft!dark mafia Andy Barber x female!reader Word Count: 6.4k Summary: After jetting away with Andy for a week, you're back. The reality that this is going to be your life starts to settle in in very unsettling ways. And although Andy's taken so many liberties with you already, he finally crosses a line you didn't know was on the board.

Content/Warnings: violent behavior; spanking as punishment; emotional manipulation; explicit smut: nipple play, cock stroking, vaginal fingering, oral (female receiving), vaginal intercourse, unprotected sex; use of pet name (sweetheart), implied dacryphilia

Author Note: This is not a stand alone section! You can find the previous parts here.

Author Note 2: I've been sitting on this for a long time, and I'm excited to finally have it here to share with you. Some of you genuinely seem to love this awful Andy, and you'll like this chapter. Some of you kinda like him against your will and I think you'll like this chapter (cough @stargazingfangirl18 cough). Some of you loathe this man, and you might like at least a few things in this chapter (looking at @biteofcherry).

You are glad to get home from your whirlwind trip with Andy.

Everything had been stunning, luxurious, and beyond your wildest dreams in one of the places you’d been longing to go almost your entire life. Even Andy had been nearly wonderful and certainly subjected you to endless spoiling and copious amounts of exquisite sex.

He makes all of this so difficult.

The private jet touches down in the early afternoon, and Andy allows you to avoid him until dinner. One of the things he’d made clear was an expectation from day one was having dinner together. After dinner, he insists on taking you for a ride in his Aston Martin DBS 770 Ultimate Volante – not his only sports car in the gargantuan garage of his mansion, and not even the only Aston Martin. Though he gave you no choice in whether or not to join him, he doesn’t force conversation, merely lets you enjoy the scenic drive, occasionally holding your hand. Once home, he takes you to bed and gets you to scream out through two orgasms for him before he lets you rest in peace.

The next morning, you awake alone. Andy only invokes a little small talk in the kitchen, lets you know he’ll be taking a few meetings, places a kiss on the top of your head while you eat breakfast at the counter, and then leaves.

It is more room than you have been used to in the mornings, and you don’t question it. You are happy to have the Saturday to yourself.

Three days after Andy so decisively put his engagement ring on your finger, he put a black card in your wallet. Today you will break it in.

You start at a hair salon you have never been able to afford but that had been on the “essential” list of prenuptial rituals for some of the wealthiest brides you’d planned nuptials for. Having the long-standing relationship with the establishment to arrange appointments for your clients meant they were willing to fit you in last minute for the late morning.

You hold yourself back from doing anything drastic. You don’t want to give Andy the satisfaction of driving you to go for a new style. You leave more than a generous tip.

You get lunch at a small sandwich shop – one of your favorites. You choose a table with a view out one of the large windows. It’s nice to be in a familiar place, even with the presence of Shep watching out for the non-existent security threats.

After lunch, you ask Mark to drive you to the plant nursery you love.

You get everything you want, leaving no plant behind if it strikes your fancy. You buy lovely pots for all of them and never look at price tags. When you tap your card for the enormous bill, it’s with a self-satisfied smirk on your face.

Next you go to the nail salon. They are busy, as it’s Saturday afternoon, just as you knew they would be, but they say they can take you in an hour or less, and since you have no demands on your time, you’re more than fine waiting.

As it’s late summer, it really is too warm for the plants to stay in your car, so you insist on sending Mark home with the plants – you know better than to try to convince Shep to go with him. The man has made it clear he will not shirk his duty as the point man for the security Andy has assigned to you. He’s ever present, and you don’t give him a hard time – he’s only doing his job. Shep doesn’t like your suggestion, however, and instead calls someone from the house to come pick up your plants so neither of the men have to leave.

Once your pedicure and manicure are complete, you check your phone while you’re escorted to the SUV. Your mom has sent you a text.

MOM: Call me when you get a chance! I want to hear all about your trip!

You frown as you slide into the backseat.

How did she know?

Since being trapped and installed into the life of the mob boss, you’ve avoided getting together with any of your friends or family, phone calls, and any deep text conversations. It’s self-isolation, nothing mandated from Andy. But what would you tell them about your new circumstance? Forced into an engagement with a charming, handsome man who just happens to be a mobster with control issues you were sure you could never escape from? Not a subject you want to get anywhere close to.

You only hesitate for another moment before you hit the call button and place the phone to your ear as Mark starts your drive home.

“Hello, dear!” your mom’s voice is clear and full of excitement.

“Hi, Mom,” you reply, smiling despite yourself.

Your heart aches for the weeks it’s been since you two last spoke. You missed her voice. You’re close with both of your parents. Your job had kept you incredibly busy over the past five years, but you usually spoke with them at least once a week and made it out to their house in the suburbs once or twice a month.

“I got your text,” you say simply, not sure how else to begin.

“Yes!” she exclaims, her voice full of enthusiasm. “I want to hear everything about your trip! But first, we have to talk about Andy!”

She can’t see it, but your jaw drops. “Andy?”

“He made us promise not to say anything until after lunch today – and I’m sorry, it’s why I haven’t texted or called all week, I wasn’t sure I couldn’t NOT bring him up, but he told us everything! How you met–”

“Well, you know I planned that signature gala for him,” you interject, somehow needing to jump in to clarify that point.

“Of course, yes, but how he was so impressed by you but waited until the event was over before saying anything, how he couldn’t help moving so fast with you. When he reached out earlier this week to set up the lunch with your father and I, he said he wanted us to meet him without you there so that we could thoroughly vet him and judge for ourselves without worrying you, make up our own minds even though he was obviously hoping we would approve since you’re engaged, but he didn’t reveal that detail until today.”

“Oh,” your mind is racing. “Andy always seems to have something up his sleeve.”

She laughs. “I can only imagine! And things certainly developed quickly!”

“Yes…” your voice is thick with hesitancy, and you know you can’t hide it from her.

“But your father and I want you to know that while you don’t need our approval, you have it. We’re surprised, but we approve. He’s so clearly smitten with you, and we know you would never jump into an engagement like this unless you were sure. We trust you.”

You don’t know what to say.

“I would have told you and Dad about the engagement,” you say. You don’t know when you would have. You were still so freshly coming to terms with its reality and ramifications…

Now telling your parents about Andy is yet another thing he has stolen from you.

“We know! We were young once, too! I can only imagine how much that man must have swept you away!” she soothes and exclaims, her voice bright and beaming through the phone.

It makes your chest ache because if this had evolved without Andy’s constant control, it might have been like this, and you would have gushed and been giddy with your mom right now in this moment.

“Why don’t we get lunch tomorrow just the two of us?” you suggest, wanting nothing more than to talk to your mom, but desperately needing to get off the phone so you can regroup, clear your thoughts, and figure out what in the world you are going to be able and willing to tell her.

“I would love that! Where do you want to go?”

You quickly sort out details that you promise to confirm over text, say your goodbyes, and then you end the call. You set the phone on the seat, drop your head back, and shut your eyes, fighting back angry tears. You wouldn’t let them fall down your cheeks.

“Your mom sounds like a lovely woman,” Shep interrupts your thoughts.

The laugh that tumbles out of your mouth is short and underscores how ridiculous all of this is. “She is. She’s not perfect, but she’s the best and has the biggest heart,” you respond with a genuine smile.

“She passed it on to you,” he says, meeting your eyes briefly in the rear-view mirror.

“You two should probably meet her tomorrow,” you offer up.

“We look forward to it,” Mark chimes in.

That’s the end of the exchange, but it dawns on you that while these two men have been assigned to your personal security and transportation, and they’re work for Andy, they have been nothing but professional, and you can see now that while they’re not warm and soft, there is a degree of care from them that has developed or that you’re only now recognizing exists that does seem to go beyond being a paycheck for them. Mark is probably close to your age, and you would guess Shep is eight or ten years older. Both men wear wedding bands on their left hands.

Having to have them assigned to you, you’re grateful it’s these two seemingly good men.

You’re sure there could be much worse.

You’re quiet the rest of the ride home, but your mind doesn’t stop racing.

“Would you like to get out at the front of the house or in the garage, ma’am?” Mark asks as you near the house. He always asks because the house is so large it makes a difference.

The corner of your mouth lifts as you decide, “The garage, please.”

The garage is a drive in basement level on the southeast corner of the house and holds two dozen cars, including the black Range Rover designated for you. You wonder if you’d ever be allowed to drive a car of your own again.

More aware now of the men, you notice there is a degree of ease that settles particularly over Shep now that you’re safe in the house again. You wonder if that’s always been the norm or if there’s a higher threat potential than usual. The shift does clue you into the reality that Andy is involved in more dangerous things than you thought. Instigator or target, you don’t know which he is, but regardless he’s swimming in dangerous waters, and you’re tied to his fate now.

This is your life.

Would you have chosen it?

Would you have?

A month ago, before the gala, you had genuinely been taken with him, even thought of him as you went to bed, alone, a hand on your breast and a toy between your legs and imagined what it would be like to have him there dealing out your pleasure instead. You hadn’t thought any serious interest being reciprocated from even the faintest possibility.

You had been so wrong.

And he’s dealt more pleasure than you had ever experienced.

More pain as well.

He was mindful of your physical limits, even if he rode them mercilessly.

He failed to comprehend the gravity of the rest of the pain he caused.

And today he reached a limit you hadn’t been expecting.

You slide out of the backseat when Shep opens your door, and instead of heading for the staircase in the corner, you move to the south wall of the garage and start opening cabinets. Shep tracks your movements but gives you space.

In the second set, you find Andy’s golf clubs.

Perfect.

You test a few of the drivers, and when you’re satisfied you’ve got the heaviest in your hands, you pull it clean out of the bag and make your way directly to the car you’ve noticed Andy favors most.

His silver Aston Martin DBS 770 Ultimate Volante.

The very car he drove you around in last night.

You hold nothing back in your swings, cracking the glass with your second hit. The third doesn’t do much more damage, so you move to the metal body, and here’s where you see you will get at least some of your satisfaction, easier to create dents in the metal than breaking the windshield. You do manage to smash one of the windows. Then you round on the next car.

Neither Mark nor Shep move to stop you, but you do see Shep is on the phone briefly.

You guess that you won’t be alone for long, so you move to a third car. Andy arrives as you lay into the fourth car. You look over at him with apprehension, unsure of what his next move will be. He meets your gaze, surveys the damage you’ve done so far, looks back at you, and then takes up position leaning against the Range Rover.

You grit your teeth, then raise the club over your head and bring it down with a battle cry over the hood of the silver Porsche 911 Turbo. A fifth car bears the fire of your rage, and mid-swing on the sixth is when a someone finally grabs the other end of the iron. You scream in fury and turn to face Andy, who’s looming over you, his blue eyes dark, stormy, and his mouth a thin line.

You yank against the club, but his grip is firm. You don’t let go though, still trying to wrest it from his hands, eyes locked on his, and he uses the rod to pull you closer to him, nearly chest to heaving chest (yours, not his).

“That’s enough, sweetheart.” His fingers work yours away from the metal rod, and he clasps one of your hands in his to keep you close while - eyes on you - he tosses the club to Shep, who catches it easily.

You huff and try to pull your hand away, but he interlocks your fingers and then starts to lead you away and up the stairs. Not wanting to allow him seeing any petulance from you, you comply and follow him in silence. Adrenaline starting to taper off, you feel exhaustion seeping into your limbs, and part of you wonders if Andy knew you were reaching the end of your strength and stopped you before you would have lost steam on your own. Your stomach seethes.

Once on the main floor, you fall in step with him, not needing the staff to see anything that will make them talk. Some of them may be oblivious to why you’re here, but you know there are those who are aware at different levels that you aren’t here as the other half of a fairytale.

Your destination turns out to be the family dining room, not the formal one.

Dinner, of course.

He pulls your chair out for you, tucking it politely as you sit, and then takes his place across from you.

Sometimes you and Andy talk over dinner.

Tonight is not one of those nights.

If he’s going to be silent about today, say nothing more about your vandalism on arriving home, then you certainly are not going to stoke conversation. His eyes are on you frequently, but you ignore him.

Halfway through dinner and after taking a sip of wine, Andy finally says, “Your hair looks nice.”

You scoff. “As if you really noticed. Your men told you where we were.” You know it’s hardly changed.

Andy set his fork down. “Look at me,” he demands, tone serious, and so you comply. “They’re your men, and don’t make the mistake of thinking I will ever fail to notice a detail, especially when it comes to my wife.”

Your heart skips a beat - part fear, but part some flare in your heart that you hate reacting to his words. You raise your chin in defiance. “I’m not your wife.”

“Yet.”

Threat and promise.

As if the exquisite engagement ring whose heavy weight you were growing so used to weren’t a constant reminder.

Rather than think further on that, for the rest of the meal you consider his correction that Shep and Mark are your men when you’d said they were his. It was an interesting distinction, and you would put feelers out to ask about it later - not Andy, but maybe with the men.

When dinner is over, Andy stands and reaches for your hand. He always does. It’s unsettling because if only you had ever had a choice, the gesture would be endearing. A few nights over this month that you’ve been his, he kissed the back of your hand and left to attend to business. Some nights, he wanted to watch something with you before bedtime, or go on a drive like last night. Most often he takes you to the bedroom.

It’s the latter tonight.

You walk silently to the master suite together. Every muscle in your body is taught with tension, with the simmering rage and hurt of the day seething through your veins.

Andy closes the door and turns to face you.

“Do you want to tell me why you’re so upset before or after your punishment?”

“My - what?!” You glower and put your hands on your hips. “Why am I being punished? You let me smash two more cars before you even stopped me.”

“It’s not about the cars, it’s your refusal to talk to me about something that clearly has you worked up.”

“Worked up?” Your eyes widen and then narrow. “I’m not worked up, Andy, I’m infuriated.”

“Then tell me what crime I’ve committed.”

You scoff and turn away.

He catches you before you’ve taken two steps, gripping your upper arm. He hauls you toward the bed, takes a seat on the end of the mattress, and then lays you down over his lap. He takes both your wrists in his left hand and holds them firmly while his right hand pulls your pants down.

All of it happens so swiftly that you can’t even fight him, but you cry out when the first, harsh slap hits your bare ass. The sting is sharp and shocking. The second comes quickly after. You try to shake out of his hold, but he growls your name, tightens his grip, and the third slap comes even harder.

Four. Five. He kneads the flesh of your ass between some of the smacks. Eight. Fifteen. Twenty. Somewhere in the middle, the smacks morph into a swirl of simultaneous pain and numbness – a mirror of how you feel. You’re sobbing once he finally stops, body sagging in defeat over his lap. He lifts you carefully and lays you stomach down on the bed. You fold your arms and hide your face into the frame of them to cry and settle into softer cries, and Andy lets you have the moment of privacy.

It’s not long before you register Andy’s return though, his weight sinking onto the bed next to you. Then his hand is on your tender backside, applying a cold cream to your skin, and the relief makes you let out a shuddering sigh. He works it over you slowly, gently, methodically. By the time Andy’s finished, so are your tears. You’re still full of emotions, but they’re a swirling, complicated mess. You feel like the frustration has been spanked out of you, but you’re still hurt and angry, but now you’re also confused by this tender act. This only extends when he urges you to roll over, and sit up, and he kisses your forehead. You look up at him dolefully, he wipes away the remaining tracks of your tears. He’s shed his clothes from the day and is now bare-chested and in a pair of navy silk pajama bottoms. He proceeds to gently help you take off your shirt, your bra, and then slips you into a silk robe he’s brought from the closet.

Then Andy stands, scoops you up into his arms, and heads to the balcony of your master suite. He settles down onto the loveseat and arranges you in his lap so you’re sitting sideways over him, and he wraps his arm around you. It’s more of the confusing closeness, physical intimacy that you crave but can’t give into with him. It’s the first time you’ve been out here, and it affords a beautiful view of the darkening sky. Yet another thing you would have yearned for but don’t want like this.

“Are you ready to talk?”

“I don’t even know where to begin,” you say honestly.

He puts his hand under your chin and tilts your head up to look at him. “I’ll listen to anything you have to say.”

“But will you hear me?” You ask and turn your head away and out of his hand.

He smoothes his thumb over your jaw but - to your surprise - doesn’t force you to look at him as he had before. Instead he lets his hand drop and brings it around your waist so he’s got both arms banded around you again.

“You’ve taken so much from me, Andy. You’ve made it abundantly clear that I have no way out of this, but it’s been mounting and it came to a peak today. I had a day to myself, but I couldn’t bring myself to spend it with my friends or my parents because I can’t tell them about us! I haven’t spoken or texted any of them on more than a surface level since this all began. And I haven’t gone back to work yet, but I want to work, I need to work, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell them either!”

He is quiet for a moment. And then, “I knew you hadn’t told anyone, but why do you think you can’t tell them about us?”

“What am I supposed to say?” You scoff. “I can’t tell them that you threatened me with blackmail and forced me into our engagement!”

“No,” he agrees, “You can’t tell them that.”

“So, what am I supposed to tell them?”

“That you fell for my charms, that I surprised you when I declared my intentions and by how serious I was, that I made it almost impossible for you to refuse me. It’s enough of the truth.”

You frown and scrutinize his face. “Enough of the truth,” you repeat, the words tasting bitter in your mouth. “Is that how you always live your life?”

 He lifts his chin, a flash of hardness in his eyes. “I’ve done what I needed to.”

“You didn’t need to go behind my back to meet my parents!” You blurt, the hurt in your voice bleeding out despite trying to keep it in, to keep it away from him, not wanting to share something so personal.

“I want to have a good relationship with my in-laws. My mother’s dead and my father was sentenced to life in prison when I was a kid.”

“But they’re my parents,” you stress. “I should have been able to be the ones to tell them about getting married. You stole that from me.”

Andy studies your face quietly.

You drop your gaze. You won’t tell him why stealing this moment – more than anything else he’s done – was your breaking point. You doubt he would care or understand, but he also doesn’t get to know something so personal. He hasn’t earned that right.

“You love them,” he finally says.

You nod. “We’re very close.”

He falls silent again.

Finally, you give an exhausted sigh. “Why did you have to do this to us?”

“I wanted you.”

“I wanted you, too. You should have let us fall into it.”

“Fall now.”

“I can’t,” you protest, and you look up to argue further, but he’s faster, cutting you off with a kiss.

His lips are demanding, and the heat he pours into the kiss seeps into the cracks he’s been chipping away inside you, and your traitorous body leans into the moment. You’re exhausted physically and emotionally.

You don’t know how you can ever let yourself fall for him.

But as his hands soothe up and down your back, you wonder if you have to deny yourself everything for the rest of your life?

What if you fell into him for one night? Allowed yourself to let go, to forget for just a few hours? You are so tired. And your body aches. And after so much hurt, betrayal, and anger running high through your veins for so many hours now, after the shock and release from being put over his knee, maybe you just want to forget and get lost in pleasure.

Pleasure you know he was far too capable of giving.

Not only capable of giving, but master of overwhelming you with it.

After he’s stolen so much from you these last weeks, maybe you want and need to steal a night of ecstasy without any thoughts.

You shift on his lap, his arms still around you, until you’re straddling his lap. You leverage his broad shoulders to push yourself up on your knees, and you look down at him. You can’t read everything in his dark blue stormy eyes yet, but you can interpret some of what’s there. He’s intrigued and you can see the spark of hunger flaring, but there’s something else you can’t quite read.

But that doesn’t matter right now.

He doesn’t pull you in closer, but his arms hold you steady in your kneeling stance. You reach for the tie of your silk robe, and you slowly pull it loose.

“Tonight is not for you,” your voice is low, quiet, but not soft, “it’s for me.”

His eyes narrow a fraction, but as you shrug the silky garment off your shoulders, he helps let the robe fall free to the ground.

Andy’s eyes rake over your naked form, drinking in every curve and dip of your body. His hands glide up your sides, rough palms contrasting with the softness of your flesh. You shiver despite the warmth of the evening air.

You place your hands on his chest, feeling the solid muscles there. Your fingers trace the lines down to his abdomen, following the trail of dark hair that disappears beneath his waistband. You can feel the evidence of his arousal, and he groans, gripping your hips tightly, and you squeeze his length - big as the rest of him - the cock that has ruined you.

He leans in and his lips burn a trail down your neck, over your chest and find one of your breasts, nipping on the swell before licking at your aereola and taking it into his mouth. Your fingers rake into his hair, and he sucks insistently until your nipple is almost painfully hard. He releases it with a pop, then moves to give equal treatment to your other breast. You press your needy cunt down against his groin, keening for him.

You grind against him, and he can’t help but groan. In one fluid motion, he stands, lifting you with him. Your legs wrap tightly around his waist instinctively as he carries you back into the bedroom. He lays you down on the bed with surprising gentleness. He takes less than a second to push his pajama bottoms down and off before he joins you on the bed, his body covering yours.

His weight presses you into the mattress. You feel every inch of his hard body against yours, and you arch up, desperate for more contact. Andy's hand slides between your bodies, finding your slick folds. He groans when he feels how wet you are for him.

"Always so ready for me," he murmurs against your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there.

You whimper as his fingers tease your entrance, circling but not entering. You buck your hips, trying to force him inside, but he pulls back with a dark chuckle.

"Patience, sweetheart," he admonishes.

But patience isn't what you want tonight. You want to lose yourself in sensation, to forget everything but the pleasure he can give you. You reach down and grasp his thick length, guiding him to your entrance.

He forces your hand away with a tsk, and you glare at him, but he is grinning, moving down your body already. He kisses the sensitive spot on your lower stomach, the one he discovered that always makes you gasp and arch your back for him. His shoulders force your legs open to accommodate his frame as he plants himself between your thighs.

Andy's mouth descends on your core, his tongue laving your sensitive folds. You arch into him, a moan escaping your lips. His beard scratches deliciously against your inner thighs as he works you over with his skilled tongue. He alternates between broad strokes and focused attention on your clit, building your pleasure steadily.

Your hands fist in his hair, holding him against you as you rock your hips. The coil of tension in your belly winds tighter and tighter. Just as you're about to topple over the edge, Andy pulls back, denying you release.

“Andy, please,” you beg.

Andy's breath ghosts over your sensitive flesh, making you shiver and whine. He places a soft kiss on your inner thigh, then another, slowly working his way back towards your center. You squirm, desperate for more contact, but his strong hands hold your hips firmly in place.

He chuckles, the vibrations sending sparks of pleasure through you. "I thought this night was for you," he teases, his beard scraping deliciously against your thigh. "Let me take care of you."

Before you can protest, his tongue laves a long, slow stroke up your slit. You cry out, your back arching off the bed. He repeats the motion, this time circling your clit with the tip of his tongue.

Your hands fist in the sheets as Andy's talented mouth works you over. He alternates between long, languid strokes and quick flicks of his tongue, never letting you settle into a rhythm. Just when you think you can't take anymore, he slides two thick fingers inside you, curling them to hit that spot that he knows makes you see stars.

"Oh god, Andy!" you cry out, your hips bucking against his face.

He hums against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. His fingers pump in and out, matching the pace of his tongue on your clit. The dual sensations are overwhelming, and you feel yourself hurtling towards the edge.

"That's it, sweetheart," Andy murmurs against your flesh. "Let go for me."

His words are your undoing. Your orgasm crashes over you in waves, your body arching off the bed as pleasure overwhelms you. But he’s anything but finished.

Andy doesn't let up, his mouth and fingers working you through your orgasm and pushing you towards another peak. Your body trembles, oversensitive but craving more. You tug at his hair, torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away.

"Too much," you gasp, but he ignores your weak protest.

He adds a third finger, stretching you deliciously as he continues to lap at your swollen clit. The intensity builds rapidly, and before you can catch your breath, you're tumbling over the edge again. This time, Andy pulls away, allowing you a moment to recover.

He kisses his way up your body, pausing to nip roughly at your collarbone. When he reaches your mouth, he kisses you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You moan into the kiss, your hands roaming over his broad back.

Andy positions himself between your thighs. You reach between your bodies and guide him to your entrance. You need him inside of you. He pushes in slowly, stretching you deliciously, filling you completely. You both groan as he slides in to the hilt, and you throw your head back. He stills there, kisses along your jaw, then gives a soft rock of his hips, rutting against you, but not thrusting.

“Move,” you plead, wrapping your legs around his waist to urge him on.

Andy leans down and claims your lips again, demanding the intimate kiss as his price, his tongue licking into your mouth to tangle with yours. He then sets a steady rhythm that has you moaning with each thrust. You buck your hips to draw him in with each stroke. The room fills with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and your mingled moans of pleasure.

You drag your nails down his back, leaving red trails in their wake. He hisses, then retaliates by biting down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder. The sharp pain mixed with pleasure makes you cry out.

"Harder," you demand, needing more, needing to lose yourself completely.

Andy growls, his grip on your hips tightening as he complies with your demand. He pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in, the force of his thrust pushing you up the bed. You cry out in pleasure, your nails digging into his shoulders. He sets a punishing pace, each thrust driving you closer to the edge.

The headboard bangs against the wall with the force of his movements. Your walls clench around him, drawing a guttural groan from his throat.

"That's it, sweetheart," Andy grunts, his voice rough with exertion. "Take what you need from me."

You're climbing higher and higher, chasing that blissful peak. Andy snakes a hand between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit. He rubs tight circles over the sensitive bud, and it's too much.

You shatter, screaming his name as waves of pleasure crash over you. Your body convulses, clenching rhythmically around him. Andy fucks you through it, prolonging your orgasm until you're a trembling mess beneath him as he chases his own release.

It takes a few more strokes, and then he’s spilling his hot seed inside of you, groaning against your neck. He collapses his weight onto you for a few moments, catching his breath. Your hands roam over his back. If you had been given the chance to choose him, to choose this life, wrapped in his arms right now you would have felt blissfully content, and so since tonight was a pass on reality, you let a satisfied sigh fall from your lips.

Andy’s lips find yours again, and you kiss until you feel floaty and boneless beneath him, head empty of all thoughts.

When the fervency of the kisses finally slows into a languid calm, Andy finally rolls off of you. He reaches for the switch to turn off the soft lights that had been on, then settles on his side, facing you. He traces lazy patterns over your form with his fingers, and you close your eyes and simply feel.

You didn’t know you had fallen into sleep except that the motion of Andy pulling you into his chest so he can spoon up behind you pulls you back into consciousness. He chuckles softly at your little mewl, and then pulls you a little closer to his warm chest and plants a kiss on your neck, just below your ear. You settle against him without complaint.

You’re exhausted, and you don’t know where he finds the resilience, but his hand snakes down to cup your cunt again, and you hum as he begins to work your clit. You have no strength left in you, but if you don’t have to work for it and Andy’s going to give it to you, you’ve learned under his hand that he always knows how to coax out one more climax from you when you think you’re already spent.

Your breath speeds up again, and you can feel the promise of pleasure pulling at your muscles, tightening them for one final release.

As he works you quickly up to that point, he speaks directly into your ear. “You said tonight was for you, not for me. It’s the lie you needed to tell yourself to let go, and that’s fine, but know that your pleasure is always pleasure for me.”

And so unfairly, your body comes for him right then, exactly as he wants you to, and you cry out before going even more limp in his arms. He presses another kiss on your neck, and you can feel his satisfied smile against your skin. You desperately wish you could break out of his arms and roll away from him, but you do not have even an ounce of strength left, and so you simply let the exhaustion overtake you and escape from him in sleep.

You’re vaguely aware of how close Andy keeps you all night. Since he typically does, it’s a surprise when you wake to an empty bed. There is only a vague suggestion of sunlight beginning to come in the windows, so you know it’s still incredibly early. The sheet is down around your waist, and you splay your arm out to where Andy should have been. The bed isn’t cold, but there’s only a hint of warmth, so you know he’s been up for a while.

As if unnervingly on cue, Andy comes in from the ensuite bathroom and hums at seeing you awake. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

He strides right up to the edge of the bed, leans down, and plants a kiss on your cheek, then rubs his hand softly over your jaw.

“Morning,” you respond.

You hate how lovely this scene should be. Your heart wants it, but your brain reminds you not to accept this contrived intimacy he pretends is real and normal.

He crosses the room and retrieves his phone, starts to put on his watch, the finishing touches before he embarks on his day.

“You can sleep in,” he says softly.

“Why are you up so early? It’s Sunday.”

“Early tee time at the country club,” he answers.

You make a vague sound of acknowledgement and pull the sheet and duvet back up to burrow in for a lazy morning of more sleep and maybe some reading.

“Enjoy lunch with your mom, by the way,” he says at the door. “I’m teeing off with your father, so I’ll persuade him to have lunch with me to give you two time as just mother and daughter.”

You suck in a sharp breath and he departs, dropping this revelation, and leaving you to seethe at his making yet another bold move, seeping steadily further into the foundations of your life.

SO

YEAH

Still with me here?

Even though I figured out the plot point for this chapter a while back, when I wrote it, I had to take a break a few times because I was upset over how some things were playing out.

I was also surprised by some of the development with her security detail of Mark and Shep. I randomly made them up really quickly during Prepare for Takeoff, but then here I learned they were going to end up being even more important than I thought (including something key for two specific future plot points).

next part: Burned Off the Haze

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[cece693]

Can you do jasper hale x top male reader

Bratty (Jasper Hale x Top M! Reader)

Thanks for the request. Since it didn't have anything other than a top male reader, I took creative liberties and made Jasper a bratty king :) I didn't feel like writing smut, so apologies in advance, but some elements show reader being the dominant of the relationship :)

tags: bratty jasper, no smut but mentions of it, reader is pissed off

It had otherwise been a normal day—well, at least by vampire standards. You were outside, feeding on some wildlife, a young buck that had the misfortune of crossing your path while Jasper was inside the school. He’d been distant lately, opting to spend time away from you. Normally, this would’ve been fine; you weren’t exactly the clingy type. But lately, he’d been acting strange. Concerning, even. Jasper was usually stoic, his cold demeanor softening only when he was with you. Yet, these last few days, he’d been unusually…smiley.

Even the humans had noticed his sudden change in attitude, daring to encroach on what was rightfully yours. And worst of all? He let them. Hell, he smiled at them. It was as if he were inviting their attention, practically basking in it. He even started letting Alice pick out his clothes, something he never cared about before. It was like overnight, Jasper had turned into someone you barely recognized.

You had tried to brush it off, to ignore the gnawing feeling of jealousy and worry that clawed at you. But today, it got too much. Seeing him flash that grin at some brainless mortal girl in the hall had sent you over the edge. In a fit of rage, you stormed out of school, needing to get as far away as possible before you did something regrettable.

This brings you to the present moment: draining the blood of the unfortunate buck, trying to drown out your frustration with the taste of copper on your tongue. You didn’t expect Jasper to appear behind you, casually leaning against a tree, his lips curled into that smug smile that drove you mad.

"You stormed out in quite a hurry," he drawled, arms crossed as if he hadn’t just ignored you for days. "Jealous, are we?"

You wiped the blood from your mouth, narrowing your eyes at him. "What do you think?" you snapped, not in the mood for his playful tone.

Jasper shrugged, unbothered. "I think you’ve been overreacting. Alice said the same thing."

"Oh, Alice said that? Well, that just makes everything better," you shot back, sarcasm thick. "You’ve been acting like I don’t even exist, Jasper. Smiling at humans? Letting them flirt with you? Do you enjoy watching me lose my mind?"

He smirked, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement. "It’s kind of cute, actually."

You glared at him, fists clenching. "Cute? You think this is a game?"

His grin only widened, and he stepped closer. "Maybe. Or maybe I just like seeing how far I can push you before you snap."

For a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your emotions a chaotic mess of anger, jealousy, and possessiveness. Jasper had always been difficult, but this was new. You weren’t sure if you wanted to strangle him or kiss him senselessly.

"Fine," you said, your voice dangerously calm. "If you want to parade yourself around, don’t let me stop you."

Jasper’s smirk wavered, just for a moment, a flicker of something like surprise crossing his face. But it quickly vanished, and the smirk returned in full force. He nodded, his eyes gleaming with a self-assured smile. "Good. I knew you’d see it my way."

Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked away, not bothering to look back. You could feel Jasper’s eyes on you, but you didn’t slow down. Back at school, you entered the cafeteria and deliberately avoided the table where your family sat, heading straight for Bella and her friends instead. "Hello." You greeted politely, "mind if I sit here?"

"No!" Rebecca quickly exclaimed, pulling out the chair beside her. It was entertaining watching her try to impress you—Rebecca was beautiful in an obvious way, blonde with striking green eyes, and her slight resemblance to Jasper made it almost too easy to flirt. Bella was confused by your sudden appearance, but looking behind her explained everything. The Cullens were still, but their shoulders shook in silent laughter, as Jasper evidently fumed in his seat. Eyes narrowed and lips drawn in a tight line as he watched you and Rebecca flirt.

"You know, I’ve always thought you had the most beautiful eyes." you said, flashing her a charming smile. The compliment made her blush, and she laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Your smile widened, hearing the obvious sound of wood breaking. You spent the remainder of lunch interacting with Rebecca, acting oblivious to the eyes burning a hole in your back. Wanting to push your beloved further (because he ignored you for days) when the bell rang, you offered Rebecca to walk her to class. An action that you solely reserved for Jasper. Well did.

By the time the school day ended, Jasper was furious. During the ride home, he made it a point of giving you the silent treatment, not even answering questions concerning you from your siblings. He didn't look at you, and you were sure he was also thinking badly of you, judging by Edward's soft chuckles.

Once you got home, you headed straight to your bedroom. Jasper followed, closing the door behind him with a little too much force. "What’s wrong, babe?"

Jasper’s eyes narrowed at your mocking tone, his arms defiantly crossed over his chest as he leaned back against the door. He looked at you like you’d just asked the stupidest question in the world, his lips curling into an irritated pout. "What’s wrong, babe?" he mimicked, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he threw your words back at you.

"Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s the fact that you spent lunch flirting with Rebecca like it was your new favorite pastime, calling her eyes beautiful and letting her practically crawl into your lap. Seriously? You looked like you were one second away from asking her to the prom."

"I'm pretty sure she's already going with Jason—"

“Not the point,” Jasper hissed, his frustration evident. “I never allowed them to touch me. I didn’t encourage them to twirl their goddamn hair and giggle every minute. And I sure as hell didn’t walk them to class.”

“What’s your problem, Jasper?” you shot back, your anger bubbling to the surface. “It’s not like this came out of nowhere! You were the one who started paying attention to those humans, letting them flirt with you even when I was right next to you. And don’t get me started on how you’ve ignored me these past days, opting to spend time with Alice or Emmett, of all people!”

“Oh, so now it’s my fault?! Me wanting to get my husband’s attention is a crime?!”

"That's the reason for your bratty attitude?!" you exclaimed, disbelief thick in your voice. “You thought acting like a complete jerk would somehow get me to notice you?”

Jasper shrugged, a pout forming on his lips. “What else was I supposed to do? You’ve been so distant! We haven’t had sex since last week! Do you know how long that is for me? I thought maybe if I made a scene, you’d realize you actually want me.”

You stared at him, your mouth slightly agape. “You could have just talked to me about it!”

“Talking hasn’t exactly worked out for me,” he snapped. “Every time I try to bring it up, you act like I’m being dramatic. Well, guess what? I am dramatic! I’m a vampire, and I have needs!”

Despite your irritation, you felt the heat of your anger cooling, replaced by that familiar, annoying fondness you had for his childish antics. It was hard to stay mad when the root of his pettiness was so disarmingly sweet. “Admit it, Jasper. You were just being petty because you missed me.”

Jasper opened his mouth to retort, but before he could say another word, you grabbed him by the collar and pulled him into a fierce, searing kiss. His initial surprise melted into fervent eagerness, and he clung to you like you were the very blood he needed to survive. The tension between you dissipated—your fingers tangled in his golden hair as you deepened the kiss.

When you finally pulled away, you smiled down at Jasper—his eyes wide, pout replaced with an adoring smile that sent a rush of satisfaction through you. “If you want my attention,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing, “ask for it nicely, like a good boy.”

Jasper bit his lip, his cocky bravado entirely undone as he nodded, eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and submission. “Yes, sir. I’ll be good.” With that, you knew he’d be on his best behavior...for now.

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

࣪ ˖✧ Sweet Coffee

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Summary: The morning after Sean's return party, a sheepish Arthur faces the consequences of his drinking excess. ✦ Warnings: None, this is as fluffy as the first part. ✦ Words: 3,9k ✦ a/n: This is a sequel of this one shot! Please, read it before this one :) Also, I've taken the liberty to write this as if Arthur still had Boadicea, to me it was the best way to make him have a canon horse. Gonna think about a better solution in the future.

You opened your eyes, slowly. The ceiling of your tent was turning a bit, your heart feeling like it was on the verge of leaking out of your chest. It was as if your bed was a boat, pitching with the winds and the waves; you had to prevent yourself from throwing up, a spinning sensation making your guts feel rancid.

Water. Coffee. Breakfast.

You thought to yourself while stretching in your cot, every fiber of muscles in your body feeling worn. Your brain was mushy, unable to form any complex reflection, your forehead hurting, your mouth dry. The consequence of every party; the goddamn hangover.

Water. Coffee. Breakfast.

You slowly sat at the edge of your bed, taking the time to move your tired members, realizing your throat was extremely sore. You probably sang a little too much last night. You get up and walk to the little cleaning area of your tent which consisted of only a simple table topped with a little mirror, a bucket of water, and a solitary towel. Nothing fancy, but at least you had your own tent, which was already a grand luxury at camp.

Water. Coffee. Breakfast.

You take long sips of water from the bucket before cleaning up your face, looking at it in the mirror. Of course, under your eyes, big shady circles, sickles of violet darkness under the sharp radiance of your pupils. It was part of the whole hangover package. You quickly fixed your hair and put on some fresh clothes, mindlessly.

Coffee, breakfast, Arthur.

Wait, what? You thought you were going on with your morning routine thoughtlessly, but here he was. Always following you, a shadow in the back of your mind; his stupid smile like imprinted on the obscure abyss of your psyche, shining, blazing, magnificent. Haunting.

You were thinking about him very often lately, maybe too often, you noted to yourself. John's word had sealed your opinion's fate on the matter: Arthur could have behaved that way with any other girl at camp.

And yet. Yet you longed for it, for last night to mean something, anything. For you to be more than just any girl to him. For the drunken honest words he had spoken before drifting away in the sweet caress of sleep to be true. You sighed. Too much false hope would lead your heart to be even more broken, you knew it.

And yet. The shadow of his smile. The sound of his deep, powerful laugh. Following you everywhere as you got out of your tent, eyes narrowing at the bright light of the day, almost as bright and vibrant as the subject of your thoughts; almost.

Your path led you more by habits than by an actual decision of yours to the campfire next to Pearson's wagon, and you were delighted to see one of your obsessive needs was already there: a hot coffee pot, releasing a small puff of smoke had been prepared. Blessed was the divine human being who made it. You took a cup and poured some of the holy providential liquid into it, the mere smell of it already waking you up a little bit. The taste was strong, bitter; rough like your life was as an outlaw in a gang, but at least it would help you clear your head and maybe get a certain someone out of it.

As you sipped on the warm beverage, you took a look around at your surroundings. The camp offered you a pitiful but quite amusing sight. It was a real mess, as if a tornado had passed by and turned everything upside down. The Ocean of empty bottles was still present, spilling everywhere between the different people's tents. People who were slowly emerging from them, with tired eyes and ruffled hair, some of them speaking more quietly than usual, rubbing their temples, navigating through shattered glass and chaos of debris, remnants of the agitation that had taken place the night before. You chuckled to yourself. One of the more feared gangs in the West? Certainly not after a party.

Abigail was already starting to clean the pieces of glass, getting angry about how this wasn't a proper place to raise her kid. Honestly, she was right, and you wanted to help her. Ms Grimshaw would probably force you to anyway, and this idea was reinforced when you noticed her from afar, already yelling at Karen to get up and start the cleaning.

Before getting attention from the strict woman, you took a step to go and do your part but stopped in your tracks. A familiar rugged face had appeared from his tent and was heading up in your direction.

Arthur was feeling too much. Too much sensations, too much feelings, just way too much of everything. His thoughts were trying to work as fast as he could considering his slowed brain, the aftermath of his excess from last night preventing him from being as efficient as normal.

The main focus of his reflection was you. He was obsessed to know what had happened, to understand why he had so many memories about you from last night, and quite intimate ones. He was praying he didn't do anything stupid with you; were you two even okay? Had he offended you? Had he been respectful? He needed to know, he needed to make sure he hadn't screwed everything up between you two. And at the same time, he was ashamed. So ashamed of having drunk so much he wasn't even able to remember what had happened. He was so anxious to confront you about it. To hear the truth, hear you say he had been a pig, and you'd never want to see him again, because that was probably what had happened. He was convinced of it.

As he saw you drinking your morning coffee by the fire from his cot, he quickly had changed, tried to clean up a bit, and made sure he had nothing stuck between his teeth or anything else of that type that could make him pass for an even bigger fool than he already was. He had chosen one of the less damaged shirts he had, a simple green but at least not holey flannel, all his clothes being more or less in a bad state anyway. Two leathered suspenders on, keeping black basic pants from falling. Damn, his reflection in the mirror looked even uglier than usual with his lack of sleep and post-party face. He sighed deeply, screw it. He needed to talk to you, at all costs, he knew he wouldn't be able to do anything else properly otherwise. He tried to actually brush his hair, a thing he never bothered to do normally; he even tried to use some hair pomade, combed them in all directions possible, anything to make them look less messy. Nothing was working. He sighed again, getting angry, and just decided to put his hat on to hide this disaster.

This was already too complicated and he hadn't spoken any words yet.

Now walking straight to you, every step he took was followed by a worried thought, his heart tightening more and more as he was getting closer to the campfire you were standing next to. What had he done? Were you mad at him? Would you even agree to speak to him? Did he look good enough? Shit, he probably still must reeks of whiskey, he should have gone to town and taken a bath, stupid moron! But it was too late. Your eyes had crossed his, you had seen him approaching. There was no going back.

Finally arriving at the campfire, the poor nervous man stood at a respectful distance from you and cleared his throat. He didn't even had taken the time to think about what to say. Moron.

"G'd mornin', Y/N." He greeted you, his tone almost a bit too formal, a trace of his troubled state. His voice sounded huskier and harsher than what he wanted to, you were the first person he actually talked to since waking up and you could hear it with how hoarse his vocal cords were.

Besides it, you couldn't have guessed how much was going on inside his head; his expression was as neutral as usual, his own way of defending himself against the flurry of feelings that was taking place inside of him. You smiled at him, a mischievous, playful smile. You had so much to tease him about. Before the party, you two would already messed with each other a lot, and now you had a whole night of details you could use for it.

"Good morning, Mister Morgan... Guess someone was a little thirsty last night, mmh?" You answered, looking at him. His eyes crossed yours, he cracked up a smile too. His shoulders seemed to go down a bit, less tensed. In reality, he was so relieved to hear you tease him and to see your smile. You weren't mad. He silently thanked the Lord for that.

"I, erm... Maybe I drank a little t'much..." He replied with an embarrassed grin, his eyes looking at his feet before planting them back right into yours. He decided to ask you right away. Arthur never beat around the bush, this time was no exception. "L'sten, I don't... I don't remember much 'bout last night and... I hope I didn't bother ya."

His bright blue pupils were looking intensely into yours as he waited for your answer. He always looked at people like this, always keeping eye contact, as if it was a quiet duel and he would lose it if he stopped; but God, it made your heart melt a little.

"Oh, Arthur." You started, smiling some more realizing he was actually worried about you. "Don't worry, you didn't do anything wrong. To me at least. I remember you losing your nerves and punching Micah in the face." You answered his question, chuckling in the end.

"Why, this bastard had it comin'..." Arthur replied, scratching the side of his jaw, the slight grin still present on his lips, telling himself that it was definitely something he was capable of.

"You sing pretty good when you're drunk..." You added, tone playful.

Arthur sighed, he was enjoying more and more of this conversation he had feared in the beginning.

"Oh stop it, I don't." He retorted, his fingers scratching one last time before falling to his belt, both his hands gripping it, a standing position he often had when talking and didn't know what to do with his arms. Honestly, you were quite fond of it.

"You want some coffee, songbird ?" You questioned with a teasing tone, already grabbing a new cup and the pot. You knew he would say yes.

"Yeah, thank you." He replied at first, before frowning. "Don't ya start calling me that!" He added with a firmer tone, but his small smile was still stuck on his face while grabbing the hot cup you were handing to him.

"You're also quite a dancer..." You teased him once more with your mischievous voice, knowing you were pushing his limits with your remarks.

"Damn it, woman! Can't believe I was worried 'bout ya, while ya're teasin' me like this..."

"Yeah, I'm such a nasty woman..."

"Nah, you're the sweetest." He corrected you, a bit too quickly for it to be innocent. A quick, subtle flicker in his eyes showed you he was surprised with himself; the words had come out on their own.

You smiled widely, cheeks turning a bit red. You were praying it wasn't too obvious to him. Arthur was still looking at you, two indigo miniature seas fixated on you, even while drinking his beverage. The more he was, the more those vivid memories he had were making their way back to his mind. While looking at your waist, he remembered having held it at some point during the party, which explained how he learned how your clothes felt underneath his fingers. His breath quietly hitched when he realized how he knew about the softness of your leg: he recalled having an arm curled up around it at the end of the night. Shit... He really had been unruly. After a short silence, Arthur spoke again. He wanted to make sure, he needed to make sure.

"Erm... Can I ask ya if we... Did anythin' happen b'tween us while I was drunk ?"

"No, you've just been a bit... Tactile. But nothing happened." You answered his question honestly, wanting him to know the truth. After all, Arthur was your friend, and there was a whole step between gently teasing and actually tormenting him. "Oh and, you said you loved me."

Arthur almost choked on his coffee, a short strangled sound escaping from his throat, some drops of the hot liquid falling on his shirt. The only decent shirt he had was ruined. But it was the least of his problems. What the actual Hell had gotten into him? He was an even worse fool than he thought, and the bar was already low.

"I... What ?" Were the only words he was able to form, one of his hands wiping the coffee from his chin.

"Don't worry, John told me you've made it a habit to tell women that when you're drunk, apparently. We don't have to make a bit deal out of this." You reassured him. He really looked ashamed of his behavior, and you didn't wanted to make him feel even worse.

But Oh Lord, if only you knew. If only you could have understood how much he wanted to make a big deal out of it; how much he had wanted to properly say those three words to you. He was almost disappointed in a way, that you were so quick to forget about it, as if it had been a simple joke to you, something amusing a drunkard had said in a moment of alcoholic eccentricity.

"Ah, alright. Well, I'm happy ya not mad at me." He simply added, honestly not knowing what to say or how to act anymore.

Tell her. Tell her she means the World to you. Tell her you have spoken the truth. This was the best chance you would have.

But the words were stuck, and as fast as a breeze would have swept away petals of flowers, Ms. Grimshaw asked for you with her usual severe call, and off you were gone, wishing him a good day and telling him he didn't have to worry about last night, even adding your typical teasing comments, advising him to join a choir were he could flourish his singing talent.

Looking at you walking off, he sighed again, calling himself a moron for at least the twentieth time since he had gotten up. Looking down at his cup of coffee, almost empty, just like the hurtful sensation he was experiencing right now inside his heart, he got angry again. This was enough. He threw the rest of the coffee on the ground, put the cup in his satchel out of habit, and walked straight to his horse.

The afternoon passed slowly and quietly. You basically spent it tidying up the camp, the number of dishes almost twice as big as usual, and the endless amount of bottles and garbage looking like it was only getting larger the more you were cleaning them up. Thankfully, Ms Grimshaw had put every girl in camp to work too, and you weren't alone on your impossible task while the men were back on their usual activities, whether it was lazying around for Uncle and the Reverand, guarding camp for Bill and Charles, or going back on jobs for the others. You hadn't seen Arthur since your morning discussion with him, and you had concluded he probably had gone somewhere to do his own work. As the sun was getting down, the camp had ultimately taken back its usual appearance, and you were finally free from your chores.

You decided to go to the edge of the camp, behind the wagons, where the cliff was starting and was offering a breathtaking view of the mountains in front of you. At this time of day, in the dusky sun, the landscape was painted with beautiful golden and bronze colors, dazzling blend of warm tones, ephemeral treasure from the last sunrays of the day before the settlement of the night's darkness.

Lost in your contemplation, you didn't hear footsteps approaching. The shrill and recognizable sound of spurs along with the heavy stomping of a horse's hooves made you turn your head from the literal work of art you had under your nose, and your gaze fell on another one from a different nature; Arthur was walking up to you, holding Boadicea's reins into his hands, his blue gaze already fixated on you, slight frown on his forehead, looking as determined as if he was going in for a fight.

He looked different from earlier, you swore he was wearing a brand new shirt you had never seen, a fresh white one, and a black jacket which must have gone with a fancy suit. As he was heading towards you, you noticed and could smell he had taken a bath, and trimmed his beard more than usual. He looked neat, refreshed, it was quite unusual for him. You could feel how your blood was rushing at the simple sight of all this: he was undoubtedly handsome, as breath-taking as the landscape around you.

"Y/N." He greeted you with a determined voice, once he had come close to you. He let go of the reigns, letting his mare free, but she stayed right where she was and started to graze happily. He took his hat off and held it in his hands, probably out of politeness. Such a gentleman, as always around women. You had always found it quite endearing how rough he was but at the same time how respectful towards girls, complying with conventions just like an honest man would. However you were a bit confused, he had never bothered to do that with you before, only with the women he didn't knew.

"Arthur, are you alright? Did Trelawny force you to get clean up ?" You joked a bit, genuinely surprised by his appearance and sudden polite behavior.

"What? N-no..." He stuttered. He never stuttered. You could feel it flowing into you like last night: this terrible, powerful feeling of hope. Your whole being was filled with it as your eyes were glued to him, like a moth to a flame, like a moon to its celestial body.

"I erm... I got somthin' for ya." He said almost shyly. Shyly. You couldn't believe what you were witnessing. It was nearly too good to be true.

Maybe... Maybe the words he had spoken to you... Maybe his tactile behavior... Your thoughts were going entirely crazy, spiraling around the deep feeling that something really important was on the verge of happening. You watched, in awe, as Arthur turned his back to you in order to pull off from Boadiccea's saddle a gorgeous flower bouquet.

"I know it ain't much but... I've picked 'em for you..." He said quietly, his voice slow and deep as usual, but also a bit more vulnerable. You could see just how flustered he was, how unusual it was for him to put himself in such a situation. And it made you more happy than anything for such a long time. Your eyes, traveling from his insanely cute bashful face to the flowers, were now stuck on it. The colors were vibrant and surprisingly well-matched, almost like a painting, the petals going from deep red to a warm golden yellow. You couldn't prevent a deep blush from flushing your cheeks; it really was warming your heart.

"They're beautiful! Thank you so much..." You marveled, vision attached to his gift, admiring every detail about it. After a short moment, as you realized he had felt silent, you spoke again, a wave of boldness crashing onto you. He had made a step towards you, now it was your turn.

"Arthur... The words you said to me last night..." You began, your eyes slowly ascending to look at his again. To your surprise, you found him looking away.

Another hint, another glimmer of the internal storm of emotions Arthur was feeling right now. Your own heart started to beat faster; the blood flooding so fast in your veins at this point you're wondering how the hell your body is keeping it all up together without collapsing under the pressure.

Arthur doesn't answer. Instead, he simply looks back at you, a flash of apprehension in his turquoise diamonds. He stays silent, unable to say anything more. His own heart must be on the verge of bursting cause you recognize the faintest of red on his own cheeks and a little vein on his temple. What a sight, to have this grown man, one of the stronger men in the gang, probably the fastest gunslinger of the State, blushing because of you.

"Those words were true, right?" You finish your sentence with an encouraging expression and the softest smile you had.

Arthur exhaled, closing his eyes for just a few seconds before planting them back into yours and nodding. Still silent, still stoic, still nervous. The slight blush was unhurriedly spreading on his face just like a flaming stain of watercolor on a canvas. Your very own art piece.

"I love you too, Arthur." You finally confided to him, voice soft and low, as if it was a confession you would have told him in the middle of the night, intimate as secrets you'd both tell each other in the ear while lying together in the same bed, arms interlaced, heart intertwined, as everything around you both would disappear. And in the moment, for Arthur, everything did.

He carefully brought a hand on the side of your face, never breaking his deep starring until the last second, and slowly bent over to put his lips on yours. Every move he was making was measured, contained; the exact opposite of his unleashed behavior at the party. You could feel just how cautious he was in that moment, as if he was scared to hurt you, or make you flee.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, never letting go of the bouquet that was now hanging behind his back in your thankful right hand. His own was still on your head, fingers gently caressing your skin as the kiss was dragging on. His lips, although chapped, felt good against yours, taking their rightful place there.

After what felt like an eternity of sweetness, he pulled back. If you thought he was blushing before, it was nothing compared to his cheeks right now, the deep crimson shade having completely recovered the canvas. Finally, his body's muscles relaxing, his features softening, a big, wide smile appeared on his face; the same that had been haunting you since the night before. The stupid smile. Just for you.

"I love you too, for real I mean." He let out in a soft drawling voice, once you had never heard coming from him. He brought his forehead to rest against yours, closing his eyes, not even processing this was really happening.

"I hope you'll sing again for me, Arthur." You couldn't help but add, a playful tone and a slight smirk on your lips.

"For ya, maybe, sweetheart. But don't ya come complainin' about the rainin' after."

[shojizbae]

Rave Baby

Spencer Reid x Reader

After a long case, some of the team pitstops at your apartment, and Morgan takes the liberty of searching through some memories. He comes across some scandalous photos that light a fire in Reid.

This last case was challenging. To make it worse, the power had gone out in DC due to a blackout. With a chirp, I told the team that I always had a generator and that we could cool with some coronas in my fridge. Hotch had declined, stating the necessity of returning to his wife and son. I had thrown open all the windows and cranked the AC, attempting to push out all the hot air. With my permission, Derek had distributed beers from my fridge and found a bag of chips.

A battery-powered radio was located, and my CDs were run through to find something to unwind with. With a sigh, Emily sank onto my couch and sipped her beer.

"Uhh, I can't tell you how nice your apartment is."

"Yeah," JJ groaned from the corner, holding her hair up and sticking her face in the AC vent. Derek was still looking through my belongings when he came across a Scooter CD.

"Well, well, well, where did a girl like you find this type of music?" I looked at the album cover.

"Oh, that's from my college days." I tried to dismiss it. This isn't the sort of stuff I would share with my coworkers.

"Really? Let's go ahead and pop this in."

"No don't!" I tried to launch it at him before he could open it, but it was too late. A few photos I took the night I bought that CD slipped into his lap.

"Woah ho ho!" Spencer, who had been content to sift through my shitty romance novels, peaked his head up like a prairie dog at the sound of Derek's chuckle. "What do we have here?" He held up one photo, and I hid behind my beer bottle.

"That was years ago," I whined

"What is this?" Spencer came to the group, attention fully peaked

"It's (Y/n). At a rave." Spencer snatched the photo out of Morgans's hand like a cat but Emily nearly yelled

"Shut up, let me see." she slammed her glass bottle on the table and grabbed one of the photos from him

"No way," JJ stated, following Spencer into the circle to look at the evidence. "I could never imagine you at a rave. I've seen you get upset that you left your clothes in the washing machine."

"They'll get moldy," I whined

"Holy shit. Where was this?" Emily inspects a photo of me in a bikini, fluffy leg warmers, and a matching bucket hat. "Look at your butt where were you hiding this." She makes an attempt to check me out, but I sink further into my couch

"I don't know, I was never sober in the 72 hours around a rave."

"Oh yeah? What did you take?" Morgan begged

"All sorts of crap, mostly hallucinogens. My rave mentor told me music is better when you're high."

"So why'd you stop going?" Emily asked

"I grew up."

"You grew up?" JJ asked, putting the photo on the table

"Yeah," I rubbed my hands up and down my thigh and sighed. I wasn't entirely ready to trauma-dump the team, but here I was. "My uncle, who basically raised me, passed on Thanksgiving in the sophomore year of my bachelor's. Hallucinogens made it easy not to grieve, and loud music blocked my ability to think. I would dance around and tell everyone that 'tonight was the night,' and I was 'finally free,' but I would just see him after a while. He would ask me, 'Why are you doing this, my dove?'. I couldn't ignore him anymore, so I just stopped. Put all my teeny bikinis in a box and put it past me." I cleared my throat, realizing that I had put a damper on the mood

"We could play the CD. I think I'll still remember the rhythm." I switched in the discs and let the synth radiate through my living room. Immediately, I felt the groove, letting it carry my limbs airily around me. I felt myself disconnect as the beat continued to pump. Before I could drift away wholly, Emilie's voice brought me down to earth.

"You packed all this away? That means you still have it?"

"Yeah, in a box in the back of my closet." before I could discover my mistake, she darted to the back of my apartment, and JJ took off with her.

"Oh hell, I gotta see this." Derek got up and dropped the last of the photos. Reid dutifully packed them up and sifted through the photos, stopping on one.

"What did you find, Spence?" I crawled toward him slowly. I gasped at the photo. My Rave mom, Zoe, who was only 4 months older than me, and I were posing together. He sifted through the images with it and stacked them. I gasped at the image. The photo on the top was of Zoe throwing up a peace sign, showing the neon pink paint on her palms, and a green hand was playfully on my throat. Both of our bodies had been splattered with neon ain't, but noticeably, I had two big hands brink on the triangle bikini we wore. One pink, one green.

The picture below was of Zoe and I very dramatically kissing. Zoe had made smudged hand prints on my ass. I had a leg up on her hip, and you could see drool and lipstick around each other mouths.

"I hardly even remember that night, and I thought it was trendy to act gay." I pulled the pictures from his hand and returned them to the case. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"Why are you apologizing? Y-you had fun."

"Yeah, but you're my colleague. This is embarrassing and you probably are ashamed of me."

"Actually, I'm jealous. In college, I had no friends and didn't go to parties. I was, I am, a loser. You had fun."

"Did you not hear my spiel about using drugs not to think?"

"Yeah, but you were hot." That shocked you. He was only two beers deep, and Reid was spilling his secrets.

You laughed in shock.

"Spencer, you can't say things like that." I slapped at his chest playfully.

"WELL!" I could hear Derek's strained voice. "This!" he put the giant plastic tub on the floor next to us. "This is one heavy bucket of slutty clothes."

"I want to try something on!" JJ greedily popped the snaps on the cover. With giggles, JJ and Emily started pulling out bikinis that looked like they were made out of spider webs.

"Woah ho ho!" Derek giggled, holding up a low-rise thong. "I hope you wore a jacket."

"Alright, that's enough!" I grabbed it from his reach

"Hey, could I borrow one of these?" JJ asked. "Will has been asking for something new."

"Yeah, but don't borrow it. I don't want it back." I made a face of disgust

"Yeah, I might want to just wear one around my apartment?" Emily held something balled up

"Take as many as you want. I won't wear them again. I should sell them. I could finally go on vacation."

"Woah woah woah, if you sell these, what will you wear on vacation?" Derek joked

"Clothes." I snatched another piece of hosiery from him. My knees cracked as I stood and got another beer from the kitchen. "Now, get out of my panties." I swatted him with the bottoms as I walked by

by some stroke of God, the lights flicked back on, and across the street, I could see the surrounding building come back to life.

"Well, I've got to get to my house before my ice cream spoils." Emily stood and collected a few pieces of fabric.

"Yeah, and completely unrelated. I have to call Will." JJ juts out her lip in an admission of guilt. They snuck out the door, giggling and tucking crazy fabric in their bags.

"I should get going too, wonder boy. You need a ride home?"

"No, I should be fine. There's a train in the next hour." Reid was still immersed in the photos.

"Well, don't bug her too badly." He left with a wink

"Why are you still looking at those? They're ancient."

"The date on the back says 1998, making you 20 years old. You're 28." Finally, he puts the photos down. "I'm having a hard time picturing you going to a rave. You only read sappy novels from the seventies. I saw three copies of Tuck Everlasting on your shelves." All the talk from my coworkers and the five beers in my system made me more than angry and bold.

Stupid ideas were my biggest export when I was inebriated.

"Well, I know the FBI has kept me in shape. I'm going to my bedroom and try these on." I gave a coy smile as I took a handful of sets and strutted off to the back of my place.

"W-what do you mean you're going to try them on."

"I've gotta see if they still fit."

[darkbluekies]

The track runner reader fic w/Silas got me thinking👀

Hear me out okay..

Ballerina reader x Silas

How would he react to see her practice,her shows

Swan lake, Giselle..

Italian fouettés, Entrechat quatre x3 royale, Developpe A la Seconde etc

Yk the high extensions,leg holds the whole shebang

Just a thot👀

Stolen part

Yandere!mafia x fem!reader

Summary: you've finally been granted to do ballet, but when Silas sees you upset, everything turns into a nightmare

Warnings: yandere, mentions of blood, broken bones, a lot of guilt and confusion, panic attack(?), reader just feeling horrible

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: I took some creative liberty with your request, I hope that's okay. And uh, I know 0 about ballet, so take this with a handful of salt<3

One performance — that’s the deal. One single performance and then you’ll go back to normal life. You nearly fainted when he told you that you could do one dance, after months and months of begging, pleading and crying. You almost started threatening him when you became desperate enough. 

“Well … we’re here”, Silas sighs as his men stop the car. “You know the rules, don’t you? Do we have to go through them again?”

“No, I know them”, you smile. 

You take his hand while exiting the car. Silas smiles and squeezes your hand softly. It’s worth all the trouble, he tells himself. If you’re happy, then it’s all worth it.

When you enter the practice room, you’re met by a dozen other girls wearing the same clothes as you. It’s been such a long time ago that you’ve felt so … included. There’s a certain feeling about wearing the same thing that creates a unity you can’t explain. 

“Run along”, Silas tells you, giving you a small push towards the group. 

He walks over to the instructor. He can tell right away that she knows who he is. He braces himself. She can either call the police or let him go. If she decides to call the police, he’ll have to create a blood bath and snatch you back in the car. 

“Can I have a word with you?” Silas asks politely. 

“Sure”, the woman answers hesitantly. 

“I can tell by the look on your face that you know very well who I am, so I want to make a deal with you.”

“What type of deal?”

“If you don’t call the cops on me and give my girlfriend an honest chance — because I know that she’s magnificent — I will fund your entire club. All clothes, all expenses, all props, venue, is on me. Fair?”

The woman thinks for a moment. Silas know that the club is underfunded. He knows that she has to agree.

“Okay”, the woman says shortly. 

“Good”, Silas replies and waves at you to come over. 

You skip over with sparkling eyes. He pulls you in to kiss him, in front of everybody. His kisses are always controlled by him, but they always show extremely much love for you, a deep hunger nothing can satisfy. 

“My men will stay to supervise, to make sure nothing happens to you”, he says and gives you another kiss. “Have fun now, little thing. I’ll see you soon.”

You nod. Silas squeezes your shoulder, gives the group of ballerinas a warning stare and then leaves. 

You return to the group. The people who knows who Silas is give you nervous gazes and the ones who don’t look at you with jealousy. 

Well, this is starting off great, you’ll absolutely make many friends.

Time goes on. Silas enjoys seeing the wise smile on your face every time you exit the building after a practice. Every time you’re in practice, he takes the opportunity to do some errands. He always makes sure to come pick you up clean, never covered in blood. 

But one day, you’re crying when you meet him. His heart drops in an instant and he thinks that putting you in ballet was a mistake. It wasn’t worth it at all. 

“What happened, baby?” he asks worriedly and takes you in his arms. “What did they do to you?”

You struggle to talk through your violent sobs. He believes that you’re having a panic attack, but you can still move relatively well. Silas grabs your shoulders and waves at his men to come over. 

“Y/N, what did they do to you?” he asks and looks at his men. “Did any of the others hurt her?”

The men shake their heads. 

“Y/N!” Silas says sharply. 

“I-I didn’t … get … the ... lead role”, you manage to get out through your sobs. 

You know it’s silly, of course. Honestly. It’s childish to cry over not being the main character, but this was your only chance to be on stage before you’ll get pulled back into capture. You’ll never have this much freedom again. It’s embarrassing to cry about this, and you know that very well, but they don’t know how much you’ve suffered to even be in the practice room. 

“You didn’t?” Silas asks shortly. 

“No”, you cry. 

Silas turns to his men and hands you to one of them. 

“Bring her to the car”, he says. “I will be back soon.”

He disappears into the building. The practice room is empty, apart from the constructor who is cleaning up after today's class.

“Oh”, she says, noticing him. “Can I help you?”

“If you're smart, you can”, Silas says coldly. “I heard that Y/N didn't get the lead role. I'm just wondering why?”

“She wasn't exactly what I had in mind for this particular role … I mean, she's extremely good, but just not what I had in mind when I visualized the lead. She's a runner up, though.”

Not good enough, Silas thinks.

“Okay”, he says and nods. “I see.”

Without waiting for an answer, he turns around and leaves. Anger is burning through his chest. Seeing you so upset makes him see red. He would burn down the entire world for you to watch you smile. He walks back to the car where you sit in the backseat and the two men in the front. 

“Hey, baby”, he smiles and sits down beside you. “Are you feeling better? Should we get some food on the way home?”

You nod. Silas smiles and wipes your tears. His men are forced to hear how he sucks the air out of you in the backseat. He devours your lips, trying to comfort both you and himself. He holds you in his arms, letting you cry. The more you cry, the more embarrassed you feel. You’re ashamed because you can’t understand why you are so upset over it. It’s just a role, you’ll still be on stage, won’t you? Is it because you think that you’re better than the others? That you deserve the position of the lead? Do you deserve it because you’re so good or because this is your only chance? The others have many more opportunities to get the role you want, why can’t you just get one? You’ll never be seen again, why can’t you get it?

Why are you thinking like this? You’re not entitled to anything. Has Silas imprinted the narrative that you’re so special, so wonderful that deeply into your brain? Do you believe that you’re this special, one of a kind person that deserve everything because you’re so special? 

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Silas asks, caressing your cheek. “You look so thoughtful. Let me in.”

“I- … I- …”, you start, but can’t seem to talk — you can’t even formulate your own thoughts.

“Breathe, baby. It’s okay, you’re with me now.”

“I am breathing … I just …”

“Just …?”

You shake your head. 

“Just hungry”, you lie. “And tired.”

“It’s okay, you’ll get some food soon”, Silas promises and kisses your lips once again. “We’ll stop by McDonald’s.”

You get your food and you eat together with Silas in your bedroom, but you can’t stop thinking about the lump in your stomach. Why are you so upset? Why can’t you put words on your feelings? 

You lay awake the entire night in your empty bed (because Silas is out working) and think. Crying over not getting the lead role won’t make you enjoy the last few weeks in the club. Ballet is your true love, you should do everything you can to enjoy it — specifically because you’ll not get it back. You should be happy with your role — you’re even a runner up! That’s fantastic. You breathe out. Ease sets into your heart. It doesn’t matter what role you get, as long as you have fun. 

When you enter the practice room the next time, you can tell that something is wrong right away. The girl who got the lead part … has crutches. You feel a shiver run down your back. Mortified, you shake your head. Silas. He must have done something to give you the lead role, that you so desperately wanted. He never got to know that you became satisfied with your original role. Guilt washes over you, suddenly you feel extremely sick. You need to take a hold on the wall to not fall. One hand presses against your chest to not vomit. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” one of the body guards asks as they hurry over. 

You nod sloppily. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, oh my god. This is all my fault. 

This is what you had been feeling bad about — finally you can put words on that weird feeling in your stomach. You were scared that Silas would do something to the girl that got the lead without even noticing it. If anything, that shows how close you know Silas.

“He … he did this … didn’t he?” you whisper, feeling distant. 

“The boss couldn’t stand to watch you be upset”, one of the body guards answers quietly, only for you to hear. “He made sure to get you the role he wanted.”

You’re freezing. That poor girl. Suddenly you don’t want that part anymore. The part is dirty, and your hands are covered in blood. 

Your mind is anywhere but in practice when you dance your stolen part, but your body works for you. 

Silas is standing out in the parking lot a wide smile when you walk out. He opens his arms for you, but you don’t walk into them. 

“Are you happy now?” he asks. 

“You shouldn’t have done that, Silas …”, you say quietly and shake your head. 

He tries to grab you, but you jerk back. Silas frowns. 

“But you wanted it”, he says. “You had a panic attack. I gave the part to you.”

“Silas, I feel extremely guilty. I stole her part. It’s not fair.”

He grabs your shoulders and force you to look at him. 

“The world isn’t fair, little thing”, he says. “If you have some power, use it. I want to use my power to make you happy, baby. You’ll do better than that girl ever could. You should have gotten that part from the very beginning.”

He gives you a kiss and brings you to the car. 

When the day for the performance arrive, you refuse to come out of the dressing room. The costume looks horrible on you. You can only see the other girl in the mirror. None of the other girls have talked to you after the lead girl ended up with crutches. They all know why you got the role. And how you got it. 

“We start in five minutes, get out!” the instructor tells you and basically pulls you out on stage. 

You see a lot of familiar faces in the crowd. Silas has brought as many of his men as he possibly could. Silas himself is sitting in the front row with his right hand man beside him, smiling at you. You look around. All his men are smiling at you. Weirdly enough, it’s somehow cute. They all look like they could kill anyone in any second, but the second you look their way, big, genuine smiles creeps up on their faces. Turning them from killer machines to teddy bears. 

You dance to the best of your ability. This is what you’ve been begging and pleading for. Better enjoy the spotlight while you can. You can’t help but feeling dirty throughout the performance. Silas, however, has never looked this proud before. 

The second the applauds roll in, you fall to your knees, crying. You fulfilled your childhood dream, but at what cost? A girl broke her leg because of your emotions, you stole her role … you’re covered in dirt that you can’t wash off. You don’t deserve these applauds. You don’t deserve any of this. 

“Y/N!” Silas gasps and runs up on the stage with his right hand man by his side. “Are you okay, baby?”

“I want to go home”, you sob. “Get me out of here.”

Silas nods and waves at his men to walk out. He picks you up and follows his men. 

“You did so well, baby”, Silas smiles while walking. “I’ma always proud of you, but this was something else. Everyone saw how absolutely fantastic you were. You’re an absolute badass, baby. I fucking love you so much.”

You smile slightly. It’s finally over. You’ve achieved your dream — although you wish that you never had done it — and now, you’re going back to your locked bedroom. You almost long for it. 

[metal-mouse]

Because You're Mine

pairing: Ominis Gaunt x f!MC (m/f pairing)

themes: smut. troping tropeily. ye olde patch him up and then bang him.

warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. p in v. unprotected sex. fingering. horrendous pull out game. possessive!Ominis. someone threatens to dose you with a love potion. blood. mentions of violence. everyone is aged up.

summary: 3.9k word count. You are most surprised to see Ominis Gaunt return to you with a broken nose and a black eye from a fight. He's being awfully cryptic about who he got into a fight with, until you've finished healing him and he confesses why he's so upset.

note: Had a dream about this recently and decided to share it as a treat and also sometimes the best way to break through writer's block is to lean on the tropiest of tropes. Come get y'all juice. left MC house as ambiguous - I'm very Slytherin coded my b. i take liberties on what kind of undergarments they wear. Not an ounce of editing to be found.

@anto-pops @localravenclaw look guys i finished it

You didn’t look up from your book as the door to the Room of Requirement groaned open. There were only two people who knew of this room besides you, and as Professor Weasley hadn’t stepped foot in it since your fifth year, that left only one person. 

“Hello Ominis.” You called out your greeting, nearing the end of the page. He didn’t respond, which made you look up. You dropped the book and sat up straight at the sight of him. His cheeks were pink, there was a gash on the bridge of his nose which was steadily dripping blood, and one of his eyes was beginning to swell shut. Worry filled you, as your mind went to all of the worst case scenarios for what could have caused this. You stood up and hurried towards him, urging him to sit down on the sofa you had just been occupying. 

“Hello.” He said finally, in a dejected voice. 

“Are you alright?” You asked, a table appearing next to you with a bowl of water and some cloths. You very gently took his jaw in your hands as you tilted his head up to inspect his wounds. The cut on his nose was deep, and now that you were up close you could see his nose was slightly crooked. His pain was very evident, and his frown likely wasn’t making it any better. 

“I’m wonderful, thank you for asking.” Ominis hissed as you turned his head to get a better look at his eye. You were fairly certain his cheekbone wasn’t broken, which was more than you could say for his poor nose. 

“What happened?” You asked, ignoring his irritated sarcasm. If anything, it only suggested to you that he was fine beyond the wounds on his face and possibly a bruised ego. You weren’t sure if you had the skill to repair his nose. In the last year, you’d taken to spending more time in the hospital wing with Nurse Blainey. You’d assisted her during a detention once, and she had been more than happy to show you some of the healing arts. You knew the spell… perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to try? 

“I got into a fight.” He said, skirting around your question. 

“Well, obviously. I would love some detail, if you’re willing to provide. When Sebastian comes around all beat up like this it makes sense, but you mostly keep your hands to yourself,” You said while taking one of the cloths and gently pressing it to his nose, “hold that. I’m out of wiggenweld, I’m going to brew some.” His hand replaced yours as he held the cloth to staunch the blood dripping from his nose. You looked down at his uniform. His shirt and tie were covered in blood.

“Is detail truly important? I was in a fight, and now I’m here.” Ominis’ voice was muffled from the cloth. You poured some water into the cauldron atop your potions station. He was usually very open with you, content to tell you all of his deepest thoughts. Somewhere deep in your mind you wondered if this fight had somehow been caused by you. He had gone to Hogsmeade today with Sebastian, and Rookwood’s Ashwinders still tried to prey on you. You prepared your Horklump juice and Dittany leaves, waiting for the water in the cauldron to begin bubbling. It was strange that he would keep something like that from you, even if he didn’t want you to worry. 

“It’s clearly bothering you a lot, Ominis.” You said softly. He made an angry noise and didn’t respond. Now that the cauldron was bubbling, you added the ingredients and stirred the correct amount of times. You turned away to let it brew until it was ready, and returned to Ominis’ side. You wordlessly took the cloth from him and pulled it aside. It was drenched in blood, but it had mostly stopped the bleeding coming from both his nostrils and the gash on the bridge of his nose. 

“Ouch!” He hissed as you reached up and gently poked at his nose. 

“Stay still. It’s broken. Does anything else hurt?” You mumbled, climbing into his lap and holding his face steady with one hand. You fumbled for your wand, and he let out a little panicked breath and shook his head a little.

“What are you doing?” He asked, his good eye widening slightly.

“The Wiggenweld can’t straighten a broken nose. Don’t move. Episkey!” You said. He yelped as his nose cracked back into its normal position and the gash healed. You nodded in approval, pleased that the spell had worked. You’d never cast it beyond Nurse Blainey’s watchful eye. 

“There. I bet you can breathe a little better now.” You said, removing yourself from his lap to check on your potion. Ominis took a long, very audible breath. You watched him as he reached up and felt his nose. He looked absolutely miserable. Your lips pressed together in a frown, it was worrying how little information he was willing to divulge. 

“Have you seen Sebastian?” He asked. 

“No, I thought he was with you.” You said, scooping some of your completed wiggenweld potion into a glass. Anxiety briefly pulsed in your chest, worrying that whoever had attacked Ominis had also gotten Sebastian. No. He wouldn’t have come to you unless he knew Sebastian was safe. 

“He never met me. Must be with Violet.” He snorted, sounding absolutely furious with his friend. You tilted your head, making a small sound of agreement. Violet McDowell was Sebastian’s particular flavour this week after you’d forbidden him from asking Poppy Sweeting on a date. You had promised him swift and painful retribution if he had even looked at Poppy without the intent of marrying her and loving her forever. 

“Here. Drink this.” You said, handing Ominis the glass full of wiggenweld. You crouched in front of him, a hand on his knee balancing him as he drank. The bruising around his eye faded, and he sighed with relief as he set down the now empty glass. You stayed crouched before him, your fingers drumming on his knee as a sign that you would love an explanation. 

“You really can’t just let it go?” He asked. 

“I’m sorry, I’m worried. It’s frightening when you get hurt.” You squeezed his knee a little. He let out a little sight, his frown softening.

“No, please don’t apologize. It should be me apologizing, I can see how someone arriving covered in blood would be worrying - especially for you.” He put his hand over yours. You stood then, setting your wand to the side as you settled down beside him. 

“If you really don’t want to tell me what happened, please just tell me if this is going to be a recurring problem.” You said in compromise, taking his hand again. He looked deep in thought, clearly battling with his inner thoughts.

“I heard two sixth-years plotting about how they were going to slip you a love potion.” Ominis said finally. You blinked in surprise. Out of everything that could have come out of his mouth, that had been the one you least expected. 

“A love potion?” You echoed. He nodded, and you admired the rage on his face. He’d fought two boys purely because they wanted to give you a love potion. You fought the smile spreading on your lips. For someone who was awfully composed, he was certainly prone to his jealous moments. 

“Yes. A love potion. They’re lucky I haven’t gone directly to the Headmaster. I should have them both expelled.” He sneered. Your face went hot at the arrogance in his voice. You leaned in, loosening his bloody tie and tossing it to the side.

“You’re covered in blood.” You informed him. He wasn’t really listening to you at all, instead he was caught up in his own rage. You took that opportunity to unbutton his shirt so you could remove it and try to clean the blood off. 

“Foolish, impudent worms. Gryffindors always think they’re entitled to that which is not theirs.” He pulled his arms out of the sleeves when you tugged on his shirt. He may not have been paying attention to you, but you were hanging onto his every word. That which is not theirs? That statement certainly held some heavy implications. You were grateful he’d stepped in of course, love potions were risky and you did prefer to make your own decisions.

 Ominis continued his monologue, describing precisely what he had done to the Gryffindor boys for their crime. You took a clean cloth and dampened it to wipe the blood off his neck and chest. He’d been exceptionally cruel to the boys, and every word he spoke had your heart beating faster. It was becoming difficult to pay attention to your cleaning. He’d taken their threat personally, and had essentially destroyed them for it. Broken their wands, hanging them upside down from a tree, blackened eyes, he had truly done a number on them. Out of your little trio he was widely regarded as the most peaceful, with Sebastian being the most violence-prone and you falling somewhere between the two. He was incredibly protective of you, something you’d discovered even when your friendship had only just begun to bloom. 

His hand closed around your wrist suddenly, and you realized you had stopped moving. You looked at his face, his hair was a mess, his cheeks were still pink, and he held an expression you’d never seen before. You were suddenly desperate to break the silence. His other hand lifted to your cheek, his fingers delicately tracing along your jawline. 

“They can’t have you.” He whispered, his fingers moved down your neck slowly. Your breath hitched at this display of possessive intimacy that you had never seen before. You and Ominis had your fair share of intimate moments, but this? Never anything like this. This was an entirely new side to him. It was something you’d expect of Sebastian, the man who moped over girls he’d barely been involved with for longer than a week, but never Ominis. You didn’t know what to say. When you had first crossed that border between friendship and something more, it had been relatively laid back. You went for walks together, bought each other sweets and butterbeers from Hogsmeade, and spent late nights in each other’s arms in the Room of Requirement or the Undercroft. This change was almost as unexpected as its impact on you. You knew deep down that this should not be making you so aroused.  

“Where has thi–'' You were cut off when Ominis leaned in and kissed you. You dropped the cloth from your hand as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you onto his lap. You draped one arm behind his neck, and rested the palm of your other on his cheek with your fingers in his hair as you matched his passion. It wasn’t rough, so much as it was claiming. His cold hands pressed against the skin of your back making you gasp and arch against him. He took this opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue moving so sinfully your core was steadily aching now. You knew precisely what that tongue was capable of, and you’d grown to anticipate it. Dream about it even. 

His rapidly warming fingers stroked your sides as he brought them under your front and withdrew them from your shirt entirely. As Ominis began to unbutton your shirt, you began to lightly rock your hips to create some friction between you and the bulge in his trousers. He let out a low groan and proceeded to rip your shirt open. Your eyes snapped open as you sat back a little bit in surprise, but he pulled you back against him with a single tug of your shirt. His hands went to your chest, and he let out a dark laugh against your mouth when he felt only skin. You weren’t wearing anything under your shirt. His mouth lowered and he left hot, wet kisses and little nips down your jaw and onto your neck. You couldn’t contain the small moans and gasps that tumbled from your lips. 

Ominis’ tongue ran along your collar, and his hands roamed to your backside where he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you up more. The hand you had in his hair shot to the back of the sofa to brace yourself. You cried out as he bit down on the side of your breast. His tongue delicately swiped out licking the hurt he’d just caused. He held you up with one arm, his other hand running along your backside and between your legs. The fabric of your trousers was disappointingly thick, and you felt far too constrained while wearing them. His hand moved to cup your breast as he swirled his tongue over your sensitive nipple. He stopped suddenly, his hands falling to your waist as he pushed you back slightly. 

“Take off your trousers.” He commanded. The bark in his voice sent a wave of heat to your core. You stood up, fumbling with the buttons before finally pushing them down. He reached out and made a sound of displeasure when his hands ran over your underwear. He hooked his thumbs in the waistline and yanked them down. You stepped out of your trousers and undergarments, and Ominis checked to make sure you’d done precisely what he had wanted. He made no move to remove his trousers. You stared at his bulge desperate to see him undressed. It wasn’t fair that you were now bare in front of him, and he was still half-dressed. 

“I want to taste you.” You pleaded in an attempt to get him to take his trousers off. 

“As reluctant as I am to deny you, don’t you think you’ve taken enough care of me today?” Ominis’ lips twisted into an arrogant smile, as he turned you around and pulled you back. You fell into his lap. One of his arms looped around you pulling you back against his chest. His lips pressed to your neck, leaving kisses and small bites all along the smooth column. He pushed your legs open wide, biting down hard on the flesh of your shoulder. You cried out, your eyes squeezing shut at the pleasurable pain. One hand ran along the inside of your thigh, and the other stayed planted on your belly. 

“Those fools think they could have this. That they could have what is mine.” His breath was hot on your neck. You whined as his hand stroking your thigh got closer and closer to where you wanted it. 

“Please Ominis.” You complained when his fingers brushed next to your wet and aching center but he didn’t touch it. Your lip curled, two could play at this game. You began to rotate your hips slowly, grinding down on the bulge in his pants. Your hands covered his and you moved them to where you wanted them to be. One between your legs on your heat, the other cupping your breast. He huffed out a laugh.

“Eager, aren’t we?” He chided. 

“I thought you wanted to prove I’m yours.” Now this spurred him on. Without warning he curled two fingers inside of you. Your back arched as you let out a gasp and Ominis began to pump his long fingers deep inside of you, ensuring the heel of his palm pressed against your clit while he worked. While his fingers curled against your sweet spot, you shamelessly rutted against his palm to elevate you even higher into ecstasy. 

“Is that better, darling?” He asked, nibbling on the back of your ear. 

“Uh huh.” You moaned, nodding your head. You wished you could kiss him. You wanted to face him and have him buried deep inside of you. You would have turned around if this didn’t feel so fucking good. There was something about him being in complete control and doing what he wanted with you. You weren’t even tied up, yet you felt useless to do anything to pleasure him beyond grinding against his bulge. There was a tantalizing pressure building inside of you, and you knew you weren’t going to last much longer. Ominis seemed to have realized as he pressed further into you and his fingers kept up the exact same pace. Your head fell back against his shoulder, his free hand coming up to wrap around your throat. 

“Right there?” He asked. You nodded against him, unable to form a coherent thought. You writhed against him, pressing his palm hard against your clit. Your eyes squeezed shut as you fell over the edge and bolts of pleasure made your toes curl. You let out a sinful scream that may have been his name. Ominis didn’t stop, letting you ride out your orgasm on his hand until your knees clamped together and he withdrew. You were a panting mess as he gently guided you to lay on your back. You heard the sound of his belt hitting the ground, and you opened your eyes and watched him pull down his trousers. You moaned at the sight of his cock springing free, delightfully pink and large. 

Ominis knelt on the couch between your knees, lowering himself over you. Impatient and greedy, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him to press your lips to his. You were hungry for him, your tongue swiping over his bottom lip prompting him to open up for you. You were certain the way he tasted would stay with you for the rest of your life, so damn sweet and addicting. Reaching down, you gently wrapped your hand around his cock and lined it with your entrance. Slowly, Ominis pressed into you with a low moan. You were distracted from your kiss at the feeling of his cock filling you up. He always went slow when he started, knowing it drove you crazy. Once he was sheathed fully inside of you, he stayed completely still aside from the hand that laced in your hair lifting your head again to press a sweet kiss against your lips. 

“I’ve always been yours.” You whispered as his forehead rested against yours. His eyes snapped open at this, his fingers curling so he was pulling your hair. He ground into you, and you choked on a moan. Ominis pulled out nearly all the way and slammed back into you with a husky groan. He hooked his free arm behind your knee, pushing your leg up and out of the way as he settled into a slow and steady rhythm. 

“Of course you have. I fit s-so perfectly, it’s like you were made for me.” The little stammer in his sentence made your heart flutter. You gasped when Ominis rolled his hips forward deepening his thrusts. Your nails scraped across his shoulders as your mind was overtaken by pleasure and thoughts of him. The moans and small praises that came as a steady stream from his mouth paired with his cock hitting every angle inside of you had you on a high you didn’t think possible. 

You arched your back in an attempt to let him deeper inside of you. Despite being connected at your most intimate part, you wanted more. You wanted inside of his heart, inside of his soul. Through your pleasure, you opened your eyes to look upon his face. His eyes were heavy-lidded with pleasure, his mouth hung open and his skin completely flushed, his hair an absolute mess. You loved it. Without warning, Ominis picked up the pace slamming into you without restraint. You dug your fingernails into his shoulders now, forcing him down to kiss you. His arms wrapped around your waist arching your back even further and changing the angle which he fucked into you. Between the feeling of his lips on yours, and his cock inside your already sensitive cunt, you were rapidly tumbling towards another orgasm. When Ominis took one hand from under you and reached down to rub circles on your swollen clit, your head fell back.

“Come.” Ominis ordered, and you didn’t even have it in you to scream this time. Ominis muttered a string of curse words as your walls clenched around him and you rose up to clamp your teeth down on his shoulder. It was almost painful how hard he had made you come, and some primal part of you needed him to share in that feeling. He kept his steady pace, not faltering once as he chased his own pleasure with a great moan. The hand that had been rubbing you clamped around your neck and squeezed. You watched him and saw in his face he was close. You met his thrusts, matching his rhythm. His chest heaved and a light sheen of sweat had formed across his body. In that moment you were certain that it wouldn’t matter if someone gave you a love potion, Ominis was all you’d be able to see. 

“Yours, Ominis.” You whispered, incapable of telling him truly what you were thinking. His fingers dug into you and his grip on your neck tightened. Almost there. You watched in awe as his head dropped and he let out a guttural groan that slightly resembled your name. His cock twitched and his body trembled as he emptied himself inside of you with shallow thrusts. Ominis’ hand let go of your throat, and he collapsed on top of you. Both of you were breathing heavily, and you wrapped your arms around him holding him tight to your chest. You pressed kisses to the top of his head and he let out a wordless groan. After a few moments passed, Ominis slowly pulled out leaving you feeling empty.

“We should have conjured a bed.” He mumbled. You let out a little laugh as one appeared next to the sofa. Ominis rolled over, taking you with him so that you were laying on his chest instead of him atop of you. You knew that you should get up and probably clean yourself off, but with his arms around you and your genuine concern about your ability to stand, you were content to just stay. 

“Maybe you should get into more fights.” You sighed, reveling in the lovely feelings of your afterglow. He laughed, gently rubbing your back.

“If men don’t learn how to behave, I just might.” He said. You could do without him getting injured, but if this was how he reacted when he was jealous or feeling possessive? You could definitely get behind that. 

“I’ll be here when you do.” You sighed, thinking about how you should really restock on your wiggenweld potions. 

“And, for the foreseeable future, I will be tasting your food and drink before you.” Ominis said, making you snort. 

“What am I, the Queen of England? I don’t need a food taster, Ominis, if anything I’ll just start carrying around an antidote to love potions.” You told him.

“You can be my Queen.” He grinned at you.

“You’re not allowed to speak with Sebastian anymore, he’s rubbing off on you.” You sat up a little bit to get a better angle as you looked down at his face. 

“That’s your job, Darling.” 

“My point has been proven.” You smiled widely at the sound of his laughter. When you were with Ominis is when you were happiest. You were safe, comfortable, and content. You were in love, and you were his.

[darknesseddiem]

Do I Make You Nervous?

Request: "How about Eddie and Y/n are like owing to have sex but Eddie has a hard time getting hard?"

Warnings: +18 MDNI, angst with comfort, mentions of erectile dysfunction, Eddie being mean to Reader, talking about anxiety, smut, unprotected p in v, oral (m receiving), aftercare.

Word Count: 9k

Tagging who must be interested: @tlclick73 @mykuup @ali-r3n @starksbabie @spideydreams00 @alanamarie @oatmilk-vampire @rose1518 @hereforsmutbcicantgetenough @iheartgrayson @stephanie-nicks76 @corrodedcoffincumslut @livsters @ami01x @skrzydlak @yujyujj @thehuntresswolf @hxlly678 @torimcc @skyline4446 @choke-me-eddie @samz31 @birdysaturne @spenciesprincess @prestinalove @whatwedontdointheshadows @hookandchain @nobodycanknoww @rogueinmymind @jenniquinn

His face burned with deep shame, his white skin tinged with scarlet red painting his cheeks and ears, fading into a soft shade of pink on his neck. He wished he could shrink himself to the smallest size possible to hide from the burning gaze of the beautiful woman in his bed, instead, Eddie decided to focus his gaze on an Anthrax poster on the other side of his messy room, and for the first time, he paid attention to the details that the figure of the Statue of Liberty making horns with it's hand and holding a book with a pentagram on the cover had.

“Eddie…” Your sweet and attentive voice made him even more nervous than he already was, he could feel the droplets of sweat accumulating in his hairline and his breathing becoming short and labored.

“Can you look at me? Please?" 'No', he thought in his racing mind, but his body did the opposite of what he wanted.

Humiliation pressed against his eyes and tried to show itself through tears he fought to contain.

With his heart rate similar to that of a marathon runner, he slowly turned his flushed face towards you until his teary eyes met yours and, God, it was the worst thing he decided to do that night.

You looked at him with such pity that he was sure that at some point that hard shell he kept to protect himself would be broken into little pieces with the intensity of your gaze and the feeling he conveyed.

He didn't want your pity, he didn't need it, he had already been through enough humiliation that day.

Overcome with frustration and embarrassed by the event, he did the last thing he wanted, he took it out on you.

"I-"

"No." The rude tone he used made you shrink in your place when you noticed how he looked at you.

You opened your mouth again but no sentence or words came out, intimidated by the enraged look, your eyes looked away from his and stared at your bare legs.

“I think you should go.” Your chest tightened at his sharp, emotionless voice.

"But-"

“Are you fucking stupid?” He knew he was being irrational at that moment but he would rather hurt you verbally than let his wounded ego and crushed pride show. “I don’t want you here, get out.”

The look in your eyes was enough to make him regret what he had said, but it was already too late to take back his words.

Overwhelmed by the feelings that your sad and desolate eyes caused, Eddie abruptly got up from the bed and wrapped himself in the sheet in an attempt to cover his shame, failing. Without looking back, he awkwardly crossed the room without paying attention to you and opened the door, disappearing into the hallway.

Sitting on his bed, you could finally let the tears flow, he had been so mean, but even so, you still couldn't help but understand him.

Eddie had this confident energy about him, a debauched smile and immaculate bad boy attitude, consequently it was a bucket of cold water when amidst the hot kisses and desperate touches on your naked bodies he realized that nothing had happened down there.

Shaking your head to clear the thoughts, you picked up your clothes thrown on the floor and quickly started to put them on so you could get out of there as quickly as possible.

Eddie was a good guy, fun and caring towards you, but at that moment he was insensitive and irrational, so the best thing to do was to leave and try to talk when things calm down.

Although the words and the tone used to say them still caused pain, you didn't blame him for reacting like that, you would do the same if you were in his place.

Dressed and with your dignity forgotten, you went after yet another humiliation.

Leaving the room and heading towards the bathroom, you slowly stopped in front of the door and took a deep breath before speaking one last time.

“Eds, I… I'm already going, when you want to talk again, you know where to find me.” Silence was your only response.

Sighing, you turned towards the living room and finally left the trailer, sooner than you had anticipated.

In the bathroom of his trailer, Eddie faced his own demons.

Leaning on the white porcelain sink, the boy stared at his disheveled reflection in the mirror: slightly reddish eyes, hair messy and damp from the sweat and water he had thrown on his face to clear his thoughts, a complete mess.

In the confines of the blue and green tiled walls he was finally able to peel off that confident and self-assured persona he showed to everyone and welcome the insecure boy he hid under lock and key.

That same little boy who spent sleepless nights with the insecurity of what tomorrow would bring for him, who thought so low of himself and had no idea how to be like other nice guys, so he pretended and tried to deceive himself when deep down he knew he would never heal his wounded inner child.

What happened today was just the culmination of his journey of humiliation.

It could be anything with anyone, but not you, not with you.

So many years spent just watching from afar as your silly childhood crush grew even more, and just when he had managed to prove himself worthy of your attention, his body decides to betray him in the most treacherous way possible.

His desire for you was undeniable, as strong as liquid lava that coursed through his veins and burned all of his senses, and like the pepper that burned in his tender flesh, he burned with desire for you, his soul burned in ecstasy to intertwine up with yours and make them one single flesh.

Now that the raging fog in his mind had lifted, he saw how stupid he had been to the one person he was completely sure would understand him better than anyone and even himself, but had allowed himself to be carried away by the bonds that his ghosts held from the past and ruined the only thing he was proud of having accomplished by being himself.

Not the Eddie who pretends, or the confident one, or the debauchee, nothing like that, but the insecure Eddie full of fears who one day thought he would never see the light of sun again.

Of all the moments that could happen, why now? Why?

His pride and ego were deeply hurt that night, he felt helpless.

This had never happened, even in his moments of pleasure alone he didn't need much to get horny or have an erection, just a glimpse of anything from you was enough to get him going for hours straight.

Eddie had no idea how he would face you again after the fiasco that was tonight, the night you were supposed to spend entwined with each other just letting your wildest instincts take over your naked and fervent bodies.

Putting an end to his torment, at least for now, he straightened up and walked away from the sink, walking towards the door and heading towards his empty room.

Your delicious perfume invaded his nostrils as he crossed the door frame and his eyes involuntarily closed and rolled to the back of his head in delight, if he concentrated a little he could still remember the exact smell that your sweaty neck exuded: citrus and slightly floral with a salty and warm touch.

Walking slowly to the disheveled bed, he followed the path the two of you, lost in pleasure, took earlier.

Starting with the desk, where Eddie sat you down and your tongues danced fiercely against each other, fighting a battle that neither of you intended to lose.

His hands roamed your body, yearning to map every curve and every piece of soft skin he could reach, tracing his fingertips softly under your blouse and watching you shiver with lust as you tangled your fingers in his wavy dark hair, pulling him closer as if you wanted him to devour you in that instant.

Hurrying to get to the bed, the two of you walked awkwardly without letting go and you ended up pressed against the wall with one of his hands full of rings around your neck, his teeth nibbled your swollen lips and slid sensually to your jaw where he traced figures with his warm and experienced tongue. His left hand rested inside your panties, cruelly teasing your clit with his thumb and index finger while his middle and ring finger slid into your wet, warm hole giving you enough to squirm in pleasure but not to cum until he wanted you to.

And finally, the last destination, the bed.

He moved and knelt on the mattress, remembering how he had grabbed you by the waist and thrown you there, seeing your face contort into the most beautiful expression of lust he had ever seen.

His fingers still tingled from the feeling of your soft, swollen lips enveloping them in the wet heat of your sinful, ungodly mouth, the taste and smell of your arousal had been tattooed on his mouth and nose, altering the entire chemistry of his weak brain.

The roots of his locks were still throbbing from the aggressive encounter of your nervous fingers and his scalp of the moment he allowed himself the eroticism of his first taste of your sinful and seductive pussy, almost as if it hypnotized him with the earthy and luscious flavor that dripped and flowed like the honey of the gods.

His eyes closed and your naked image was tattooed inside his eyelids, just as your moans played on replay in his ear from the moment the first sound left your mouth.

He laid down on the bed and shook his head against his pillow but stopped abruptly when he realized one small thing.

Eddie looked down and let out an incredulous snort.

“Oh, now do you want to do your work?” He looked at his dick with disdain. “Great news: she’s not here, champ.” He ran a hand over his face and exhaled in frustration.

The sound of vibration caught his attention, making him raise his head and take his cell phone from under one of the pillows, it was a message from you.

His heart beat faster and he swallowed hard, he wasn't going to lie, he was scared as hell by whatever you sent him.

With a trembling thumb he clicked on the messaging app icon and saw your contact appear pinned at the top with the text highlighted and the number “2” next to it.

Closing his eyes and breathing heavily he pressed into your contact, and after a few seconds that seemed like hours, he opened them again and breathed a sigh of relief.

lightfury 🤍: hi, I don't know when you'll see this, but I wanted to let you know that I'm already home

lightfury 🤍: I hope we can talk later, I don't want things between us to be like this. good night, eds

With a relieved sigh, he let go of his cell phone and let his arms fall to his sides, smiling at the ceiling of his room. You really were a badass woman.

Pondering for a few seconds, he took the device in his hands again and went straight to the search app.

“Why can’t I get hard?”

He looked through the countless search results until he found the one that most resembled his case.

‘Powerful erection, buy it and receive it in two business days.’ What the fuck? No.

‘Age crisis? SexBull pills are the solution.’ No, absolutely not.

‘Erectile dysfunction, understand the causes and how to treat it.’ Oh God, please don’t be that.

He clicked on the last option and started reading the article.

“Erectile dysfunction, also known as impotence, is defined by difficulty getting and keeping an erection. It can be an embarrassing thing to talk about. It's been reported that more than half of men between the ages of 40 and 70 experience some form of ED.”

His eyes widened as soon as they passed the section where the most susceptible ages were indicated.

What the hell? Eddie was only 25. Could it get any worse?

Oh yeah, it could...

“Various risk factors can contribute to erectile dysfunction, including:

• Tobacco use, which restricts blood flow to veins and arteries, can — over time — cause chronic health conditions that lead to erectile dysfunction;

• Drug and alcohol use, especially if you're a long-term drug user or heavy drinker.”

Oh yes, he was completely fucked if he were to take these two factors into consideration, as he smoked so much that he could be compared to a walking chimney, and his body was almost at the point of producing alcohol on its own accord.

But his concern soon disappeared when he read the rest of the article.

“The brain plays a key role in triggering the series of physical events that cause an erection, starting with feelings of sexual excitement. A number of things can interfere with sexual feelings and cause or worsen erectile dysfunction. These include:

Depression, anxiety or other mental health conditions;

Stress;

Relationship problems due to stress, poor communication or other concerns;

Anxiety.”

Anxiety…

This last topic caught the boy's attention because it was exactly what he felt when he was around you, not that it was caused by your person, but rather by his dangerous mind.

All that euphoria of wanting to please you and insecurity that he wouldn't be good enough had created a black cloud above his head that rained liquid worry straight to his brain and caused a breakdown in his nervous system due to the pressure he felt, which led to his failed performance today.

He turned off his cell phone screen and lay on his side with his eyes closed, thinking about what a complete jerk he had been to you and how he would explain the whole situation without sounding even more ridiculous.

But that would be for tomorrow, with a quick movement he raised his left arm and slammed the palm of his hand against the light switch, leaving the room in complete darkness and silence as he fell into a deep sleep.

A few kilometers away, you were already lying in bed and ready to sleep, a few seconds away from turning off the light when you heard the notification sound of a new message.

Normally you would let it go and go to sleep, but the name that appeared on the screen caught your attention and you picked up the device and unlocked it, clicking on the messaging app icon.

nightfury 🖤: hey

nightfury 🖤: I'm sorry if I was an asshole today

nightfury 🖤: can we talk tomorrow? I don't want to lose you because of my stupidity

night fury: night baby

Upon reading the content of the messages, you smiled widely until your cheeks hurt, and with your heart filled with tenderness and joy you finally allowed yourself to lie down and sleep.

Tomorrow would be a new day, and hopefully, a much better day.

47 minutes and 15 seconds, that was how long Eddie had spent in front of the mirror rehearsing his monologue, and he was not at all satisfied with what came out of his mouth.

Nervousness had turned him into a pathetic chattering mess and he couldn't stop himself from spewing nonsense words in the middle of sentences.

Walking back and forth across the room, the young man decided that it would be better to stop that stupidity and act like an adult, he would go to your work and talk normally without all this ridiculous rehearsal.

Be yourself, Munson. He spoke in his mind whilst taking a deep breath.

“Okay, that’s it, I’m ready.” His hands ran through his wavy hair and he bit his bottom lip anxiously.

“I’m not fucking ready for this.” He grumbled as he furtively watched from across the street where he could see you at the register through the large glass window.

Robin and Steve were nowhere to be seen, which was easier because he certainly didn't want to deal with those two loudmouths today.

Eddie thought about standing there until you noticed him staring at you like a maniac, and then calling the police so he wouldn't have to go through the second humiliation of explaining himself. Ha, good idea Edward.

The boy shook his head, making his hair messier and putting his hand on his face, exhaling in exasperation. Do you have a fucking problem?

“Okay, it’s now or never Eddie…” People on the street looked at him strangely as they watched him talk to himself. “You can do it, just get there and act cool, easy, you got this.” And repeating this about a hundred more times in his mind, he took courage and walked towards Family Video, which was now Family Books.

The sound of the bell ringing echoed throughout the empty store, making you look up ready to greet the customer who had arrived.

A smile formed on your mouth when you noticed Eddie standing in front of the cashier counter, playing with the rings on his fingers.

“Hi..” Your voice broke him out of the trance he was in. "Can I help you with something?" Eddie looked at you with slightly widened eyes.

“Um, can we… Can we talk? Both of us? In particular?" He wanted to slap himself for the way he was stuttering the words.

"Of course! I just need to call Robin or Steve,” Your eyes scanned the store for your two noisy friends. “I can’t leave the register without anyone here.”

“No problem,” Eddie said shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “Take your time, I’m not in a hurry.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” You smiled before disappearing down the hall.

You practically ran through the bookshelves looking for those two, and no sign of them.

"What a hell?" You stood in the hallway talking to yourself. “Where were those two-” The shrill noises of laughter reached your ear, revealing the location of the two lazy people you called friends.

You marched furiously to the storage room while thinking of millions of curses to throw at them, opening the door with a quick movement letting it slam against the wall, scaring the both of you, you began to complain.

“What do you two think you’re doing here?” Robin and Steve looked at you scared from where they were sitting, laughing about something on Robin's phone. “Did you forget that you also have to work?”

“We were…Uh, the books… The books needed to be scanned? Yes, the books needed to be scanned into the system!” Steve was slurring his words trying to explain himself, while Robin just looked elsewhere as if she wasn't to blame for anything.

“Oh really?” You asked and they both nodded. “Then where are the books and the scanner? I don’t see either one.”

The two remained silent, staring at you, wishing that a stack of books would magically appear in front of them.

"Hey, did you hear that?" Robin began.

“Yes, I think I heard some customer calling us.” The brunette agreed with the blonde girl and they both got up from the couch, hurriedly passing you who was still standing in the doorway.

“What the-” Snorting you rolled your eyes. "Forget it." You mumbled.

Turning to go back to the front of the store and tell Eddie that he could come now, you came face to face with the boy a few feet away, which made you let out a scared yelp.

“Jesus…” You placed your hand on your chest. “You scared the hell out of me.”

He smirked and approached you.

“Sorry, I thought you saw me follow you.” Eddie was looking at you with such intensity that you had to look away.

“Yeah, no, no problem,” You let out a nervous laugh. “Come in, here we can talk privately.” He entered the storage room as you stepped aside and gestured with your hand.

The two of you sat on the brown leather couch and stared at each other.

“So…” “I…” You let out a laugh as you spoke at the same time.

"You first." You said smiling shyly.

“Okay,” The metalhead took a deep breath before starting to speak. “Firstly I wanted to apologize for the way I treated you yesterday, I was rude and mean to you when you didn’t deserve it.” His brown eyes remained fixed on yours the entire time. “And secondly, I wanted to explain myself about-” You cut him off before he could say anything else.

“No, no, it’s okay. Seriously, I understand why you reacted the way you did and I don’t blame you for it.” Your body moved closer to him and your hands took his in yours affectionately. “You don’t need to explain yourself about anything, Eds.” The boy felt his heart beat faster and his eyes burn with tears forming in his waterline. “What happened yesterday could have happened to anyone, including me, and I'm sorry if at any point I made you feel embarrassed or uncomfortable, I swear that wasn't my intention. You are the most precious boy to me and I truly apologize if you felt this way because of me.”

Eddie had been left speechless.

His mouth was dry and his heart was pounding like it was going to jump out of his chest. He was so moved by the things you said that he barely noticed when tears started to run down his beautiful pale face.

“Oh no, no, please don't cry,” Worry was written in capital letters all over your face. “I-I didn’t say anything in a bad way, please-” Your chatter was interrupted by the warm smile he directed at you.

“You…” He said shaking his head in disbelief. “You have no idea what your words mean to me.” The curly-haired boy felt his cheeks hurt from smiling so much. “All my life I've been told I wasn't enough and judged for who I am, I was so insecure about myself that the only way I could find it was to mask who I was, so I created this confident shell that didn't care about the rest of the world, so that maybe one day I could be accepted by someone…” Now you were the one crying silently at his speech.

“And after all these years thinking that I would live with fragments of my true self, you came and knocked me off my feet,” He smiled through his tears and brought one of his hands to your face, caressing it affectionately.

“It scared the hell out of me the way I lost all my composure around you, I felt scared because that boy who was so hurt in the past always tried to be present around you, all the time he wanted to show himself but I suppressed him as much as I could, afraid that I would lose you because of my ghosts. It was a new feeling for me, you know? You brought me comfort and kindness, and it made me want to run, 'cause I was so used to living in pain and being hurt that it became my comfort to feel this all the time, and the idea of being… Truly loved for who I am, made me have so much fear." His eyes widened in realization after the last sentence.

Eddie lived for so long feeling pain and finding comfort in it, that he was afraid of being loved and cared for by someone, believing that he was not worthy of such feelings.

“Eddie…” You looked deeply into his eyes before continuing, and in that moment you didn't see 'Eddie Munson, the Satanist leader of a cult who didn't care about the opinion of any living soul' but 'Eddie Munson, the scared and fragile boy who was so hurt by people who once pretended to love him, the insecure young boy who believed he would never be good enough to be loved by anyone'. “You are more than enough, you are not broken and less worthy of someone’s love, do you hear me?” Despite the serious tone of your voice, it still carried a whirlwind of emotions. "Nobody! No one has the right to say whether or not you deserve to be loved, because you do deserve to be happy in any and every way, Eddie. And this little boy inside you?” You asked with teary, red eyes and he nodded. “Let him out, let me get to know him, let me take care of him and show him how loved he is. Let him be free this time, because this time I will take care of you two, I will show you how much love I have to give you.”

The two of you looked at each other as if there was no one else in the world, just two souls destined to find each other and become just one, a single soul that carried with it the fragments of the past so that in the future they would remind them of the arduous path they had taken until they found home at each other's hearts.

Eddie was the first to close the distance between you, being followed by you immediately.

Your lips touched, causing an explosion of feelings in your hearts and pure passion to run like thick honey through your veins, filling each wound and healing the cuts that seemed to not want to heal.

His hands were like warm silk that slid easily across your skin, taking place at the base of your neck as he possessively cupped your cheek and claimed your mouth for himself with his warm, sensual tongue, caressing every corner and edge of your cavity.

You gave in equally to the kiss and holding his wet face, you let all the feelings flow as you lost yourself in the taste of love that was in each other's mouths.

Passion. Euphoria. Reassurance. And love, so much love.

He deepened the kiss even more and sighed intensely, sliding one of his arms around your waist and holding you as if you were going to disappear at any moment.

Your hands found the base of his neck and you intertwined your fingers in his long locks, bringing him to you.

But it still wasn't enough, your bodies screamed for each other and your minds clouded with the desire to feel the raw and pure nature that emanated from your pores and dripped from your centers.

You broke the kiss and lightly ripped off the leather jacket he was wearing, placing your mouth on his again and running your hands up his arms in a frantic manner. You wanted to feel him in his entirety, his body, his essence and his soul.

Eddie was no different, his mind screamed your name incessantly and his body cried out hotly to possess your flesh and infiltrate you, draining your arousal until there was no drop left.

With a quick movement he laid you down and was on top of you, stopping only to take off his shirt and throw it somewhere in the storage room.

“God, tasting you is like having a taste of the nectar of the gods, I can’t get enough.” He admired you and smiled, placing his lips on your neck and jaw.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head with his mouth trailing kisses and licking your sensitive spots. “God, Eddie.” Your body was on fire and his attention only intensified that.

“Wait, wait…” You managed to mumble breathlessly.

“Did I hurt you? We can stop if-” You silenced him by putting a finger on his mouth. “Shhh, lay down. Now.” Something in his gaze changed and you could swear you heard him whimper softly.

Eddie lay down on the couch and you stood up watching him, his Adam's apple bobbed and he swallowed hard seeing your look. You were like a seductive panther looking at him as if he was your prey and you were waiting for the right moment to enjoy the meal. Him.

“I’m going to make you feel so good…” Draping one of your legs over him you sat on top of his crotch. “And I will show you who owns this body.” With that said, you attacked his mouth with yours, this time the kiss was fierce, full of bites and sinfully whispered moans.

He filled his hand and squeezed your ass tightly, drawing a breathy sigh from you, while the other moved up to your breast and pinched your nipple through the fabric of your blouse and bra.

You ran your lips and trailed a path of wet kisses to his jaw, going straight to his earlobe and nibbling, feeling him stiffen beneath you. That's the spot, you thought.

“You love teasing me, don’t you? Always trying to make me surrender first…” He asked as he placed his feet firmly on the floor and held your waist, pressing down and rubbing your pussy with his rock-hard cock. “You’re going to need more than that, sweetheart…” He held your head, pushing you against his sensitive spot and sighed with lust.

"Me?" Pretending to be innocent, you began to kiss hotly down to his pale pink nipples and, God, they were pierced. “And what have we here?” You ran your tongue gently, seeing him shiver and smile, biting his lip. “Oh… They’re sensitive, aren’t they?” With your thumb and forefinger you began to squeeze and roll them between your fingers.

“Oh God, please.” He panted and arched his back bringing his chest to you. “They're still too sensitive…” He let go of your waist and unbuttoned the buttons on your beige uniform shirt, taking it off and throwing it in some corner. “I need to feel you or I’ll go crazy.” He pulled the clasp of your bra in one agile movement and ripped it from your body with violence. “What did you do to me, woman?” His hands grabbed both of your breasts and squeezed with voracious force, eliciting a muffled moan from you.

“I just put you in your place, big boy.” You sat up straight and took your time admiring him, his disheveled look, his alabaster chest full of tattoos and his hard nipples, his slender waist and his happy trail that led to the treasure you selfishly wanted to enjoy. “The other women never knew how to deal with you, isn’t that right?” He looked at you with his eyes half closed and mouth hanging open and nodded. “Hmmm…” You began to roll your hips into his crotch and brought your hands to his that were resting on top of your breasts and pressed them even harder, throwing your head back with the pleasure that electrified your body as your clitoris started being stimulated with friction. “They never knew how you become such a good boy when someone commands you, right my pet?”

“Hmmm fuck yeah, I'm such a good boy for you... No one can have me like you do, my love…” He was slowly losing the last bit of sanity he had left, you were like a drug and he was the addict in abstinence and would use you until he couldn't take it anymore and dropped dead.

“That’s it, baby, you poor thing… You just needed someone to tame you like you deserve, right?” Mocking his fucked up state you laughed mischievously. “Shhh, don’t worry, I’m going to fuck you so good you’ll beg me not to stop…” Sliding off his lap and kneeling between his legs covered in ripped black jeans, you began to play with the hem of his pants, teasing him.

“Jesus…” He panted and ran a hand through his untamed curls. “Please don't fuck with me this time” Whispering quietly and looking at his dick he bit his lower lip so hard that he was sure he would draw blood. “Are you nervous, big boy?” Your seductive voice penetrated his ears like the song of a siren who was about to take him to the bottom of the ocean and drown him in the dark waters of pleasure. “Yeah-” he cleared his throat. “Do I make you nervous?” Your hand slowly crackling down his pelvis and caressing his thighs was enough to short-circuit his poor, lust-ridden brain, allowing him to only nod pathetically.

Sliding one hand up his inner thigh and giving it an experimental squeeze as your left trailed its way to the hard bulge in his pants, you saw his face contort in pleasure and he let out a shuddering breath. “Hmm, I can make you relax… But I don’t know if you deserve it, you know?” Teasing him for fun just to see the desperate look on his beautiful face that was sin incarnate.

“W-What? No I-I” his plea was interrupted by your mocking tone of voice. “Ah, ah, ah… You've been such a bad boy recently,” The smile on your face widened even more when you noticed how wide his eyes were, dilated pupils swallowing any trace of the chocolate that painted his iris, giving way to the black that emanated the lust that his body failed to contain. “Bad boys don’t deserve good things, my pet.”

Shaking his head like a maniac, his hoarse and sly voice pleaded. “N-no, I was… I was a good boy, please! Please touch me… Fuck, please touch me.” He didn't care how pathetic he sounded now, his mind was completely clouded. You you you. It was all he could focus on, your fresh citrus smell that invaded his nostrils and made him want to stick his nose in your neck, your ethereal and unique taste that stuck to his tongue and permeated his taste buds, your curves that fit so perfectly in his hands and your body that reacted so deliciously to him.

“I don’t know… You still haven’t convinced me that you deserve it.” You looked at him intensely and he swallowed hard when he noticed the strange gleam in your eyes. “Beg… Beg me to touch you, Eddie.” You waited with a small smile. “Please? Please touch me?” He spoke quietly, his face turning pink. “You can do better than that, pet…” He huffed and looked to the side with a pout. “Okay, since you don't want to ask nicely,” Leaning on his knees, you stood up and stood. “I’ll come back-” “No, wait wait!” He quickly dropped to his knees at your feet and circled his arms around your waist and hips, looking at you with puppy dog eyes that would make you commit atrocities if he used them against you. “Please…” He began, “Please touch me, I’m begging you.” He rubbed one of his cheeks on your bare stomach and began trailing kisses down to the hem of your jeans. “Let me feel you… Please, I’ll do anything.” He held your waist with such strength that you would definitely have had his finger marks the other day - not that you cared at the moment, too focused on the way he begged for your touch.

“Stand up,” You ordered and he promptly obeyed, rushing forward, almost losing his balance. “Take your pants and shoes off, now.” His hands flew to the button on his pants, undoing it and then unzipping his black jeans, bending down to untie the knots on the black combat boots he wore and discarding them somewhere nearby. You saw the hesitation in his eyes as he bit his lip and commanded again. "You are deaf? Strip. The pants. Now." Your hard, dominating voice made him tremble and shiver with desire.

He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and removed the item of clothing, revealing the white Calvin Klein boxers he was wearing. Your eyes migrated to his crotch and your mouth watered as you noticed the size of the bulge that stretched the fabric almost to its limit, a small wet spot could be seen where his pink tip rested and could be seen due to the transparency of the damp fabric.

“You know, I don’t think it’s fair that I’m the only one taking off my clothes, don’t you?” His voice dropped a few octaves and reverberated through your body, his eyes practically burning each and every piece of clothing you wore. “And who said I care what you think?” You slid a finger down his tattooed chest, stopping before your hand came down on his erection. “But I suppose you’re right…” Withdrawing your finger and walking away, you saw him exhale in frustration and the corners of your mouth turned up in a wicked little smile.

You took off your sneakers and socks, taking your hand to your denim shorts and unbuttoning and unzipping them quickly, making a show for the brunette standing in front of you. He licked his lips hungrily at every bit of skin that was exposed in the process, his eyes making you feel like a furnace inside.

The two of you were now standing face to face in just your underwear, Eddie couldn't take his eyes off your body, he was looking at you so intensely that your knees went weak when you took a step forward.

“Why don’t you get comfortable on the couch and let me take care of you, huh?” You placed both hands on his chest and pushed him until he sat on the furniture, taking a place between his open legs and kneeling again.

“I’m gonna' make you feel so good, Eddie…” You rubbed your hand over his crotch, avoiding his cock only to see him twitch. “I don’t- fuck- I don’t doubt that, sweetheart, but please-” His babbling was cut off by the feeling of your small hand stroking the base of his dick so lightly that he was barely sure you were touching him. "What? Please, what-” Your fingers collided with something even harder.

His eyes glittered with a wild glow and you narrowed your eyes and looked down to where your hand rested.

Eddie smirked and bit his lower lip when he noticed your surprised face. “What’s wrong, sweetie? See anything you like?” He was making fun of you and you could tell.

Moving your hand, you spoke again, “A piercing… Munson, Munson, you’re a box full of surprises…” Your index fingers hooked into the waistband of his underwear. “Do you have any more surprises for me, Eddie?” Your playful question was answered as soon as you removed the last piece of clothing from him and his cock emerged free in all its glory: big and thick, probably a good nine inches, with a prominent vein on the underside, curved slightly to the right and, the cherry on top, his gray metal piercing decorating the drooling, reddish tip.

His eyes were boring into your face, trying to catch your reactions.

Your eyes widened slightly and your mouth parted, forming a slight “o”, while one of your hands crept up to his erect dick and caressed the long shaft.

“Oh yes, this is a big surprise…” Your hand moved up and down. “Now be a good boy and keep still while I suck your cock.” His face contorted into an expression of pleasure and his mouth fell open in a whimper. “Damn, woman, you're going to be the death of me…” He laughed and shook his head in disbelief.

His eyes were boring into your face, trying to catch your reactions.

Your eyes widened slightly and your mouth parted, forming a slight “o”, while one of your hands crept up to his erect dick and caressed the long shaft.

“Oh yes, this is a big surprise…” Your hand moved up and down. “Now be a good boy and keep still while I suck your cock.” His face contorted into an expression of pleasure and his mouth fell open in a whimper. “Damn, woman, you're going to be the death of me…” He laughed and shook his head in disbelief.

You drooled, wetting your lips, before you took it in your hand and dipped your head.

You took him in your mouth easily, sucking on the tip while your tongue slid over the sensitive head that leaked the milky fluid. Eddie whined loudly, his hands moving to hold through your hair, tangling his calloused fingers through your soft hair. Your mouth, velvety warm, sucking him down gently while driving him crazy.

Eddie exhaled languidly, eyes fluttering down to watch you through thick lashes.

You look up at him, jacking him slowly and still sucking his red swollen tip, Eddie nodded at you gently, a bow down towards you that was your go-ahead signal.

"Just like that, honey..." His face writhed in the purest expression of lust, shutting his eyes for a moment.

 He could feel his tip hitting the back of your throat and your skilled tongue caressing his shaft, and still willing to take him further into your tight throat. "Goddamit, baby, this sinful mouth of yours… F-fuck that feels so good.."

"So good, you’re so good to me baby." Eddie rasped, voice drowned out at the empty storage room where the two of you vulgarly expressed your most carnal and sinful desires.

You gave him your best ‘fuck me’ eyes, moving to cup his balls while your head bobbed up and down his cock. 

His eyes trailed down to you, seeing you looking at him while almost sucking his soul out of his body,it was too much for his poor brain to handle. Eddie closed his eyes again and let out a symphony of moans and whimpers to the feeling of your warm wet mouth.

Your hand cupped his balls, squeezing lightly, pulling back to suction on his heavy sac and moving your hand down his shaft, deeply inhaling the musky scent of his manhood. 

Eddie could feel his own abs clenching with every slow drag of your mouth licking the soft skin of his balls and making them jump and squeeze at your expert movements.

"Holy fucking shit." Eddie gritted, tightening his grip in your hair. "You take me so good, isn’t that right baby? Gos, such a fucking slut for my dick, huh? Bet you soaking through these panties ." 

You hum in response, vibrations from your throat tickling and sending shockwaves through his sac. 

He wasn't going to last long with jerking him and fondling his ball like that, you were too good at this. Too good at making him a total and pathetic mess.

You knew he was so close, his toes were curling, his breath becoming erratic and his grip on your head getting tighter each time, the coil in his lower belly pulling closer and closer until it snapped, spilling hot spurts of his seed onto your flattened tongue while he threw his head back and groaned loudly. 

He milked himself into your mouth, finger hooking to catch a dribbled spurt on the side of your lips before he pressed them in your mouth. .

You swallowed him in one big gulp, opening your mouth open to show him, seeing the way his eyes became darker. 

 “Fuck,” he panted and ate you with his eyes. “I have to be inside you in the next five seconds or I’m gonna’ get fucking crazy, ‘cause you're killing me here, baby.” Desperation and lust were written across his eyes.

You smiled, still kneeling between his legs, and bit your lip seductively with half lidded eyes.

“Oh yeah? You're that desperate to feel my pussy around your cock, huh?” You stood up and looked down at him through your eyelashes, seeing him nod dumbly.

"I'm being such a good boy for you, don't you think I deserve this..." Nothing could prepare you for the word that would come out of his mouth in the next moment. "...Mommy?"

You choked on your own spit.

Jesus Christ, that simple word leaving his mouth was able to light an intense flame inside you, that licked your center and melted into a slick that soaked your panties and ran down your thigh.

You stood there, opening and closing your mouth like a fish in water, completely speechless.

Eddie watched you with a shit-eating grin as if to say "I won."

His expression faltered as he noticed your hard gaze and sinister smile at him, you saw his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed dry and cleared his throat.

“Yeah...you really are a box full of surprises, Eddie, and it's going to be so fun to play with you..." You hooked your thumbs into your wet panties and dragged them down your legs, letting them fall to the floor and kicking it to some corner of the room.

His eyes were now fixed on your smooth, glistening pussy, you felt a surge of pride and self-confidence as you noticed his cock kicking in interest.

Eddie was sure that at this point he was shamelessly drooling at the sight of you naked in front of him, your body must surely be the representation of Satan and his sin as how provocative and ungodly it was.

"Shit..." With the way you were looking at him, like you wanted to eat him alive, he probably wouldn't get out of there in one piece.

You grinned at him and leaned over, putting a leg over him and sitting on his hairy thighs.

Your eyes skimmed over the pretty boy below you, his fucked out face, he never looked so beautiful.

Your eyes wandered his slender torso and followed the delicious happy trail that led to the thatch of dark curls framing his gorgeous dick..

“Ready for me sweetheart?” He asked with an air of smugness and tucked his hands behind his head, but you could see that he was controlling himself not to jump on your bones. "The real question here is, are you ready for me, Eds?” You trailed your hand from his stomach to his tattooed chest, fingers ghosting over his nipples drawing a shaky breath from him. "So...so ready, princess, please..." His glazed eyes were heavy, you hummed, but remained silent as his hands hovered over your thighs before shakily running through your hips and waist.

Still grinning at him, you reached between your bodies to give his cock a few steady strokes. He pulsed in your palm and it sent a surge of need through your lower belly. 

Adjusting yourself and sitting upright, you moved until you were sitting on top of his rock hard cock, giving your hips an experimental rock and shivering as you grind against his cock slowly, the fiction on your clit sending waves of arousal coursing through your veins. 

“Go ahead baby, take what you want.” Eddie closes his eyes, fighting his inner demons to not to cum with just that, his hips thrusting into you into its own accord. "Sit still or I'll stop." You warned and Eddie's hips stilled before reluctantly settling against the couch. "How badly do you want to cum, baby?" You asked, slowly rocking your hips before sitting back down on his lap. You set a lazy pace, making sure each glide of your wet cunt was slower than the last. “Christ, mommy-” Eddie whimpering, his hips thrusting weakly against yours. 

He didn't see it coming, he just felt the burning sensation and the impact of your hand on the left side of his face. “Dont. Fucking. Move.” You hold a tight grip on his throat. “Answer me, you pathetic slut.” 

"Fuck," he panted as his back arched off, "I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to–" Another slap delivered across his cheek, the skin blossoming a pretty shade of pale pink-reddish. "Fuck! I want it so bad, I want to cum so bad, Mommy!" Lustful tears were forming on his waterline and threatening to spill over his hot cheeks. “Hmm, that’s a good boy…” Your lips kissed his red cheek with tenderness. 

"Who-who thought that you were into that shit..." Eddie's voice has a rasp to it. “Might be a lot about me you don't know, Munson.”

Your fingertips dug into his chest as you steadied yourself with one hand and grabbed his cock with the other, and ever so slowly sank down on his generous length. Mingling moans and whimpers paired with the sounds of his grunts filled the small space of the storage room, you shuddered as he stretched you inch by glorious inch and let out a content sigh when you were fully seated on his lap, his balls pressed against your ass.

“Oh my god, Eddie…” He had one hell of a view, and it had him entranced. Your jaw was slack as you gasped and panted from how deep he was, and your head was thrown back with pleasure. He gave you a moment to adjust before both of his hands found purchase on your ass and he started fucking into you like a wild animal. "Hoooly fucking shit, you're so fucking- Oh God!” he whimpered. “Yes… Oh fuck, right there!” Your hands held onto his arms that were circling your waist while his thick cock pumped in and out of you. 

“Eddie!” You cried, your pussy clamping down around his dick as your thighs snapped closed on his narrow waist. “Oh my fucking god! Ohhhh-” The boy laughed breathlessly seeing you lose your mind over how good he was fucking you. "Yeah Mommy? Where's all that atittude, huh? Got so dumb on my cock that you can't even answer me?" He met you for a sloppy kiss, both of you too far gone to care about the clumsiness. "You... Dick." He moaned into your mouth as you clenched around him, hands flying to your face as he bucked into you.

“Close, I'm- baby I’m so close,” you whined against his lips. 

The white burning coil in your core grew to reach its snapping point with every brush of his dark curls against your clit.

“Yeah, you gonna cum for me?" His sweaty forehead pressed to your own while his almost black irises looked deep into your soul. “Fuck, that's it Mommy, I wanna feel you cumming all over my cock.” His hand left your waist to snake down, his thumb rubbed tight circles to your clit, helping that tight band snap inside you. “Oh fuck!” You cried out loud as you came, not caring if Robin or Steve would hear. Your hips continued to roll, a clumsy attempt at keeping up with his thrusts and his thumb that still rubbed your bundle of nerves. 

“Feels so… fuck, your pussy…” He babbled, unable to form a coherent sentence. “Hmm… you’re just so… tight and warm.” He buried his face in the crook of your neck and let every one of his senses be entirely consumed by you. 

He's loud when he comes, whimpering loudly, full body weak with it. You feel his cock pulse and kick inside of you, deep painting your insides white. 

"Thank you, Mommy..." He's mumbling against your skin, kissing the side of your neck softly as he comes down. "God, you're so perfect." 

The mixing of his cum and your arousal is now coating your inner thighs, and dripping onto his balls and crotch. “Jesus fuck—” He slip his now soft cock out of your cunt, seeing the white fluid dripping of your insides.

Both of his arms wrapped protectively around you and his nose nuzzled against your temple as he whispered how good you were for him.

Eddie pressed your cheek to the crown of your head and drew soothing patterns across your warm, sweaty skin. “Do you think they heard us?” You broke the comfortable silence. "For sure." He laughed softly and you widened your eyes, slapping his chest. "Eddie!" "What? You asked and I just answered." You rolled your eyes and stood up, getting off his lap. "Wait, wait!" He held your waist and sat you down on the couch, heading towards the black shirt he had thrown on the floor a few minutes before. "Gotta clean up my girl." He went to the water machine in the corner of the room and wetted the fabric, returning to where you were and gently rubbing it against your skin.

You both got dressed in silence and looked at each other.

“So…” “Yeah…” You looked at the wall as if there was something interesting there as he rocked back on his heels with his hands in his leather jacket pockets. "Um..." He began. "What do you think about... I don't know, going to the movies today? I saw there's a really cool movie in the theater and- and it would be cool if we went together." You smiled, biting your lip. "Really? What's the movie?" The boy smiled too and was sincere. "I don't know, but with you anything is cool." Your heart melted at his sweet words.

"Pick me up at seven?" You opened the door, stepping outside so he could get out too. "Seven, great, very good." He wanted to beat himself for being so nervous, for God’s sake just a few minutes ago he was balls deep in you.

"Okay! I'll see you at seven then." You smiled and walked towards the front of the bookstore, coming face to face with Steve and Robin whispering, who soon stopped as soon as they saw you and Eddie.

Eddie said goodbye to you and left the store, waving his hand and smiling once again as he mouthed 'see you at seven'.

You turned to your friends who had a mischievous smile on their faces and walked back to your spot behind the counter.

"So..." Robin said. "Mommy, huh?" Bursting into laughter with Steve.

"Fuck off, you two." You mumbled, face burning with embarrassment.

You could say that those two gave you hell for a long time after that day.