#Dom!Undertaker | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

builtbybrokenbells · 7 months

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LEX TALIONIS | ORSUS

orsus — a beginning, commencement, an undertaking, attempt

Masterlist | Taglist

listen while reading: it will come back - hozier

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader, Josh Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 24k (😘)

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, hookups, one night stands, fingering (f!receiving) oral (f!receiving), impact play, cum play, sir kink, dom/sub, bratty sub, praise, degradation, name calling, touch of spit play, lots and lots of dirty talk, mentions of free use kink, choking, biting, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, the briefest mention of oral (m!receiving), manipulation/manipulative phrases, gaslighting, toxic themes, an unbearable amount of flirting, talking bad about men, superiority complexes, mentions of toxic/bad past relationships/bad experiences with men, a conniving evil reader, mentions of cheating/infidelity/home wrecking, mentions of addictions/substance abuse, mentions of death/dying, drinking, swearing, sorry if i miss any!

Here it is, I hope you enjoy my loves 🤍 (lightly edited)

According to Wikipedia, brotherhood is an ethical relationship between people, which is based on love and solidarity. According to the Oxford Dictionary, it is the feeling of kinship with and closeness to a group or all people. To the core, brotherhood is family, whether blood or not. A brother is someone you would give your life for at the drop of a dime, someone who you would protect with your life and avenge with a fervor. You can be siblings, cut from the same cloth and raised side by side, yet never once feel such things. You can meet a person on the sidewalk amidst the city chaos and feel for them in a moment, what you could not feel for someone else in a lifetime. Brotherhood is not a right, but a privilege, and one so sacred that not many are truly deserving of the title.

For Joshua and Jacob, brotherhood began in the womb, and carried on well into their adult lives. In this particular instance, deserving was not nearly a good enough descriptor for the men in question.

Two souls destined to be infinitely intertwined and lucky enough to be born as twins. For the pair, loyalty was without question and love was always abundant. Since their first minute on earth, they knew that the world would always seem less cruel when there was someone to depend on walking beside you every step of the way. In their younger years, they were akin in so many ways that it was hard to comprehend by times, and as the years passed, it only further proved the two were identical in more ways than just physical. Morals, attitudes and interests were shared, as well as dreams and desires. Even in their differences, they were determined to support each others dreams as if it were their very own aspirations.

The love the two had for each other was hard to comprehend, especially if you had never felt something so strongly before, and sometimes, it was easy to feel jealousy at the sight of the two together. It appeared as though they were the only two people in the world, and the only person the other cared about. Although their bond was strong, they had room in their hearts for more than just each other. Despite their differences, and the fact that they understood each other best, they both loved fiercely and deeply, and that love extended far beyond themselves. They loved their siblings, their parents, and their friends. They loved the bugs burrowing in the soil in the front yard, and the birds that flew overhead. They loved the trees and the rivers, the flowers and even the pesky weeds that grew at an unprecedented rate.

Love, by times, seemed like the only thing the two boys knew how to do. As they grew, so did their hearts, and that was one thing that never seemed to flee them.

When they lost their childlike nature, turning into awkward pre-teens with gangly limbs and cracking voices, the differences began to emerge. Jake, who loved to pick away at his father’s old guitar, seemed to take the side of reservation. He watched often, yet only spoke sometimes (unless of course, he cornered you with a topic that he had a staggering amount of passion for). He fell in love with the six stringed instrument, and all of the girls in his grade in high school. He was shy, but he was always lending an ear to anyone in need. Often quick with a joke and developing an awful habit for flirting, he seemed to make everyone fall in love with him without ever needing to try. His mystery aided his charm, and cemented his memory in people's minds.

Josh, who did not care who you were or where you came from, would talk your ear off about anything and everything that came to mind. His smile was always bright, and his heart was written on his sleeve. He took to the theater, and sang along to whatever song Jake had learned to play that week. He was a socialite who loved company, and seemed to bring out the extrovert in Jake when the two spent enough time in close proximity. He too, made people fall in love but for much different reasons than his brother. He was kind, generous, and extravagant. People fell because it was hard to keep your eyes off of him.

The sun and the moon respectively, making the whole world fall to their feet without ever realizing it.

As they grew into young adults, their personalities seemed to stick, only ever growing more intense as the days went on. Although the two seemed to have grown into different people, if you cared to look close enough, the similarities were not hard to find. In their faces, of course, it was not hard to tell that they were twin brothers, but it was more than that. In the warm brown of their irises, when they looked at you for too long, the same feeling would wash over you; like comfort on a cold day, or sleep to the exhausted. Their charm, unruly yet soft and subtle, would sneak up on you and sink its claws deep into your skin before you would even notice. In their touch, the same searing sensation and intoxicating feeling. The two were more alike than what showed on the surface, and you could easily find it if you had enough dedication to discovery.

More than anything else, their bond steadily grew stronger as they grew older. Brotherhood to them was not a title, nor was it a given. It was a lifestyle, and something they chose to do every minute of every day. Caring, loving, and understanding each other was of great importance to them, and it certainly was not easy work. They could have succumbed to sibling rivalry, quarrels that carried over into adulthood and bred resentment, but it was not something that they wanted for themselves. Their relationship was of utmost importance, and they made sure that anyone who stepped foot into their lives understood the requirement of loving both of them just the same.

They would always be each other’s biggest supporters, cheering them on in every aspect of life. They would be best friends, there to share every moment of happiness and suffer through every failure. They would be the ones to dish out the hard truths, and the harshest advice when needed. They were anchors, keeping each other grounded when life began to spin out of control. It was important for them to maintain the strength of their relationship, especially when living such a crazy and difficult lifestyle. Traveling the world and playing music was a dream come true, but it was even more so to them because they could share it with the people they cared about most, but it was strenuous and tiresome. It was easy to get buried under the stress and neglect their own health and wellbeing. It was easy for relationships to fail and for people to forget about them while they were gone for months at a time, which was exactly why family was so important to them. Without each other, they would crack and crumble under the pressure of the world.

A love like such only comes once in a lifetime, and the two felt incredibly lucky to be able to have it from the moment that they were born, until the very last breath. Even after death, they knew that their love would carry on, and they would search for each other in every lifetime to come. A bond so strong was not something to take for granted, and not something that you would ever want to let go of.

On the other hand, there are some people in the world who simply can not comprehend what it’s like to feel such a bond, nor can they comprehend how to care for someone more, or even equally to how they feel about themselves. You can call it narcissistic, but in some cases, it’s rarely ever that intense. It boils down to the fact of routine, and in some instances, people spend years without ever meeting anyone who could make them feel so strongly. Decades spent on their lonesome, having to stand up for themselves and watch over their own shoulder with nobody else to help carry the burden. Countless days of loneliness, constantly attempting to find new ways to cope and distract. Never anyone to share the success with, and no shoulder to cry on when times get tough. After a while, the idea of letting someone else experience such things alongside you becomes more of a fear than it is a comfort.

These people, as we have all have met, are known best as sharks or snakes; always awaiting the chance to steal an opportunity for themselves, and forever willing to throw someone else under the bus to achieve it. They are crude, unapologetic, and arrogant creatures who are often perceived as the enemy. In most instances, they are, and it is important to know that although sad, the reasoning behind their actions does not excuse their behavior. They are usually aware of their own actions, and most of the time, have little care for the people they hurt in the process. After all, how can you care about another when you’ve spent an entire lifetime only ever concerned about yourself?

You, a lovely woman on the surface, yet a nightmare just below, was a prime example of such evil.

You had spent an entire lifetime trying to find someone who made your heart beat faster. You longed to find someone who could turn your world upside down, or even someone who would promise to stick by your side during the hardest of times. Quickly, you understood that most people were willing to promise, but never follow through. In your younger years, you had your heart broken and your earth shattered by men and female friends who did not truly care about you as a person. For some time, you continued on the search despite the aching of your own chest, dedicated to knowing someone completely and wholly. After a while, you began to realize that the likelihood of finding such a person was near zero.

So, once you moved to a new city and started over, you decided that life could only begin again if every part of you was reinvented. At first, it was difficult to train your brain to think differently than it always had, but in truth, it did not take too long before you had learned the art of simply not caring. You realized that your heart had been your downfall the whole time; the relentless pining, the constant searching, and the endless begging for someone to love you. Other people had never been your issue, because you should have known better than to put your trust in anyone other than yourself. By closing yourself off and leaving dependency behind, you had managed to find happiness after all, and it did not come in the form of a man with a bouquet of flowers in his hand and sweet nothings stuck in his teeth.

Instead of being the victim of heartbreak, you had turned yourself into a heartbreaker. It was a cruel world that was only survivable if you were crueler, so you did what you had to do. The first few times were trial and error; you took people on dates and brought them back to your apartment for nothing further than mediocre sex. In the morning, you pushed them out the door with a smile, and answered a few texts here and there until you found the courage to cut them off. Every so often, you caved and fell back into your old habits, feeling guilty for being so harsh. You’d let them come back for another night of unfulfillment and only then would you find the courage to hit the block button.

Eventually, it became easier, and much more fun. You learned to seek out the men who you knew would be good in bed, rather than the ones who claimed to be good in bed. The quiet ones, talking sweetly and sometimes even nervously seemed to be the ones with the most breathtaking performances. You were nicer than you wanted to be, but after a while, even that seemed to flee you, too. You became witty, smart-mouthed and bold, testing your limits with every interaction. Your sharp tongue and your fiery eyes made people fall to your feet, and you began to understand that playing nice had never got you what you wanted. Now, sex was the only thing that caught your attention, and good sex was the only thing that could keep your attention. Rarely did you ever find yourself looking for a second date or a lasting relationship, and the longer you continued on your warpath, the more you felt like you were losing your humanity.

Men at bars appeared less as people, and more like conquests. It quickly turned into a game for you, and remorse was an emotion you no longer knew how to feel. Occasionally, you would make bets with your only acquaintances you’d made since moving to the city, just to see how fast you could get someone in your bed (or better, the bathroom). It was fun for you, but every man you left behind seemed dazed and confused, wondering if the moment was real or only a figment of their imagination. They only had a first name, never a last and definitely no phone number to call. You cashed out your earnings on cheap tequila shots and moved on to the next bar before they could catch up to you.

To some, it was a sad lifestyle to live, yet you never seemed to see the issue. You were so angry and bitter about the poor treatment you had received in the past that it blinded you enough to ignore the damage you caused. Then again, it was uncertain that if you did know how much turmoil you had caused, if you would even feel bad about it at all. You’d taken a liking to your newest personality, one in which you always got what you want and did not back down until you had it, and one in which your needs were always met first. After twenty some odd years of being on the receiving end of pain, you didn’t mind dishing it out every now and again.

After all, not every person who fell victim to your charm was upset with the lack of a second date. Most were quite content with a simple hookup, and you were certain that plenty were even in search of that alone. The ones that did get their feelings hurt were most likely over it in the morning, and the girlfriends of your conquests should have realized how terrible their boyfriends were long before you were ever involved in the equation. Not your man, not your problem, as you liked to believe.

Whatever could be used as an excuse for your abhorrent actions was made into one of your many personal mantras.

And so it was a Saturday night, the summer heat sweltering outside the Nashville bar and pooling inside every time the door was opened. The music was loud, the bass pounding in your ear drums and rattling your bones. The spot was busy, but no more than it usually was, and you were lined up at the counter with your aforementioned acquaintances while you waited to be served. Although, acquaintance was a strong term for the people you regularly spent time with, as they were no more than strangers who you drank with at the bar every now and again. The only reason you could stand to be around each other was because you adorned the same poisonous outlook, and your feelings could not be hurt when you were already prepared for the worst.

“Look, there’s one for you, Olivia.” You pointed across the room to a tall man hovering by the dance floor. He had a beer gripped tightly in his hand as he overlooked the crowd, hoping to find a potential suitor.

“Why don’t you want him?” She asked, raising an eyebrow as she looked in the direction you were pointing to.

“We just got here. I have to keep my options open, and he’s not my type.” You chuckled, neglecting any form of eye contact with her. You played the same trick on her every time you went out, and she hadn’t seemed to catch on to it yet. Her fragile ego made it easy to convince her to take the average looking ones so you could save the best for yourself. “Besides, he’s your type, isn’t he? Tall, blonde…” you trailed off, refusing to mention his mediocre looks and his apparent lack of brains.

“Yeah, I guess he is.” She nodded, flashing you a smile. “Thanks!”

There were two types of women who loved the lifestyle you had chosen for yourself; those who had too much self confidence, and those who had been stripped of it and were in desperate search of it.

“Anytime.” You forced a smile, trying to keep up the facade that it was out of the kindness of your heart. You turned back towards the bartender, staring him down in hopes he would reach you faster. He was busy serving a plethora of drinks to a group of young girls who you doubted were of legal drinking age. When he finished up, he caught your eye and you gave him a smile, doing everything you could to convince him to serve you next. Luckily, it seemed to draw him in, and within seconds he was walking your way.

“What can I get you, darlin’?” He asked, his southern accent hanging thick in the air as he took his time looking you up and down. He was young, but still seemed a bit older than you. He had a cute smile, and a seemingly muscular build. Attractive, but definitely not what you were in search of. You leaned forward over the bar top slightly, ensuring he could get a good look down the front of your low cut dress, hoping the sight would persuade him to give you the first drink on the house.

It didn’t work all of the time, but definitely enough for you to try your luck.

“Double vodka cranberry, please.” You gave a soft smile, batting your eyelashes a time or two to add some extra sweetness. “And a shot of tequila, too.” He took a long look over your face, taking in the sultry stare and the subtle gloss on your lips. The small upturn of the corners of your mouth led him to believe that you were up to no good, but the mischief sparkling in your eyes intrigued him beyond belief. Paired with the soft skin exposed on your neck and chest, illuminated even under the dim bar light, he was enamoured enough to trip over himself to please you.

“Anything else?” He asked, looking up to meet your eyes.

“No, I think that’s fine for now.” You assured him. Without any further comment, he turned towards the wall of alcohol to grab the bottle of vodka. You drummed your fingers against the tabletop as you watched him mix your drink, biting back a smirk as you watched him overpour the shots ever so slightly. When he turned around, you pretended to search through your purse to grab your card. As your fingers closed around the thin plastic, he held his hand out to stop you.

“First one’s on me.” He smiled.

“Are you sure?” You questioned half-heartedly, trying to feign some air of surprise.

“Positive.” He assured you, sliding them your way.

“Thanks, honey.” You flashed a smile, sliding the shot glass and salt shaker towards you. You licked the back of your hand, shaking a few grains of salt on to it before grabbing the tequila. As you raised the shot glass to your lips, you licked the salt off your skin and threw your head back, swallowing down the liquid. Before the taste could overwhelm you, you placed the lime wedge between your lips and sucked the juice from it. You placed the glass back down on the table, sending the bartender a subtle wink upon realizing he was watching the whole ordeal. Without another word, you grabbed your mixed drink and took a sip from it, washing the harsh tequila from your tongue.

As you turned around, you intended to step away from the bar and make your way towards the small stage, where there looked to be a band preparing their instruments for a soundcheck. Before you could, your eyes landed upon something much more intriguing than the amateur music group hoping to make their big break. There was a man, not very tall, yet appeared to be the most attention grabbing thing in the entire room, and inexplicably charismatic without even knowing it. He was not looking in your direction, but you wished he was, and upon catching sight of his soft and inviting features, you knew you would make it a point to make him notice you before the night was through. The dumb blonde nursing his third beer and already bordering intoxication was not your type, nor was the overly flirty bartender, but whoever was standing amidst the chaos of the crowd, whiskey glass tucked neatly in his hand and brown hair flowing gracefully off his shoulder, definitely was.

He was in blue jeans that appeared to be very worn. The knees and thighs had turned near white with how thin the denim had grown. The fabric hung from his figure slightly, cuffed at his ankles to show off the expensive looking brown boots he was wearing. On his upper half was a black button up, only tucked into his jeans on one side while the other hung down loosely over his hip. The top two buttons were undone, showing a flash of tanned skin from his chest. It made your mouth water, and it made you curious to see the rest of him. His face, when you finally had the opportunity to see the whole picture, seemed to take your breath away. His smile held a playful joy that was almost infectious, and his eyes were warm and only ever seemed to draw you in further.

You decided at that moment, it was imperative that you take the opportunity that was presented to you.

You were never one to jump first, but this time, you couldn’t seem to resist the temptation. Usually, you loved drawing them into you, to enchant them enough to make them approach you. You thought it was entertaining to watch them stutter over their words as they tried to persuade you of their intent. This time, you knew that this was a game where time was of essence, and if you did not jump at the chance, someone else would definitely beat you to it. You weren’t sure about his game, or if he was one with undying loyalty to a woman who did not want to be with him that night. You were unsure if he was already stuck in a game of flirtation with another woman at the bar, or if maybe, you were not his type at all. No matter, you still believed it to be your best bet to try, because leaving without a piece of him was not something you were willing to do, or at least do happily.

You drew in a long breath, swiping your tongue over your front teeth to ensure there was no lipstick smudged on them. Then, you ran a finger through your curled hair, arranging it neatly to frame your face. You took a sip of your drink, surveying the area to determine what the best move would be. He was next to a taller man with curly hair and a big nose, who was without a doubt, just as attractive. You decided that if you could not have your first choice, he would do it for you just the same.

A break in conversation allowed for you to make your move; the nameless boy turned away from his company for a moment, and then the taller boy seemed to abandon him in search of a booth on the other side of the bar. Before you could think up a line to deliver as you approached him, he took a step in your direction. Your stomach fluttered nervously and your heart sped as he continued moving towards the bar. You weren’t ready, but you weren’t willing to let it stop you from getting what you wanted. Instead, you turned towards the bar again and changed your course of action. You prayed that he would do exactly as you expected and come to stand beside you, because only then would you be able to make the first move.

After a few seconds of uncertainty, you had to bite back a smile when you felt a body present itself next to you. Immediately, before you even turned your head, you were hit with an intoxicating scent. Woody and deep, almost as if amber was delicately laced between the notes of sandalwood. Even with the heaviness, there seemed to be something light, almost like a citrus or a flowery smell. As if in an instant, your switch was flipped and you were ready to play. Slowly, you turned your head to the side and casted a careful glance at him. He had an empty glass in his hand, the ice melting due to the warmth of his palm surrounding it. Now that he was next to you, you could see the subtle gold of a hoop earring settled on his lobe, and a chain dangling loosely over his collarbones. There was a bracelet around his wrist and a ring sat on his middle finger. Suddenly you were overwhelmed by the idea of his fingers closed around your neck instead of the cup, and your stomach twisted into a knot.

The bartender seemed to be completely immersed in something, failing to notice his new customer. You smiled to yourself, wondering if you could use it to your advantage. The man had yet to notice your interest, and you were happy to keep it that way for a moment. The same bartender who had served you moments before passed by, not even giving the boy a second thought. He seemed to shift uncomfortably on his feet as he raised a hand to call him over, almost as if he was nervous to be rude. The bartender looked up for a moment, but continued on doing his previous task.

‘Perfect,’ you thought, sipping from your drink. The situation seemed to be resolving itself as the man beside you lowered his arm in defeat, tapping his fingers against the wood grain as he patiently waited his turn. You observed him as he did so, pitying him only slightly for his lack of confidence. You began to wonder if he was timid in all areas of his life, and if he was, how easy it would be to break him free from that chain. When the bartender took a step in your direction, intending to move past you to the customers at the other end of the line, you raised a hand to him and gave a sickly sweet smile. His eyes gave a sparkle as they landed upon your face, and his attention was quickly focused on nothing other than you. He cut towards you, ready to take your order again.

“Another shot?” He asked, already half-turned to grab the tequila bottle. You have a chuckle, shaking your head at him.

“My friend wanted to order, actually.” You said, nodding your head towards the boy beside you. “But I’ll take a shot too, once he gets his drink.”

“Oh, sure thing.” He said, averting his gaze to the person next to you instead. You felt a pair of eyes burning into you, but you did not want to look yet. Instead of addressing your notion of friendship, he cleared his throat and smiled at the man across the counter. He waited a moment before he spoke, wondering if you might have anything else to say. Eventually, he began to order and you listened intently to hear the sound.

“Double shot of Woodford, please.” He said, his tone low and gravelly. You could not ignore the rush of emotion that flooded you from the simple sound alone. “And I’ll get hers, too.” Now, you couldn’t resist the temptation to look at him. You shifted in place, turning towards him ever so slightly and catching his eye. Now that he was looking straight at you, his gaze heavy and his face close, you knew you had made the right choice. He was the only person in the whole bar that would be able to affect you with something as simple as a shared glance.

“Woodford?” You asked, your lip turning up into a smirk. “Expensive taste.”

“I can say the same about you.” He said, watching the bartender reach for a bottle of Don Julio. You gave a slight shrug, brushing off the comment. “Friends, eh?” He asked, addressing your earlier comment.

“Just figured you might want a drink.” You said, elusive to the real reason you’d called the bartender over. “Didn’t seem like he was very eager to serve you.”

“‘Preciate it, sweetheart.” He said, grabbing his drink from the counter as it was served. He swirled the ice around the glass for a moment, pondering his next words. “If we’re friends, I s’pose it would be nice to know your name.”

“Are you asking ‘cause you want to know, or ‘cause you feel like you have to?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as a shot was placed in front of you. Seconds later, a lime wedge and salt shaker was placed next to it. You looked over at him, noticing that he was still watching you. You’d caught his attention, and in the exact way you had been hoping to.

“I wouldn’t’ve asked if I didn’t care.” He said, taking a sip of the amber liquid in his cup. “I’ve never been the type to entertain people I’m not interested in.” He had a drawl to his words that you couldn’t quite wrap your head around. It didn’t sound like a southern accent, but then again, neither did your own. Perhaps both of you had come to Nashville to find a new life.

“So you’re interested?” You smirked, turning your head fully towards him now. He didn’t respond, instead taking another sip. “Y/n.” You said, smiling at his strong attitude. You liked it, and you appreciated the forward response. It made your job so much easier. “You?”

“Jake.” He said, seemingly pleased with your words. “And to answer your question, yes.” He grinned, setting his glass back down on the table. You took the opportunity to think over your next move while taking the shot he’d so kindly bought for you. You placed the empty shot glass back on the counter, sucking the juice from the lime as the burn traveled from your chest to the pit of your stomach.

“Jake,” You pondered the name, imagining nothing good as it infiltrated your mind. You imagined how it would sound, laced delicately around your tongue with his head between your legs. You wondered how it would hang in the air, heavy amidst the desire that would surround you two. “I like it.” You deducted, understanding that all of the aforementioned things would come to life before the night was through.

“I’m glad.” He let out a small laugh, looking over your face for a moment. There was a twinkle in his eye that you couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t mischievous, but almost seemed to be devious, like he was thinking and planning the exact same things you were. “Are you here with anyone tonight?”

“That depends.” You said, taking a sip from your straw, washing down the bitter lime and lingering tequila. “What kind of company are you wondering about?” You looked over at him, noticing his eyes still lingering over you. He gave you a small smirk, understanding that elusiveness was a part of your charm. He didn’t seem bothered by your indirect response, and if anything, he found it intriguing.

“The kind that takes you home with them at the end of the night.” His counter for your mystique was to be blunt, which did catch you off guard. For someone who seemed timid at a distance, he was awfully forward now that you were speaking. It made you wonder if you misjudged, or if he was hiding that part of him particularly well. You decided that if he was hiding it, it was for a reason, and one that you were rather eager to know about.

“No,” You shook your head. You debated elaborating, but decided to bite your tongue instead.

“Are you looking for someone to take you home, sweetheart?” He asked, pressing further as you watched him. “Is that why you were trying to get my attention?” You tried to keep a straight face as you pieced together his words. At face value, you took it as a general inquiry about the bartender, but you knew people better than to take anything at face value. He meant something deeper, but you didn’t want to mention it. You had faith in your ability to get him to cave, first.

“Wouldn’t say I was looking for your attention, honey. Seems as though it just happened.” You lied through your teeth, letting the accusation roll off your shoulders with ease. One of your biggest flaws was always responding to things as if it were an attack, and your defense was up; you wanted him, but not enough to bend to his will. You’d learned a long time ago that desperation was not a good look for you, and you much preferred it on someone else’s face.

“No?” He questioned, calling your bluff. “So you’re telling me you weren’t watching me earlier?” A prickle of indignation was felt in your spine as he spoke and you felt the need to correct him, even if he was right.

“Sneaky.” You muttered, your eyes flickering to his hand still wrapped around the glass. You couldn’t give up now, because that would leave him with the upper hand. Arguing seemed to be what he was hoping for, just so he could put you in your place, so you did the opposite; you admitted to the fact, but only to regain control of the situation. “You caught me.” You shrugged your shoulders, giving him an innocent smile. “So, what now?”

“Nothing,” he chuckled. “Just wanted to hear you say it.” You rolled your eyes at him, but it was playful. Something about him was less bothersome; if anyone else were to be playing the same cards, you would have walked away, but he had an odd sort of charm about him. Plus, his face certainly didn’t hurt the case. “That didn’t answer my first question, though.” He said, his gaze growing slightly stronger. “Are you looking for someone to take you home?”

“Is that an offer, or just your curiosity getting the best of you again?” He gave another low chuckle at your reluctance to answer.

“Both.” His answer was curt, but you appreciated it. “If you’re interested, of course.” Normally, you would have made him chase you a bit, or work a little harder than what he’d already done. Other times, you would have jumped his bones so fast that he wouldn’t know what hit him, just to leave him alone to ponder all that happened in the short time. Right now, you did not feel like doing either of those things. He had piqued your interest in the best possible way, and for once, you felt like talking, even if it was going to lead to the same old outcome.

In another universe, maybe you even would have bent your rules for him and pursued something more.

But, of course, fantasizing about an alternative universe is only ever harmful in the long run, especially if you aren’t willing to put in the work to alter the universe you’re already stuck in.

And you, a secret romantic buried deep under the surface who covered their own heartbreak by becoming a player, had never once considered putting in the work to change.

After all, why would you ever want to change when playing dirty was so much fun?

“I’ve never been the type of person to entertain someone I’m not interested in.” You smirked, throwing back the last of your drink as you let him digest his own words that you’d thrown so powerfully back in his face. As much as it seemed like a lie, it was not; you would never entertain a man you did not want to be with. You only cared for leading them on enough to get what you wanted, then pretending they did not exist.

“Happy to see we’re on the same page, then.” He chuckled, seeming like he wanted to move closer to you, but he held himself back.

“Where are you from, Jake?” You asked, taking the step for him and scooting a little closer. It was not enough to touch him, but there was a notable difference in space between you now.

“Michigan.” He smiled, showing appreciation for your efforts to be closer. “And you?”

“Atlanta.” You responded, flagging the bartender over for another drink. “You’re a long way from home.” You noted, watching as the worker took your used glass and turned to mix you another. “What made you decide to live here?”

“Work.” He replied, sipping away at his own beverage. Now that you were closer, the smell of his cologne seemed to be suffocating you, but it was with great pleasure to succumb to such an end.

“Must be a good job if you were willing to move so far.” He gave a small smile, nodding his head after a moment.

“You can say that.” The look in his eyes made you believe it was no ordinary office job, nor a regular paycheck that motivated him.

“Was it a job, or was it a dream?” You pressed further, studying his expression.

“Both, I suppose.” He replied, curious about how easily you picked up on it. “I’m in a band.” You could not deny your interest in the topic, nor your personal infatuation with musicians in general. You should have guessed, but somehow it was so much sweeter coming from his mouth. Everything seemed to be sweeter when he was the one saying it. “What are you here for?”

“To start over.” You shrugged. “New place, new people… new everything.”

“What were you trying to get away from?” The question struck a sore spot, but you tried not to let it show. You liked to view your move as something brave, rather than a cowardly act. When he worded it as such, it made it seem like you were running out of fear rather than confidence.

“I wouldn’t say I was running from anything. More or less just looking for something more.” You explained.

“Have you found it yet?” The question was a loaded one, and you weren’t sure if you had the answer he was looking for. The conversation seemed to run deeper than anything you were intending, yet you didn’t seem to mind. Usually when at the bar, especially with a man, the conversation revolved around sexual desires and painful flirting. This one was different, and it seemed like he wanted to see into your soul before ever taking your clothes off. You hated to admit it, but you didn’t mind it.

You hadn’t found what you were looking for when you moved to the city, but you had definitely convinced yourself otherwise. When you made the big move, you were young and naive. You had been desperately in love with the idea of love despite never knowing what it actually felt like. As you decorated a new apartment with memorabilia of a different lifetime, you fantasized about replacing it with love letters and pictures of a man you had yet to meet. You went to bed nightly with a melancholy hanging over the room and a longing for a life you were never destined to live. That was what you had been in search of, and instead, you had given up. You filled the void with sex and money, drinking away the bitter taste of your own failure and falling into bed with people who did not matter. It was a sad exchange, and no real replacement for the fulfillment you once craved, yet you had been doing it for so long now that it was the only thing you knew how to do.

Although it was nice for someone to pick your brain for once, and it was thrilling to finally be faced with stimulating conversation, you were a creature of habit. It was too risky to give too much of yourself away, even if you liked all you had seen from Jake. You weren’t sure what he was looking for, but you were too selfish to let him go. You needed the notch in your belt, even if you were sacrificing his heart in the process. You needed to regain control of the conversation, to hold the power in your hands once more, and you knew you wouldn’t have to work very hard for it. As you conjured the best response to his question, you almost felt a shred of guilt about using him for your own personal gain. You decided that out of all of them, his heart would be the hardest to break.

“Not yet, but I’m sure I will, someday.” You whispered, knowing that what you had been searching for was long out of reach for you. You had sinned so much that a simple lifestyle of love would never be in the cards for you. You had made your bed, and it was time to lie in it.

“Maybe I can help with that.” He said, his voice dropping ever so slightly. He was curious about you, and how after only minutes of knowing you, he could not imagine a world in which you did not exist. You drew him in so easily that he could not question whether it was a good idea or not. He found you inexplicably easy to need.

“Maybe so, rockstar.” You smiled up at him, knowing he could not. He could help with plenty of other things, but never that.

“Am I keeping you from anyone?” He asked, looking around the crowded bar for a moment, realizing he may have been taking you away from friends. You let out a chuckle, shaking your head.

“No, am I?”

“Definitely not.” He promised. “I’m here with my brothers. I see them enough—they can wait.”

“Don’t be like that, now.” You laughed. “You can find me later, when they’re drunk enough that they don’t notice you’re missing.” Even if you tried to make yourself seem heartless, it didn’t feel right cutting in on his family time. Humanity was something you didn’t often feel, but he seemed to pull on strings of your heart you no longer believed to exist. “I promise I’ll stick around.”

“No way,” he laughed, brushing you off. “I’d much rather get to know you, sweetheart. Plus, it saves me a headache from bickering with them all night.”

“Alright, if you’re sure.” Hesitation was still present in your voice, but if he was certain about it, you couldn’t find anything to complain about. Part of your hesitation stemmed from the fact that you did not want your night to be cut short by any distractions. The bar bathroom did not seem fitting for all you wanted to do with him, and if it took letting him go for a while to have him until the sun came up in the sky, you were okay with it.

“If you’re that worried, why don’t you come over and drink with us?” He offered, mistaking your reluctance as something selfless. Then again, he could not be upset if he were to discover your true intent, for his own was just as selfish. He feared that if he left you on your lonesome, someone else would catch your eye and he would lose his chance. Besides, inviting you to drink with the group wasn’t the worst idea he’d ever had. In fact, he thought it might be quite enjoyable.

“Taking me to meet the family already?” You teased. “I must be special.” His lips upturned slightly, drawing your attention to the mustache that decorated his upper lip. It made his already beautiful face all the more remarkable.

“You certainly are, angel.” He affirmed your statement, seemingly gravitating towards you the longer he held your gaze. “You did catch my attention, after all.” Before you knew it, his face was inches away from your own. He looked down at you over his nose, his eyelashes casting a slight shadow over his reddened cheeks, burning from the alcohol he was drinking. The smell of his cologne mixed with the whiskey on his breath was turning you into a mess, insanity calling your name the longer you stayed in the position.

“Takes a lot to do that, eh?” You asked, you voice barely heard over the sound of your hearts beating in time.

“Some would say so.” He smiled, warmer and less flirtatious than the ones before. He knew he had you how he wanted you, and he felt as though he could let go of the act for a moment. The tip of his nose was brushing against your own, making the temptation almost too much to resist. You wondered if he would strike first, or if you would have to take the risk yourself. He was a flirt, and seemingly just as big of one as you were, but you weren’t sure how deep his confidence truly lied. He’d known you for all but a half a drink, yet your claws seemed to strike deep. He was trapped, and he could run, but would always look back over his shoulder to ensure you were following.

“Have I caught your attention enough for you to kiss me?” You asked, your tone quiet but your words impactful. His hand reached out for your hip, his fingers settling gently over the silky material of your dress. The touch felt good, but it was not nearly enough. Above all, it perpetuated a vicious cycle, for you knew that a touch so addictive would not be something you could walk away from.

Perhaps Jake Kiszka was not the one trapped, and for once, you had backed yourself into a corner at the hands of his irresistible sin.

You knew better than to seek someone with the same deadly power, but you could not manage to keep yourself away. He’d kept it so well hidden that you failed to realize his power until the very minute his skin met your own.

He leaned forward, the gap closing between you as his lips landed on your own. The violence was disguised with sweetness, and wrapped up in a bow of desire. The faint taste of the whiskey he was drinking was dancing on your tongue, drawing you in alongside the warmth of his body. You raised your hand to his cheek, cupping it in your palm as his hand guided you into him. You had never experienced a feeling so overwhelming, and the sensation of his tongue gliding over your lower lip, begging to push any boundaries, was so powerful it nearly shattered your psyche. In an instant, you forgot about your plan to take him home and instead were plagued with an imminent need for him. You worried that you might not be able to make it to the bathroom with his hand so powerfully holding you in place. In that moment, you needed Jake more than you had ever needed anything in your entire life.

As he pulled away, you fought the urge to pull him right back in. He did not move too far away, almost as if he was waiting for you to do exactly that. “Is that the answer you were looking for?” It was the exact answer you were hoping for, and the two of you felt no need to go any further with formalities. You knew what you wanted, and waiting seemed pointless. Before the night was through, he would have you, and whether then be in a bed or the bathroom, he was not sure.

“A simple yes or no would have done the same.” You teased, running your thumb tentatively over the soft skin of his cheek. He seemed to lean into the touch, making your hesitation disappear.

“Right,” he chuckled, still a bit dazed from the intensity of the moment. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

“No,” you shook your head. “No need for that.” He couldn’t help but laugh at your response, leaning in and placing a shorter, sweeter kiss on your lips.

“Something to get you through meeting my brothers,” he explained, as if he needed an excuse to kiss you at all.

“Is that so?” You grinned. “They’re that bad?”

“No, not bad, just a lot.” He corrected, his hand still lingering on your hip. “Was hoping that if I kissed you, it would give you a reason to stick around.”

“I’m sure it’ll be quite alright. No need to stress yourself out, honey.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” He sighed, wishing that he never brought up the idea at all. He would much rather stay at the bar, alone with you to do anything you wanted. With that, he pulled back from you and grabbed his drink from the counter. You did the same, watching him as he stepped away. Suddenly, a flood of fear ran through you and reached out, grabbing his arm before he could go any further. He gave you a confused expression, wondering what was wrong as you stepped towards him. You raised your hand to his face, letting your thumb swipe away some smudged lipstick decorating his lower lip.

“Don’t think pink is your color.” You giggled, releasing your hold on him.

“You sure?” He questioned. “I’m think I can pull it off.”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded, grabbing your drink from the counter. “Whatever you say, rockstar.” You said, waiting for him to lead the way.

“What, you really don’t think so?” He asked, extending his arm out to you. You joined him at his side, watching as he surveyed the room in an attempt to locate the booth his brothers were sat in. After a moment, he seemed to brighten up as his eyes landed on a booth with three people sat inside.

“Who knows, you could surprise me.” You replied, finding yourself looking in the same direction his eyes were pointing. As you did, it felt like you’d received a harsh blow to the stomach, nearly doubling over in shock as your gaze fixated on the booth. You knew it to be the right one because the curly headed boy from earlier was sitting at the edge of one bench, laughing at something the boy beside him had said. Across from him, though, was a side profile that was so stunning it nearly stole the air from your lungs. In an attempt to make sense of it, you looked over at Jake, recognizing the similarities instantly.

You were stuck wondering if it was a joke, or a perfectly wrapped present placed at your feet by the universe itself. The evil that normally ran through your veins seemed to increase tenfold as you understood that the door had opened for you to have access to not just a gorgeous, outlandishly charming man, but a set of (outstandingly beautiful) twins.

As Jake looked back at you, you covered your expression of joy in an instant, understanding that if you were going to pull it off, you needed to be as thorough and precise about your actions as possible. You did not want to pull one just to fumble the other, nor did you want to lose both of them in the process. Before you spoke, you chose your words incredibly carefully.

“I’m nervous,” you forced a small smile, trying your best to appear anxious as you spoke.

“What are you nervous about, angel?” He asked, stepping closer to you and seemingly falling straight into the trap.

“What if they don’t like me?” You offered, glancing over to the booth and back to him.

“Not possible, sweetheart. They’re quite easy to get along with. I’m sure they’ll love you.” He said, landing a gentle hand on your arm to reassure you.

“I want to go home with you tonight, Jake, but could we… keep it between ourselves? Just for now, at least.” You knew the words were incriminating, but you always had a plan in mind. If he responded the way you predicted, it would be easy enough from there.

“What, like it’s a bad thing?” He raised an eyebrow, trying to comprehend what your intent was.

“No, honey.” You shook your head, giving a small laugh. “Not that I usually kiss and tell anyway, but I’d rather them see me as a person, not just the girl their brother is trying to fuck. It changes the way you see people, sometimes.” You explained, looking carefully over his expression as you spoke. You tried to keep your words sweet, hoping it might sway him to see it your way, even if your way was not how you were presenting it. “Does that make sense?”

“It does, angel.” He nodded, giving you a smile. “We can do that, if it makes you feel more comfortable.”

“It does,” you let out a sigh, fake but clearly convincing. “Thank you.”

“You’ve got nothing to thank me for, sweetheart.” He said, moving his hand to the curve of you back as he guided you through the crowd. “At least not yet, anyway.” He said the second part much quieter, as if he was already ahead of the game of secrecy. You wondered if maybe he enjoyed it, or the idea of having you in private got him off even further. There was much left undiscovered about Jake, and you were excited to see more. More than anything, you were happy that the first phase of your plan had come to fruition so easily.

You allowed him to lead you towards the group of unnamed boys, only a small nervous stutter in your heart. This was something you feared might be beyond your capabilities, yet you could not ignore the urge to try. When a player is faced with a challenge, backing down is not an option, and when it came to the game, nobody was more committed than you were. The minute your eyes landed on the previously unmentioned twin brother, your heart was set upon the desire for both, and you had grown so selfish over the years that you had yet to feel a shred of remorse about it. You knew that caution was needed, and every moment needed to be carefully calculated. It was a daunting task that would make a weaker woman shy away, but you were confident in your own abilities. Try as you might, you could not turn down such an opportunity.

Jake loosened his grip on you as you drew near the end of your seclusion. As he approached the chatter-filled group, they turned to look at him. Their eyes didn’t take long to land on you, but once they did, they didn’t seem to want to leave. You were hyper aware of the skimpy dress hanging over your body, tasteful enough not to potray you as a slut, yet bold enough to catch ample amounts of attention. It did not come as a surprise when all of their gazes were not pointed at your face, but rather the peek of cleavage from the black material covering your chest, and soon after, the smooth and enticing skin of your legs.

“Found some extra company, Jacob?” If it was even possible, the curly headed boy who looked so similar to Jake was even more beautiful up close.

Much like his brother, the beauty seemed to sneak up on you, drawing you in from far away and stealing your life away without a second thought the minute you were within reach.

“Hope you don’t mind if I crash the party.” You gave him a sweet smile, hiding the hunger in your eyes so you did not scare him away.

“Not at all,” he said, sliding further into the booth to make room for the two of you. You sat first, allowing Jake to take the spot at the end of the table.

“She was here all by herself, figured she could use some friends.” Jake smirked, casting a sideways glance at you.

“Friends are plentiful, here.” The boy with long curly hair said, giving you a smile. “I’m Danny.”

“And I’m Sam, Jake’s brother.” The boy beside him cut in in as if he was afraid he’d be forgotten.

“Nice to meet you guys. I’m y/n.” You extended the sentiment, looking both of them over.

“And I’m Josh, also Jake’s brother.” The boy beside you spoke now, catching your attention and forcing you to look in his direction once again. His brown eyes were warmer than Jake’s, perhaps a tad bit friendlier. His hair was shaved down on the sides, and his cheeks were tinged with a blush from the alcohol he was drinking.

“A twin, perhaps?” You asked, hoping you were guessing correctly.

“How’d you know?” He raised an eyebrow, but did not seem surprised at the statement. He was intrigued by you, and his face did not hide the fact very well. The attraction was mutual, and you could read him like a book, much different than his brother. You held a cloud of desire around your head, and no man was privy to the reason why. It affected them all the same, and it was the reason why you were stuck in the situation you were in, now. Upon first glance, his twin brother felt all of the same things.

“Lucky guess.” You chuckled, taking in all of him that was up for offer. His clothes were a bit basic, yet seemed to suit him well. The long sleeved white sweater he was wearing appeared soft, and the cologne that radiated from him was mouth-watering. It was light, fresh smelling, like sage and cedar wood. Underneath that you could smell notes of long burnt out incense sticks that seemed to cling to the fibers of his clothing. He had on beige khakis, and even if his style was not exactly eye-catching, he pulled it off well. It was clean, concise, and did not draw attention away from his face that was seemingly crafted by gods.

“Takes one to know one?” He guessed, curious about your precise analysis of the two. You chuckled, shaking your head.

“No, just a good observer is all.” You replied. “Only child, actually.”

“Ah,” he hummed, his heavy-lidded eyes gazing curiously over your face. He was intrigued just as well as you were, which seemed to make your job so much easier. “Explains a lot, then. Nobody to keep you company, so you had to occupy yourself with watching everyone else.”

“I suppose you could put it that way.” You laughed, already beginning to notice the clear difference between the two. Josh was much more outgoing than his counterpart, with a goofy smile and booming voice. He seemed to say whatever was on his mind, whenever he wanted to. You weren’t sure if the liquor had any impact on that fact, or if he was like that all of the time. You were curious to know, and you knew that in due time, you would have all of the answers you wanted. “I think people are interesting.”

“That they are.” He agreed, sipping from a beer bottle in hand. “Am I interesting?” He was definitely drunk, but you did not mind; if anything, it seemed to rid you of the uncomfortable getting to know him phase.

“Incredibly.” You laughed, the sound filling the immediate air around you all and catching all of the attention. You were not afraid to admit to your own beauty, and how easy it was for you to catch attention. When you had a smile on your lips and a laugh stuck between your teeth, the genuine warmth pulled people in even further.

“I don’t know if I like how fast you answered that.” He said, furrowing his eyebrows with another grin lighting up his whole face.

“If it’s the truth, I don’t think it really matters if you like it or not.” You explained, keeping your tone light to match his. You tuned out of your conversation for a moment, just for long enough to gauge how Jake was taking to the two of you talking. Within seconds, you realized he was not even listening; he was stuck in a lighthearted argument with his brother across the table about something that seemed (to you, at least) incredibly unimportant. Once you were certain you were in the clear, you focused your attention on Josh again. Even after only a few seconds of looking elsewhere, his beauty seemed to smack you in the face with a newfound intensity, as if it was angry with you for not paying attention.

“Why are you here all alone, anyway?” Josh questioned, fidgeting with the corner of a napkin sat in front of him on the table.

“I figured spending a night at the bar would be better than sitting at home all alone.” You shrugged, knowing that you were only giving him half truths. Sitting there and flirting with him was the reason you came out alone, even if you did not know he would be the main subject of your focus beforehand. Well, one of them at least.

“And you were just lucky enough to run into a group as fun as us.” He added, making sure to motion towards the whole table as he spoke. He seemed as if he was big on talking with his hands, and it was a trait you thought was quite cute.

“Luck is a good word for it.” You agreed, deciding now that he’d invited you in, you could begin to seek out the weak spots of his strong personality. For a moment, you did not speak again. You took the time to study him in his entirety, but played it off as if you were invested in the bullshit argument still going down beside you.

His eyes were shining with amusement at his brother's butting heads, and his smile never faltered. You wondered if he was genuinely just happy all of the time, or if the breathtaking smile was a constant mask he’d learned how to perfect. He drummed his fingers against the tabletop with one hand as his other fidgeted with something else. It bounced between the aforementioned napkin and the waning edge of the beer bottle label. His foot tapped against the ground as well, every so often switching to a full on leg bounce. You had yet to confirm if it was anxiety making him jitter so badly, or if it was a surplus of energy. Either way, it seemed like he could get up at that very moment and run laps around the building.

There were silver earrings placed in different spots on his ear, yet the chains that dangled around his neck were gold. It was a contradiction to the way Jake wore his, with gold in his lobe and silver decoration on his chest. You thought it was interesting enough, but nothing worthwhile enough for you to remember. He hummed along to the songs the band was playing every now and again, showing his appreciation of music through minute actions. You wondered if Josh was also in the band that Jake had previously told you about. The song switched, and there was a twitch in Josh’s eye as his lips upturned ever so slightly. He liked the song, and you could capitalize off it. This specific bar had a liking for old music, and luckily for you, your father refused to listen to any song that came out after ‘95. It was your forte, and seemingly his too. You wished you could thank the (mostly) cover band for picking such a great song to play.

“Fairport Convention.” You sighed, smiling as you stirred your ice around your drink. As you said it, Josh seemed to perk up. His head turned towards you, his eyes shining with admiration for your music knowledge. Once you knew his attention was yours, you spoke again. “I love this song.”

“You… uh, yeah. Me too.” He grinned. If he thought you were attractive before that second, it seemed to grow even stronger. His whole body shifted as he turned in your direction, and his tongue darted out and over his bottom lip. “This is definitely one of my favorite bands of all time.”

“That’s a bold statement.” You said, looking over at him as you sipped your drink.

“And I mean it.” He assured you. “I didn’t know I was in the company of someone with such fantastic taste.” Like venom, your next words came smoothly and deadly.

“There’s lots you don’t know, but I’m sure you could find out if you’re ever interested.” Your voice dropped as you spoke, as if the words shared between you were sacred. In a sense, they were; there was no chance in hell you would ever say it loud enough for Jake to hear. Your eyes flickered to meet his, holding his gaze with a soft intensity that made him squirm in his seat. His breath caught in his throat for a moment, trying to piece together your true intentions. His demeanor shifted in an instant, and in a way you very much needed to see more of.

“Is that so?” He pried further, treading lightly and keeping his voice as hushed as your own. As he said it, you felt Jake’s hand snake to your thigh underneath the table, so stealthily that you would not have even noticed the movement if not for his burning touch lingering just below the hem of your dress. “I’m not sure if I understand what you mean, mama.” The pet name rolled off his tongue, coated in a slight husk that raised goosebumps across your skin. You wondered if you should feel dirty for flirting with Josh while Jake’s hand lingered so tentatively on your leg, but you seemed to miss the boat when it came to remorse in its entirety.

“I think you understand exactly what I mean, honey.” You chuckled, giving a soft smile. His eyes darkened at your words, as if the statement had opened up a whole new world for him. You had given him permission to think such things about you, and he was grateful for it, almost like he’d been fighting the urge to see you as such since he first laid eyes on you.

“Mhm,” he hummed to himself, his head cocking to the side slightly as he tried to figure you out. “How could I say no to an offer like that?”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t.” You admitted, holding his gaze to cement your position on the matter. With that, Jake was calling your name and bringing you into conversation with the rest of them. You looked over Josh for a moment longer, then turned to look at his brother. You would have been fearful of Jake seeing Josh’s dumbfounded face if not for the fact he was fully immersed in you. As soon as he caught sight of your face again, he seemed just as enthralled in you as he was when you were talking by the bar.

Time passed and drinks were had, laughs were plentiful and the flirting was unbearable, although kept expertly under wraps. Bouncing between the two seemed like a daunting task you feared you would not be able to do, yet the longer you did it, the easier it became. As the time passed, you even seemed to enjoy it. Danny and Sam seemed incredibly drunk, and due to their innate inability to be observant, your work had become quite simple. Jake had gone to the bar and grabbed everyone another round of drinks, and you had noticed that he switched to drinking beer as the night dwindled on. Your best guess was that he did not want to be too drunk to entertain you, and you had to appreciate his effort.

“Do you have any plans after this, mama?” Josh asked, leaning in almost too close for comfort. Although, it would be very comfortable if not for the crowd onlooking the two of you.

“Looking to learn more already?” You teased, casting a look at him through the corner of your eye.

“Is it such a crime?” He challenged, wishing you would turn to face him once more.

“Not a crime, but not a good night for me. I have to work in the morning.” The lie slipped off your tongue as smooth as silk, no hesitation present in your answer. If only he knew the truth, he may not be so willing to give in to you. “Raincheck?” You asked, turning your head towards him a little more.

“You name the time and place, and I’ll be there.” He promised. Your forearms were resting against each other on the table, incriminating the two of you even further. Josh seemed to be leaning in to you, and if you were a little more drunk, you would have reciprocated the action. Before he could get too close, though, you felt Jake’s fingers tighten against your thigh, but it was not in the soft teasing manner as it was before. It pulled you out of the bubble that surrounded you and Josh, causing a flood of fear to run through you as you looked over at him.

The look in his eye was sinister, yet not threatening. You weren’t sure how he pulled it off, but you had no better way to describe it. His grip on you remained the same, and for a moment, he did not speak. His jaw was hard set, the muscles in his cheeks tense as he looked over your face. “I’m going to grab another drink. Care to join?” He asked, his voice soft and nothing like the flame in his eye. Although his tone was misleading, and you knew that his question was not as it appeared; he had no intent on going back to the bar without you.

“Sure,” you nodded, giving him a smile. You wanted to maintain your composure as much as you could, because if you faltered even slightly, he would see you exactly as you were. He stood, not making any further moves as you joined him. Discreetly, you gave Josh’s knee a squeeze to reassure him after leaving him hanging before you stood yourself.

Jake began walking without looking back to see if you were following; he did not need to, for he felt the cloud of euphoria surrounding him that was only sourced from your company. When he reached the bar, he leaned against a vacant area with room enough for two. He faced inwards, looking at all of the whiskey bottles on the wall and wondering if he would need something stronger to cope with your venomous personality. You took the spot beside him, wondering if he would speak, or if you would have to come up with something on your own. It was so much easier when he did the talking for you.

His lip was curled slightly, as if he had a sour taste on his tongue. You noticed his shoulders heaving with every breath, but he did not appear outwardly furious. Maybe he was holding it all under the surface and waiting for the right moment to explode. For a second, you believed that you had ruined your chances with the beautiful man before you. You wondered what he was thinking, or how much he heard or saw of you and Josh. His silence was painstaking, and you could not deny the nervous flutter in your stomach or the clammy palms.

Then, he turned to look at you, his eyes catching yours in a tell-all reunion. If he was angry, it had dissipated in a second and it was now replaced with the same carnal desire that plagued him before you ever joined his brothers at the booth. You had your pretty face to thank, and the budding feelings that were already blossoming in his heart. He felt for you more than a one night stand should, and even if he knew you were evil to the core, he couldn’t stop himself from feeling such a way. The cycle continued, and he had already branded himself a fool for you.

“What game are you trying to play, sweetheart?” He asked, looking down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Depends… what’s your favorite?” You smirked up at him, giving a bat of your eyelashes to cement the flirtation in your tone. He gave a low chuckle, neglecting a response, instead raising his beer bottle to his lips and tilting his head back. As he drank down the liquid, your eyes drifted towards the exposed columns of his neck, his Adam's apple bobbing with each long gulp.

You couldn’t help but think how foolish he was to expose his very lifeline to you, and although you were not a being of mythical nature and blood was not exactly your thing, you were certain that your lips, or better, your tongue settled gently atop the skin of his jugular would send him straight to his knees. You were tempted to test it out, just to see if your assumptions were correct. You could lean forward and try, but you knew it was best to wait; he would run himself in circles for a few moments before he inevitably landed himself in that exact position.

As he pulled the bottle away from his mouth, the glisten of alcohol making the plush skin of his lips glisten under the dim bar light, his eyes drifted back down towards your face before his head dropped into its earlier position. He was silent for a moment, as if he was trying to understand you better, and then he spoke softly, leaning down so you could hear him over the boom of the stereo system.

“I don’t like games at all, angel.” The sultry tone sent a shiver down your spine, but you did not let it phase you any further than that. Before he could pull away, you turned your head inwards, just enough so that your nose would brush against his. At the sudden touch, he did not shy away like you expected. If anything, he seemed to lean further into you without any hesitation. At that moment, you understood that you were not playing with an amateur; any lesser man would shy away from your strong nature. If you had to admit, him being open to the advance made your desire to play him grow even stronger. “I saw you talking to Josh. Do you think you’re being sly? Playing hard to get?” He asked, the sheer power behind his soft tone making your knees weak and your stomach twist in a knot. “Or are you trying to make me jealous?” If only he knew how extensive your evil truly was, he would never have spoken at all and instead turn away to run. His accusations were nowhere near the atrocities you were intending to commit. “What, you have nothing to say, now? Finally have you cornered?”

“Just don’t think you’d like what I have to say, is all.” You said, placing your empty cup down on the bar top without breaking the position. His eyes were boring into your own, as if he was trying to make you submit to him. In truth, you found his confidence comedic. Of course, you’d give him what he wanted, but he’d be doing you more of a favor than you were doing him. It wouldn’t take him very long to put down the dominant facade and comprehend that he was not the one with the power. “Some things are better left unsaid, Jacob.”

A flame was dancing dangerously behind his pupil, letting you know that there was much more to his character if you looked behind the mask he constantly had on. It intrigued you, making you wonder what would happen if you continued to nurse it with gasoline. Perhaps the explosion would be quite enjoyable, even for days after the disaster. Russian roulette was a game that often seemed tempting, and playing it with Jake made it all the more enticing.

The lights were low, making it incredibly difficult to place the emotion in his eye. Even then, it didn’t matter; all men were the same, and he was already caught on your hook. He was irritated, annoyed at your evasion and what seemed to be a tiresome game of cat and mouse, but it was not enough for him to lack interest in you. The scent of whiskey on your breath, casted warmly over his lips was drawing him in further, making him wonder if he could still taste it on your tongue if he acted fast enough. He thought he had the upper hand, that he was the one who was charming you, but he could not seem to see that he was playing the exact way you wanted him to. He was blissfully unaware, and you were ready for the kill. “If it means that much to you, Jacob, I’m sure the bathroom is free. Maybe a quick stop might convince you of where my loyalty lies.” The corners of your lips twitched upwards into a small, wicked smile. “Josh was never offered an invitation like that, was he?”

You reached out, running a delicate hand over his bicep that was covered with the thin material of his button-up. He flexed in response of the feeling, the touch running through him and clouding his judgement. You leaned forward, captivating him further. It was your time to strike, and you were moving with full force. He was too weak to resist, even if he knew he should. You did not need to deny the flirting accusations, because he had seen it with his own eyes. Doing so would drive him further way, but you could capitalize off the fact that he did not know the true motives of your conversation with Josh. For now, you could let him believe it was to make him jealous, because it worked in your favour.

In that moment, he realized the full extent of your wicked nature. He wanted to walk away, to leave you to wallow in the loss after he caught you flirting with his brother, but something about the burn of your touch and the calming effect of your gaze made the desire flee him. He knew you had no intentions of anything further than sex, and now that your mask had melted away, he could even understand that you didn’t even have care for him as a person. Getting off was the only thing that mattered, and that much was clear, but not even that seemed to turn him away. With every touch and lingering stare, every ounce of kindness (even if it was rare) and each one of your sweet smiles gave him a breath of hope that maybe he had misjudged the situation and you were actually telling the truth.

The vicious cycle had already begun, and he was a fool for thinking he could escape. He couldn’t resist your temptation, and he could not refute his desire to have you, too. As long as you continued to feed him, he would come crawling back, even if it would kill him. He could not assume the worst of you, especially because he’d only known you for a short time, so he relaxed under your touch and gave in to the feeling. He wanted to change your mind, to be the one to keep you for longer than a day, and he was willing to do whatever he could to persuade you to give him the chance.

Little did you know, by offering him the invitation, you were walking straight into your own demise. Although he did not know it yet, he would not be the one to steal your heart, but he would be the one to put an end to your venomous ways.

“How kind of you.” He shot back, but the refrain from earlier seemed to disappear. “Your generosity is staggering, sweetheart.”

“Is that you saying no?” You took it upon yourself to move closer to him, nearly pressing yourself into his body in hopes that it would sway his thoughts. He turned his head down towards you, casting a far away glance from over his nose, as if he was already thinking of all the things the two of you could get up to behind a locked door.

“Don’t put words in my mouth.” His voice was quiet, but his tone was strong. His hand reached for your hip, the pull of your aura too strong. He couldn’t help himself.

“Why don’t you go wait in the bathroom, and I’ll go and collect my things. I’ll tell them I’m headed home so they won’t even suspect a thing.” You said, giving a soft smile as his eyes watched your face. “Then, I can show you just how generous I really am.”

“How do I know you’re not playing another one of your little games?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. You rolled your eyes, heaving a little sigh as you did so. You could not lie and say that abandoning him just to mess with him had not crossed your mind, but you needed him far too much to walk away without anything. So, instead of making a fuss, you reached up and let your fingers settle over the clasp back of your diamond earring. You slipped it off and extended your hand towards him. He looked to the shiny rock, then back at your face, unsure of what you were doing.

“Take it, so you know I’ll come back.” You motioned your hand further towards him, insisting on the fact. Slowly, he reached out and grabbed it from you. He slipped it in his pocket, nodding in appreciation for your lack of fight.

“Don’t be too long, sweetheart. I don’t like being kept waiting.” He spoke, looking down at you once more before taking a step back. His cockiness was infuriating, yet looked good on him. Instead of arguing, you winked at him before he turned to walk away. Once he was swallowed by the crowd, you turned to the bar and grabbed a napkin from the stack sitting nearby. Quickly, you called the bartender over to ask him if you could borrow a pen. Luckily, he was quick to retrieve you one, and you scribbled a message down on the paper.

You walked back towards the booth you were sitting in moments before, making sure Jake was nowhere in sight. When you reached the group again, Sam and Danny were chattering amongst themselves while Josh seemed to be awaiting your arrival. You shot him a smile, sliding in beside him for just a second to tie up any loose ends and to let Josh know that the invitation was still very much alive. “Hey,” you breathed, talking only loud enough for him to hear.

“Was wondering where you were.” He replied, his stare intense as he silently begged you to move closer.

“I know, I’m sorry.” You said, giving a sympathetic smile. “Jake wasn’t feeling well so he went to the bathroom. Probably because he was mixing beer and whiskey.” You paused, rolling your eyes for dramatic effect. “He wanted me to tell you guys not to wait up for him. I wish I could stay longer, but I have to work in the morning.” You put all of your heart into the fake tale to make it believable, and Josh was just drunk enough to take your word for it.

“You’re leaving already?” There was a hint of disappointment in his eye, but when you reached out under the table and landed a gentle hand on his thigh, he seemed to perk up.

“I wish I could stay,” you said, finding his hand so you could slip the napkin into his palm. He grabbed it from you, keeping it as discreet as he could. “Thank you for being so sweet and letting me drink with you guys, though.”

“Anytime, mama.” He said, noticing your fingers still lingering on him. There was a twitch in his jaw as his teeth clenched together. If he could have it his way, he’d have you right then and there.

“I’ll see you again sometime?” You asked, a fake look of hope in your eye.

“Definitely.” He nodded. “You have a way home? Do you want me to walk with you?” He offered, partially concerned with your safety, but more concerned with getting you alone.

“I live just around the corner, so no need for that.” You assured him, imploring him to remember the note clutched tightly in his hand. “I’ll see you later, Josh.” You gave him a lingering stare as you grabbed your purse and backed out of the booth. He nodded in response, watching your hips as you walked off into the crowd. When you were out of eyesight, he looked down at the napkin, scrawled with your number and a message for him.

Call me so we can arrange that raincheck. Keep it between us, though—a secret is all the more fun ;)

You walked towards the bathroom with a fervor, pushing through the crowd with little regard for anyone or anything. It had been an extremely long night of flirting with little reward thus far. Knowing that Jake was waiting for you, feeling the same way that you were, was enough to make you want to tear the building down in order to get to him. When you rounded the corner to the one single bathroom that the building had (which in your opinion was a poor judgment on the owners part), you noticed nobody pooling around the door to wait their turn. It came as a surprise, especially considering how crowded the establishment was, but you certainly could not find a complaint about it.

Before you went inside, you reached into your purse. First, you popped a mint in your mouth, settling it under your tongue as you reapplied your deodorant and lipgloss. You ran your hand through your hair and took a deep breath, settling your thoughts before you joined Jake. The whole night has been a whirlwind, and you were shocked that you made it this far. You reached out, your fingers clasping around the handle and turning it, only to find that it was locked. You let out a huff of irritation, raising your fist to knock on the solid wood door. You hit against it with little force, sending a pattern of thuds echoing into the other side. You thought that if you did it like so, he would recognize that it was you.

You waited for a moment, and received nothing in return. Frustrated, you knocked again, a little louder this time. When he did not answer, you tapped your foot against the ground while anxiety invaded your mind. You worried that maybe you had crossed a line, pushed him a little too far and he’d changed his mind. Worse than that, you feared he decided to give you a taste of your own medicine and lead you on only to leave you with nothing. Just as you were ready to knock again, the knob twisted and the door slowly opened, revealing Jake’s smirking face illuminated by the fluttering fluorescent bulb.

“Asshole,” you muttered, unpleasant about his actions.

“Impatient, much?” He raised an eyebrow, opening the door to let you in. You pushed past him, watching him close the door and lock it before turning to face you.

“Not impatient,” you shook your head. “Just wondering why you were keeping me waiting.”

“That is impatience, sweetheart.” He chuckled, stepping towards you. “Just like you not being able to wait until we got home.”

“So what?” You shrugged, a smile tugging at your lips. You were becoming less annoyed the closer he got, and now that he was within arms reach, you had almost forgotten about the minor inconvenience entirely. “Maybe you should take it as a compliment.” You offered, reaching out and settling your hand on his bicep. You pulled him further towards you and his hand shot to your hip as if it were a natural reaction.

“Who says I don’t?” He challenged, his lips just inches away from your own. He was teasing you without even doing a thing, imploring you to make the decision you both had been waiting so long for. “You’ve got a habit of jumping to conclusions.”

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes, the smile still eating away at your lips. “You’ve got an awful way of showing it.” You had been with plenty of people, many in this exact situation, yet it had never come so easily as it did with him. There was something compelling about Jake, and it made you want to banter with him and challenge his every move. It wasn’t malice, but it was fun, and you knew you would have a very hard time letting go of it when the night was through. Something told you that Jake was not the type of person you should let go of.

Perhaps that feeling was meant to be felt in a romantic context, yet you were still greedy enough to keep him on your hook for your own selfish desires.

“Maybe I’ll have to show it in some other way, then.” He theorized, bringing his hand to rest on your jaw. You did not have to respond in order for him to feel your enthusiasm. He leaned down, wasting no more time as he pressed his lips to yours. The seclusion of the bathroom had been a blessing in disguise; as his lips moved against your own, you could feel his guard being let down. Whether that was because of privacy, or because you finally had the opportunity to leech the life from him, you did not know.

What you did know was that because the two of you were alone, everything felt all the more fantastic. His hand felt like it was burning to the touch, melting into your skin and bringing the two of you together as one. The taste of alcohol on his tongue was even more delicious, because this time you knew it was laced with sin. His chest pressed against yours was intoxicating because you could feel the beating of his heart in time with yours. The smell of his cologne was not clouded by perfumes and aftershaves of people walking by, and his ragged breathing was not covered by the boom of music. In here, you had access to him in whatever way you pleased without interference from any external force. In here, you had the opportunity to take him for your own.

His lips trailed from your own, brushing over the firey skin of your cheeks and eventually, down to your neck. The graze of his teeth against your pulse-point was was driving you to insanity, and the feeling of his tongue running over your sweet spots was the nail in the coffin. For a brief moment, you feared that with him, your power was obsolete. Every touch was electric, and every second seemed antagonizingly slow. You were at his disposal now, and you wondered if he would be kind to you despite all of the bad karma headed in your direction.

As he continued to work his way down to your collarbone, you knew that that was no way he could be your bad karma, because no punishment should feel so good.

He backed you into the countertop, the backs of your thighs slamming against the cool tile and sending a shiver down your spine. Before you could recover, and without ever moving his lips from you, he planted his hands firmly on your waist and lifted you onto the counter. He was moving so quickly that you barely had time to process the submissive role he’d forced you into. His hand wandered up your body, settling on the thin material of your dress just above your breasts. The feeling of his warm hands on your cold skin made your breath catch in your throat, and when he pulled the material down, you felt a whine escape your lips.

“Needy little thing,” he muttered, his voice raspy with lust as his eyes grazed over your now bare chest. He’d become a whole new person in an instant, and shyness or reserve completely fleeing him. You wanted to know this side of him, more than you ever wanted to know the other side of him. There was something bordering animalistic in his approach, and his eyes darkened with the intensity of his need for you. “You want me, sweetheart?” He asked, lightly running his thumb over your hardened nipple.

For once, completely submitting to a man seemed like the right thing to do. You felt in your heart that if you were good to him, he would be fantastic to you.

“So bad, Jake.” You breathed, looking over his face as you spoke. You noticed a slight scowl on his lips that had not been there earlier, and a shed of malice in his eyes. Perhaps Jake was the type to become the worst version of himself when his clothes were off, and you were not shy in admitting that it only turned you on further. You wondered if maybe he was not looking for you to call him by his name; so far, he’d exuded his adoration for dominance, so perhaps he was searching for a title that fit the character. You thought that if you’d made it this far without fucking up, the least you could do was try your luck. “I need you, sir.”

His pupils engulfed his irises as he listened to your words and the corners of his lips upturned into a smirk. He was painfully hard, the newest term of endearment sending him into a craze as he bunched the bottom of your dress in his fists. You raised your ass off the counter, allowing him to push the fabric to your navel. As you sat back down, his hands caught your hips and pulled you closer to the edge of the counter. The two of you were perfectly in tune, now. He was fucked up for needing you to refer to him in such a way to get off, and you were just as fucked up for knowing exactly what to say without him telling you.

He hooked his fingers through the side of your panties, pulling them down with your help. “You need me?” He asked, his eyes settling on your cunt, finally getting a taste of what he’d been waiting for all along. “You flirt so much that you just can’t wait another second to be touched? Is that it?” He pressed further, his eyes only flickering to your face once to catch a glimpse of your expression.

“Yes, sir.” You nodded, aching at the thought of him being the one to touch you. Your desperation had grown so quick and so strong that it was nearly painful, and you had to fight the urge to reach between your legs and do the job for him. As much as you enjoyed his antics, you knew you would enjoy sex with him even more.

“So what was it?” He asked, letting his rough fingertips graze the soft skin of your thighs. The touch sent goosebumps prickling over your skin. “Or who was it might be the better question.”

“W-what?” You stuttered, only half listening to his tirade.

“Don’t play dumb, angel.” He scolded, his fiery gaze flicking upwards and holding your stare this time. Before he spoke again, he placed one hand on your knee, roughly pushing it to the side to give him access to you. “Who turned you into such a mess? Was it me, or was it my brother?” Jake knew as soon as the words left his lips, it hit a nerve within you. You had expected him to drop the subject and forget about it as soon as he got you naked, that he would feel superior for being the one to have you in such a way. Clearly, you had misjudged him, and Jake was the type to hold a grudge. That, or he didn’t really care all that much and just loved to torture you.

“You, sir.” You promised, making sure to add a breathiness to your tone that would send him spiraling. It worked, but not to the extent you had hoped. His hand drifted to the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to your core yet far enough away to make it excruciatingly hard for you to sit through.

‘Maybe he’s a sadist,’ you thought. Then, a worse idea washed over you; if he was a sadist, you would gladly be the masochist. At that moment, the tables turned. The boy before you had made you into a mess, spinning your entire world on its axis and changing your trajectory. For once, you had no concern for your own pleasure, and felt that you could only accept such kindness if it were to please him.

In short, he’d turned you soft.

Jake knew that this conversation was making you squirm, but he did not know the reason why. You did not feel guilt for flirting with Josh; you were overcome with emotion at the idea of living to be a source of pleasure for Jake. You were so keen on the idea of using others for your own personal gain, yet as he stared at you from between your legs, waiting for his next moment to strike, you knew that you would give up the whole world just to be of use to him, in any way he deemed necessary.

Sexually, of course.

Romance was never an option laid out on the table, nor would it ever be.

“You sure about that, sweetheart?” He asked, his upper lip curling as he brought his hand to your cunt. You let out a gasp, your fingers tightening around the edge of the countertop as his thumb brushed over your clit. It was featherlight, a minimal touch that should not have produced such a strong effect on you, yet everything seemed grand when Jake was the one doing it.

For a split second, you felt regret at the idea of trying to get Josh into your bed, too. You need not be so greedy when someone so fantastic was willing to fulfill all of your needs. Then, the moment passed and your wicked nature returned to you. You were excited at the prospect of having Josh in the same way, because you had little doubt that he would treat you just as good.

“Did you want him in here with you, playing with your pretty little pussy?” The vulgarity wrapped delicately around his tongue, like it was the sweetest word he’d ever spoken. You felt yourself clench around nothing, your heart beating hard enough to burst through your ribcage. “You want him to touch you, instead?”

“No, sir.” You whined, feeling the muscles in your thighs twitch as he added pressure to his thumb. You were only partially lying, because you knew that if he stopped, you would break down, crumbling to the ground and turning to dust from the loss of his precious company. You did not want Josh to touch you instead, you just wanted him to do it too. “I just want you, baby.” You pleaded, hoping he could read between the lines and see that you wanted more.

Jake knew you were lying; he knew that you were not a lustful woman who caught the attention of men at the bar; you were a foul, wicked entity that was rotten to the core. He could see it in your eyes, the lack of remorse and shame. There was no room for any other emotion in you other than desire, but he felt lucky to be on the receiving end of such things. If he was smart, he would have turned and walked out the door. He should have left you there to wallow in your own stupidity and arrogance, and maybe then you would have learned not to make such a mistake. Every time he felt like he had the willpower to do so, you caught his eye, or another whiny moan pushed past your pink, glossed lips, and he knew he would stay between your legs until he heaved his last dying breath. Leaving you was not an option, yet staying would kill him.

Either way, he knew that death was most feasible, and he would rather die hearing his name stuck in your throat than alone and clinging to the memory.

“Then let me hear how fucking bad you want it.” He ordered, his words resembling a growl as he leaned forward and let a trail of spit fall from his lips to his fingers. Not long after, he pushed his middle and index finger inside of you. Your back arched at the feeling, your hips lifting off the counter to meet the curl of his fingers inside of you. You let out a string of curses, a groan tearing through your chest as a wave of pleasure washed over you. You had no idea what he was depriving you of until you felt it, and now you feared you could not live without it.

“Oh, fuck.” You gasped, noticing the steady pace of his fingers be joined by his thumb on your clit.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Let me hear it.” He encouraged, nearly driven to madness at the knowledge he was the one making you sing such precious sounds. You leaned back, your head resting on the scratched mirror as you portrayed yourself in an even more pornographic manner. Your tits were spilling from the top of your dress and your knuckles were white from gripping the countertop so tightly. Your eyebrows were furrowed, your lips parted as he worked his way up to familiarity with your body. Although he wasn’t certain he would see you again after the night was through, he wanted to ensure that if he did, he knew you well enough to pick up where you left off tonight. Plus, he hoped that if he did a good enough job, you would invite him back for more.

His need to be needed by you was debilitating, but he couldn’t help himself. He felt like something else entirely when he was around you, like pleasing you was the only thing in the world that mattered.

You would think that by now he would know better, especially after seeing the evil you were capable of when it came to his brother, but it did not matter to him. He wanted to be with you so badly that he chose to blind himself on your behalf. He’d tricked himself to believe you were genuine, and he had enough faith in his own ability that he believed he could make you forget about your attraction to Josh. When the night was through, he was confident that his brother would not even be a passing thought in your mind.

His own naïveté would inevitably be the end of him, but he was too stubborn to admit the truth.

He was a force to be reckoned with, but you were an otherworldly force that not only him, but the world itself had never encountered, and likely never would again.

“Feels so fucking good, sir.” You gasped, squeezing your eyes shut as another forceful pull of pleasure twisted your stomach. His eyes were settled on your cunt, watching his fingers drive you to the brink of insanity. The sight was doing just the same to him—with every pump of his fingers, his cock throbbed in anticipation for what he would experience in due time.

“See, sweetheart? You do know how to do something worthwhile with your mouth after all.” He muttered, talking down to you all while blessing you with the most generous gift. He was still seething that Josh had a taste of the sweetness you had to offer, even if he was the lucky one to have you so intimately. Instead of depriving you both of the pleasure, he figured he could get the best of both worlds. He might have felt remorse if not for you enjoying his harsh words so much.

Another moan escaped you. It was louder than you anticipated, engulfing the silence that once existed in the air. The sound was so vulgar that it clung to the poorly decorated walls, seeping into the foundation and making home. You would never be able to walk into the place again without being reminded of the memory indefinitely. Jake's company far outweighed the value of any other, and his legacy would live on in the building forever. Even as sharp insults slid off his tongue and in your direction, you felt like it was a blessing to be the one to receive it.

Your muscles tensed as his fingers curled, brushing against the sweet spot he’d so easily found. He seemed to know you so well despite barely knowing you at all, and it was comforting just as much as it was confusing. You wanted to give in to him, to let your iron guard down for a moment to let him and see you as you truly were rather than what you tried to be, but you couldn’t. You could not trust a man that seemed so eager to please you, and one who did it so well. For a moment, you believed that he was the master of deception, and you had taken him for a fool when in reality, it was only you who could be branded as such. You wondered if you had been so sure of yourself that you believed he was falling for your lies, when in fact, you were playing into his game.

Whoevers game it was did not matter in the end, as no matter which way it went, the two of you were being played by each other in entirely different ways. He was trying to con the player into taking a chance on him, and you were trying to con the lover into submission so you could fuck his brother. It was a losing battle for the both of you, but try was the only thing you knew how to do.

“Are you going to cum for me, Angel?” He asked, his voice barely sounding over your desperation.

“Y-yes sir,” you gasped, the intensity of the pleasure making you want to force your legs shut just to get a moment of rest. You were certain that you were being louder than the music playing outside the door, but neither of you cared.

“You going to let everyone know how good I’m making you feel?” He asked, his eyes flickering towards the door for a moment, then back to you.

“God, yes.” You muttered, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down your forehead. The bathroom was unbearably warm as is, and with the added warmth of what he was doing to you, it was nearly suffocating. Your whole body felt like it was on fire. Your heartbeat was deafening as it rang through your eardrums and the pit of your stomach felt like it was encased in flames. You were so close, and you needed it so bad. You were so strung out on pleasure that you could not formulate any further words. Instead, you did exactly as he said, muttering curses mixed with pornographic sounds that would ensure anyone lingering by the door would quickly make an exit.

Then, your vision began to blur as the orgasm threatened you further. The euphoria was coursing through your veins, throbbing under your skin and begging to take your life. With every movement he was pushing you closer to the edge, and he was drinking in every second of the moment. He watched as you expression twisted into pleasure, how your chest would rise and fall with every breath, how the muscles of your legs twitched every time he brought his thumb back over your clit. You were enchanting and he found it impossible not to watch.

You could feel yourself descending into something stronger than anything you’d ever felt. The whole world felt like it was spinning and your body felt light. It was within your grasp, and you were delirious enough to think that if you reached out, you could wrap your fingers around the billowing clouds of euphoria and draw them closer, to drown yourself in it. You moved your hips down on his hand, needing that little bit extra to get you there, and he had no issue giving it to you. It was overwhelming in the best possible way, and you felt the need to stave off the urge just to make it last a little bit longer. Not long after that, you realized how ridiculous the idea was and began to give in to the temptation. It felt like it was consuming you, your skin white hot with desire and no sign of letting up.

And then it was gone.

Your eyes shot open, a fire dancing in your pupils as you looked down at him. He had drawn his hand away completely, a small smirk toying across his lips as he turned his gaze towards you. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” You asked, clearly upset with no intent to hide it. The pleasure was still making your skin tingle, but it was dissipating faster with every second that passed until eventually, it turned into an empty sense of longing settled deep in the pit of your stomach. In any other circumstance, he would have chastised you for speaking so harshly, but he was enjoying your desperation and frustration too much to ask you to stop.

“I’m not that kind, sweetheart.” He reminded you, knowing that denying you an orgasm was a complex decision with many reasons as to why. He did not think you were deserving of one so soon, even if he craved to see you turn to a mess before him. More than that, he did not what you to cum from something as frivolous as his hands. “You really think you deserve it?”

No, you did not think you deserved it, but god did you want it. In your mind, want was equal to, if not more important than anything else.

“Jake, please.” You breathed, your cheeks stained red from embarrassment more than pleasure, now. Not often did you feel that you should beg for a man, yet for some reason, he made you feel as though you would die without him. There was some otherworldly power that he bestowed upon you after a single touch, and you were hooked on him for life. He was more powerful than any substance and more desirable than any other man. “I’ve been so good for you, baby. Please let me cum.” While you spoke, his mind seemed completely elsewhere.

As you begged, he paid no mind to your neediness and instead raised his index finger to his mouth, slowly slipping the digit between his lips and settling it on his tongue. He inhaled deeply as the taste of your arousal overwhelmed him, letting out a low groan that rattled his chest. Although it was muffled by his finger in his mouth, you heard it loud and clear. If it were possible, the simple action made you even more desperate for him, and you thought you might die if he made you wait any longer. When he withdrew his finger, a slight popping noise echoed through the air around the two you. When he looked up at you, his pupils had completely consumed his irises, blackened with lust for you.

“Taste so sweet, angel.” He muttered, his gaze flickering back to your cunt. “You have been good for me, haven’t you?” He smiled, but it was not the beautiful one you’d grown so accustomed to. This time, it was evil, and it shook you to the core.

“So good, sir.” You agreed, nodding your head slightly. You looked down at him with innocent eyes and a little smile, hoping that he would see reason. “Please let me cum, sir. I’ve been so good.” You said it again, with more conviction in your eyes in hopes of winning the battle. He let his fingers trail up your thigh, the light touch tickling your skin and sending another rush of arousal straight to your cunt.

“You sound so fucking pretty when beg for me.” He spoke lowly, but with plenty of power within his words. With that, his hands settled on your hips and he pulled you even closer to the edge of the counter. He drink to his knees before you, eyes focused intently on your cunt. He leaned forward, his mouth connecting with you without any further conversation, reveling the real reason why he’d gotten on his knees.

He flattened his tongue against you, slowly running it through your folds, getting another taste of the arousal that he was responsible for. He hummed against you, showing his appreciation for you and the opportunity to have you like such. You let out a shaky sigh, still leaning your head against the mirror to support yourself as he worked at you. He took it slow at first, wanting to savour every moment of the experience as he feared he may never get the chance again. You loosened your iron grip on the countertop, reaching down and tangling your fingers in the long locks of brown hair. It felt good around your fingers, just as soft and silky as you imagined it would be.

When he seemed satisfied with the teasing he was doing, he let his tongue settle over your clit, moving it slowly across the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your breath hitched in your throat as a rush of pleasure flooded through you, reminding you of all he was capable of doing, even with the most miniscule of actions. He used one hand to guide your leg over his shoulder, running his fingers back up until he could grip your hip again. He repeated the action with the other leg, and once he felt you were secure, he pulled you down even further on him. When you grew comfortable with the changes, he brought his fingers back to you and wasted no time in resuming his earlier pace.

“Fuck, Jake.” You hissed, the feeling consuming your entire body once again. He’d pushed you so close to the edge that it wasn’t hard to get you back, and after only a few seconds of steady movement, you could feel the pressure begin to rise again. In response, he curled his fingers upwards again as he pumped them into you, unable to forget the reaction that it prompted from you. You felt yourself clench around him, drawing his hand in further and deeper, intending to keep him there forever.

He took in a sharp breath, loving the way your body responded to his efforts. He thought you were the most enchanting thing he’d ever laid eyes on, and he would happily die between your legs with his name knotted around your tongue. You were so caught up in bliss that you began to believe this was the best it would ever get; no man before Jake had ever made you feel so good, even if they tried ten times harder. Jake was what you had been looking for every night since moving to the city, and if you had been smart, you would have recognized that and took the leap of faith. You were too far gone, spiraling down your self-made rabbit hole, neglecting the idea that he could be more than just good sex in a dingy bar bathroom.

The truth was that you knew all of those things, and worse than that, you could feel it when you were with him, but you were too far gone to ever be able to introduce love to your cold heart. You wanted to love, to be loved, but you no longer had the capacity for such things. The fleeting feeling of an orgasm was powerful, and even if it did not leave you fulfilled for very long, it was preferable to the pain of heartbreak. He made you feel more than you ever had before, but that was what made you want to run. A man met at the bar with sly words and a pretty smile was never good news, and when you took note of the rest of his charming attributes, you knew he was even worse than bad. Jake had the ability to make you see him for more than sex, but he also had the ability to hurt you worse than anyone else.

Drawn by the first touch and stuck there after the second, he was the most devilish of all men; the difference between you and the razor sharp thorns that grew from your skin was that he did not have intent to use his for harm, but you were always looking for a reason to injure. You recognized his deadly beauty because you held the same one in your heart, and you had taken him as someone just like you, neglecting to consider that he was far from it. You did not have enough time or care to make an attempt to see differently, so you continued on with your same old treachery with intent to destroy anything good before it could ever happen.

With expert precision, he kept his fingers in time with his tongue. He could feel how close you were without you having to say a word. The rapid breathing and racing heartbeat, the blushed cheeks and the forehead gleaming with sweat, the eyes squeezed shut and your thighs tightening around his head. It was so powerful that he almost felt the same desperation in his heart, fearing that if he did not get you there you would succumb to the sickness of need. He wanted to talk you through it, to use words of praise instead of the cruel sentiments he had been giving you before. He wanted to be the only thing on your mind, to invade every thought and fibre of your being so you did not even have the opportunity to think of anything else. His work was driven by greed, and he was not ashamed to admit that he would do whatever he could to keep you coming back for more.

The thought of you flirting with his brother had long left his mind, replaced with filthy thoughts of all he could do to you. He knew that Josh did not have the same luxury, and he would be walking home alone without you, while he would spend the entire night entangling you within his soul. He was the only one of the two who was blessed with the privilege of having you, and he would wear the badge with honour until his very last minute on earth.

Once again, his overconfident attitude and foolish naïveté would seal his grave forevermore.

A particularly sharp moan forced him to break out of his thoughts, returning his focus back to you as he continued to push you closer to the edge. “Oh god, Jake.” You cried, feeling the threat of an orgasm creeping up on you once more. It was much stronger and more intense than the last, and your whole body felt ablaze with pleasure. Your heart felt like it would explode out of your chest, and your lungs would deflate. Your head was buzzing with anticipation, and your entire body was tense.

You wondered if it was possible to survive the fall after allowing him to carry you to such heights.

You did not have enough time to worry about death as the knot in your belly snapped under the pressure, unravelling as the feeling took over your entire body. Your thighs squeezed against his skull, locking him there indefinitely as your fingers grasped at the strands of his hair. If not for the counter beneath you and his hand holding you in place, you thought you might descend to hell from the sinful indulgence. You had never felt anything quite like it, as if your soul was being consumed by the irate pleasure that knew not when to stop. Your back arched off the counter, the feeling of his tongue still moving sent you into another wave of euphoria. His fingers inside of you were moving with a fervour, lingering around the sweet spot he’s taken to. It was so much that it was almost nothing at all; so powerful that it was the only thing you knew.

When you came down, you were delirious from the depths of the new world he’d introduced you to. You wondered if you would ever find something that could make you feel that way again, or if you would spend an entire lifetime chasing after a high that only existed when you were with him. Debate on the topic was non-essential, because when he rose from his knees and unbuckled his belt, it did not matter. In fact, nothing in the world mattered except for him.

Recovery was not a conscious choice, because he gave you no other option. Before you were even of sound mind, he’d freed himself from his boxers and resumed his position between your legs, only standing this time. Your orgasm was still glistening on his chin, and he wore it like a trophy as he casted a downward glance at you. Even in the lowlight, every one of his features still appeared so beautifully, as if all of the gods had a helping hand in the creation of him. “Was that what you wanted, angel?” He asked, his voice husky as he watched you with a whole new type of hunger in his eyes. “That’s what you waited all night for?”

“Y-yes, sir.” You stuttered, still gulping for air. Normally, you would feel strange being in such a state in front of anyone, especially when they were as calm as he was, but it did not bother you now. You were perfectly content being at his disposal, ready to give him anything and everything his heart desired.

“Are you ready for more, or you can’t take it?” He asked, reaching down and running a thumb over your burning cheek. Your eyes fluttered closed at the touch, a human reaction to a sweet gesture.

“I can take it, sir.” You promised, your eyes flickering away from his stare and down to his cock. Your mouth watered at the sight, fantasizing momentarily about what it would be like to taste him. You wanted him in every way possible, and any shame about the need was long gone the minute he began to touch you. Your focus was torn away from the beautiful imaginative world you’d thrown yourself into when he spit on his hand, stroking himself for a moment before stepping closer to you.

“You think you can keep being good for me?” He asked, running the tip of his cock through the wetness that remained on your cunt.

“Yes, sir.” You said, confident in your ability to take whatever he had to offer. He rested himself against your entrance, pushing his hips forward only slightly so just his tip rested inside of you.

“That’s my girl,” he said, the possessive claim settling deep in your spine and weighing you down like cement. It felt so good to be called his, even if you did not really want to be. His lips turned upwards into a smile, misleading you only slightly. Then, without warning, he brought one hand to the back of your head. The sudden movement did nothing but confuse you, but when he used his hand resting on your hip to pull you towards him, it appeared there was a method to his madness. Your back landed against the countertop with a loud thud, sending a tingle of pain radiating through your spine, but he used his hand to cushion your head as you fell, ensuring it would not slam against the counter as well.

The mix of pain from the fall and the pleasure from him finally being inside of you was conflicting, but addicting nonetheless. Your hips were off the counter completely now, and once he knew you were well and recovered from the shock, he moved his hand from your head. He loved the accessibility of the new position, and he was eager to begin. With both hands holding your hips steady, he felt comfortable enough to begin moving at a steady pace, but steady did not mean gentle, and your toes were already curling from the sensation as you locked your legs around him.

“Fuck!” You yelped, feeling the tip of his cock slam into the same spot his fingers had been tormenting just moments before. You were more sensitive than ever due to the earth shattering orgasm he’d just given you, and the feeling of him inside you was overwhelming.

“I thought you said you could take it, sweetheart?” He taunted, delivering another sharp thrust to the same area. Your legs quivered from the sensation and your throat was raw from the moans flowing steadily through it. You could not respond, the pleasurable pain was so intense that it was impossible to focus on anything else. He wondered for a moment if he was giving you more than you could handle, but the thought quickly vanished when he felt your legs tighten around him and pull him closer. It was enough of an answer for him, but you pulled yourself together enough to fight back.

“Don’t give yourself too much credit, honey.” You smirked. “You call this fucking?” His eyes blazed red in an instant, as if your words turned him into an entirely different entity. Your desire to fight never fled, and his antagonism was just enough to bring it back out.

“You’re gonna be a little brat after I was so nice to you?” He said, drilling his hips into you even more harshly. The feeling seemed to take your breath away, but you tried your best to stand your ground. “Or do you want me to treat you like a whore?” He raised an eyebrow, somehow unphased by the speed in which his hips were moving. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Fuck, yes.” You whined, arching your back against the countertop to meet the thrust of his hips. You knew you could not handle any more, but you needed it all the same. Everything about him was conflicting and it only ever made you want more.

“You like being a little slut for me, don’t you?” He pressed further, letting his hands wander down your legs.

“I love it, sir.” You corrected, feeling his fingers tighten around your ankles as he pulled your legs apart, keeping his touch gentle as he tortured you with his hips. He brought your legs up, straightening them before pushing them upwards and into your chest. He leaned forward, locking you into position and slipped an arm underneath you to support your weight.

“Show me how much you love it, sweetheart.” He ordered, his expression stern as he continued to fuck into you. His movements were causing your knees to push back into your chest, constricting you in the most intoxicating way. “I want you to cum again, on my cock this time.” The vulgarity of his words made your walls tighten around him, making the sensation even more intense. “Can you do that for me?”

“I can,” you whimpered, feeling the pressure rising again. He was pushing you to the limit just so he could watch you as he drove you to insanity. Every movement was amplified by a million with the new position, and that wasn’t even considering how your skin was still tingling with the ghost of your previous orgasm. If his intent was to send you mad, he was doing a damn good job.

“How’s this for fucking?” He growled, looking down at your face. You were so strung out on pleasure that you could barely keep your eyes open, but that was exactly what he was hoping for. “Is this good enough for you, angel?” The pet name was laced with distaste now, showing his anger for your snide comment. You realized as you caught his eye that there was a whole other side of Jake you had yet to discover, and one night would not be enough for you to know him as much as you would like. You had no idea how a man so ethereal could turn so animalistic in an instant, and it only confused you further when you realized you liked that side of him more, because only you could see it.

You were desperate for him to slow down; the climax was barreling towards you at the speed of light, and you could not keep up with it. At the same time, you knew that if he stopped, you would be on your knees in an instant to beg him for more. The very thing you needed to survive would ultimately be the thing that killed you, and your relationship with the man between your legs had been vile from the very beginning. It started on lies and deceit, and carried on after betrayal and mistrust. Nothing good could ever grow from something so rotten, yet the two of you joined together in a pivotal moment of your lives; you would never be the same again, and neither would he. Despite the evil that forced the two of you together, you knew you would not change it for the world.

You were broken from your thoughts when a sharp sting flashed across your cheek. He was expecting an answer, and he was not willing to go without one, so he did what he could to regain your attention. Your eyes shot open, focusing in on the face glaring down at you. His hand had moved back to hold your hip, as if he’d never struck you at all. It took you a moment to clue in to what he had done, because you were too busy trying to sear the sight of his face into your memory for the rest of time. His hair was sticking to his skin, his shirt hanging off his body as the buttons came undone from the constant movements. He was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen, and you were lucky to have him, even if you did feel regret for using him in such a way.

“Fucking answer me.” He hissed, wondering if he would need to slap you again to pry the words from your lips. Under your foundation, the skin had already began blotching with redness at the forceful contact, but you didn’t seem to care. If anything, you wondered what you could do to get him to do it again. “Is this good enough for you, or do you still need more?”

“It’s good, sir. It’s so fucking good.” You rushed the words out, knowing that if you did not answer, his next punishment might not be so enjoyable.

“That’s what I thought, sweetheart.” His chest was heaving, trying to keep up with his rapid pace. You could feel his movements getting sloppy, but he would not give up until he got one more orgasm out of you.

Your hips began to ache from the position they were in, so you made an attempt to straighten one of your legs out to wrap it around him again. He noticed your struggle, moving back slightly to allow you to do as you needed. Once your legs are locked in place around his waist once more, he held one hand to your hip to keep you steady and snaked his other hand up your body, settling his fingers around your neck. Your stomach fluttered at the new position, excited for him to continue on with his work.

“I need you to cum for me, angel.” He said, carefully settling his fingers over your pulse points, looking over your face for a shred of discomfort. When he found none, it seemed to send him into a whole new frenzy. The knowledge that you would let him do as he pleased with you was driving him to insanity, and he began to regret not bringing you to the bathroom sooner. You were a mess, your dress bunched up around your ribs now, and your tits still free from the top of it. Your mascara was running down your cheeks and your hair was a mess, but he thought you were just as stunning as you were when he first laid eyes on you. “Can you do that for me, baby?”

“Yes, sir.” You choked out, feeling his fingers tightening around your neck. Your eyes closed as you willed yourself to give in to the feeling. The need for a release was unbearable, and your stomach was ablaze with the threat of another climax. As his fingers continued to tighten around your jugular, your head began to spin from the lack of blood flow. The pleasure already coursing through your veins seemed to increase tenfold, and there was no more holding back.

The orgasm tore through you with an intensity that made your whole body tremble. The world felt like it was crashing down around you and your lungs ached for a breath of air. You tried to speak his name, but even that failed you. Your legs trembled around him, exhausted from being held in such a position for so long. You wanted to close your eyes, to give in to the feeling and let it take over. You feared you might die from it, and it was such a peaceful feeling that you felt no need to fight it.

As your body relaxed about the counter, he released his hold on your neck. The sudden rush of air seemed to force you back into reality, and your head slowly stopped spinning. You felt Jake’s hips stutter as he uttered a few curses under his breath. You opened your eyes in just enough time to watch him pull out of you, quickly stepping towards you as he stroked himself a few times. You quickly jumped to action, reaching down and knocking his hand out of the way. It took him by surprise, but when your hand wrapped around him and continued with his previous movements, his head fell back in bliss. It was fast enough that it did not make him lose the momentum, and he was grateful for you taking the control. His eyes squeezed shut as he let out a low groan, spilling his release on to your stomach. You let out a ragged breath, looking down at the mess he’d made, his cock still throbbing in your hand as you worked himself through the last few seconds of his own orgasm.

A shiver ran down his spine as you withdrew your hand. He straightened up, heaving a heavy sigh as he looked down at you, soaking up the last few seconds of having you like that. You gave him a small smile in return, another shred of evil making its way into your brain. You slowly brought your hand to your stomach, making sure to maintain the eye contact. Meticulously, you brought your finger to the cum he’d decorated your stomach with, still warm and inviting. You saw his eyes shift down towards your hand, watching as you ran your finger through it, delicate and soft. When you felt as though he had a good enough of an idea for what you were about to do, you brought your finger to your mouth, parting your lips slightly as you pushed your finger to your tongue. You ran it across the pad of your forefinger, letting out a soft moan as you let your eyes flutter closed.

A soft sound emitted from his throat, close to a whine but a little too deep to be classified as such. You had pushed him over the edge, and if he could have gotten away with it, he would have fucked you again right then and there. Instead, he reached for the paper towel dispenser, ripping off a few sheets and cleaning off your stomach as best he could, despite wishing he could witness you do it all over again. He tossed the used paper in the trash after wiping himself off, then pulled his pants back up.

“Get up,” he said, buckling his belt and adjusting himself to conceal the hard-on that was reluctant to go away.

“What?”

“You can’t listen?” He snapped. “Get the fuck up.” He repeated, clearly still feeding off the sexual energy lingering in the air.

“W-why?” You stuttered, almost expecting him to return to normal after you finished. The brash nature of his voice took you by surprise, but you certainly didn’t mind.

“Because I’m going to take you home, and I’m going to fuck you again.” He explained, stepping forward and landing a soft hand on your thigh. “And again… and probably again after that, until you can’t fucking walk and the only thing you know how to say is my name.” A flood of arousal rushed through you, making your heart beat faster once again. Usually, you would laugh at such a claim, but you knew he was not bluffing in the slightest. With that, he leaned down and grabbed your thong from the ground, looking it over as he held it in his palm. You figured he would give it to you, so you extended your arm out to grab it, but he sent you a sly look through the corner of his eye. Instead of passing them to you, he slipped it in his pocket as a trophy for his night’s endeavour and turned to face you. “What are you waiting for, sweetheart?”

‘Nothing’ was the only proper answer, so you scrambled to your feet to straighten yourself out, already excited for the rest of the night. As you cleaned your makeup in the mirror, you glanced at him over your shoulder, wondering if you could handle all of the things he had in store for you. As you watched him watching you, your stomach fluttered with nervousness, and your heart began to swell with adoration. You could handle whatever he wanted to do for you, but you hoped you could handle it well enough to entertain his brother the night after.

No matter how good he was, nobody was ever good enough to subdue a player like you. You would get your way, just like you did every time, but this time was different; it came with a cost too high to justify. Then again, you lived for a thrill, and there was nothing you weren’t willing to gamble for just a taste of what you desired. As he led you out the front door of the bar with a lingering hand on your waist, you revelled in the bliss of his touch all while fantasizing about what it would feel like to be touched by Josh instead. It made you wonder just how far you could take it before it became too much.

As the two of you walked hand in hand, the vicious cycle continued, and soon enough, you knew that ultimately, a punishment would be due. In your purse, your phone had already been ravished by drunk texts from the brother you had yet to entertain, but could not wait to have for yourself. You knew better, but the idea of having the both of them was too good to pass up. Greed was a wicked motivator, and it was plaguing you. You could only hope that punishment in the eyes of the devil, and especially given by the twin brothers, would be enjoyable more than it would be painful.

TAGLIST: @gretavangroupie @wetkleenex-gvf @edgingthedarkness @clairesjointshurt @jordie-gvf @lallisonl @writingcold @dannys-dream @ageofbajabule @GVFstuddedmajesty @mackalah @watchingover-hypegirl @earthgrlsreasy @blacksoul-27 @ur-m0ms-blog @Lyndz2names @gretavanomens @josh-iamyour-mama @gretavangirlie @cxffeecakez @stardustjake @highway-tuna @peaceloveunitygvf @dancingcarbon @kiszkas-canvas @thewritingbeforesunrise @myownparadise96 @just-ambam @jakeyt @joshym @demonrat444 @pattypanini @itsafullmoon (if I accidentally missed someone, please let me know 🤍)

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whispering-ways · 1 year

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Hello! I was wondering if you could make a Dom!Gyomei x Fem!Hashira!reader smut?

๑✧♡ heart to heart ♡✧๑

✧ summary: you are a recent hashira who's been assigned on a mission with gyomei

✧ pairing: gyomei himejima x f!reader

✧tags: cursing, fingering (f! receiving), nicknames like baby, sweetheart and daddy

✧ notes: i'm sorry for the delay in fics, but I'm working through all my tasks rn! i've been applying to grad school so i haven't had much time to write •́⁠ ⁠ ⁠‿⁠ ⁠,⁠•̀ but now that's done with, I can start pumping out some more fics ♡ i might write a part two to this with more smut if people like it but idk

You just finished training and were about to gather your things to relax when you felt a large hand on your shoulder. “Hey there! I couldn't help but notice your impressive training session! As a newcomer, you were quite remarkable! But next time, I feel you should improve your stance and work on....”

“Ugh, there he goes again,” you think, listening to Gyomei list out some improvements you could make to be a better Hashira. You tuned his words out and tried your best not to get irritated, but you couldn’t help it. He was always correcting your technique and giving you advice when you didn’t even ask for it.

You understood that it was probably because you had just recently become a Hashira, but his comments were unneeded in your book. You couldn’t place all the blame on him though; it was Kagaya after all that told his right-hand Hashira to take care of you and ‘help you feel welcome’. Nevertheless, it still pissed you off. It’s not like you didn’t know you needed improvement. It was just him saying it that annoyed you.

You knew you probably should keep an open mind before judging Gyomei. It’s not like he was a bad person; he was a kind and nice person, but something about his holier-than-thou attitude just made all his ‘observations’ come across as patronizing to you. I mean, you never asked for his opinion to begin with. If you needed someone’s opinion, you would just ask Kagaya. You rolled your eyes, wondering when Gyomei would just leave you alone.

“Ah, I regret that I failed to mention it earlier, but Kagaya-sama has entrusted us with a mission. I was initially supposed to undertake it solo, but he believes having both of us together would be advantageous. It seems he has faith in your abilities, but he also believes having me by your side for your first mission could aid in your personal growth,” he said with a hint of a smile. That was new; he never smiled.

“Weird, but you know what, good for him. It wouldn’t hurt to smile once in a fucking while. Crying all the time has got to be making his eyes hurt. But there he goes being patronizing again. You wouldn’t be surprised if Gyomei was the one who really suggested it to Kagaya rather than the other way around.

Regardless, you nodded your head and asked some more details about the mission. He let you know that you both had to set out on your journey at 6 a.m. sharp tomorrow. So you gave him another nod of understanding, hoping that’d indicate you wanted to be left alone. Thankfully he got the message and shortly after walked away, leaving you to spend the rest of the day getting the relaxation you knew you deserved.

You woke up early the next day to pack a bit for the 2 day trip ahead of you. After gathering a few things and putting them into a bag, you headed out to meet Gyomei. Luckily, it didn’t take you long to find him. As you opened your door to see him standing right outside your door. “Jesus, you scared me. Couldn’t you at least knock or something?,” you asked, already annoyed with him.

“Ah, I’m sorry, I’ll make sure to do that next time we go on a mission.”

It was almost cute that he thought you’d want to do another mission with him. You would rather eat a bag of nails for breakfast instead; the only reason you were going on this mission was because you didn’t want to be rude to Kagaya.

You close your door behind you and let out an exasperated sigh, readying yourself for the journey. “Okay, as long as you’re ready, let’s get going then.” Gyomei grabbed a small bag behind him, threw it above his shoulder and said, “That’s the spirit! Starting early is always the best!”

After about 30 minutes of walking, you’d both finally reached the grassy mountain you needed to trek to get to your final destination. You weren’t gonna lie, just the thought of trekking it made you tired, but you needed the mission experience, so you trudged forward.

It didn’t help that Gyomei was so far ahead; it was like he was rubbing in your face how much better he was than you. He stopped for a second to look around, which gave you just enough time to catch up with him. “Can’t you slow down? Your pace is like a giant’s, there’s no fucking way I can keep up,” you exclaim.

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize, sweetheart. I’ll be sure to slow down a bit! Please forgive me!” he said, tears rolling down his face.

“It’s fine, just...let’s get going,” you replied, continuing to walk along the path. You regretted asking him to slow down a couple of minutes later when he tried making small talk by asking millions of questions. If walking way off from you was irritating, then this was just pure hell.

You’re sure he can tell how pissed you are; your tight-lipped smile showed nothing but disdain for all his questions. But he just kept on talking anyway. A few minutes later and after trying to ignore him, you give up and decide to succumb to some small talk. You talked to him for a little bit about the mission, but that didn’t last too long as you noticed a slight drizzle start to cover the mountain.

The two of you started closer to the trees near you, hoping that their large spanning branches would keep you both somewhat dry. All chances of that happening left once the light drizzle turned into a heavy pour. There was no way that you both could continue your journey without getting hurt since the earth beneath you had become absolutely slick with water.

You two decided to wait out the rain and find shelter to keep you both dry for the time being. After what seemed like forever, you finally spot a broken-down house in your periphery and quickly get Gyomei’s attention, dying to get out of the rain as soon as possible.

“Look, there’s a house or something over there,” you say pointing at the building. “Let’s head there and hope the family is hospitable enough to let us stay there for a bit till the sky clears up.” You start walking in the direction of the house without even waiting for a reply from Gyomei, who starts wordlessly walking behind you.

As you get closer to the house, you notice how delipidated it really is. It seemed that no one had lived there in years. Almost all the windows were either cracked or completely broken; dust and cobwebs were littered in each corner of the house.

“Well it’s not a palace but at least it’ll keep us out of the rain,” you said, wiping off some dirt so you could finally sit down. You stretched your legs, sighing in relief, glad to finally catch a break.

You closed your eyes, enjoying the peaceful sound of the rain. The peace didn’t last too long as you heard some rustling noises behind you. You turn around to see Gyomei pull out a sleeping bag from his backpack along with a lantern.

“I think that the rain isn’t going to let up anytime soon, so I’m setting up for the night. I think the best decision is to sleep here tonight and start on our journey tomorrow,” he explains, sitting on his bed. “If you’d like, I can set up your bed as well.”

“It's fine, I didn’t even bring a bed anyway. If we have to sleep here tonight, I’ll just sleep on the floor,” you say, turning around. “Besides, it’ll work out the kinks in my back.”

“Nonsense, I insist you take the sleeping bag then!” Gyomei retorted.

“No I’m fine, you use your bed; you’re the one that brought it. I’ll be fine.”

“If you insist,” he says, continuing to set up. He pulled out some supplies from his bag to light the lantern and in a few moments, the whole house was filled with golden light, making the space as comfy as it could be.

But unfortunately, not even the warmth the lantern brought helped to make the house any less cold. The rain kept pouring and with it came a frigid breeze that swept through all corners of the house.

You tried to keep it discreet but there was no hiding the chattering of your teeth. Gyomei soon picked up on it too. At first, he did his best not to comment; after all, it did seem like you wanted your own space. But his worry for you took over and he yet again asked “Hey, are you sure you don’t want the bed?”

“Ugh..I told you I’m fine. It’s your bed, use your bed,” you replied back, annoyed he kept pressing the issue.

“Are you really fine? I can hear your shivers from here. I know it’s cold and the bed is quite spacious anyway so it wouldn’t be too much trouble at all,” Gyomei said scooting over to offer a spot on the sleeping bag. You couldn’t lie, you were pretty cold so you gave in and agreed to share the bag. You stood up and sat down next to him, leaving ample space between you two.

A few moments pass by with nothing but the sound of rain to fill in the awkward silence between you two. This was soon broken though when Gyomei said “So...what do you think about being a Hashira?

“Jesus fucking Christ, why’d he have to say something,” you thought, internally cringing at the fact that you now had to make small talk. “Uhh..well I guess it's um... good I guess. I don’t really know what to say,” you reply as you look towards the ground and lantern, anywhere besides Gyomei’s face.

“Ah, that’s wonderful! I’m glad you’re having a good start! I hope you like the other Hashira, they are like family to me,” he says, a small smile spreading across his face.

“Oh, cool. That’s always...uhh...real nice I guess,” you say, trying to remain as cold as possible. Your plan was to get him off your back and to leave you alone, but as time passed on, it didn’t seem like you were ever going to shake him off as he told you many stories of the other Hashira.

“I know we must be together for our line of work, but I truly consider all the Hashira my close friends. Or well, at least most of them I think...” he said, trailing off. You couldn’t help but be intrigued at the end of his sentence.

Now you were never one to gossip, but you were definitely a sucker for a bit of tea, and his phrasing definitely showed signs of a bit of tea. I mean Gyomei? Having beef with someone? Unheard of.

“Oh come on, you can’t just drop a statement like that without spilling the tea...” You press,, not prepared to give up. “No details, no good tea.”

You could see Gyomei squirming around a bit, debating whether he should explain or not. After a little bit, he sighs and looks at you, as if preparing himself.

“Okay...it’s just, you, we don’t have that strong of a relationship. I feel like you just don’t like me for some reason and however I look at it, I can’t seem to figure out what I did.”

“Fuck, I should’ve kept my mouth shut,” you thought. You didn’t want to get into this conversation now, not ever really. But you couldn’t just leave him hanging like that. You buried your face in your hands, letting out a long sigh. “It’s not that I don’t like you. I don’t have problems with you.”

“Then what is it because there must’ve been something I did. Everything we talk you just seem tired and annoyed,” Gyomei said.

“Look, I don't hate you, but sometimes it feels like I'm just an inferior version of you. Like, when you're so good at what you do, it's hard to feel like we're on the same level. And sometimes, these little comments you throw at me, even if you don't mean them in a bad way, make me feel like I'm not good enough for us to be equals.

I mean, you're like a prodigy with so much experience. It's hard not to feel like I'm always lagging behind you, you know?" You were doing your best to explain how you felt, but just hearing yourself made it obvious to you that your disdain was immature.

“For me, you’ve always been my equal. You’ve got a solid foundation of abilities and experience that match up with my own. However, things felt pushed too fast for me; I never got the chance to properly settle into being a Hashira. I’m doing my best to get a hang of this new position, but sometimes it’s hard not to feel like I’m falling short of everyone. So I guess in that sense, I really am not your equal,” Gyomei says, looking down to the floor.

There's a quiet gap between you two before you say, "...Yeah, I guess I judged you pretty quickly. I should've been more open to what you had to say, but I wanted to be a perfect Hashira, you know? Taking criticism is just a little hard for me, but I'll work on that in the future." You feel somewhat foolish after talking about how you felt; none of this coldness was really necessary to begin with - your dislike towards Gyomei felt almost useless.

"I apologize if my criticisms appeared more judgmental than I intended. However, in my opinion, you're already perfect like a diamond; you're a Hashira for a reason. Still, all diamonds require a bit of polishing, and that's all I was aiming for - to help you shine with some advice and techniques," he said cheerfully.

You have to admit, that comparison of his got you a little flustered. Yet, its sweetness gave you a lot of comfort. "Let's put this aside and be friends, alright? Let's start all over, and I'm sorry for not giving you a chance earlier," you say with a smile, shocked that you're actually having a conversation with Gyomei like this.

“I’m glad to hear that. It’s nice to see such a beautiful smile on you for the first time.” You look up at him, eyes wider than saucers. “Not that you aren’t pretty all the time...I mean..but you know that.” Gyomei said, red from head to toe.

You chuckle at Gyomei's flustered state, finding it endearing to see the big strong man reduced to a blushing mess. He's truly a sight to behold. "If I said you were a sight for sore eyes, I'd be selling you short," you comment in turn.

Out of nowhere, a gust of cold air hits your body, sending tingles down your spine. "Would you...uhh...like to come a little closer?" Gyomei proposes. "I noticed you shiver and I run pretty warm. I wouldn't mind a platonic cuddle to stay warm, if you're alright with that."

You never thought making up with him would mean that you’d be flirting with him, but you couldn’t complain. I mean he was hot and you wouldn’t mind messing around with him a little bit.

So you scooch a bit closer to him, your arms barely grazing his. He was right, he definitely was warm; you could feel the heat radiating off of him. But that still wasn’t enough to warm you up.

You're somewhat confused when you hear Gyomei laugh. He adjusts his position and spreads his legs apart, as if offering you a spot to sit. "Come, sit a little closer, there's no way you're feeling warm there," he says, patting the area between his legs.

Taken by surprise by his forwardness, you nonetheless place yourself between him, your legs resting against his. It's a little awkward between you, but you aren't one to back down from a challenge, and he IS rather warm.

You’d never really noticed the size difference between you two, but you definitely did now. His muscled thighs surrounds you, practically pressing your own togtether. He stretches back behind you to give you some space. You sit for a little bit and you both kind of sink into the feeling of being so close to him.

Gyomei looks down to you and asks, "Can I help keep you a little warmer?" Hesitant, you nod in agreement - but deep down, you can feel your cheeks get hot just by looking at him. This sudden rush feels like it's moving far too fast for anything meaningful to come out of it, but something about it just feels right.

He suddenly lifts you up and sits down in a cross-legged position, placing you right into his lap. The ease with which he picks you up surprises you, but you're not thinking about warmth at all now.

“How are you feeling now? Warmer?” Gyomei says.

"Yes, this...it feels pretty nice," you answer, leaning your back against his chest. At first, the touch of his hand on your thigh is nice - but once you've settled, it becomes almost...teasing. The warmth is nice, yeah, but enough teasing already, so you decide to make your own move.

You get up from his lap, leaving Gyomei worried he pushed too far. But that feeling dissipated once you sat back on his lap, now facing him with your legs wrapped around him. You looked up at him through your eyelashes to see him absolutely flustered. He puts his hands on your back bringing you closer. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were flirting with me Gyomei.”

He pulls back, a little shocked, but it doesn’t take him long to reply “Hmm... perhaps I am.”

“Oh yeah?”

The sexual tension is practically tangible, but you neither speak nor move as you gaze at his lips. Only your eyes speak; he understands and moves in for a passionate kiss.

The unexpected roughness is a surprise, but a welcome one, as you melt into his embrace and grasp for a hold on his neck, drawing him closer to you, your body flush against his. One hand reaches for his chest, using his necklace to pull him as close as he can be - his hands on your waist, just barely touching your hips.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue running along his own bottom lip, requesting entrance into your mouth. Once you opened your mouth, his tongue enters once more, and the sensation sent a wave of chills down your spine.

You slip your arms around his neck to pull him in closer, your body pressed against his as your skin ignites with a flame of excitement. He pulls you back slightly, exposing your neck to him, before diving in once more to to suck on your neck. You whine out under his touch, squirming with delight beneath him.

He bites down hard, leaving a hickey in his wake. He takes a moment to proudly admire it, only to pull you into his arms, leaving you mildly confused. He suddenly lifted you and placed you against the wall, his arms slamming at either side of you as he began to kiss you again.

Gyomei's hand slides down your side, coming to rest on the back of your knee. He uses his other hand to grab you firmly by your back and pull you in closer. You instinctively wrap your leg around his back, holding on tight now.

His hand departs from its prior position, as he casually caresses your inner thigh, his fingers brushing against your slit. He was taken aback to find that there were panties instead of the anticipated pair of shorts, but hey he wasn’t complaining. His fingers began to play with the edges of your panties, twirling them between his digits.

He eventually pauses and asks, "Are you okay if I go further?" as he begins to tease your slit with his fingers.

You nod wordlessly and he continues to kiss you. Your body trembles in anticipation as Gyomei's tender lips lightly graze yours. He pulls you close, and with a swift gesture, he removes your panties and tosses them to the side. The touch of his fingers sends electric shocks throughout your body.

Your body quivers with anticipation, your heart beating erratically as his lips trail down toward yours. He removes your panties with a swift motion, discarding them carelessly to the side. His skilled fingers lightly tease your clit, eliciting a muffled moan.

His middle finger circles your entrance, before plunging in with no warning. His finger was bigger and thicker than anything you’d ever felt before, so when he added another finger, it nearly overwhelmed you with pleasure.

You feel like your knees are about to give out, but your body can't help but squirm. Gyomei looks at you with a passionate glare. In a frustrated tone, he asks, "Sweetheart, you're gonna have to stop squirming around like that, how am I gonna make you feel good if you do?"

“I’ll do my best...not to~,” you moan out as he continues to relentlessy pound his fingers into your pussy.

“If you want more pleasure, you gotta call me daddy princess.”

"I...I promise not to squirm then daddy," you whine as you try to maintain a firm grip on your promise. However, despite your desperate efforts, you end up squirming more as you near climax.

Gyomei suddenly stops and states, "You're still squirming baby. You can't disobey your promise to daddy. But don't you worry, I have the perfect solution for this."

Gyomei's arm effortlessly slides towards the back of your knees and he slings you over his shoulder, leaving you in a state of shock. You start smacking his back, in hopes that he’d put you down.

Yet, instead of providing an explanation, Gyomei simply laughs. "I love how feisty you are," he comments, smacking your ass and leaving a glowing red handprint in its wake.

"Just you wait, baby. I'm gonna make you feel so good," he states, a playful gleam in his eyes. You stare up at him with anticipation, excited for what he was going to do next. Little did you know what the night had in store for you.

#demon slayer #gyomei himejima #kny gyomei #gyomei x reader #demon slayer gyomei #kimetsu gyomei #kny x reader #kny fanfic #himejima x reader #kny himejima #demon slayer smut #gyomei smut #kny smut #himejima smut #gyomei himejima smut #demon slayer gyomei himejima #kny smut fanfic #demon slayer fanfic

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take-taker-taken · 2 years

Text

Because sometimes, Taker circa 1998 just needs some head canon… I mean, it *might* make him at least pay rent to be in my head, right?

————

You’re minding your business when he comes and stands behind the couch

Lowers a piece of paper in front of your face

“What’s this little girl?”

Your heart stops. It’s that list you found online and printed out.

And then completed it.

You’ve been wanting to tell him for ages about the things you’re wanting to try in the bedroom.

Trouble is, he’s such a perfect gentleman that you know he’d never agree to it.

Slapping, spanking you, name calling and more.

Despite his work persona, that kind of behaviour just isn’t him.

So you’ve kept it as a fantasy.

You turn a deep shade of red as you realise he’ll have read the list.

He sits down on the couch next to you.

“You like this sort of thing, little girl?”

You draw your knees up to your chin - yup, he thinks you’re a pervert.

He nudges you. “Well?”

You mumble into your knees; something about being curious.

“Why didn’t you just come to me?”

“Because you think it’s weird,” you mutter.

He reaches over and takes hold of your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Did I say that, little girl?”

You shake your head ‘no’ and actually meet his eyes.

He doesn’t look disgusted.

He indicates the list. “You want to try some of this?”

You stare at him.

“Only if you want to. I don’t want you to be weirded out.”

He laughs. Actually laughs.

“Little girl, I’ve been around the block.”

You stare some more and then say what’s bothering you.

“But I don’t want to force you. That kind of stuff… it’s not you.”

He slips his arm around you.

“What makes you think that I wouldn’t enjoy it? Little girl, with your consent I would have zero problem with paddling your ass red and then tying you down to fuck you raw. Among other things.”

Your blush renews fiercely and your stomach flips at his turn of phrase.

“You’ve never said…” You say quietly.

It’s his turn to shift uncomfortably.

“Well, I guess we’re both guilty of keeping secrets. Same as you, little girl - I wouldn’t ever want to make you feel… weird.”

He turns his attention back to the list.

“Using titles, huh?”

You nod and blush some more, burying your face in your drawn-up knees.

His hand shifts from your back and slides into your hair, taking a handful in his fist. Not overly hard, but certainly firm and he uses the hold to lift your head up again.

Hair-pulling is something else that you’d ticked on the list.

“When we do this, you’ll call me ‘sir’”.

His voice is low and serious and that’s when you realise that he’s not kidding - he’s got some experience with this.

Your stomach flips again and you make a tiny noise of assent.

Wait - he said ‘when we do this’!

He lets go of your hair and cuddles you to him, pulling you in close so you can look at the list together.

He points to the section headed, ‘Impact Play’.

“You’ve ticked pretty much everything here, little girl.”

Embarrassed, you turn your head in towards his shoulder.

“Curious,” you mumble again.

“Ohhh, that’ll be fun,” he mutters and curiosity peaked, you look back at the paper but he doesn’t elaborate.

“How much of this have you already done?”

He kisses the top of your head. “I’ve done plenty.”

“Given or received?”

He turns and looks at you. “Which d’you think?”

“OK, silly question.”

#The Undertaker #Undertaker #Undertaker smut #this character lives in my head rent free #quite frankly I should probably be paying THEM at this point #Undertaker headcanon #probably unleashing a monster here #kink list #kink negotiation #Dom!Taker #Dom!Undertaker #Taker X Reader #Undertaker X Reader

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acapelladitty · 3 months

Text

Mad Hatter/Reader - Lessons

Summary - Undertaking another one of Jervis' 'etiquette' lessons proves to be a wicked undertaking indeed. (tw: dom/sub themes, teasing, oral sex, food kink etc)

Fic Masterlist

Link to AO3

Delicately picking up the small silver spoon, you bring it to your lips in a pretend sip as you announce your answer with a shaky confidence.

"Soup."

"Excellent, March Hare." Jervis' lilting voice trails out from his unseen spot behind you. "A soup spoon indeed! From tomato to broth to mock turtle. You're doing well."

Flushing with pride at the willing praise, you sigh and rub your thighs together; agitating the egg-shaped vibe which lay nestled between the walls of your sex. Wearing nothing but a white ruffled collar and a pale blue skirt so scandalously short that it may as well have been a belt, the cool air of Jervis' apartment was as familiar as ever as you remain in your place at his large kitchen table.

Speaking of the man himself, his thin hand appeared from your side, pointing expectantly at another piece of polished silverware. This one was a fork, its shape slightly smaller than the one to its side and your muddled brain struggles to remember what the hell it was for - the hesitation making your heart pick up its pace within your chest.

Rolling your ass against the chair, the movement has the unfortunate side-effect of shifting the vibe and its new position draws a keening moan from your lips.

"Jervis, oh my god-"

"Hush, March Hare!" Jervis scolds and you flinch as the tip of the riding crop which you know is sitting in his other hand arcs around to bounce off your right nipple, instantly sparking a heat-laced pain across your chest. "It's rude to speak over someone trying to give a lesson."

Fighting the urge to raise your hands and brush them across your pebbled and aching nipples, you instead focus on picking up the small china teacup which has long since been filled with tea for you to enjoy as you endured your etiquette lesson. However, the cup had barely touched your lips when your unspoken desires were answered as the reappearance of his hands made you flinch - the cool palms quickly gripping your chest in a rough pinch as Jervis' staggered breathing makes itself known just behind your head.

Delighted, you sigh into the cup as you arch your back ever so slightly, giving him easier access to your aching tits as the stimulation makes your cunt clench even more roughly around the vibe.

Finishing the last few drops of tea, you deposit the teacup back onto its assigned plate noisily as your shaking fingers make the fine china clink together. His small digits now kneading your tits almost thoughtfully, Jervis seems to be waiting for something as his mint-laden breath washes past your left ear.

Realising you were missing something, a gasp of delirious pleasure escapes you as his fingers pinch your nipples playfully - pulling at the sensitive buds as he tuts disapprovingly into your neck.

"A finished cup, my sweet rabbit. And no cry for a place change? Clean cup, clean cup. So easily forgotten."

Opening your mouth to say the words, his hand is quick to clamp around your lips and you can taste a subtle and sweet, almost sugary substance on his fingers.

"What a sad tea party." He continues to scold, his free hand teasing down your stomach, tracing every fleshy inch with reverence. "With manners and etiquette thrown to the crocodiles."

His finger drops to the seat, curling back on itself as he splits your slit and you widen your legs to allow him free access. A clear goal in mind, your body starts like it were shocked as the soft pad of his finger rubs a delicate circle around your engorged, neglected clit.

"Jervis."

"Mmm, my rabbit?"

"Don't stop." You breathe out shakily, the tightening band of arousal making your legs tremble slightly as your toes curl towards the floor.

"Please- please don't sto-"

The plea is cut short by his fingers as his free hand presses a thin sliver of cake to your lips - the sugary vanilla taste catching you by surprise as you obediently open your mouth to swallow it.

He enjoyed this.

Feeding and watering you.

The spark which alit in his eyes as he provided for you was as endearing as it was erotic - food play long having since established itself in your games as sweet treats and edibles were shared between you.

Unfortunately, his movements caught you off guard and a small dollop of light blue buttercream slipped free of your bottom lip to drop to the lowest ruffle of your white, embroidered collar.

A theatrical gasp rings in your ear and you whine as his wicked fingers scuttle away from your aching cunt. Any protest dies however as a flash of silver just at the corner of your eye makes you still and you feel the faintest edge of his pocketknife trailing across the sensitive juncture where your collarbone meets the shoulder.

"Messy rabbit." Jervis mutters, slipping the knife up to press against the white ruffled collar which he had gently looped around your neck at the beginning of your lesson. "No point wasting a lovely outfit on such a messy rabbit."

The ruffled collar falls free into a crumpled heap in your lap, but it's swiftly removed as Jervis snatches it up with his fingers and deposits it in the pockets of his slacks.

"Hold out your hand."

More than a little petulantly, you hold your palm out and he's quick to move as he swaps the knife for the riding crop which remains tucked under his armpit. Striking down harshly, the cool leather slices across your palm in a bolt of heat and you wince at the discomfort as he stands to move before you.

"Maybe my lessons are wasted?" Jervis continues, his thin hands pressing down on your exposed thighs as his blue eyes pierced your own. "Trying to turn my March Hare into a proper lady might be one of the six impossible things I have to imagine before breakfast?"

You glance up at him, blinking your eyes coquettishly as you beg forgiveness with only a look.

"Touch me." He continues in a rough demand, accented voice slightly roughened by his clear arousal as he stands fully. The darkened slacks do little to hide how hard he is, the fabric bulging over the jut of his clothed cock, and you run your palm across it gently, enjoying just how aroused he is by his little game with you.

Looping your hands within his belt, you quickly loosen the leather and allow it to hand free. His shortened height makes the task much easier and you smile at the slight inhale he makes when your hands unzip his fly and free his straining cock from its confines. Within your cunt, the vibe pressing against your walls makes it difficult to concentrate as you clench around it desperately, chasing the release which was slowly approaching.

"My Hatter," you purr as you wrap a hand around his length, fingers brushing the blonde curl of pubes which decorate the base, "and my sweet, kindly teacher. Maybe you deserve a reward for helping me out with all these hard lessons."

Stroking along his cock, you groan sharply as the vibe within you rockets up another level and the sudden onslaught of vibration is enough to quickly tip you over the edge that has threatened you for so long. Hand dropping to curl around the edge of the wooden chair, you grind your cunt against the wood as your release forces a guttural moan from your lips - every nerve in your body firing off as your teeth bite down on your lower lip hard enough that you taste copper through the pleasurable aftershocks.

The vibrations don't stop but they do back off slightly, reducing to a pleasant hum which makes you twitch in place as your release pools across your cunt and thighs - making a sordid mess of the chair itself.

"Now, now, March Hare! Distractions aren't appreciated when hard work is required." Jervis taunts but his expression is satisfied and oddly predatory as he watches you suffer through your pleasures.

"Focus."

And with that, he jerked his hips forward with clear intent, targeting his cock upwards towards your mouth. Giving a cheshire grin, you drop your head slightly to make up the space and take him within your mouth; your hand swiftly reappearing to wrap around his velvety length as he demands his payment.

He tastes as familiar as ever, the salt of his pre-cum cutting through the sugariness of the cake he had forced in there earlier and you moan around his cockhead - enjoying the way that the vibrations from your moan make his eyes widened and his mouth go slack.

He's as vocal as ever as his lips spill free a mixture of muffled grunts and sweet whispers - your name mixing with soft praises as you bob your head along his length, matching the movement by twisting your wrist with every stroke.

It doesn't take him long; the eroticism of your 'lessons' and his love of your mouth making him come more quickly than he may have liked and his hands press gently at the sides of your head to keep your lips around the tip of his cock as his release floods your mouth.

Swallowing down what he has to offer, you drink in his whimpering groans with equal enthusiasm as you focus on pleasing him. As gentlemanly as ever, he pulls free of your mouth quickly and you catch your breath as he tucks his wilting cock away in his slacks.

In a flash, he's dropping to his haunches before you and his mouth is on your own - tasting himself as much as you as his tongue demands entry. It's a playful kiss, part thanks and part apology as his thumb rubs gently along the developing welt on your palm from his earlier punishment.

"My Match Hare." He mutters, whispering the words into your mouth.

Matching his energy, your hands slip up his shoulders to tug gently at the blonde hairs which sit at the nape of his neck.

"My Hatter."

#jervis tetch #mad hatter #jervis tetch x reader #mad hatter x reader #jervis tetch x you #mad hatter x you #gotham rogues #Jervis Tetch smut #dc comics

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afreakingdork · 5 months

Text

Weak Spot - Chapter 67

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Hold your belongings close and this week’s chapter art by @aimike17 closer!

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes, Xenophobia, Fear, Intimidation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Love, AFAB Reader, Vaginal Sex, Sex Rough, Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Teasing, Scent Kink, Sexual Tension, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Marathon Sex, Somnophilia, Bondage, Feral Behavior, Feral Donatello, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Public Sex, Dom Donnie, Human/Turtle Relationships, Turtle Noises, Roleplay, Sexual Roleplay

Synopsis: A love story of villainous proportions! Though it hadn’t come easily, as these things rarely do, you found yourself in a whirlwind romance with a handsome and mysterious mutant. His idiosyncrasies had been easy to ignore as attraction grew into something more. However, will love endure when the unknowns about him end up being far darker than you ever considered?

This may seem like a rehash of last week''s, but @tmntxthings seriously came in CLUTCH for these last few chapters. I had a lot of details that weren't ironed out for whatever reason and she helped me put them in real order! We wouldn't have Weak Spot as we know it without her!!!!

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

Things were pleasantly stabilizing. For once in what felt like years you had time to breathe. Not always a bad thing as Donnie had a penchant for taking your breath away, it was instead a slowdown from the nonstop repetitiveness of undertakings occuring. They were always begging for your utmost attention and just having a few months of normality in comparison felt like a vacation all its own.

You were healthy.

Donnie was healthy.

Your friends.

Your family.

The storm had passed and with a righted ship, you applied yourself at your job. Finally able to look at long term goals, you plotted out that you could be moved back into your position by performance reviews next year. A long goal, but not a lofty one, you had heard murmurs of how they hadn’t hired anyone for your old position. You kept yourself humble, but you had a feeling that maybe you’d be asked back sooner.

First, however, you were going to obliterate the simpler desk job they passed off to you and leverage that for a fatter raise if that were the case.

If not, you could catch up on the backlog of filing and then ride out the cushy position.

It was a win-win.

Optimism.

Not something you thought too much on, you felt it creeping up on you. You kept your back to it just in case, but it acted as a lounge chair. You could recline in happy thoughts for once and Donnie appeared to be doing the same. You both kept busy both separate and together which made the overall mood a light one. With summer having scorched the earth, you had a second yielding of crops from your rooftop garden. Besides the comfortable labor done up there of tending to it, Donnie had procured that tree you wanted and you found yourselves relaxing in the space for the sake of it. You’d drink in sunsets and sneak glances at each other as the city hummed around you.

You had a good work day, a catered lunch with coworkers, and an uneventful ride home to your apartment. Donnie was on the schedule for dinner tonight and the dish he was making was one you’d had many times before. A delicious staple, it was to be yet another normal evening as you stepped through your threshold. Your boyfriend wasn’t at his desk which didn’t pique any necessary worries as meal prep always took him in roundabout ways depending on his mood. You took care in putting your things up and went to get something to drink.

You were sipping on a beverage and gazing out the kitchen window at two lovers schmoozing on the street below when the door opened.

Donnie appeared with a grocery bag cradled to his chest and his carapace to you.

“Hey, Sweet. Beat you.” You tipped your glass to him.

He barely nodded.

Distraction not a foreign thing when he had recipe steps filtering through his mind, you moved out of the kitchen to give him space.

He made it exactly halfway there before you heard a comical rip.

Something that could double as movie foley, you saw Donnie hunch where groceries then spilled out around him before he could react.

Round objects rolled to settle and there was a glug of something leaking.

Donnie didn’t move.

He was frozen in place.

You set your drink down and properly took him in.

Not lengthy exhaustion, but tight lines of today’s anxiety creased his face. There was then a smudge on his cheek that was barely perceptible and not something you could identify. From there you realized that the way he clutched the grocery bag was because one of the straps was already torn. A thin and separate rip then took the bottom, though there was an odd gouge where it started. The spill poured from there, but a different sort of streak of what looked like dust streaked his pants.

All that information taken in only a few seconds, you pivoted and headed toward the kitchen. You gathered a towel that was disposable and a roll of paper towels. You were at Donnie’s side in an instant cleaning up the mess as he stood a statue over you.

Saving grocery goods that hadn’t been destroyed in the wreckage, you saw the brand.

It was to that grocery store you tried to conquer once every few months. Always an ordeal, it had been agreed upon that Donnie wasn’t to attend. This was your venture and you were fine with that. Which meant him having gone made little sense. You yourself had been not that long ago and there were still items from the store dotting the freezer. Your dinner was a common one so there shouldn’t have been any reason for him to go out of his way.

A rag was soaking up lost juice and you looked up at him with a box in hand. “Why did you go here?”

His lips parted, but nothing came.

You softened at his struggle and moved to finish cleaning up. You then took several trips bringing everything salvable to the kitchen before you attended to the rock solid form of your mate. He watched you with his eyes, but his posture hadn’t unfurled in the slightest. Taking great care not to touch him, you instead slid through the remains of the bag and coaxed him with tiny pulls to release.

He did so with peeling back fingers and a grip like one reserved for roller coaster safety bars.

“I’m gonna toss this.” You told him and examined the bag on the way to the trash. The spindly fibers on the handle said it had broken with use. It made sense as weight mattered little to Donnie so you imagined the bag had mistakenly been taxed. From there, you couldn’t parse out the tear to the bottom. There was an outward puncture as if it had been stabbed through, but the groceries you gathered didn’t have damage that matched.

Dumping the thing, you turned to find Donnie had cracked his façade and was looking down at his legs. It took you no time to spy a dark splatter on his pants from where the juice had exploded upon ground contact.

“Why don’t you wash up and change?”

It was as if he needed to hear the offer to do more and gave a solemn nod.

You watched him disappear around the partition and looked after him with metered affection. Though the circumstances were bad, you loved this side of him just as much. No matter how put together he tried to make himself, he still got as hung up as anyone else. You didn’t need him humanized in your eyes, but knowing that you were one of the few who got to see it warmed your heart.

Doing a last pass to make sure everything was cleaned from the spill, you set to work throwing something in the oven. Taking out a freezer backup meal, you were re-reading the instructions while the oven warmed when Donnie emerged in another full blown outfit. One you liked on him, it chiseled his usual carved form and he came over with intent oozing off of him.

“Did you want to go out? I can turn the oven off.” You made a show of the box you had yet to open.

He took it in with a furl of his brow and nothing more.

“Donnie?” You tilted your head to catch his eye. “You okay?”

He said nothing, but his features further creased until he was outright scowling.

“Is it this?” You showed him the meal again. “There’s also a pasta. You liked it last time, we can do that instead?”

“Pasta.” He spoke the word as if possessed.

It didn’t read as a confirmation to you and instead almost like a mime. “Don, I’m starting to worry.”

That seemed to penetrate him and he looked at you with renewed intent. “Restaurant?”

“We can.” You moved to shut the oven off.

The moment your back turned, you heard him give a testy sort of grunt.

It slowed your finger near the off button. “Or… not?”

Silence again reigned so you turned to view him.

It took several long moments, but you thought you got a read off him.

It almost looked like he was paralyzed by choice.

He needed you to be clear and concise so you gave him a reassuring smile. “Let’s order out, get something nice.”

He stalled in a nod, but eventually his head bowed, deferring to your decision.

You remembered he’d mentioned a new Italian place earlier that week so you recommended it.

Again, he agreed with a shaky bob of his head.

You moved close, but gave him a berth as you brought up your phone. Finding the location and flipping through the menu a few times, he eventually named a dish for himself and you selected your own. Throwing in an appetizer for good measure and a dessert that sounded like something he liked, you pressed send. The page turned over for a confirmation and you moved wordlessly to put the freezer meal away.

You passed him toward the living room to get your drink.

He needed space to process.

Plopping down and getting comfortable, you sipped from your glass.

You watched your partner move through motions without movement.

He seemed to scold himself.

There was a pause as if he found fault.

He then forgave his person with a heave of the sigh.

Something difficult, it pummeled his strength and he moved to hold the counter.

It was his version of a breather, but whatever the conundrum was, wasn’t solved.

He was trapped with it and sent that distress to you.

You made an obvious show of setting your glass down to telegraph he had you in any form he needed.

It came with his shuffling feet where his knees bumped the far couch arm.

You watched as he tipped like a plank of wood until he collapsed, face first, into the center cushion.

Behind him, his legs extended straight into the air.

You chewed on a laugh.

He laid in that position for a little too long.

You moved, first unsure, then careful to graze the back of his head.

The touch was a question.

He answered it with a heaved sigh and a turn of his cheek.

You weren’t sure what that meant, but you could now see that smudge better. You still didn’t know what it was, but you stood. A few steps to the bedroom and back got you a tissue and you knelt down in front of him. He watched you with a beaten down expression and you took great care in wiping his cheek clean.

“Thank you.” He mumbled earnestly.

You nodded and chanced the faintest peck to his brow. “Whatever you need.”

For a split second, all the strain washed off him.

What looked at you was your loving mate.

Then misery returned to him and he soured with a pucker.

It shallowed your heart and you sent that concern to him. “What is it, Don?”

He shook his head before rolling all the way over and buried himself into the back of the couch. It pulled his legs off from their perch on the arm and he curled them up to his body in almost a fetal position. You watched on with a hopeless feeling and caught how he’d left your seat open. Giving your own exhale before standing, you sat there and wondered what the next best step was.

The wait for food to arrive was always so annoying.

You ordered and were forced to wait just long enough that having a snack was debatable, but discouraged.

Wondering if maybe hunger was getting Donnie down in some form, you felt a bump to your thigh.

Blinking once outward then twice at your leg, you found that said man in question had squirreled his way up the few inches that separated you so the top of his head could just graze your leg.

You watched him with metered interest.

With a shimmy of his shoulders, he repeated the move, but jostled you without any strength.

You weren’t exactly sure, but you adjusted your recline so your lap was open.

He tilted his head just long enough to spy on you.

You were waiting there with a quirked brow.

He hid away in what seemed like irritation in having been caught.

“You can always ask if you’re not sure…” You told the air and patted your legs in offer.

You counted exactly five seconds before he kicked off the far armrest so his body would lift. His head landed on your lap and when you tried to look down at him, he buried his beak into your stomach.

“Silly cutie.” You told him.

He grunted against you with a warmth spreading through your top.

He wiggled, obviously breathing you in.

You chanced setting a hand on his arm.

His body curled, trying to get closer where the couch was in the way.

It reminded you of how he wrapped his body around you when he was in the midst of his heat.

In a slow stroke, you pet his arm. “Did you have a bad day?”

It took some processing time, but he nodded against you.

“Sucks.” You commiserated. “I know those and I’m here for you.”

He spoke something, but you couldn’t hear it.

“Hm?” You continued to pet his arm.

He said nothing more and grew slack against you.

Picking a piece of lint from him, you rubbed his limb then this head. It took a long while, but eventually he gave into the barest churr which you took as a good sign. There was a beep from the computer and you looked over to see the feed of a delivery person. “I’m gonna get the food.”

Donnie gave a little annoyed chuff and curled down into himself.

It freed you up and you bent to kiss his head before going to get the door. An easy transaction, you gathered bags and moved to the kitchen. Donnie stayed put and you gathered up his meal with his preferred utensils. Moving to bring his over first, you set up his container in a restaurant-style presentation before returning to the kitchen to grab yours. Upon returning, he had unfurled and was looking at his meal with a tired eye.

You sat beside him and were careful not to jostle his being.

He rubbed an eye and took a fork around the time you got the remote. “Want to watch something?”

“That one show.”

You hadn’t been prepared for a response and your head snapped to him.

“The hospital one.”

You knew it because he’d mentioned he liked their accurate take.

It was also an albeit silly one.

Tempering your surprise that he’d picked at all, you pulled it up. “Which episode?”

“Dumb luck one.”

Your eyes shot wide and you fought every single instinct not to send awe at your partner.

You flipped screens knowing which episode he was talking about and it also happened to be the one he’d praised the show on. It all felt so surreal, but the moment it started, you saw Donnie move to eat. After he’d successfully chewed his first bite, you watched the monotony of consumption hit him and it allowed his brain to give way to simpler stimulation.

You eventually ate yourself and watched as the episode rolled into another. It was nearing the fourth one when Donnie made a little noise. It had an attentive quality, as if something occurred to him, and you moved to check in. You found his gaze clear, but the weight of his worries had dropped upon him anew. Brows pinched tight enough to seal a leak, it trapped the concerns of his brilliant mind.

You set your container down where it had been laying empty in your lap and crossed the space to sit directly beside him.

He promptly got up and moved one sofa square further from you.

His rebuff struck you like a blow.

You hadn’t bothered him, but he ran from you.

You shirked away and gathered the discarded take-out. Putting things away in the kitchen, you tossed trash, set a few things to soak, and did it all with a broken heart. You argued with it, hoping to push it away and make sense of what was bothering him. It seemed to twirl down a drain and you eventually relented to wash up. Changing into pajamas, you exited the restroom to find Donnie’s head still sat, unmoved, from where he was still sat on the couch.

He’d stay there.

You weren’t mad.

You weren’t even necessarily hurt.

It did sting through.

You were slow to part the curtains of the canopy. You looked up at them and thought about their origin. You’d recommended them after a bad day of your own. Donnie had worked so hard then and you twisted a hand in the fabric. A soft material, it gave easily and you wondered what you were missing. From the gentle action to asking, it seemed you’d rounded all the bases except space. A frustrating one, he had illustrated the concept literally and you supposed he did so because he couldn’t elaborate.

Clutching onto that hope, you released the canopy. This was meant to be his safe haven so you turned to look out at him. “Hey, Don?”

His head tipped upward as if he had awoken.

“Let’s switch. You take the bed and I’ll sit on the couch?” You stepped away with the offer.

Donnie dipped to gather force and then stood. Standing statuesque for a moment, he then turned mechanically. Step by step, he walked out from the couch until he lifted his eyes from the floor and glimpsed you. “You changed.”

“Huh?” You looked down at yourself and then to him. “Oh yeah, you’re still dressed.”

He reached you with his worries percolating, but they now seemed centered on your pajamas.

You tipped your body to catch his eye.

He gave it with lined concern.

“Did we need to go somewhere?”

“No.”

A frown tried to manifest on your lips, but you forced it into a thin line. “Here.” You gestured to the bed. “Get some rest, okay? Love you.”

You didn’t wait and moved around him.

You felt him track you with a full rotation of his body.

His gaze felt burrowing as you sat on the couch and ducked out of sight just to shake it off.

Everything was fine.

Your peace was intact.

Donnie had a bad day.

How many of those had he had?

Not many that weren’t equally shared by you.

This was uncharted territory.

He needed space.

He’d passed along as much.

You took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

It was okay.

You felt assured as you groped for the remote.

It was down by your feet and you had to reach for it.

When you laid back out, Donnie was standing an ominous shadow above you.

A small yelp escaped your throat. “What are you doing!?”

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?” You held a hand to your heart where it was racing.

He stared down.

“Donnie, please. I don’t know what you want.” You sat up and nearly immediately he took a seat in the space you left. “O… kay…?”

His posture was terrible, he was a curved ‘C,’ and his hands twiddled thumbs in his lap.

You guessed you had been wrong about the bed.

You moved to stand.

Donnie snatched your wrist.

You stared at him.

His eyes warped, pleading.

“Don…”

“Y/N…”

“Yes?” You begged him.

Distress bled from his lips.

You tugged lightly on your hand.

His grip tightened.

“Donatello. I don’t know. I can’t know unless you share. Please. I want to help.”

“You can’t.”

It felt like another lash to your chest.

“I am the failure here.”

You jarred.

“It is my own to bear.”

“What are you talking about?” You moved to face him.

His grip on your wrist changed to a loose cuff. “Restaurant.”

“Huh?”

“To cliché. Too obvious. Already done to capacity.”

“Don…”

“The venue?” He glanced away, seeing plans you couldn’t. “Outdoor, romantic? Assuredly, but taken. I’ve plotted our Valentine’s seven years in advance.”

It was such an oddly specific number you wanted to ask about.

“Indoor, the same. Stunning architecture? A backdrop. A fountain? Does that compare our love to water? My cup runneth over. Of course it does!”

Your fingers curled in his.

He didn’t seem to notice. “That brought comparisons, metaphors, places we’ve been before. Retreads, deeper meanings, foils! The sandwich shop where we met! The outside of your work building! That courtyard where you revealed your sorrows! Rooftops! Alleyways!! Food!! Beverage!!! Grocery store!!!”

He was becoming more manic by the second.

“Not center stage!!! Something small!! Something meaningful!!! The options!!! So many fucking options!!!”

You were in motion and you broke free of him.

He did nothing to hold you back.

You caught his face.

“The guilt has been eating me alive!”

You inhaled sharply as you got an up close look at his glassy gaze.

“Nothing is worthy of you. Nothing is good enough. I am at my end. It has to be good enough. I have to be good enough.”

“Donnie, please. You are-”

“A meal! I thought! I’d already considered it and a million others, but I could create a dish that rolls all meaning into one. I’d make a standard, one we both enjoyed. It would represent our connection, the banality of it all. How in that we matter so much more! A centerpiece dotting an average night turning it into an unforgettable one!!”

You loosened your grip and he pressed his cheek against one of your palms.

“If ever there was a folly, I encountered it today.”

You tucked your fingers under his chin and scratched his favorite spot.

He didn’t have it in him to churr. “I fell back asleep after you left this morning. I need strength for today’s mission so I rooted into your pillow. I do adore your scent.”

Your face warmed.

“Lulled, I woke later than my preparation required so I rushed. Changed, the outfit I meant was to be picked up so I was forced into another. I took the stairs instead of the elevator, a rush, quicker. Outside and to the store before I realized I’d forgotten totes and, more importantly, my wallet.”

You nodded, attentive.

“I returned, gathered those only to be stopped by movers on the floor below. They’d wedged a dresser in the stairwell so I meant to pick it up and move it for time’s sake. It was repulsively dirty.”

That explained the dust.

“They thanked me and initiated touch which…” Donnie shuddered. “I weathered and made it to the store only for a key ingredient to be sold out! I moved to another store and found the same! I hacked the inventory systems to find the buyer was a rogue food truck owner who did not receive their order. They decided to instead rob the everyday consumer by buying up all surrounding stock!”

You leaned into him.

He accepted you with a moment of closed eyes as his forehead bumped yours. “That left me without options as time was ceaselessly ticking so I opted for a last minute adjustment. Another of our favorite meals with exclusive ingredients from that store you like.”

You nuzzled him.

He gave a few second rumble in his throat. “It remains a nightmare. The people. The staff! So loud! So synthetic!”

“Foods worth it.”

“It was meant to be! I gathered what I needed and made it to the curb where the car was parked when it was struck.”

You jolted away to stare down at him.

He looked at you with severity. “The hazards were on. Every precaution was taken. My system may be able to protect itself, but others always have a portion of incalculable unknowns.”

“You were in a car wreck!?”

“I had yet to enter the vehicle. I was leaned forward to set the filled bags in the seat when it was rear ended. I watched as everything I had purchased be crushed in an instant.”

“Donnie!”

“I was uninjured, but there came police and insurance reports, and endless, endless, conversation!”

“Was the other person-!?”

“Fine! They were fine! The cars were both totaled. It’s fine.It was time for an upgrade, but the hemorrhaging of time!!”

You wilted.

“I returned inside, I bought the scant ingredients as the damn store was being picked clean, but I did what had to be done. My last chance for scraping together the evening. I got my bags. I moved to exit.”

He was building and your face expressed your woe.

“A child knocked over an enormous vase housing a floral display in the entrance and I was skewered.”

“You said you weren't injured!?”

“I wasn’t!” Donnie’s teeth appeared in a curl. “I dodged and thought I compensated for the bag’s swing!”

“But!?”

“But.” He repeated harshly. “I also dove to save the boy from the shattering glass. In the process, the bag was punctured.”

“The bag.”

“Not the boy.” Donnie scoffed at the clarification. “The child saw the piece and thought it helpful to rip the chunk out!”

You gave what was almost a laugh.

“I saved his hand and berated him in not only glass safety protocol but that leaving a weapon in a stab wound is proper procedure.”

“You told a kid what!?”

“Trust.” His gaze was flat with the pained memory. “His mother had quite a bit to say about that. Please.”

You almost felt dizzy. “Okay… All this… takes up more time...”

“The bag was in disarray, but the food was untouched, so I only needed to support the bottom and ride… public transit.” Donnie sneered.

“Don…” You shrank with sympathy.

He pulled you into his arms and spoke softly to your ear.

“Dreadful. The sights. The smells. The horror.” He tucked his beak against you. “I made it. You arrived home before me. How could I prepare? I had all, but given up. Then… I saw you.”

You leaned against him.

“A vision. All my worries vanished. You, a stunning placement, bathed in window light. Your glass glittering as you sipped. Your mood jovial. I thought anew. We would cook together. Show our bond. More of our domesticity.”

“The bag…”

“The bag had presumably worn the weight no matter what my hold and had other ideas.”

“You froze.”

“It felt as though my entire plot collapsed as well. Before I could do a single moment of damage control, you were taking charge. From cleaning, to the meal, what was left?”

“Anything…? You wanted to highlight how well we work together.”

“I had been absent! For all of it! Spiraling from plans left unlaid!”

“So…? We fix it?”

“I needed you to fix it! I need to explain! That wasn’t the plan! It was too far gone! I’d been silent too long! It was an illustration, but also a surprise!”

You weren’t sure what to say.

“Then in my wretched attitude, I rebuked you?! Idiot! I was dwelling on when to reschedule. The moment I moved away from your worry was the moment I realized my grave mistake! I hurt your feelings which meant I would have to wait until they were repaired before even chancing a thing.”

“What…? What is all of this? I keep thinking you’ll say it, but you’re just alluding to something I don’t know about.”

“You!” He spoke as if that was the answer.

You stared back with sadness tinting you.

“You…” He cupped your hand to his cheek. “Our love.”

You shook your head, not understanding.

“I can’t do it like this. Please… If you can continue to wait?”

“Donnie.” You sighed. “You know I’ll wait for you. You know I’ll always wait for whatever you need. You aren’t getting rid of me, but all this sounds ridiculous. I don’t know what you’re trying to plan or why it has to all be good for something to happen. Bad things happen. I think every bad thing that could happen, has happened to us. It matters, but it also doesn’t! We have each other and that’s what’s important. Like you said: our day to day, the fact that we can, will, are, whatever, going to do this for the rest of our lives is proof. All the stupid weeknight dinners. Watching whatever shows. Cleaning. Cooking. Maintaining a house. Taking care of us and anyone else.”

A little color marked his cheeks.

You kissed each of them, one at a time. “You’re right. That’s what’s important. It’s how we interact. How we’re codependent or whatever! We’re us forever and always and we like it. We’re not all these crazy things. We’re this and if we can do this? We can do anything.”

You watched all concern wash away from your partner.

He moved, carefully, to take you close.

He kissed you with a shallow press that said he needed to do more.

Allowing him that, he stood and ushered you onto the couch.

Taking the middle seat, you watched as he looked only once at the coffee table.

It was clean from where you’d removed the remnants of dinner and he caught one end to lift it.

As if it were paper, he sat it on its side and it stood a tall wooden obelisk.

He gave it a little rock to test how sturdy it was.

Satisfied it wouldn’t fall, he released it and addressed you.

His hand disappeared into his pocket.

He removed it with something concealed.

He dropped down onto one knee.

Everything hit you with a flood that watered your eyes.

“Y/N L/N…”

Your hands flew up to cover your mouth.

He looked at you through his lids and his own outpouring of adoration. “I should scold you for stealing my moment, but you have also assured me that I will have nothing but opportunity for another.”

You shook your head and a few tears loosed.

“I should have known.”

He smiled fondly.

“The best way to do this was whenever felt right.”

His hand came up.

“No planning, just as you appeared without any.”

One palm offered, he unfurled his fingers to reveal the jewelry box.

“My heart.”

His other hand opened it up to reveal a clean band that seemed to radiate some kind of aura.

“My love.”

He offered it up to you and all of him read submissive.

“My life. I offer it all. Will you please marry me?”

You nodded too furiously. “Yes!!!”

Tears darted the air as you shot forward the moment he tried to grab the ring.

The box clicked shut and you tackled him.

To the ground where you both laughed and tears flowed.

“How long have you been worrying about this?!” You croaked against him.

He wrapped his arms around you. “Months. You caught me planning multiple times, but never noticed!”

“Evil!”

He laughed brightly and wrung you side to side.

It bumped a table leg and you both froze as the coffee table wobbled.

Donnie rolled over top of you so he’d take the brunt of the damage.

The table only fell like a bridge.

It landed on all its feet and hovered inches above your fiancé.

Locked safely beneath it, you sent all your affections before you kissed him.

Having weaseled his arm into position, he slipped the ring on your finger and you felt it warm your digit.

💜NEXT💜

I don't know the exact date, but we are hard coming up on a year that @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83 have been my betas! I have and endless sea of gratitude for them both! They are integral to my writing at this point!

#weakspotfic #rottmnt #rottmnt donnie x reader #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #donatello hamato #donnie x reader #rise donnie #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt donnie #me #fanfiction #my fanfiction

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dawn-moths · 2 years

Text

“Ivory for Ebony, Rust for Gold”

Undertaker x Female Reader

*this is a prologue to my “Cause to Start a Vendetta” series.

word count: 15,400+

(Struggling to pay this month’s rent and fighting about who among you and your roommates needs to pick up some extra hours at work, one of them makes a harsh comment that you should just get a sugar daddy to deal with your financial troubles since that’s all you’re probably good for. To her it was just a hurtful, sarcastic remark. But to you, it's an idea, an opportunity for revenge in its own twisted way. Because if you were going to let someone tell you what to do, they could at least be willing to treat you to some nice clothes and expensive dates. So when you match with the mysterious and dark yet beautiful and wealthy “Undertaker” on a dating app and he actually extends the invitation to take you out, how could you possibly deny?)

content warning/disclaimer: 18+ content! minors dni! most of this is fluff with smut at the end, dating apps, daddy kink, sub/dom dynamics, size kink, loss of virginity.

*ao3 mirror*

***

Your alarm went off at eight AM.

You could say “bright and early” if not for the fact that the sky that blanketed London was a pale, gloomy grey more often than not.

You jabbed at the screen of your phone to silence the irritating shrill of the alarm, heaving out a deep sigh as you rolled over and sat on the edge of your bed, running your fingers through your tousled hair to try and untangle some of the knots that had formed during sleep.

Another day… You thought to yourself, despondent as you stared in a daze out the window, black cabs dotting the streets as they mixed in with the traffic of people on their way to work or school.

You and a college friend of yours had tossed around the idea of moving in together in London for a few semesters before you’d both finally pulled your meager funds into one pot and committed to it. You’d had to find a third member to join the flat if you wanted to be able to afford it, and your friend had known someone who seemed like she’d be a good match.

And it had been fun, at first— a new and exciting experience that had led to so many late nights out hopping from clubs to pubs and somehow stumbling your way back to the apartment with only half the night’s memories intact.

You’d met so many interesting people, made a few new friends, had gotten used to weekend get-togethers and house parties that you’d thought would last forever.

But again, that was in the beginning.

Y’know, when you’d still had some extra money in your bank account to play with— to burn.

Now, nearly two years later, all three of you were struggling.

Because the days of bar hopping in the tightest minidresses you owned and having handsome strangers buy you round after round of whatever you were in the mood for that night had seemingly come and gone. There hadn’t been an invite to a weekend hangout or a house party in what felt like forever. At least, not one that you had time to attend.

Because all your lives now only consisted of two things— school and work.

And you were getting tired of both.

The sound of your roommates chatting quietly out in the kitchen beyond your bedroom door pulled you from your daze momentarily as you tried to hone in on what they were saying. They spoke with a hushed kind of urgency— the perfect tone to use when discussing secrets.

You snuck up to the door and pressed your ear to the crack, listening in.

“Well I don’t have time to pick up any extra hours with my schedule!” the girl who was the friend of your friend insisted, the words whispered with the intention to be taken as a very quiet shout. “Not to mention I have a ton of stuff to do before grad school!”

“Yeah, and I’m about to start my senior thesis which is gonna eat up all my free time so I can’t get another job either…” your actual friend countered, sounding more conflicted than riled up.

You then heard your name being thrown around, something about how you were the one who seemed most likely to be able to pick up some of the slack.

You didn’t like where this conversation was going yet you couldn’t stop listening. Couldn’t make yourself known to be eavesdropping yet either.

“She doesn’t even care about school!” Your third roommate continued, clearly upset with the situation but willing to throw you into the fire if it meant sparing herself. You’d found out after a couple months of living with her that she was the top of her class, teacher’s pet type. The days she didn’t brag about the prestigious grad school she’d gotten into were few and far between. “We all know she’s a C’s get degrees kind of girl anyway. She should be the one who has to go out and get another job, not one of us who actually have a career waiting after graduation.”

That particular dig cut you especially deep.

Sure, you might not’ve been the most studious member among your flatmates, but you had your own set of strengths.

Like, for instance, you could sweet talk your way out of getting written up for being late for class almost every single time. It didn’t matter which professor was chewing you out for skipping a lecture or not turning an assignment in on time, you’d mastered how to get off with a warning with each and every one of them.

And you were great at fashion advice. If it wasn’t for your knack for perfectly balanced color combinations and precisely pieced together aesthetics when it came to jewelry and clothing then your roommates would’ve never gotten past any of the bouncers that guarded the entrances to the popular nightclubs you all used to frequent. You could turn even the most timid and awkward girl into a drop dead gorgeous ten with the right hairstyle and shade of lipstick.

And— and this part was what made the comment that had just been said about you particularly hard to swallow— you were always there for your friends. You’d been their shoulder to cry on so many times, had taken them out for milkshakes and a movie after a breakup or saved them from having a one night stand with some fuck boy that you knew was just going to hump ‘em and dump ‘em because you practically made it your job to stay up to date on all the latest rumors and juiciest gossip.

But, despite the harshness of their opinion on your academic skills, you knew that, with the full context, they were right.

Because rent was almost due again and you’d all just barely scraped by for the past couple of months.

That was the price you paid for living in the heart of the city— the city that you barely even went into anymore since, despite what they thought you did with your free time, you were trying to study a little more, maybe earn yourself a B instead of skating by with C’s…

When they’d asked you if you wanted to renew the lease for another year, you’d just said yes, not wanting to have to scramble to find new people to live with or move back into campus living where you couldn’t even have your own space.

But now things were getting desperate.

Tensions were rising among all of you over this and you didn’t want to have to be the one to give in when you felt like you were just getting motivated to try and raise your GPA.

But you knew you would, in the end. Because you always gave in, let them bully you into submission as they talked you in circles and convinced you that it would just be for a little bit, that you’d only have to take a couple extra shifts until you guys were all caught up.

“Alright, well, just let me talk to her about it…” your friend suggested, sounding sort of sympathetic, though she still wasn’t willing to take on the extra responsibility so long as there was someone else available to carry the weight. “I don’t think she’s gonna be happy about it though—”

Both of their heads turned to stare at you as your bedroom door swung open.

“Who won’t be happy about what?” you asked then, trying to act innocent but still letting a little edge of irritation slip into your tone.

The stiffened posture of your startled roommates softened a bit as they sighed.

“It’s the rent…” your friend went to say. “We’re not gonna be able to pay it this month unless—”

“You need to pick up some more hours at work,” the pushier of the two cut in, crossing her arms and giving you a stern look which only flared the crackling embers of your annoyance.

But the longer she glared at you, just like always, you could feel yourself beginning to back down. You wanted to be able to hold your ground, to tell her that she had no right to make such demands of you, but instead you just averted your gaze and let her keep trying to tell you what to do. “It won’t be forever, just until we can catch up on the bills. I’m too busy with all of my already existing school and work obligations and she—” She gestured to your friend who was looking at you apologetically. “She’s got her senior thesis to work on.”

Your little hands were nervously fidgeting with themselves— a habit you’d long been attempting to break since it was a dead giveaway for your anxiety— but you forced yourself to look back up at your rudely assuming roommate as you protested, a slight scowl twitching timidly on your brow, “Well… I’m still in school too. And I have a big test coming up. I don’t think I—”

“Oh, please,” she scoffed, shooting you a condescending smirk. Her words only became even more patronizing as her tone liltingly insulted, “We all know that the only reason you’re even still going to class is because Mommy and Daddy are paying your tuition and you feel bad about letting them down.” You flinched at the sheer audacity of her assumption— even if the part about your parents paying for your education was correct— and felt tears threaten to well in your vision, the back of your nose pickling with the unpleasant emotion.

“That’s not—” you tried to say, but she interrupted again, clearly in the mood to get out all the horrible things she’d ever thought about you in that particular moment.

“And your little cutesy, innocent act doesn’t really work. Not on me, at least.” Your actual friend then shot your roommate a warning glare as she hissed her name. Still, she continued, stepping closer to you as you stood in the doorway and fought to hold back your frustrated tears. “You think I don’t hear you through the wall when you’re on the phone with whoever talking about how—” she then went to imitate your voice in a dumb, high pitched, mocking tone, “you just like, really wish you could drop out already because you don’t even like what you’re studying and this is totally a waste of your time.”

“That’s enough!” your friend raised her voice over the unnecessarily cruel argument. But your roommate wasn’t done showing her true colors just yet. She was going to paint over you with all her harsh, petty shades until even your tears couldn’t wash away the bleak pigment.

“I mean, really. I don’t get how you even got accepted into this school to begin with.” She was standing over you now, glaring down at you as her condescending comments finally pulled the tears from your eyes to streak shimmering lines down your cheeks in pairs. “You’d do better for all of us if you just quit now and worked full time. Then at least you’d be serving a purpose other than desperately trying to hook up with one of the sport’s team captains or offering favors to your professors in exchange for a barely passing grade.”

“I never—!”

“Don’t try and act like that’s not the truth! You just—”

“I said that’s fucking enough!” Both you and your bitch of a roommate turned to look at your friend, who wore an expression of genuine anger now. Her eyes were wide and her shoulders shaking as she nudged her way past the bully who’d just berated you to stand by your side, putting her arms around you as you tried to silence the sobs that were hitching in your chest and scowling hard at the girl who was responsible for breaking you.

“Don’t talk to her like that!” she went on, now shouting and causing your roommate to back down a bit. “Just because she doesn’t feel the same way about school as you do doesn’t mean she doesn’t have the same right to an education! Maybe if you got down from your high horse once in a while you’d realize that you’re not the only one who’s stressed out right now!”

You were glad that your friend was actually defending you so openly. In the past, when your roommate had made little remarks about you to your face or behind your back, your friend hadn’t had it in her to tell her off. She’d just come to you when you were sulking in your room and offer to console you privately.

Still though, after what had just been said, you doubted you could stand to live under the same roof as her for much longer.

The worst part was that you couldn’t just up and leave. Then you’d be abandoning your friend, aside from breaking a lease, and you couldn’t do that to her right now. Not when it was still a struggle to pay the rent with all three of you.

“I’m sorry, but it didn’t sound like you were very willing to go out and get another job!” your confrontational roommate continued. “And I don’t know how many times I have to repeat the fact that I can’t do it because I—”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it!” your friend shot back, still embracing you in solidarity. “You’re smarter and more important than everyone! Would you just get a grip?”

“Oh so now you’re just gonna act like you weren’t agreeing with me two seconds ago?!”

“Y’know what, you’re such a—!”

“Please stop!” you bellowed over the bitter arguing. Your face was a mess, all tear-streaked and red from embarrassment and anger. “Just stop it! Please…”

You began to wipe away your tears, sniffling and trying to catch your breath so you could get a clear sentence out while you had both of their attention.

“I’ll do it, alright…” you caved, shooting the instigator a scathing glare. “I’ll get some extra fucking hours. Just stop talking to me like I’m stupid!” You’d looked your horrible, hurtful roommate in the eyes as you’d spit the word, hoping it sounded like a warning to back off more than a pitiful plea to leave you alone.

She rolled her eyes and scoffed at your sensitivity, turning to grab her bag and head out the door as she added on one final jab at your character, “If you don’t wanna work, why don’t you just make this easier on all of us and find yourself a sugar daddy to pay for your share of the rent? Shouldn’t be hard, given your track record.”

Your friend called after her to come back and apologize as the door to the flat slammed and she disappeared from your sight. You never wanted to see her again, hoped she got hit by a cab or a bus on her way home. When you realized how evil that sounded, you hoped she failed her next test or assignment instead. That would kill her in its own way. And, god, you were just so angry. Because you’d given in again, and to someone who’d said such awful, unforgivable things about you no less.

“I’m so sorry that she said all of that…” your friend attempted to comfort you again as you retreated into your room to change into some clean clothes and aggressively shove your books into your bag. “I’m gonna talk to her. Get her to apologize. And, look, you don’t have to pick up extra hours at work. I know you hate that job. We’ll figure something out, ok…”

You were just about to sadly assure your friend that she didn’t have to go that far. That you’d just take some additional shifts but that the moment you could get out of the lease, you would.

But then your roommates insults came back to you, echoing around in your head until the sarcastic slander turned into a mischievous motivation.

Why don’t you just make this easier on all of us and find yourself a sugar daddy to pay for your share of the rent?

There were apps for that, ones that you could specifically swipe through profiles of wealthy men looking for young, cute girls like yourself until you matched with one. You knew other girls who’d done it, who’d gotten a pair of diamond earrings or a five star dinner date out of it at the very least, if not a casual relationship.

If they could do it, then why couldn’t you?

Shouldn’t be hard, given your track record.

What she’d said about the hookups and the favors weren’t true. You just had a natural talent for getting what you wanted from men, young or old. You knew how to look up at them through your long lashes and give those cute little giggles when they said something that wasn’t even really that funny. You knew which skirts or dresses to wear that drew them to you, made them lose their train of thought as they ogled your appearance, wishing— dreaming— that you’d let them close enough to see what was underneath.

But you always knew when to pull back, when to leave them wanting more.

You were a bit of a tease, sure, you couldn’t deny that. But you weren’t a slut like your roommate seemed to think you were, letting anyone with a dick just stick it in without any effort.

Because, despite the fact that you lived in a shared flat and not a palace, you were a princess, too perfect and pretty for just anyone to have.

You needed someone who would cherish you. Someone who knew how to treat you right in all the ways you deserved.

And while a random man from a sugar daddy dating app wasn’t necessarily in it for the long haul, you did have a feeling someone drawn to that sort of relationship might like to show off— whether it be by his wealth or the pretty girl under his arm— and maybe play the part of a gentleman when taking you out on dates.

So yeah. Later that day during a break in between classes you’d downloaded the app, set up your own profile, and started swiping.

Your roommate could just go fuck herself.

With the way she only had time for her textbook, you figured it was the only way she was ever getting any.

But you’d find someone, even if it was just out of spite, and not only would he help you pay your rent for the remainder of the lease, but he’d do something that showed your roommate that girls like you were smarter than they looked.

Because you could make a man’s bank account bend to your will, so long as your body was willing to bend to his. And that wasn’t a skill you could learn in any classroom.

***

Once you’d returned home to the flat, you’d gone straight to your room, completely ignoring your roommate the same as she was ignoring you, the tension between the two of you thick enough to be cut with a knife.

Your gaze was glued to your phone while hers was glued to her required reading, and while she was probably thinking that you were slacking off again, you were actually hard at work.

Because you’d already gotten five matches an hour after you’d begun swiping through photos. Now you were studying, trying to figure out which option was going to be your best bet.

This was actually a little harder than you’d thought it’d be, if you were being honest. When it came to looks in your final five, you were spoiled for choice. However, it was the messaging aspect of the equation where things got a little… complicated.

There was one man— a Viscount, as his profile very clearly stated— who had long, silky blonde hair and was shamelessly flaunting his abundant status and wealth, each of his pictures displaying himself surrounded with exotic scenery from a vacation or posing wearing luxurious designer brand clothing with a foreign fashion week in the background.

But his propositions to you through your texts weren’t as elegant as his image implied.

Right away he wanted to know if you could meet for sex. He’d asked if you were a virgin— which you didn’t disclose to him and instead talked around with playful replies and winking emojis— and had given you his hotel suite number as he was currently staying in The Langham in London.

He was rather insistent that you pay him a visit and you were starting to get a bad feeling about him, like if you agreed to meet with him and actually went through with it you might not return to your flat after all was said and done.

And not in a he’s swept me off my feet and we’re flying to Mykonos way.

More like a he’s going to kidnap me and lock me in some weird sex dungeon kind of way.

You decided to unmatch with him, crossing him off your mental list of potential men, and moved onto the next one.

The second suitor was also on the younger end of the spectrum, like the Viscount, though still older than you. His name was Charles Grey, and you found him rather striking with his silver-blue eyes and sleek white hair. He looked like trouble right off the bat with that sly smirk and side glance that he hosted in most of his photos, but he appeared to keep himself on a little tighter leash than your first match.

In his messages to you, however, he seemed pretty uninterested despite the fact that he’d obviously found you attractive enough to swipe right. He seemed like he wanted you to show the most effort and you really weren’t into that. You were old school in the way that you wanted the guy to pursue you, not the other way around. He didn’t seem to drop many hints about wanting to meet either. Perhaps he was just toying with you, wanting you to beg for his company so he could decide how far he was going to string you along before finally giving in and making it appear as if he was doing you a favor.

Either way, there was no chemistry there and even less luck in having him pay your bills, so again you moved on and started from square one.

Your next two potentials were what you’d actually expected upon first downloading the app— being that they were older than you. Much older. Old enough to actually be your father, but you weren’t opposed to the idea so long as they treated you right.

One was named Chris Heathfield. He worked for the government— a high ranking position, he’d been quick to let you know— and resided in an ostentatious manor bordering the countryside. But even in his profile photos he was flaunting how many women he liked to have around at all times, so many it was practically a harem. The man was clearly a womanizer, and perhaps you were naive to think that any of your potential choices were any different, but you didn’t exactly want to have to compete with other girls right out of the gate.

Chlaus— he’d given no last name— seemed to be far more genuine and gentlemanly than Heathfield. He had a kind yet enthusiastic smile, like he could enjoy even the most mundane of activities if he was in the right mood.

He traveled a lot and actually wasn’t even currently in the country, as he’d politely informed you in the messages you’d exchanged. He’d even apologized if he’d wasted your time though admitted that, when he did return to London sometime in the future, he’d still like to meet with you if you were still interested. He’d complimented you, told you that he liked your smile in the photos you’d posted, and you’d actually been sort of disappointed that he wasn’t currently available.

Either way, you thanked him for his cordial decency and then was forced to migrate towards your fifth and final match of the day.

Unlike the others, this one had yet to message you. All you had to go by was his profile photos, all of which added a new element to his sinister yet alluring beauty.

He had long, silver hair and piercing green eyes, alabaster skin with a scar cutting a diagonal across his otherwise handsome face. You’d noticed him instantly among the others, so unusual and curious yet still the most enticing.

Perhaps it was the danger of the unknown that drew you to him. Perhaps it was that he was one of the few you’d encountered during the initial phase of swiping that, while still about a decade older than you, wasn’t actually old like Heathfield and Chlaus. And his name had caught your attention too, or at least the alias he’d given himself while using the app.

Undertaker.

That’s all it said.

Not a first or last or really any name at all other than that morbid moniker.

The closer the clock hands approached midnight, the more you were starting to think he’d changed his mind about you— reconsidering whatever it was that had caused him to match with you to begin with— and you were just about to start over with a new batch of wealthy strangers when all of a sudden…

You were notified that you’d received a new message and quickly went to check it, pausing when you saw the preview of the text lighting up besides the arcane name.

Hello, Undertaker’s first message bubble read, plain and simple.

Hi, you typed back in return, adding your favorite smiling emoji afterward.

How are you doing this evening?, he asked next. You told him that you were fine, just sort of bored. Are you in London currently?, he further inquired.

Yeah, you responded, feeling kind of good about the conversation so far, though you tried not to get too far ahead of yourself. You told him you attended a university in the area and then feared that maybe you shouldn’t have said that, remembering stories about girls being stalked by people they’d met over dating apps.

But, much to your relief, Undertaker merely asked what you were studying, seeming to keep things professional for now, if that was a word you could use in this context. You answered and then there was a short lull in the conversation.

You were starting to think that maybe you’d lost him on account of pointless small talk until he came back with another message.

I’d very much like to take you out some time, he said. Is there any specific day or time that you’d be free this upcoming week?

You couldn’t contain your beaming smile.

You felt like you were in high school again, growing giddy over a new crush.

How about this weekend? You suggested. We could meet at the British Museum around noon, if you want?

You watched eagerly as the three dots of the speech bubble that showed he was typing pulsed lightly on the screen. He replied, I’d like that very much, before going on to fix the more specific details.

He asked if he could drive you around after that, bring you to dinner that evening, and to this, while in your head you were thinking nothing but different variations of the word absolutely, you responded with a slightly teasing, Well, we’ll just have to see how things go at the museum, won’t we?, followed by a playful winking emoji.

Back in the study of Undertaker’s ornate gothic mansion, he chuckled to himself while lounging in one of velvety armchairs. He also couldn’t shake the devious grin that had found its way onto his pale face.

Like you, it had been a while since he’d allowed himself to be with someone in any form of intimacy. He was used to filling his schedule with all work and no play and he’d been wanting to change that. What better way than to do it with a cute girl he could pamper?

I’ll see you then, Undertaker typed back, adding a smirking emoji, and you felt your stomach flutter with excitement. With half your face buried in your pillow as you lay sprawled out on your bed texting with the mysterious, monochrome stranger, you tried and failed to hold in a giggle.

See ya~!, you concluded, clicking your screen off and then flipping onto your back to stare at the ceiling as all sorts of scenarios of what this weekend could hold began to play in your mind.

And the more you fantasized, the more your cute, girlish little giggles morphed into something darker, something borderline evil as you thought about how your bitch of a roommate might’ve just shot herself in the foot with the comment she’d made before walking out the door that morning.

I win, you prematurely proclaimed to yourself, a crooked smirk devilishly pulling up one corner of your glossy lips.

I always win.

***

Waiting for the weekend had felt like forever, despite it only having been a few days away, but now that it was here, the mixture of nerves and excitement was steadily filling you to the brim.

You hadn’t told either of your roommates where you were going or what you were doing today. When your friend had told you how nice you looked in your cardigan and cute pastel purple dress and white platform sneakers, you’d simply thanked her, giving no hint of the occasion or who you were meeting with.

You hoped he liked it, at least noticed the effort that curling your hair into perfect ringlets with half pulled up into a ponytail and tied with a silky, cream-colored bow took.

But the longer you stood outside the museum, despite arriving a little early, the more you wondered if you were going to end up getting ghosted and be forced to stroll through the exhibits alone while trying to hide your disappointment that, in the end, you really hadn’t been good enough.

If that happened, you’d have to admit defeat and take those extra shifts at work after all.

You were leaning against one of the pillars, pulling your cardigan tighter over your shoulders as a chilly breeze blew by and staring down at your shoes, gaze tracing the way your laces zig-zagged over each other and dreading what was seeming more and more likely to be you having gone out of your way for nothing with each passing minute until—

You heard a rich, low voice speak your name, causing you to look up with innocent confusion for a second until your stare landed on the tall, silver-haired man standing before you.

He was dressed simply but nicely, in all black with a blazer and turtleneck and shiny oxford shoes, pale hands resting inside his pockets as his steady emerald eyes studied you with slight concern.

You felt yourself start to blush when you realized he’d left you speechless, cracking a small smile as you straightened your posture from the pillar and shuffled a few steps closer to him.

“Y-yes, that’s me,” you replied cheerily, hoping that your voice wasn’t shaking too much. “You made it!”

He drifted a little closer, his shadow looming over you, and you felt your heart drumming against your ribcage, his aura so powerful and unsettling yet his smile appearing calm and kind, trying to put you at ease.

“Of course,” he nodded slowly. “Now…” He gestured his hand towards the front doors. “Shall we?”

You followed after him and pretty soon found your hand in his, praying that your palms didn’t start to sweat from how nervous you were, though his hands were actually pretty cold, so you thought maybe that would help.

Undertaker’s hands were big, yet slender— long, pale fingers brushing gently against your skin as your little grip was swallowed up in his loose fist.

And his face— god…

You’d thought he was attractive in the photos, but in person it was on a whole other level.

You’d never seen someone as gorgeous as him before. Not in real life, at least.

He was like a prince of darkness, somber and eerie qualities colliding with something charming and lovely. Like a rose bush— so many thorns and winding vines to keep others at bay, yet blooming with striking flowers, vibrant petals opening under the light of a full moon only for those he deemed worthy enough to be let into his garden.

It was hard not to blatantly stare at him.

You didn’t want to be weird, didn’t want him to think maybe he should revoke his invitation to drive you around and take you out to dinner after this, but you couldn’t help it, sneaking private glances whenever you could. It appeared you weren’t the only one, what with the eyes of nearly every person you passed as you two strolled through the museum catching on him as well.

But it wasn’t just him who they were staring at, Undertaker realized with a hint of pride. He knew the crowds were just as captivated by the pretty girl by his side, the contrast between his ghostly appearance and your sweet, honey-suckle softness a rare sight to behold.

Undertaker also found it hard not to stare at you long and hard like one of the famous paintings, scanning the curves and lines of your profile and figure when your attention was turned to a particularly unique exhibit.

He traced the form of your silhouette from the top of your head, down the dip under your chin towards your neck and collar bones, over your breasts and stomach to your hips, your exposed thighs, all the way down to your shoes and back up again.

He knew instantly that he was going to have a hard time keeping his hands off you. Undertaker was an intense man— dangerous in ways that you had yet to know about— and the last thing he wanted to do was scare you away.

Not when you were exactly what he’d been looking for for so long.

Not when you were so perfect with that adorable little lilt in your giggle and the way those doe-eyes of yours looked upon things with an indescribable wonder.

Because Undertaker wanted something to protect that wasn’t just all his abundant wealth and status and one of a kind mansion decor. He wanted something— someone— who would be waiting for him at the end of a long day or a particularly harrowing business meeting. Someone he could wrap his arms around and feel their beating heart, feel the way their chest rose and fell with the steady breaths of life.

And you were so warm, so fragile.

He wondered if you had anyone to protect you or if somehow you’d managed to navigate this cruel world all on your own thus far.

And you’d opened up to him a little bit as the two of you got talking during your leisurely stroll through the museum. You’d told him that, while you didn’t have a terrible relationship with your parents, things had been rocky here or there. You’d told him that all they’d ever wanted for you was to attend university, that they’d pay for your tuition and even let you pick which one you would go to so long as you passed your classes and graduated on time.

But you’d never felt like they listened to you, like you could truthfully talk to them and share your troubles. Hence why you left home at the very first opportunity that presented itself. You’d thought getting away and meeting new people would help you find someone you felt you could really be honest with and rely on. Though, so far, it hadn’t been exactly what you’d expected…

“Well, I consider myself a very good listener,” Undertaker promised with a gentle smirk as his grip around your hand squeezed a little, drawing your gaze up to meet his once more. “I’m quite good at keeping secrets as well.”

You didn’t know what to say, could only gape at him in that doe-eyed way of yours that he was quickly becoming addicted to. He would turn it into a game, seeing how many times he could get you to look at him like that, like he was the only thing in your entire world.

Forget money and power.

What Undertaker wanted was you wanting him, needing him.

But soon enough you snapped out of it, shaking your head a bit as if to clear your daze. Then, as you neared the final exhibit, you finally gained enough courage to inquire, “So… Undertaker, huh? I’m guessing that’s not your real name…?” trying to tread carefully, not wanting to pry too much, but unable to hold in this curiosity any longer.

The mysterious man sighed out a breathy chuckle. “In my line of work,” he began, “it can be rather dangerous for one to expose their true name. So I keep mine hidden.” He paused then, as if expecting you to ask more questions or make a comment. When you just seemed to be willing to listen, he went on. “Does that bother you?” he asked with a small lift of an eyebrow.

You shook your head, glancing back up at him as you stopped before the final exhibit on your loop through the museum. “No. I mean, I won’t lie. I did find it strange at first. But you seem like you have your reasons, so…”

Your sentence trailed off as you became occupied with the art piece in front of you, lips slightly parted as you stared ahead, giving Undertaker yet another opportunity to study your face.

But this time he was staring at you with a little more than admiration for your appearance. This time he looked upon you like you were the first person he’d met who seemed to understand him in some way, to accept him as he was.

Because even his closest confidants had wondered why he couldn’t just tell them his real name, why he refused to tell anyone no matter what.

And you’d just dropped it after that, respecting his wishes to go by the moniker and moving on like it wasn’t odd even in the slightest.

He felt himself migrating closer to you, lowering his lips in hopes of meeting yours, but then stopped himself when he thought perhaps it was still too soon for that. He’d wait until the moment was right, whether that was today or tonight or days, weeks, months from now.

Because he didn’t want to mess this up. Not with you. Not when he’d finally managed to find someone who, despite his appearance or his name or the fact that he always seemed to be alluding to something darker and much more dangerous than he let on, didn’t seem to hold it against him.

And he wasn’t going to let you go. He’d do anything to make you stay, to keep you all for himself.

If it was money you were after, he’d give it to you. If it was him taking you on vacations then so be it. If it was someone who could take care of you and provide, that would be easy.

Whatever you wanted or needed, all you had to do was say the word and he’d make sure you had it.

In the beginning, he’d give it to you for free. Though, there would reach a point when he’d want something in return, though he knew he couldn’t force that on you. At least, not the first time.

“That was fun!” you smiled as the two of you exited the museum, your fingers now interlocked in a more romantic and intimate gesture. It only lasted a mere minute before your touch broke and the two of you were standing across from each other on the sidewalk, but it was long enough to send that warm feeling fluttering in your belly again. “Thanks for taking me.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” Undertaker replied. He hoped that you weren’t just being polite and wished to go home now. He still really did want to spend more time with you. Whether that was over dinner or not was irrelevant now. He’d sit on a park bench and attempt to get to know you better if that’s all you’d give him.

When you sort of just seemed to stand there and look up at him with a smile, no sign of searching the curb for where you’d parked a car or gotten off at a bus stop present in your expression, he hesitantly asked, “Did you… walk here or…?”

“Oh!” you snapped out of your daze, hypnotized by his brilliant emerald stare and that scar etched across his face yet again. Through a nervous chuckle you said, “Yeah, actually, I did… I live sort of in the area and I don’t have a car so…”

“I’m parked nearby,” he began, already taking a step in the direction where he could see his vintage vehicle from down the street. “I can drive you home if you’d like to return or we could continue on to another location?”

You considered this, though you already knew that you didn’t want to go home. When you smiled and nodded and told him that you’d like to continue enjoying his company, he put an arm around you and guided you towards his car— a 1953 Rolls Royce Dawn Drophead— and you expressed your marvel at the spotless obsidian automobile.

“Allow me,” Undertaker offered as he grabbed the door for you, letting you slide into the passenger's seat before closing it and coming around to take his place behind the wheel. The roof was down and you felt a new wave of excitement wash over you, never having ridden in a convertible before.

You didn’t know where you were going, but you honestly didn’t even care. As Undertaker skillfully wove in and out of traffic and the wind blew through your hair, your exhilarated laughter sounding off beside him as music blasted from the radio, you felt alive.

And so did he, for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

It had been so long that he’d almost forgotten what that felt like.

And you, well, you were actually starting to thank your roommate for giving you this idea in the first place.

***

The luxury department store was one that you’d seen in passing since moving to the city but never had the nerve to step inside of.

Not until today, that is.

Among some of the signs that decorated the storefronts of the extravagant shopping mall were names like Gucci and Versace, Dolce & Gabbana, Louis Vuitton, Prada, Tiffany and Chanel.

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing— all the beautiful designer clothes and handcrafted jewelry— the handbags and the belts and the shoes that were perfectly placed on display lining the windows and walls of each store.

“Do you enjoy fashion?” Undertaker asked you as you ooed and awed at all the options, his hand finding your shoulder as he gently rubbed a thumb over some of your soft, exposed skin, your cardigan having been courteously taken by the greeter at the entrance of the store for safekeeping while you tried on clothes.

He already knew that you did. Had found you on social media soon after matching with you and done some digging.

You were a wannabe fashion influencer, and given the fact that you didn’t have access to exclusive items just yet, your style and taste spoke for itself, even if it was on a budget. Not to mention, for a girl who was sharing a cramped flat in London and struggling to pay her rent, ten thousand wasn’t a number to laugh at when it came to followers.

“I do!” you replied enthusiastically, looking up at him with another one of those cute little smiles and a giggle that captivated Undertaker every time. Then, as his arm fell to cradle your waist and hold you a little closer, you shyly admitted, “I’ve never worn anything as nice as this before though…”

The ebony clad man chuckled. “Well then,” he prompted playfully, “we’ll have to change that, won’t we?”

Your eyes widened once you realized what he was getting at.

Your first instinct was to turn down such a pricey offer. If this were anyone else, you would’ve. But then you were reminded of the circumstances under which you’d met and that perhaps it would be rude not to let him spend some of his abundant wealth on you.

So you did what you were best at. You looked cute and acted on your best behavior as the two of you traveled from designer to designer, trying on all sorts of outfits and showing yourself off to him as you did so. He seemed pleased, with both you and what the mall had in stock that day, and had even purchased some items for himself along the way.

“How about this one?” he asked as he lightly ran his long fingers over the satiny fabric of a dark blue babydoll dress, one with a low back and cute puffed sleeves and a bow tied around the waist to hug your form.

Your wardrobe mainly consisted of pastels and light neutrals, a few darker colors thrown in but not many that you wore that often. Even so, if this was what he liked, the least you could do was try it on for him.

When you came out of the dressing room, holding out the flared skirt a little bit as you twirled, something in Undertaker’s chartreuse gaze changed. He’d liked all the others, sure. They’d suited you just fine. But this one…

This one made you look like Undertaker’s perfect little doll, one that he’d designed and dressed personally.

“You look beautiful,” he commended, just like with the other dresses you’d modeled for him, but then added through an awestruck sigh, “Absolutely gorgeous…” that made you stop for a moment and stare at him, blinking those innocent doe-eyes of yours, suddenly aware of just how intensely he was looking at you.

If you weren’t mistaken, you might’ve read it for pure adoration.

But you two had barely just met, so it couldn’t really be that, could it?

“D-do you really like this one?” you asked through a timid grin, turning halfway to look yourself over in one of the mirrors again, little fingers adjusting the way the bow looked in the back.

“I think it’s marvelous,” Undertaker replied coolly, stuck in a dream-like daze as his eyes slowly scanned up and down your figure once more. “But do you like it?”

You considered yourself, making sure that the garment lay right over your body, wondering if the shade looked too dark on you, but slowly, surprisingly, it was winning you over.

You nodded and began to smile again. As you turned back to face him you said, “I do like it.”

“Shall I buy it for you then, as one last treat?” he asked next. He’d already treated you to quite the expensive spree, so you fumbled for the price tag to find out just how much more you’d be depleting his bank account, but before your view could land upon the number, Undertaker was at your side, his hand wrapped around yours as he quietly reminded you, “Don’t worry about that. It’s on me, remember?”

“But…” you stalled, looking up at his looming form.

“No buts, princess,” he lightly chided, turning you around to face the mirror again as his chest pressed against your back, taking your other hand in his and holding your arms up and out a little bit as you surrendered to his grasp, like a pretty butterfly splayed out beneath the glass of a display case. It was the first time you were really noticing just how small you were compared to him. It sent another wave of that sweet, dangerous fluttering roll through your stomach, the thought of what he’d look like while on top of you flashing through your mind as you fought the urge to squirm. “You look stunning. Worth all the money in the world. So what do you say? Would you like to wear this to dinner tonight?”

Dinner. That’s right. He’d invited you to dinner.

You had no idea what kind of restaurant it would be, but with the kind of money he seemed to be so keen to spend on you, it was bound to be one with a dress code.

“O… ok…” you muttered shakily as you watched him moving his hand about you through the mirror, chilled palms gliding down towards your elbows then back up to your shoulders, sending a shiver down your spine when they found your waist and savored the trip down to your hips, resting there as his long fingers lightly pressed into your soft skin.

And it was taking every ounce of patience Undertaker had not to pull you into one of the big dressing rooms, shut the door, and have his way with you against one of the plush couches there. He’d watch your reflection writhe and arch as he hiked the expensive dress up and ran his touch down to the most tender parts of you. He wanted to know what your underwear looked like, if they’d be as cute and delicate as you were, if your bra and panties would match.

He was willing to bet they would, even if it was just for this special occasion. And even as he discarded them to the floor, exposing you to him fully, your face hot and red from embarrassment and anticipation, you’d still be his adorable little doll, his good girl, his perfect, pretty princess as he sunk into you and felt you pulse and squeeze around him in the most delectable way.

He wanted to know what sounds you’d make— what sounds he could force you to make against your will as he thrust deeper into your tight, wet warmth. Were you the kind to beg? The kind to cry? Did you want him talking dirty to you or would the skillful path of his touch across your skin be enough to make you wet for him?

God, he wanted to know. And he was determined to find out. But not here. Not now. It still wasn’t the right time for that. Besides, you’d only just put on the dress. He wanted to admire you in it for a little longer.

So the two of you moved up to the check out desk, you still wearing the dress after Undertaker had told— not asked, told— the saleswoman who’d been assisting you that you’d be walking out with it on. When she’d announced the amount of money that was due, you’d nearly flinched at the number. Meanwhile, Undertaker had simply handed her a shiny black credit card without batting an eye. He’d paid and she’d snipped the tag, which you only then noticed didn’t even have a price on it, but instead merely held a scancode that was meant to alert the anti-theft alarm if anyone tried to exit the store without paying.

“Th-thank you,” you stammered nervously as you exited the store with him, the lilac dress and cardigan you’d started the day in folded neatly and placed inside a bag that swung from Undertaker’s hand. “I-I’ve never worn something this nice. I promise to take good care of it.”

That dark, almost ominous chuckle escaped Undertaker’s lips again, his free hand finding you once more and lightly tugging you closer to him, as if he was afraid you’d stray too far and wander off. “There will be plenty more where that came from,” he promised, and you felt your face begin to blush, though you couldn’t exactly place why. “Now, shall we find you a pair of shoes and some jewelry to go with it?”

***

You now wore an entirely different outfit than before, your white platform sneakers and delicate gold heart necklace safe inside their own bags from when they’d been replaced by shiny, chunky-heeled, black mary janes and a diamond choker, dangling, teardrop earrings to match.

Every reflective surface you passed, whether it was a shop window or the glossy black surface of Undertaker’s vintage car, you couldn’t help but stare at yourself.

You almost couldn’t recognize yourself all wrapped up in this new aesthetic, not accustomed to such dark colors adorning your figure, but there was something about it that did suit you, to your surprise. Undertaker made sure to remind you of it as he’d caught you examining your glittering jewelry in the front mirror of the passenger side as you two pulled into reserved parking at the fancy restaurant, causing one more shy smile to spread across your lips before he came around to open the door for you and tossed his keys to the young valet.

This was an establishment that Undertaker frequented, as he hadn’t hesitated to request his “usual table”, the hostess giving a charming, “but of course, right this way,” before guiding the two of you through the candle lit dining hall, your date lightly tugging you along by the hand as you craned your neck to gaze up at all the crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, a live piano player performing soft jazz from a slightly elevated platform at the center of the room.

After taking your seat and being informed that your waiter would be over shortly, you found yourself feeling out of place once again. Because, sure, you looked like you belonged here, but as you tried to read over the menu— most of which was in French— and didn’t recognize a single thing, the insecurities that you were an imposter began to creep back in.

“Why don’t you let me take care of that?” Undertaker suggested, taking the menu from your fidgeting grip and folding it back up, placing it on the edge of the table. Normally you’d hate it if a date ordered for you, oftentimes becoming cocky and picking something you didn’t even like. But now, you were sort of relieved. Besides, it seemed like Undertaker had a much better idea of what you’d like based on impression alone than any of your previous admirers.

After a quick survey asking what kinds of foods and flavors you preferred and if there were any particular textures or other aspects that would ruin the night’s culinary experience, Undertaker began nodding to himself, iridescent eyes scanning one of the pages until he landed on something he thought you might enjoy.

“So…” he began, swirling the vintage red in his glass as he gazed over the rim at you and your fizzy fruit drink. “Tell me about yourself…”

You had to stifle a laugh. It seemed so cliche, yet held an air of authenticity that you couldn’t help but find endearing. You’d shared a few things about your personal life and interests as you’d been walking through the museum— like the music you liked and a really good movie you’d watched recently and a little bit about what you’d been studying in school— but when posed with the question now, your mind suddenly went blank.

“Why don’t you tell me about you?” you playfully suggested, idly twirling a strand of your hair as you sipped the magenta dragon fruit drink up the glass straw teased between your teeth. “I mean…” You recrossed your legs as you leaned in a little closer, raising one skeptical eyebrow. “I feel like you already know plenty about me.”

Flashing a coy smirk, Undertaker traded you an amused grin. You hummed out a mischievous, lilting note as you awaited his response, tempted to brush the toe of your shoe against his ankle to see what would happen if you flirted more openly.

Because— aside from the obvious fact that he had plenty of money and had already spoiled you beyond your wildest imagination— you did like him. You liked the way he looked at you, soft and caring rather than hungry and expectant like most blind dates tended to go. You liked that he paid attention to little details like grabbing the door for you and offering you his jacket when he’d noticed you pulling your cardigan tighter around your shoulders on the walk from the museum to the car. You liked that he was sophisticated but not arrogant and also that he carried this sense of protection over you.

That last notion made you once again wonder what he did for a living. Someone as mysterious and secretive— so secretive that his own colleagues didn’t know his real name, as he’d casually mentioned while skirting around the question about his job earlier— as him could be involved in all kinds of nefarious activities.

Maybe he was a hitman, or a smuggler of rare, foreign gems.

He could be a conman or a cult leader or a curiously eccentric artist.

He was a book with thick binding, yet every page you flipped to was blank.

But you wanted to know him— wanted to get to know him— if he gave you the chance.

“I told you earlier that I’m good at keeping secrets,” Undertaker said, his voice dropping an octave lower. “But the real question is… are you?”

You took a moment to think about that. You thought you were. Because, as good and eager as you were at collecting gossip, you had never been one to spread it.

Not unless absolutely necessary, that is, and even then it was only to your closest friends when it concerned them directly.

“I can keep a secret,” you promised, both of you searching each other’s eyes for a minute before your food arrived and the tense, exhilarating moment was temporarily put on hold while you smiled and thanked the waiter.

Between the first bites of your dinner, Undertaker strategically spoke of his work, dropping hints that it was classified and dangerous and underground. You listened intently, nodding along as if you were slowly but surely decoding the hidden messages woven throughout his cryptic words.

Then, after he seemed done divulging all the details he could without giving it all away, you looked at him with a slightly cocked head, eyes squinted cynically as you smirked and said, “So… You work for the FBI or something, right? Or— no—!” you excitedly changed your guess, “The CIA?”

Truthfully, you didn’t really know the difference, but based on what he’d told you, it seemed like some kind of secretive, high-profile government intelligence.

“No, not quite,” Undertaker chuckled, unable to fully contain just how absolutely adorable he found you. “Though, I may have crossed paths with some people in that profession before.”

You let out another giggle, thinking he was merely toying with you just for amusement’s sake, but, despite his lighthearted tone, Undertaker was being deathly serious. If only you knew how many times he’d been investigated by all kinds of intelligence agencies, both domestic and foreign. How he’d evaded each and every one of them and their prying questions, killed the ones who got a little too close. Because his security and control over his organization was air tight, locked with a key long thrown away, buried six feet deep somewhere along with the life he’d left behind in pursuit of something bigger and better and far more brilliant than he could’ve ever imagined at the start.

He’d have to protect you from their scheming, sinister ways soon too, if you allowed yourself to be kept by him. Only then would he have to disclose more of the truth to you, make sure you really understood the gravity of it all.

But, for now, that could wait.

For now, he could continue to let you believe you lived in the perfect fantasy among glittering crystal and sparkling champagne— a fairy tale of his own dark and twisted design.

After dinner had concluded and Undertaker had left a generous tip to the kind waiter, you two had returned to his shiny black car that was already waiting for you upon exiting the restaurant. Climbing back inside as he closed the door behind you, you once again caught your reflection in the side-view mirror, having forgotten the drastic change of appearance from when you’d first walked out your front door this morning.

Undertaker’s earlier compliment returned to you. “Absolutely gorgeous” he’d called you. At the time, you’d just thought he was being kind, simply repeating a line he probably used on all the pretty girls he’d taken out.

But now you saw it too.

You were gorgeous. Exquisite. Divine.

And it made you wonder…

How long had it been since you last thought that about yourself? Since you’d last believed it?

“Now…” Undertaker began the moment he was back behind the wheel, looking over at you with one hand resting on the gear shift. “I can either drop you back off at your flat or—” He reached over and gently brushed a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, caressing your cheek with the back of his hand, tender. “We can return to my estate to continue enjoying each other’s company.” He put the car in drive and began to slowly roll away from the curb. “It’s up to you.”

You had to fight back the urge to immediately blurt out a damn near desperate sounding “yes!”, your cheeks heating as you gave a cute little smile and nod and responded with a much more reserved, “I’d like that very much.”

Undertaker smiled too— one of those soft, charming, doting grins that made you feel like you were special, as naive as it might’ve been.

“Well then, in that case,” he said, merging back in with traffic and zipping skillfully through the city’s narrow streets, “Why don’t you play some of that music you were telling me about earlier. It’s a bit of a long drive.”

***

You’d texted your friend, let her know you wouldn’t be back tonight, that you’d met someone and wanted to keep things going.

She’d asked you if you were ok, reminding you to be safe, and when you’d assured her things were going great, she sent you back a cute winking emoji and a playfully supportive, “go get some, girl!”.

Your phone was almost dead at that point, so you decided to slip it into your purse and focus on the scenery passing by out the car window as your favorite album continued playing. The lights of the city gave way to the quiet, serene darkness of the countryside beyond London’s looming architecture, the little pond of your usual stomping grounds expanding into a vast ocean of tall trees and vacant roads.

The closer you approached to Undertaker’s residence, the more you began to see mansions and manors sporadically spotting the fields, each one protected by its own unique, intricate gate or wall of manicured hedges.

Each one you passed was grander than the last, and you started to become a little nervous about what you were blindly stepping into.

Your mind went to a few darker places as well, like, if he wanted to hurt you, out here, no one would hear your screams. And, even if you did manage to escape, you could never hope to make it back to the city on foot before he caught you, acres of open land and who knows what else lurking in the shadows ready to trap you out in this valley of silent luxury.

“It’s just up ahead,” Undertaker informed you, pulling you from your anxious spiral. When you turned your attention back out the windshield, you saw the distant lights that dotted the driveway, a cage of winding, iron wrought bars curling around the perimeter of the magnificent gothic mansion.

You weren’t sure how long your mouth had been hanging open before you realized and closed it, but as the gilded gates parted and Undertaker pulled around the horseshoe driveway to the opulent, double front doors, your jaw dropped once more.

“This is…” you sighed out in awe, your face practically pressed to the passenger-side window to get a better look.

“It’s not to everyone’s taste,” Undertaker shrugged, suddenly modest. “But it’s home.”

You turned to face him, looking completely incredulous with your brows knit together and your slightly parted lips turned down into a gentle frown, as if you were offended on his behalf.

“No, it’s—” Your hand reached forward to rest atop his on the gearshift. You were unaware you’d even done it, but for Undertaker, the soft, reassuring touch was driving him insane. Because you were just so sweet, so genuine. Far more than anyone like him had ever experienced or deserved. Every second that passed with your skin on his, the more addicted he became.

All the while, you continued with a bout of stumbling compliments. “It’s amazing! I mean— It’s just so beautiful. I—” What remained of your sentence tapered off into sounds of sputtering nonsense, unable to articulate what you really meant, how impressed you were with every single thing he’d shown you so far, but luckily, Undertaker got the gist.

“I appreciate the praise,” he chuckled weakly, taking your little hand in his cool, comforting grasp. Slowly, you watched as he raised your hand to his lips, placed a chaste kiss to the back of it, then gave you another one of those loving smiles, the scar peeking out from his curtain of silver hair shining in the moonlight. “Would you like to come inside?”

***

The high ceilings and wide halls echoed eerily with every tap your heeled shoes made across the black and white checkered marble flooring. The house had been dark before Undertaker used his phone to activate the lights throughout the lower floor, priceless antiques and imported, one of a kind art pieces illuminated by crystal chandeliers and golden sconces.

However, for all the ornate wealth that glittered and shined throughout every new space of the open floor plan you passed through, you noticed something strange…

For a house of this size, this status, there didn’t appear to be a single housestaff member in sight. Not a maid or a cook or a butler.

“Ah…” Undertaker contemplated when you asked him if you two were alone here, the question coming out a little more nervously than you’d intended. “Well, I suppose I can’t be too careful these days…” He explained that he could only trust a small, select group of people, though, when it came to his home, he preferred to manage it himself. “I find help to be a bit redundant,” He said, flashing you an almost apologetic grin. “Besides, I enjoy doing things like cooking and gardening. It’s a nice retreat from the usual chaos of my life, so I don’t believe in giving that up to anyone else, even if they are deemed a professional.”

You could respect that, actually.

Plus, it made you curious to try his cooking, especially after experiencing how refined his taste was.

Anyway, after going through the first floor, the two of you headed upstairs to conclude the tour, finishing at the master bedroom.

“Your house is very nice,” you complimented, trying hard not to eye the bed too obviously, all those fluffy, goosedown comforters and egyptian cotton tempting you. “It…” You searched his eyes, loving the way they shimmered like emeralds in the dim light, then smiled as you said, “It suits you.”

Undertaker thanked you for your kind words, running one of his palms from your shoulder down to your hand before intertwining your fingers with his again, this time with nothing to interrupt the intimate gesture.

“You look good surrounded by all of it, darling…” Kissing your hand again, he used his thumb to gently smooth over the knuckles of your delicate little fingers, dwarfed in his grasp. “You make the place feel more like home.”

***

He moved slowly, cautiously, as if approaching too quickly would spook you and send you skittering like a startled alley cat. And you were nervous— not scared, but definitely nervous— as your heart hammered in your chest and your hands began to tremble.

He leaned down to give you a kiss, soft at first, testing to see how far you’d let him go. When you seemed to reciprocate, he came back for another, this one a little more daring as he rested his hands on your waist and held you there, his tongue slipping into the heat of your mouth. But again, you didn’t pull away.

His grip on you became tighter, causing you to suck in a short gasp as he kissed you deeper. You could feel a devious smirk spreading across his lips as a hum of a chuckle vibrated in his throat.

“Are you alright?” he asked in a low, seductive tone, brilliant gaze scanning you while his hands kept purchase on your hips.

You couldn’t look him in the eyes now, were too embarrassed by how red your face had probably gone, how hot your body felt just from something as simple as kissing, unable to deny the chemistry that was swimming between you two.

But when he lightly took your chin in his hand and guided your face upward, you let him, that piercing, chartreuse, half-lidded stare sending a shiver through your entire body. You felt tears threaten to well in your eyes and at first you didn’t quite know why.

Was it because you were just so nervous, so embarrassed?

Was it because you really were scared, unsure of whether you wanted to trust this man that you’d just met or not?

Or was it because you hadn’t told him that you were a virgin and knew where this night was likely headed?

If you did tell him, would he stop? Would he decide this interaction was over and call someone to take you home?

You didn’t particularly want to end things here. You were willing to go further, you thought, but perhaps it would be to your benefit to mention it to him.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Undertaker cooed as he stroked his thumb along your jaw, his soft grin never fading. “Come on… You can tell me.”

“I-I…” you began, feeling more and more like you were going to cry.

“Yes…?” he urged you, silver brows lifting with slight intrigue.

“I, um… Well…” You averted your gaze off to the side. “I’ve actually never…”

You couldn’t say it.

Even if you wanted to, the words wouldn’t leave you.

“Never what?” Undertaker pressed, tone still silky smooth and looking at you in that sinisterly seductive way of his. Despite the fact that he’d already caught on though— call it his craving for control, or just the fact that he thought you were cute— he needed to hear you say it.

“I-I’m sorry…” you stuttered, feeling as if you were already proving to be a disappointment. Tears welled to the brim of your lashline now, sparkling in the low light of the bedroom. But you had to say it. You had to admit to him the one secret that no one else would probably believe about you. “It’s just… I’m actually… I’m actually a virgin and I—”

Your tears spilled over, racing each other over your cheeks until Undertaker lifted one of his hands from your waist and gently wiped them away, his smirk gone now as he cast a gaze of genuine concern upon your adorably pathetic face.

You were shaking even harder now, both from fear of rejection and frustration at yourself for not being able to contain your emotions. But still, that didn’t seem to bother the man in front of you.

“Oh, sweetheart…” he soothed in a calming whisper, bringing you in closer for a comforting embrace, lightly combing through your hair with his pale, slender fingers. “It’s alright. There’s no need to be upset…” You buried your face further into the expensive fabrics of his coat, feeling safer the closer you were to him. “I’m going to take good care of you…” he then whispered in your ear. “I just need you to trust me.”

The only response you gave was a weak nod as you nuzzled further into him, little hands gripping his shoulders as he lifted you into his arms and rocked you gently until your nervous quivering subsided. When you finally found it in yourself to look back up at him, big doe-eyes so innocent, so adorable, Undertaker’s adoring smile returned.

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you?” he asked you then, voice still feather soft and strangely attentive, as if he was willing to do anything to keep you like this. Keep you all for himself.

But to his question, you just nodded, swallowing down some more of your worries as you tried to stay calm. He was lovingly stroking the soft skin of your cheek with the back of his knuckles, taking in as much of you like this while he still could before he had you panting shallow breaths and clutching the sheets for dear life as you trembled and writhed beneath him.

He’d like you just as much in that state, but it had been so long that he’d found a sweet little princess who truly was as her image implied. Because for so many others, it was merely performative, a trap set to ensnare wealthy men like him who had a type they could imitate.

No, with you he knew it was real. And that’s why he fell in love with you after just a few hours of each other’s company.

Undertaker strolled over to the bed then, sitting down on the edge with you still in his arms.

You hadn’t said a word.

What could you say?

You knew what to expect, in the simplest sense, but still, someone like him could be into all kinds of things that you didn’t even know about. The size of him compared to you alone was intimidating, how he towered over you and how your delicate little hand could disappear inside his massive grip. But part of you also liked that— liked that he was so much more powerful than you, stronger than you could ever have a chance of fighting against.

Because even if your mind had concerns, your body was already reacting positively to the idea.

Undertaker began to position you differently and you followed his lead, moving along with him to where he wanted you to straddle his lap, his hands back on your hips now as yours rested on his shoulders.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked you then, hands leisurely running up and down your sides, tracing along your waist.

You nodded again, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. “I-I’m sure…” you replied, hoping the crack in your voice went unnoticed.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he assured you once more, pulling you a little closer and repositioning you slightly. “You can trust me.” He pressed his lips to your neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses along your pulse. You leaned your head back instinctively, giving him easier access as he began to suck little bruises into your skin, a new wave of shivers surging through your body at the sensation.

A few soft moans and whines escaped your throat and Undertaker’s smirk widened. He brought his lips right next to your ear and whispered, “Do you trust me, baby?”

You hadn’t even really heard what he said over the racing of your heart and the lust that was clouding your mind, pooling warm and heavy in your lower belly, but you didn’t really care. You just nodded and let the tension melt away with his kisses, which soon found your mouth again, these ones much deeper and more passionate than the first round, slow and savoring.

You soon felt something hard pressing into you where you straddled his lap, the thin lace of your panties the only thing to protect you as more heat coiled in the pit of your stomach, and you hesitantly grinded down a little on him.

His grip on your hips flexed as he pulled you down to rub even harder against his growing erection, you becoming wetter with every roll of your hips, a cute, breathy moan sneaking past your lips every time he helped you press on just the right spot for you both.

You didn’t want to stop. Couldn’t stop. It felt too good, just by doing this, and it scared you a little how much better it might feel if you really went all the way with him. But that really wasn’t up to you anymore. Because Undertaker had you wrapped around his finger like one of his sterling silver rings now.

For the remainder of the night, at least, you’d do anything he wanted, anything he asked.

Because, for whatever odd reason— ignoring the fact that you’d only known each other for a day and you barely knew the first thing about him— didn’t even know his real name— you did trust him. And what was even more, he trusted you.

He trusted you not to leave him when this was done, and that was also a rare occurrence when it came to his previous companions.

A loud, high-pitched moan forced its way out of you as he pressed you down even harder, feeling your clit throbbing through the lace and wanting to keep you under his control for as long as possible, dangling you from the edge until he decided to let you go.

It was something Undertaker was good at— controlling his partner’s orgasms— and what you didn’t realize yet was that he could use it as a punishment if he wanted to, could use it to get you begging for mercy if ever you did something bad.

But not yet.

No, Undertaker was just getting started with you.

“Take them off,” he ordered. You stilled for a moment, looking at him with uncertainty. “Your panties,” he clarified. “Take them off.”

And, because you were a good girl, you listened. You were going to step down from the bed and discard them, but you gave a startled gasp as Undertaker decided he wanted to be the one to do it instead, quickly flipping you onto your back and leaning over you while your legs were still spread. He paused, staring into your wide eyes with his unshakable confidence before puffing out a small breath of amusement from his nose and hooking his thumbs under the waistband of the lace, slowly pulling the thin fabric down and exposing your soaked slit to the cold air of the room.

Once they were completely removed from your person, he balled your panties up in his fist and shoved them into his back pocket. You didn’t think you’d be getting them back, but you didn’t care. It would just be an excuse for him to buy you new ones anyway.

You tried to pull your legs together, face red hot with embarrassment again, but he didn’t give you enough time, effortlessly pulling you back up with him to sit just as you had before, no delicate lace to protect you anymore. But now you were nervous for a different reason. Because you were so wet, and Undertaker knew that, but you weren’t sure if he actually wanted you to ruin his expensive trousers.

“Go on,” he chuckled upon your hesitation. “It’s ok.”

“But…” you barely protested before he settled you back over his still hard cock, you wincing as the rough texture of the trouser’s fabric pressed against your clit.

“No buts,” Undertaker playfully warned, slowly rolling his hips up into you to tempt you to find your rhythm again. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you? So do as Daddy says.”

At that, you felt even more arousal leaking from you, going back to grinding on him, the sensation different but better.

As you did this, Undertaker moved his hands up to where your dress hung off your shoulders a bit, pulling down the neckline until the matching lace of your bra was exposed to him, cupping both your breasts in his hands and kissing your cleavage, earning himself another one of those cute sounds he was slowly becoming addicted to.

When he reached behind you to unhook your bra, you stilled again, breathing stuttering a bit as you found yourself even more exposed, the undergarment tossed to the floor and your nipples already furled tight from the chill that permeated the entire mansion.

“U-Undertaker!” you gasped as another one of his kisses found your nipple.

Calling him that out loud still felt strange, and you almost wanted to try and ask him again what his real name was, despite him seeming so protective over it the first time you’d inquired.

Maybe you’d get used to it.

But when another whimper of “Daddy…” trailed off your lips as his tongue teased the sensitive bud of your breast, the mysterious, monochrome man seemed to like that, so you figured perhaps that ought to be the name you addressed him by.

Undertaker chuckled darkly then, slowly laying you down on your back and pulling your dress down over your hips and tossing it to the floor to join your bra, leaving you completely bare and vulnerable under him now.

Normally, he would get completely undressed before stripping away the last of your remaining fabrics, always liking to savor the moment when the most tender parts of a body were exposed to him, but tonight he’d gotten too caught up with having a new toy to follow the usual protocol.

Because you were a gift. Truly, you were.

You were a sweet girl, a good girl, an adorable, darling little doll for him to dress and undress as he pleased.

And even as you lay in anticipation for the crescendo of the moaning chorus the two of you would compose together— face blushed and body trembling, ready to arch and sway to his touch— he knew you were different from the others who’d been under him like this before.

And after tonight, after he’d had you, he’d only want you more.

Just like a prized possession or a favorite pet, he couldn’t let anyone else get their hands on you. And he’d do anything to ensure that you stayed.

“D-Daddy…?” you whimpered hesitantly as Undertaker was almost completely freed of his clothing, so many layers to get through before all of his pale white skin and deep silvery scars were on deadly display.

The slash running across his face had been a bit jarring at first, though had added to his appeal, the extra element of implied danger attracting you to him.

But there were so many more, his entire body littered with them, and you couldn’t help but wonder just what— or who— had done something like this to him. What was even capable of inflicting such lasting damage.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked, positioning himself over you again and holding your wrists above your head in one large hand, his palm cold against the warmth of blood coursing fast under your skin.

What happened to you?

Who did this?

Are you ok?

All questions that you wanted to ask, but didn’t.

Instead, what came out was, “P-please be careful with me…”

Undertaker clicked his tongue through a smile, cooing at you almost condescendingly as he reassured, “I’ll be gentle, baby. Don’t you worry.”

With his free hand, he reached down to run his middle fingers over your drenched cunt, massaging your clit and making you jolt when he found just the right spot.

And god, he liked to tease you, applying pressure on your most sensitive area and making you squirm and writhe and beg before letting another sinister chuckle rumble through his chest and moving his fingers lower to enter your tight, needy little hole.

You sucked in a shuddering gasp when one finger slipped in, then two, rhythmically pumping in and out while beginning to scissor inside and stretch you, making you whine and wince every so often.

“You’re beautiful, sweetheart,” he muttered in a low, velvety baritone, making that sensation in your stomach wind tighter and tighter. “You’re doing so good…”

Once he felt like he’d stretched you enough— though you were still so tight— he slightly repositioned himself over you, using his knees to spread your legs a little further apart as your body tried to pull them back together against your will.

You tried not to tense up too much, tried to stay calm and relaxed as you felt him lining himself up with your pulsing entrance and then slowly press the tip of his cock inside. You winced when he first entered you, the feeling foreign but not entirely as uncomfortable as you’d thought it’d be.

And Undertaker was keeping his promise, being as gentle as he could, aside from that fact that when you whimpered or whined or tensed he didn’t stop, just slowed down until he felt like you could take a faster pace. Your sensitive skin tore around the thickness of him, feeling like you were being split in two as your teeth clenched and your toes curled in an attempt to outlast the pain.

Once he was fully inserted, you both stilled for a moment, him helping you adjust yourself over his cock and catch your breath for a second before he began with smooth, rhythmic rolls of his hips into yours.

Once he pulled another one of those irresistible little sounds of pleasure from you, he couldn’t help but pick up speed, the rolling morphing into thrusting, trying as hard as he could to work you up to his preferred pace lest he frighten you with the intensity of which you’d get used to, eventually.

“That’s it… baby girl…” he spoke in between grunts as your cunt constricted even tighter around his cock, your eyes already beginning to roll back as you felt your limit approaching.

But Undertaker didn’t want to let you come yet.

He liked looking at the fucked-out daze that splayed across your face, even that expression appearing adorable when you were the one wearing it.

“D-Daddy…” you begged through your next breathy moan. “P-please…!”

Undertaker was getting close too, picking up the pace and feeling you tense even more under and around him, the pain threatening to outperform the pleasure if he didn’t time things just right.

But neither of you could speak now. Not even your pathetic, mewling pleas or Undertaker’s growling, whispered praises could be uttered. With every snap of his hips digging into your tender inner thighs, Undertaker conducted a symphony using your high-pitched whines and delectable moans, your sweet little voice echoing through the high ceilings and empty upper halls of the ornate, gothic mansion.

And then, finally, Undertaker let you come, your entire body tensing and shuddering as your insides squeezed harder than they ever had before around what was inside you. Then you fell limp, panting breaths hitching in your chest as you lay there like a rag-doll, head buzzing and pleasure surging.

Undertaker only made it a few more thrusts into you before he finished too, filling you up with his hot, sticky cum and moaning out as his head fell to nuzzle into the crook of your neck, his labored breaths felt on your skin as the two of you lay there in a mess of trembling limbs and heavy breathing.

Your hole kept fluttering around him, the intensity fading down after a few minutes, and then Undertaker slowly pulled out of you, falling on the bed beside you and tugging you close to him, pressing you to his chest as his long, lithe arms wrapped around your shivering form.

“It’s ok, baby girl…” he whispered to you as he stroked your tousled hair, sweat sticking it to your temples, your body still trembling slightly under his touch. “You’re ok… Daddy’s got you… You’re ok…”

And you didn’t really know what to do now, didn’t know what to expect.

Would he just send you off now that he’d gotten what he wanted?

Would he even contact you again once the two of you parted ways?

After tonight, you sure hoped so, though you knew many men would just move onto the next with zero regard for the last.

But after laying there in his arms for a while, him combing his fingers through your hair and softly humming a melancholy lullaby, you had a feeling maybe he did care for you more than a one night stand.

Maybe you were being naive to entertain that idea, but you couldn’t help it. You’d been so desperate for affection for so long and now that you were finally being shown it you’d gotten attached. Lucky for the two of you, you were both attached, however silently through the night that your need for each other grew.

Before you’d even made the decision to do such a thing, you’d fallen asleep, exhausted from the day’s— and night’s— activities, but Undertaker still had work to do.

He carefully unraveled himself from around you to head into the bathroom and get something to clean you up with, back to being careful and tender as he wiped away as much of the mess the two of you had made that remained between your legs as he could without waking you.

Tomorrow morning he could give you a bath, join you in the warm water and put his hands all over you again. He could make you breakfast and watch you sit at the long dining room table while wrapped up in one of his fluffy black bathrobes, the sleeves too long for you and the oversized garment making you appear even smaller compared to him than you already were.

He wouldn’t want you to leave, but he’d have no choice, because you didn’t live here and your friends might get worried if you didn’t come back. Not to mention, he was bound to be called back to headquarters sooner or later to attend to more matters concerning the Aurora Society.

But after he’d kissed you goodbye and you’d stepped out of the jet-black Rolls Royce, he’d be planning how and when he could see you again.

You’d both be thinking about each other while you were away, always eager to be in each other’s arms again.

Before you knew it, the lease to your apartment would be up for renewal but you’d have to break it to your friends that they’d have to find a replacement for you since you were moving into a luxurious mansion on the outskirts of London. They’d be hesitant of your decision at first, warn you not to rush into things too quickly, but you’d assure them that you were in good hands, promising to stay in touch and visit them again soon.

But it became so easy to lose track of time when you were with Undertaker. Days turning into weeks turning into months before you even realized it, seasons changing, holidays and birthdays and special occasions spent on extravagant vacations filling up your schedule with the man you loved. You’d meet his closest confidants and learn more about what it really was that he did for a living. Or at least, as much as he was willing to let you in on.

You became close with Grell quickly, both of you bonding over your similar taste in music and fashion and favorite movies. You tried to be on your best behavior around William, in the beginning, quickly realizing that the serious and stoic man didn’t have a knack for entertaining his boss’s girl like his outgoing, red-headed colleague did. And then there was Ron who, though he always seemed outwardly cheerful and always ready for a good time, you couldn’t get a sure read on.

But this would become your life, your normal routine. What used to be scraping by for the month’s rent and picking up convenience store food on your way to the part time job you hated was soon replaced by shamelessly expensive shopping sprees and five star Michelin restaurants and skipping around the spacious mansion in a brand new dress while you waited for Undertaker to finish up a meeting at headquarters.

And you loved your life. You loved him.

Because things were perfect.

And, as long as you were with him, they always would be.

I mean, wouldn’t they?

***

(Hello and thank you for reading! Whether you’re coming to this fic already having read my “Cause to Start a Vendetta” series or this is your introduction to it, I hope you enjoyed :)

I’d actually written the first draft of this fic about a year ago, not long after I’d started posting chapters of the main series. I wanted to give a little more backstory on the reader’s life before meeting Undertaker.

But yeah, this wraps up the series. Like I said in the afterword on the final chapter, I might write little bonus one-shots for this series in the future, but now I’m honestly looking forward to starting the new Undertaker fic I’ve had in my head for a while.

Thanks again for reading! See you soon~! <3)

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