#and now i go stalk their blog and they have a stand by your man edit like well it’s very famous but

[speedwayy]

.

[mavsstar]

𝑀𝑦 𝑆𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑃𝑒𝑎

Summary ︱Mr. Levinson lives right next door to you, the sweet, innocent college girl. Little do you know that you're Mr. Levinson's favorite neighbor. He's there every chance you need the slightest of help, maybe a little too much.

Pairings︱Mechanic!Ari Levinson x Innocent!Fem!Reader, Robert Pronge x Innocent!Fem!Reader

W.C︱4k

Warnings︱18+ MINORS DNI, Trailer Park AU, it's pretty tame for right now, pet names (Sweet Pea),cursing, reader is scared of Pronge, masturbation (m!) and I think that is all the warnings. Let me know if I missed any!

Author's note︱I am very excited for this series :) This is set around the 90s just because I feel like it fits better with the idea I have going on in my head. It has been awhile since I've written anything so I'm hoping it's not too terrible. I hope you will enjoy this! Feedback is appreciated! Follow my side blog and turn on post notifications :D

“Did you see Mr. Levinson today?” your Mother’s friend, Valerie, asked while wiggling her eyebrows. 

“Nope,” you instantly responded. “Have you?” 

“Already got my dose of that sexy man.” She smirked while winking at you. 

Ari Levinson towered everyone he’s ever met. He stood at a proud 6'6. It was hard to miss the luscious brown locks that fell over his face and the cerulean blue eyes that you could never find your way out of. His beard adorned his jaw and hid the pump rose colored lips he held.

Even when he was doused in motor oil and dirt he was still a beautiful man. He was your neighbor and very well known at the trailer park. Ari was a woman’s walking wet dream come to life. 

“He’s already up?” you asked as your eyes bulged out of your head. “It’s like 6 in the morning.” 

“Of course he’s up, he’s having his morning coffee.” 

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Only you would know that stalker.”

“It’s not stalking Y/N, it's called being an astute observer,” she retorted. “That’s besides the point, shouldn’t you be heading out by now?” 

“I should be but…” you started to answer, looking out the window cautiously, “I have a feeling you know who is outside.”

“If you don’t leave now you’ll be late for work which by the way is in 20 minutes,” she reminded you, pointing towards the clock. 

“Please don’t remind me.” You internally groaned as you threw your head back and rubbed your eyes. 

After a few moments you finally decided to lift yourself from the couch and head your way out. Goosebumps arose on your arms as you opened the front door. You hated this kind of weather, you couldn’t be without a sweater in the morning but by 3pm you’d be sweating like a dog. You shrugged on your brother's jacket, not bothering to zip it up and closed the front door.

Just as you predicted, the person you dreaded seeing most was standing right outside, Mr. Pronge. 

Robert Pronge was your neighbor and lived right across from you. Ever since you moved in he formed the bad habit of staring at you and hitting on you like there’s no tomorrow. From what you heard he was a sick sadistic bastard who liked to torture girls with pleasure. He’s had many lovers enter the trailer but seemingly none of them come back.  

You didn’t like the way he makes you feel. It felt like a hungry lion stalking its predator, ready to pounce at any moment’s notice. At the same time you couldn’t help but feel hot. Everytime he was near you, your heart raced from the fear and you felt a pulse in between your legs. 

“Morning Princess!” Mr. Pronge called out from his front lawn.

“Good morning Mr. Pronge!” You greeted back but only to be polite. You tried to avoid looking too much at him and instead looked towards the ground. 

You heard shoes beating against the ground and you prayed with all your heart that it was someone else running. Luck was not on your side that morning. When you looked up it was the one and only Mr. Pronge. 

“Where are you going Princess?” he asked. His breath was minty fresh even though his appearance would say otherwise. 

“To work,” you bluntly replied, trying to open your car door. 

“Aw Princess, don’t be like that,” he cooed. Once you did get your car door open, he immediately slammed it closed, almost smashing your finger in the process. “I’ll give you a ride. Come on, let's go.” 

“I appreciate the offer Mr. Pronge but I can take myself,” you insisted while attempting to reopen your car door. 

“Princess…” he warningly said.

Mr. Pronge didn’t like it when people told him no. The word no did not exist in his world. 

“I said I’ll give you a ride.” 

“Leave her alone Robert!” Ari yelled from his porch, causing the both of you to turn around. “She’s probably late for work!” 

Mr. Pronge sighed as he stepped back in defeat. “I’ll take you next time Princess.” 

You internally groaned at his comment. He could never leave you alone. Every morning he would play this game with you. On the bright side, you were one of the very few people allowed to tell him no and get away with it. 

“Thank you Mr. Levinson!” you yelled as you got in the car. 

“Anytime!” Ari walked over to Robert after you drove off. Though his eyes never peeled off from you the entire time. 

“You’re always in my way,” Robert playfully commented. 

Ari chuckled at the jab. Ari always had to save you from him every morning without fail. “Rob, how many times have I told you to leave the poor girl alone?” He asked as he brought his cup of coffee to his lips. 

“I will never leave her alone,” he answered with a proud smirk. “Not until I make her mine.” 

“Oh please! You’re old!” Ari jabbed at him. “She’s going to want a hot 20 year old guy not some 40 year old.” 

“Her father was not present in her life.” 

“What does that have to do with anything?!” Ari asked, confused at Robert’s statement.

“The girl has major daddy issues, Ari,” Robert said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “All I gotta do is caress her a bit, say sweet nothings in her ear and bam! She will fall in love with me.”

“Do that and she will call the cops on you.” 

“I’d like to see her try,” Robert remarked as he crossed his arms across his chest. “Besides, why do you care?” 

“Because her mother is really starting to get concerned and-” 

“Oh that's why you’re concerned!” Robert hooted. “You want to fuck the mom!” 

“I do not want to have sex with her mom,” Ari declared with a serious tone. “The woman is stressed enough and I feel bad for her and I feel bad for the girl. I see her peek her head out of the door every morning to avoid you.” 

“Ari?” 

“Yes Rob?” 

“Mind your business.” 

The following morning was the same dreadful routine. You were trying to stall, not wanting to face Mr. Pronge though you knew he would be there. He always was. Even when you would try to leave at an earlier time. It’s like he would sleep there and wait for you. 

 Your mother shoved your car keys in your hand. “Sweetie, you need to go now before you’re late.”

“But what if he’s out there?” you asked with a slight hint of fear. 

“Is he still bothering you?!” she questioned, her overprotectiveness coming out. “I’ve had enough, I’m going out there.” 

“No! No! No!” you instantly said, jolting your hands out to stop her from taking another step. “Please don’t say anything. Mom please!” 

Your pleads were granted. She stayed still as she squinted at the window, sending a silent threat to Mr. Pronge.

“Fine,” she said. “But If I hear or even get the feeling, I’m going to rip his nutsack and his stupid smirk off of him.” 

“Wow,” you said with your eyes bulging out in shock.

“Sweetie, you’re too nice and a little bit–how can I put this?” she sarcastically questioned herself as she tilted her head to the side. “Oh yeah, you’re naive.” 

“I am not naive,” you muttered under your breath, offended. 

“Yes you are,” she said as she was walking out of the living room. “Now go to work!” 

You grabbed your bag from the couch and swung it over your shoulder. Your hand went on the doorknob, turning it to open the door. You peek your head out to see if you’re one and only was out there waiting for you. 

“He’s not there Sweet Pea!” Ari exclaimed. “You’re safe, you can come out!” 

“Thanks!” you yelled from the door, fully stepping out. You confidently walked over to your car, happy Mr. Pronge wasn’t outside to terrorize you. Your happiness was soon cut off when you saw a complete flat tire. 

“Dang it!” you cursed to yourself. You peered down at your watch, it was 6:41 A.M. You were trying to calculate how much time it would take to go on the bus and you heard the dreadful sound of boots hitting the road. 

“Oh no,” you internally whined. 

“Got a flat, Princess?” Mr. Pronge sarcastically asked. “I’ll give you a ride.”

Ari quickly stepped in. “Robert no.” You didn’t even hear him walk over to you. You looked at Ari in shock and sent a cry for help at the same time. “Leave her alone.” 

“She needs a ride, I’m giving her a ride. What is the problem?” he challenged, taking a step closer to him. 

“You’re not taking her.” 

Robert straightened his back and puffed his chest out. “And why not?” 

“Because I’m taking her. She was just getting something from her car.” Ari grabbed your bag from your hand and placed his hand on your lower back. “Lets go Sweet Pea,” he said as he guided you to his car, opening the door for you and handing you back your bag. 

Robert stood in shock. Ari was taking you. And you let him. Though he couldn’t say he wasn’t impressed, he was just wondering how he did it. That lucky bastard. 

The inside of his truck was bigger than you ever imagined. It was dirty and there were oil stains everywhere you looked. Wrenches were scattered across the floor along with bolts and lug nuts. The only thing that was almost impeccable was the air freshener hanging off the rearview mirror but there were five oil stained fingerprints on it.

“Thank you for the ride Mr. Levinson, you didn’t have to take me. I could've taken the bus.” 

“Don’t even mention it Sweet Pea,” Ari said. “Plus I don’t think you wanted to ride with Rob now did you?” 

“No,” you answered as you shook your head. “He scares me.” 

“He scares you?” Ari repeated, barely shocked. 

“Mhm,” you confirmed with a small hum. “He’s really big and mean. Everyone says he’s the nicest to me and if that’s true I don’t want to see him when he’s mad.” 

“It’s true, he’s the nicest to you.” Ari found it weird when Robert wouldn’t constantly yell at you like he did with other people but he can see why. You’re the sweetest thing ever.

“Is that all?” 

“Mr. Pronge used to bring women and–and they would come out screaming and crying. It frightened me.” 

Robert used to bring women over all the time. They wouldn’t last for too long. They would run out of the house screaming all kinds of profanities after 3 weeks. You’ll never forget the moment a woman came to your house and asked if you had anything sharp. You gave her one of the knives from the kitchen. 5 minutes later the word asshole was embedded on the side of his car in big, bold letters. 

You’ll also never forget the time another woman came to your trailer. She screamed while she banged on the door like a madman. When you opened the door she had red hand prints on her body and a barely carved ‘R’ on her exposed hip. She asked you to hide her because he was coming. Sure enough a minute later Mr. Pronge came, demanding you to show him where she was hiding. Luckily your brother was there to kick him out.

He could see why you were scared. Hell even that scared him a couple of times. For some reason Ari didn’t like the thought of you being scared. Hell, he could barely deal with the fact how uncomfortable Mr. Pronge made you. 

When you approached the building Ari parked the car and exited out, lightly jogging over to your side and opening your door for you. He held out his hand to you to help you out of the truck, your hand delicately gripped his and he could feel the rush of dopamine releasing in his body. 

“Thank you again Mr. Levinson!” you beamed with a bright smile. You raised yourself on your tippy toes and slightly bounced to place a thank you kiss on his cheek. 

An unexplainable warmth rushed through him. The action was short and sweet but it made him feel weak in the knees. He would get cheek kisses from women quite a lot but it never felt like this. 

“Anytime Sweet Pea.” He felt himself staring at your eyes for a little bit too long. He forced himself to look anywhere else for a brief second, making sure you didn’t grow uncomfortable. “What time do you want me to pick you up?” 

“Oh it’s okay Mr. Levinson, I can take the bus or have my brother pick me up.” 

“Are you sure?” he asked you again. 

You nodded your head. “Thank you again! You’re a lifesaver.” 

“Don’t even mention it,” he waves off. 

You muttered a small goodbye to Mr. Levinson before taking off into the diner. He watched you go in with a small smile on his face.

 Even though this was your first real interaction, he knew he wasn’t going to get enough of you. You were the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. The whole way back he thought of you. You were like a deadly plague in his mind. A beautiful, rose scented, warm plague. 

Luckily your brother was able to pick you up after he got off of work. The next bus was going to come within another hour. When your brother picked you up, he was agitated. 

“What happened to your tire?” your older brother asked, not amused at all.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged your shoulders. “I went outside this morning and it had a flat.” 

“I helped Mr. Levinson changed the tire, it had 4 nails,” he said in a matter of fact one. “4.” he repeated as he held four fingers in the air. 

“I’m sorry,” you weakly apologized. 

“You need to pay more attention where you’re driving.”  

“I didn’t mean to drive over the nails. There weren’t even any when I drove yesterday!” you protested. “I only drove to the library which is 2 minutes away.” 

“So they magically appeared?” he sarcastically asked. “Just pay attention please.” 

“I will.” 

“You left your bus pass on the table this morning. How did you get to work? ” he questioned you. “Mr. Pronge didn’t take you, did he?” He turned to glance at you with a worried look. 

“No, Mr. Levinson did,” you told your brother.

“Did you make it on time?” He quickly glanced at you again, “because you are horrible at giving directions.” 

“Hey!” you barked at him. “I am not horrible at giving directions.” 

“Yes you are.” 

“Well lucky for me I didn’t even have to tell him, he already knew where to go,” you responded, “sure did save me the hassle.” 

“Did you thank him?” 

“Of course I did, I’m not rude,” you responded, half hurt he would think that of you. 

The rest of the ride was short but your brother took the remaining 4 minute drive to lecture you once again to pay attention. You tried to zone him out but he would snap at you, telling you to listen. You knew he did it to annoy you, it was simply too easy to annoy you. 

When you arrived at home, you jumped out of the car to look at the tire. Sure you had no idea what you were even looking at but it never hurt. You bent down to look at it and you noticed one thing. It wasn’t patched up like before. It was brand new. 

“Are you coming in?” your brother asked you. 

You turned to look at him. “Yeah, I just have to do something really quick.” 

“Don’t take too long, I’ll be done cooking in 10 minutes.” 

“I promise,” you told him before he went inside. 

You took out a sticky note, a pen and 50 dollars that took you 4 days to earn. You used the hood of your car as a desk and wrote a sweet but short thank you on the sticky note. Afterwards you walked over to his house and placed it under the surprisingly alive flower pot he had on his front porch. 

The both of you didn’t see each other for almost 2 days. You got overwhelmed with work that you barely were in the house. It wasn’t until Ari caught you late at the laundromat. 

“Sweet Pea?”

You turned around at the sound of your name. “Oh hi Mr. Levinson,” you greeted him with a huge smile. 

“What are you doing here so late?” he asked you though he could barely pay any attention to you at the moment. You wore a thin pastel pink cardigan with a pearly white nightgown that had a bow at the valley of your breasts.

“I forgot to do my laundry this morning and I didn’t have time so I came here after work,” you told him. 

“Isn’t it a little late to be working?” he questioned you. 

“I’ve been picking up other shifts at work,” you said, “it doesn’t help having the extra money.” 

“Speaking of money,” he began to say as he took out the fifty you gave him from his front pocket of his flannel, “you left this on my porch.” 

“Yeah it’s for you,” you innocently said, “I noticed the tire is brand new and I’m 90% sure my brother forgot to pay you.” 

“It’s your money, I’m not taking it. Here.” He passed the money back to you but you refused. 

“Keep it, you changed my tire and I’m paying you for your service.” 

“I really can’t—” 

“Please,” you begged him with puppy eyes. 

You pulled at his heartstrings. It agonized him, he didn’t want to take your money but he also didn’t want to make you sad. But he kept it anyway and stuffed it back into the front pocket of his flannel. 

“What are you doing here so late?” you asked him as you bent down and took out your now dry clothes. 

His eyes peered down for a quick second and he saw the nightgown riding up, revealing your baby blue panties. His throat went dry and he fought hard to keep his gaze up but it found itself looking back down. 

“I–I realized I forgot to wash my work clothes.” 

“I hate when that happens.” You came back up after you pulled out the last piece of clothing. “Then I’m stuck getting yelled at by the manager when I come in with the wrong clothes.” 

Ari chuckled to avoid an awkward silence. Really it was to refrain himself from stuttering or making a fool out of himself. In his head he wanted to compliment you and how pretty your nightgown was but the words wouldn’t leave the tip of his tongue. 

He took a deep breath before he spoke. “You look pretty in your nightgown,” he quickly muttered out. 

Your eyes lit up at his compliment. “Thank you Mr. Levinson. It’s pretty but I don’t think I’ll keep it.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“It always rides up and by morning it’s all the way up here,” you pointed to your upper stomach.

Oh what he would give to be a fly in the room in the morning. He quickly changed the conversation, it was obvious you were too oblivious to what you were doing to him. Your sweet voice and innocence were driving him insane but he loved it, he secretly wanted more. 

The both of you left the laundromat 40 minutes later. He insisted on carrying your basket for you. You both walked side by side. You were busy trying to keep up with him while he was busy looking down at your breasts. 

“Thank you for carrying my basket Mr. Levinson,” you thanked him as you took your basket from him when you got to your front porch.

“Anytime Sweet Pea.”

You kissed his cheek once again to seal your thank you. “Sweet dreams Mr. Levinson.”

“Sweet dreams honey,” he repeated to you. 

Ari was in a rush to get back to his trailer but a dear beloved friend was waiting for him. 

“Well would you look at that?” Robert sarcastically asked him. “She gave you a kiss on the cheek.” 

“Not now Robert,” Ari pleaded, dying to get back into his place. 

“What’s the big rush to get back home?” Robert crossed his arms as he smirked, “I see you’re sporting a hard on. Surely it can’t be because of her. Right?” 

“Oh shut your trap.” 

“It is, isn't it?!” he gawked. 

“No it’s not!” Ari protested. 

“Oh really?” Robert Challenged as he squinted his eyes.

“I was about to get lucky with Kim before she came into the laundromat and interrupted us,” Ari quickly lied. 

“So you waited for her to be done then walked her back?” Robert questioned Ari. 

“Of course I did,” he scoffed, “otherwise she would’ve ran into you. Not to mention she’s terrified of you, fuckin’ creep.” 

“Whatever. She wants me, I know it,” Robert boasted. 

“Yeah in jail.” 

Robert rolled his eyes and walked back to his trailer while Ari walked back into his. He immediately locked the door behind him and dropped the basket on the floor. 

“Oh thank god,” Ari hissed as he unzipped his painfully tight pants. 

His cock was rock hard and had been for the past 20 minutes. The pants barely gave him any friction and if anything, made it worse. He palmed himself through his boxers and moaned in relief. 

All he can think about is you in the short nightgown and how he’s never been this hard before. Sure he’s been turned on but it was nothing compared to this. It was like he was a horny spazzy teenager all over again. 

He freed his cock from his boxers and sharply inhaled at the impact of the cold air. The tip of his cock was bright red and oozing with precum. He used his thumb to spread his precum and use it as lube.  

His eyes screwed shut in bliss when he began pumping up and down. He tried to think of the porn he watched three days ago but instead you kept popping up. He imagined you being here with him, helping him out. 

“Does that hurt?” you ask him as you point to his angry, leaking cock. 

“It does Sweet Pea,” he rasped out. 

“Was it because of me?” you innocently ask him as you bat your lashes. 

“Yes,” he admits. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you apologize to him. “Let me help you,” you tell him as you take his cock into your tiny, warm hand. 

“Oh Sweet Pea,” he moans out. 

“You’re s-so bi-big,” you sputter out, slowly pumping him up and down. “Does that feel better?”

He doesn’t have the strength to talk so instead he nods eagerly. “G-Go a little bit faster.”

You obey him and start pumping faster. His moans fill the room as he gets lost in the pleasure you’re giving him. Your hand is cramping but you don’t care, anything to make him feel good. 

“Sweet Pea, I-I’m about to cum,” he warns you. 

You get down on your knees while you still pump him. “Let it all go,” you seductively say as you open your mouth. 

Ari was brought back to reality when his high overtook him and he orgasmed. It was so intense his thighs started to shake. He continued pumping and pumping until he got too sensitive he had to stop.

He stood there with his cum dripping down his hand and secretly wishing you were there to help clean it all up. The realization had hit him hard, he needed you.

[forever-rogue]

Hi, I love your blog so much it's amazing.

I was wondering if you could write some Joel Miller being jealous? Like they're in some kind of relationship but Joel doesn't want to put a word to it and arrive to some camp and a guy from there is trying to flirt with reader but she just has eyes for Joel, could be the first I love you confession from him, to make things official between them? Fluff because my heart can't handle anything else :').

AN | Jealous!Joel? Okay, okay, I see you!

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.5k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel Miller wasn’t a relationship type of guy; he hadn’t been for a long time and it seemed pointless to start now. And that’s exactly how you found yourself in a sort of relationship with him…a situationship if you will. 

He also wasn’t the jealous type either. You weren’t his girlfriend, or his partner, or what have you. You happened to be another person living in Jackson that he spent an inordinate amount of time with and had sex with. Lots of sex…he liked to think of it as stress relief. Yeah. That’s it - stress relief. Everyone could use some of that given the current state of the world. 

But, in conclusion, you weren’t anything more to him than anyone else. 

So why did he experience a definitely-not-jealous-feeling deep in the pit of his stomach when he saw you talking to one of Jackson’s newcomers?

He wasn’t jealous. No. Nope. Definitely not. 

He just wanted to strangle any man that talked to you, or looked in your direction. It was a totally normal reaction…or at least that’s what he tried to convince himself. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Joel?” you found him stalking through downtown and had rushed to catch up with him. You hadn’t seen him in the last couple of days and when you had he’d barely spoken a word or even graced you with a look. 

You could see his shoulders stiffen for a moment but he slowed his stride so you could catch up with him. You quickly fell into stride, but you could sense that he was in a mood. You nudged your arm against his and he grunted in response, “what?”

“What?” you parroted back at him, frowning in response, “or like what’s been up with you lately?”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” the man was stubborn beyond measure sometimes. You huffed and waited for him to expand but he refused to give in to you, “been busy.”

“Busy,” he refused to look at you, but he could feel you glowering at him, “we’re all busy, Miller. That doesn’t mean we don’t make time for each other.”

“You expect me to make time for you?” his twang came out as he stopped suddenly and you almost tripped over your own feet as you stopped as well. He crossed his arms over his broad chest, head cocked to the side. Your expression clearly said duh, “and just why would I do, sweetheart?”

“You’re being a jerk,” you pushed his shoulder, gently, although you doubted you could really do much damage to him, even if you wanted to, “last time I checked I thought we enjoyed spending time together. But over the past few days you’ve had such a-a bee in your bonnet.”

“Last time I checked I didn’t owe you anything,” and oh. Those words definitely stung, “we aren’t anything.”

“Oh wow,” you were hurt, but you weren’t about to let him know how much, “that’s rich coming from you. I don’t know what your problem suddenly is, but if you’re going to be a jerk, you can fuck off. And next time you need something, don’t bother knocking at my door. But if you decide to get over whatever this is, or want to talk to me like a grown man, you know where to find me.”

Your reaction had left him stunned; he knew you could hold your own when you needed to, but you’d never talked to him like that before. In that moment you definitely weren’t that soft, sweet girl he’d grown to love. Love. But he’d never admit it; truthfully he might not have even come to that realization just yet.

You stomped away, leaving him standing there and staring after you, a dismal expression on his face. He might have been a quiet man, but he wasn’t often left speechless. You’d just managed to do so.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You made it a point to avoid him over the next couple of days, figuring that if he really wanted to make things right he would come to you. You missed him, admittedly, but decided to throw yourself into doing things around town to keep your mind occupied. 

That’s how you’d gotten to know the newcomers to Jackson. There were a few women and teenagers, along with some men. For the most past, they were all kind and wanted to keep out wherever they could. 

One of the duties you least liked was being put in charge of one of the community gardens. You had a green-thumb adjacent at best, and didn’t want to be the only one responsible for any bad vegetables or fruits, so you had recruited Max, one of the newbies, to assist you. If you were going down, he was coming right along with you.

You liked Max, so far. He was around your age, handsome in a tall, dark, and roguish way, with a nice smile and good sense of humor. And, unlike men had done since the dawn of time, he didn’t make you feel uncomfortable. So, you had decided, he was going to be your friend. 

“You’re horrible at this,” Max laughed as you fumbled around with some tomato vines, trying to get the ripe fruit without destroying anything else, “how are you making this so difficult?”

“Shut up,” you groaned but it quickly turned into a laugh as you fell onto your bottom from how you were teetering and crouching. You managed to knock the whole plant down (sorry tomatoes), “oops.”

Max had dropped the small shovel he had been working with, head thrown back as he laughed, “and you’re clumsy on top of it. I’ll remember that for the future.”

You grabbed a small handful of soil and threw it over at him, “bold of you to assume that we’re ever hanging out again after this. You’re bullying me!”

“So dramatic,” he snorted in amusement as he brushed off the dirt and came over to you, offering you his hand to help you to your feet, “come on, I’ll let you bully me in return.”

You took his hand and he gently hoisted you to your feet. You almost stumbled into him, but caught yourself by putting your hands on his shoulders as his found purchase on your waist. You looked at him in surprise and he smiled softly, causing you to relax. He was so close, and pretty, and nice, and you could just lean in and kiss him. Max must have been thinking the same thing because he started to lean in too. A shiver of excitement ran down your spine, until-

“Get your hands off of her,” the two of you jumped apart at the sound of his very angry voice. Your face flushed with warmth, a combination of being caught red-handed and annoyance because you weren’t technically doing anything wrong. Max’s glance shifted over to Joel and then back to you, “now take a step back.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” you hissed at him, “why are you here, Joel?”

“Are you two…?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

At the sound of Joel’s answer your eyes widened in surprise as your jaw almost dropped to the ground. Max held up his hands in a sign of surrender as he started to slowly back away, “hey man, I didn’t know she was your girl.”

“Don’t worry Max,” you offered him an apologetic look, “I didn’t know that either.”

“I gotta go, but I’ll see you around,” he said sheepishly, “bye!”

He almost ran off, leaving the two of you there, the tension so thick. After a moment you turned towards him and shook your head. You weren’t quite sure what to say so you decided to just walk past him, but not before giving him a full glare, “you’re such a dick sometimes. First you shove me away like I’m nothing and now you act like I’m yours. How about I make the final decision? We, you and I, are done. Whatever you want to call it, it’s over. Maybe then you can figure out your own feelings.”

But the man wasn’t about to just let you go. No, that was not his style. 

His fingers wrapped around your wrist and his strong grip kept you from walking away. 

“Stay,” he insisted gruffly, causing you to pout in that way that always made his knees weak. 

“Why? Are you going to apologize?”

He remained silent and you could see that the answer to that was clearly no. You huffed as you pulled your hand out of his and started to walk away. He remained silent as he watched you go. He could have just said everything he wanted to and gotten it all out there but…he’d chickened out. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, “fuck.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You didn’t run into Joel again for almost a week. You wondered if it was partly him avoiding you or you just didn’t happen to cross paths. Jackson was only so big; you knew the truth. 

But as your feelings would have it, you really, really missed the man. He’d become such an important and vital part of your life and not having him around felt like you were missing a huge part of your heart.

When you decided that you couldn’t take it anymore, you made a plan to take matters into your own hands. You left your place and made the short trek over to his, knocking on the door loudly. He was home; you could see the light and if he had sort of sense, he would open the door. 

After a few long moments of buzzy anticipation, you heard his familiar footsteps come towards the door. He opened it slowly and his brown eyes widened when he saw that it was you. He was a mixture of confused and happy.

“What are you…?” he didn’t get the opportunity to finish his question, instead watching as you made your way inside, brushing past him and causing sparks to shoot down his spine. 

“Can we just talk?” you were already in the kitchen, leaning against the counter as you looked at him softly. You couldn’t help it; you were a sucker for this man.

“Yes,” he agreed, coming in and mirroring your position on the other side of the counter. You wanted to be made, or at the very least annoyed, but you couldn’t find it in your heart, “I’m sorry for what I said.”

“Which part?” if he thought you were letting him off easily, he was so wrong, “the part where you said we were nothing, or the part where you changed your mind - unilaterally I might add - and decided we were something?”

“Both,” he pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh, “I was an idiot.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, “you were. What changed your mind?”

“That kid,” you could see the tick in his jaw as he frowned deeply. Ahhh. Yes, you knew exactly what was going on; Joel Miller was jealous. He just wasn’t going to admit it in those terms. 

“His name is Max,” okay, maybe now you were just doing it to get a rouse out of him, “and he’s perfectly nice. He was just helping me.”

“He wanted to do a little more than help,” the man tore his gaze from you and huffed. 

“Joel Miller, you’re jealous,” your smile was practically stretching from ear to ear as you beamed at him, “just admit it! That’s what all this has been about?”

“I’m a grown ass man,” he sounded anything but, “I don’t get jealous.” 

“Okay, so you weren’t jealous just…something incredibly like it?” you asked. He shrugged dismissively in response but gave away no emotions or anything, “huh, that’s interesting.”

“It’s not, no. I’m not the-”

“I get jealous too sometimes,” you admitted sheepishly, hiding your face in your hands, embarrassed to admit it out loud, “when those women practically throw themselves at you. Makes me want to…I don’t know, show them you’re mine.”

“What are you-”

“You’re such a man,” you flopped your head to the side, “those women - and men - love you. You’re sexy, and smart, and lots of other things, but apparently so oblivious. But I guess that doesn’t matter though.”

“What do you mean?” he was leaning closer now and you could smell his familiar scent; it made you want to curl up with him and let him swallow you whole.

“You said we weren’t anything so,” ugh. You wished you didn’t get so emotional over this, “it doesn’t matter what I think or want. I shouldn’t have assumed anything.”

“I lied,” and it was oh so hard for him to admit that, “that day. I was just…mad - not at you. I just thought, when I saw you with all the new people, that you liked them and they were all over you, especially that one kid-”

“Max.”

“Max,” he didn’t like the taste of the name in his mouth, “I just figured you’d want someone like that and not me.”

“You’re a fool,” you shook your head in disbelief, “I’ve never wanted anyone but you.”

“I never…putting labels on things seems trivial,” he whispered, “how can what you mean to me be summed up with one word? I just never thought about it; it never meant you didn’t mean everything to me.”

"I…" you felt a prickling at the back of your eyes that caused you to try and blink it away, "do you mean that?"

"Yes," he reached over, hesitantly at first before settling his hand on your face  brushing your tears away with his thumb, "I mean it. You're very…important to me."

"You're important to me too," you put your hand on top of his and gave it a gentle, tender squeeze, "we don't have to put labels on anything. Just as long as we're on the same page about everything."

"You're mine," he promised and you felt yourself practically glowing. His words made you feel all warm and fuzzy, butterflies fluttering in your tummy. You nodded happily, "I know I'm not great with a lot of things but I do love you. I hope you know that."

"Hmm," you hummed as you closed your eyes contentedly, "I love you, even if you're a stubborn, tough man."

"Enough to accept my apology?" he had his answer already but needed to hear you say it. You rolled your eyes playfully.

"I suppose," you leaned in closer and smiled softly.

"Enough to let me kiss you?"

"Definitely."

[sunshinebuckybarnes]

distracted

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Summary: As Bucky's Personal Assistant you're required to take minutes in meetings, but something has you distracted.

Warnings: petnames (angel, sir), smut; oral (m receiving). This blog is 18+ only. Minors DNI.

Author's note: gosh I feel like it's been an age since I last wrote something! There really is just something about this man in a suit! (word count: 1.2k)

There was something about Bucky Barnes in a suit. The way they were perfectly tailored to show off his muscular frame without being too obvious. The three-piece ones in particular were a personal favourite.

With each layer, it was like there was a secret being revealed.

When his blazer came off, you could appreciate how his shirt clung to his arms. Every movement highlights taut muscle just waiting to be discovered.

When the waistcoat came off and he rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, revealing the artwork that adorned his arms; it felt like you were in on a dirty little secret.

And when his trousers came off? Well, at that point you were his dirty little secret.

"Something have you distracted?"

His voice snaps you out of your head. You look around the now empty meeting room before locking eyes with Bucky Barnes, your boss and CEO.

You feel vulnerable under his stare and it lights a fire within you. He looks at you expectantly. He asked you a question and he expects an answer.

Clearing your throat you fumble an apology, making a start on gathering your things until you hear the click of a lock.

Your heartbeat quickens as you lift your gaze. Watching as he stalks around the conference table until he's standing behind you.

"Can you show me the minutes from this meeting?" he asks casually, resting his hands on the back of your chair.

Shit.

You'd been too distracted fantasising about what was under his impressive suit that you'd completely ignored to do your job.

"I'm sorry, Sir, I must have been distracted," you whisper, not daring to glance back at him.

You jump as his hands come to rest on your shoulders. His nimble fingers dig into your tense muscles, if you didn't know any better you'd think he was trying to relax you. Unfortunately, or fortunately, you did know better.

"What's got you distracted, huh?"

His lips are a whisper away from your ear causing you to shudder involuntarily as his breath caresses your skin.

You're unable to form a coherent sentence, your mind flicking through all of the possible scenarios - most of which end in the same outcome.

Bucky doesn't give you much chance to respond before he turns your chair to face him. He crowds into your space, his large arms caging you in as he rests his hands on the arms of your chair.

"Don't be shy, you can tell me," his face is level with yours, his eyes dropping to your lips as he utters his next words, "What's got you distracted, angel?"

"You, sir," you whisper.

Bucky smirks wickedly at your admission, "Is that so? And what about me has you distracted?"

His piercing eyes bore into you as he awaits your response. You squeeze your thighs together subconsciously at the filthy thoughts running through your mind.

Bucky's smirk grows as he watches you squirm under his gaze.

"I was distracted by your suit, sir. Particularly what's under it."

Bucky hums at your admission, one of his hands cupping your cheek gently, tilting your face up to catch your eye.

"That's highly unprofessional. Maybe if you're so easily distracted we should reconsider your role."

You bite back a smile, your heart rate picking up as this little game continues.

"Or I could make it up to you?" You counter, giving him your best innocent look.

You revel in the way his pupils dilate and his hold on your face tightens slightly.

"And how are you going to make it up to me?"

"By sucking your cock."

He lets out a laugh, leaning in to brush his lips against yours, "You truly are something else, angel." Bucky straightens up and stares down at you, "it's all yours."

You don't need to be told twice as you waste no time undoing his belt, palming his hard dick through his trousers before pulling them down his thick thighs along with his boxers.

Your mouth salivates at the sight of his impressive cock. Wrapping your hand around him you stroke him gently, wanting to work him up as much as possible before you take him in your mouth.

Unfortunately, Bucky knows your game and is not in the mood for teasing. He bats your hand away as he steps closer to you.

"Hands on the arms of the chair. You're gonna let me use that pretty little mouth of yours, aren't you angel?"

"Yes, sir," you purr, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out.

"That's my good girl."

Bucky taps the tip of his cock on your tongue a few times before slowly sliding it into your mouth. You moan at the first taste of him, enjoying the feel of his thick cock on your tongue.

He sets a slow, languid pace, groaning at the feel of your hot mouth around him. Thrusting shallowly at first, knowing how much you enjoy taking him fully and knowing how crazy it's driving you to not have it all. One of his hands rests on the back of your head as he guides you further down his cock.

"That's it, angel," he groans, his head falling back as he hits the back of your throat, "so fucking good to me."

He holds you there for a moment, moaning as he feels your throat constrict around him, before letting you take things at your pace.

You pull back so only the tip is left, swirling your tongue around it before hollowing your cheeks and taking him fully again.

The moan Bucky lets out has you repeating the motion as you're determined to bring him as much pleasure as you can.

"Fuck, just like that angel," he grunts, his hips snapping forward involuntarily causing you to gag around him.

Your fingers dig into the arms of the chair. You want to touch him so badly but you know better than to ignore his demand.

Both of Bucky's hands tangle in your hair as he fucks your mouth. You can tell he's close by the way his breath comes out in pants and his hips begin to lose their rhythm. You look up at him and the moment his eyes connect with yours it's enough to tip him over the edge.

You moan at the taste of him at the back of your throat, sucking him harder to drain everything he's got.

"My sweet angel," he sighs, pulling his cock from your mouth. His hands frame your face and he pulls you up to stand, pulling you into a fierce kiss.

You're breathless when he pulls away and you smile up at him.

"Am I forgiven, Sir?" You ask sweetly.

Bucky smiles at you, leaning down to kiss you tenderly, "You're definitely forgiven, angel. Now I would love nothing more to bend you over this table and make you see stars but I have another meeting in five minutes."

You pout at his words which makes him chuckle before he gives you a quick peck.

"How about you take the afternoon off? Go to my place, have a relaxing bath, I'll pick up food when I'm finished and then I'll spend all night between those pretty legs?"

You hum, leaning up on your tip toes to give him a quick kiss, "that sounds wonderful."

He smooths your hair down before slapping your ass and nudging you towards the door. You can't help but shoot him a wink as he pulls his trousers up and you unlock the door.

Yep, so we can add CEO!Bucky to the list of AUs 😊 thank you for reading! As always comments and reblogs are super appreciated ✨💜

[sebsbarnes]

hello! this request may seem a bit strange but I'd like to request a one-shot about tangerine getting a call from his girlfriend to pick her up because some strangers followed her after getting off the station. This unfortunately happened to me and I'm still shocked, I got off 3 stations before mine, I went into a convenience store and they still managed to follow me... I called my half-brother to pick me up but he didn't want to 😃 and he still blamed me for studying at night. sorry for my terrible english, i'm desperate for comfort 🥺 thank you! i love your blog ❤️

hii! thank you for loving my blog and thank you for sending in a request :) i am going to do it in bullet points i hope that is okay, and i wanted to say i am so sorry this happened to you, i've been in this situation numerous times and it truly is scary and completely unjust to be placed in a position where you feel nervous, alone, and in danger because someone is harassing and stalking you. we shouldn't have to but carrying pepper spray or an alarm is always beneficial or even talking to shop owners could help. i hope you are feeling better from this experience and you can always chat to me if you need to :)

tangerine intervenes a stalker headcanon

warnings: talks of stalking, nothing descriptive

masterlist

you're out on the town doing some shopping that you had been avoiding and you had already been trying to muster through the long day of shopping

what didn't help was when you realized you started seeing two familiar faces at each stop

you had gotten off at a stop so you could go into a soap shop a block from the station

that's when you first noticed the two men

but you didn't think much about it then...it was a saturday afternoon and this was a popular shop and the station you had just left from was the closest

you picked up some soaps you needed for the apartment, thanking the cashier and headed for the door when a man darted in front of you and grabbed the door for you

"oh! thank you!" you smiled at him before turning back to the station

you got back on the train and soon noticed the man that grabbed the door for you and his friend, both of whom were staring intensely at you from across the car, you shot them a forced smile and turned your back, ready to get off again

there was a clothing store nearby that tangerine loved and you wanted to pop in and see if there was something you could buy him

you went up and down the aisle running your hands over the fabric when you felt eyes on you... familiar eyes

through the rack, you saw one of the men again

'they just have to be shopping...right?'

with quick feet and a fast beating heart you maneuvered throughout the store to lose them

you looked up at the mirrors lining the ceiling on the side of the store and saw the two men talking with each other and pointing towards where you walked to... but then they left the store.

you clutched your chest, attempting to steady your breath. you refused to leave now so you wasted a good fifteen minutes in the store before buying tangerine a new tie and leaving

you felt good leaving, no eyes on you, no weird feeling in the pit of your stomach until you passed a small alleyway and then heard two sets of feet thumping on the sidewalk behind you

whipping your head to the side you watched the windows fly past you and that's when you noticed it was the two men in the reflection... a decent enough space behind you, but still too close

you felt sick and your hands were clammy and a bit shaky

'did they know tangerine? were they from a mission?' you kept thinking

tangerine... YES! tangerine!

you pulled your phone out and pressed the call button

an empty soda can went flying into your feet from behind and when you looked the two men were smirking, one of them chewing on a piece of gum with his mouth open

you fastened your pace and felt tears line your eyes... you were scared

"hey lov-"

"TAN! oh my god thank god you answered"

"what's wrong?" tangerine asked, he was now standing up hearing the fear in your voice

"there's these men they won't stop following me and-"

"where are you?" he cut you off

you heard his keys jingle in the background when you told him what was nearby and he instructed you to continue walking but be vigilant and that he would be here any second

oh and he is pissed. he is FUMING. his vision has turned white similar to his fingers that were gripping the sterling wheel with such intensity it was shaking

tangerine was a lot of things... and today he turned into a fucking racecar driver

you were fast walking on the sidewalk, the men a far enough distance behind you when you saw tangerine's car flying down the street. once the front of his car past you he jerked the wheel and turned the car onto the sidewalk, you stopped walking and watched him step out of the vehicle

the men had to abruptly stop so they didn't get hit

"what the FUCK?" one of them yelled, throwing his arms up

tangerine shot you a wink before adjusting his brass knuckles and rounding the hood of the car to the men

"oh, i'm sorry mate, did i get in your fuckin' way of followin' that young lady?" tangerine asked

the guys pretended to be clueless which only angered tan more before he started punching them. the guys weakly pleaded for tangerine to stop, but that's not how tangerine works... he stops when he wants to

"maybe you should be productive with your sad lives rather than stalking poor young women you disgusting pieces of shit. how'd you feel if i spent every day following you around, huh? do you think i should do that, mr. miller?" tangerine asked, looking at one of their IDs, "maybe i'll hang onto this, a keepsake, yanno?"

tangerine took the men's IDs, making a mental note that he will pay them a visit at their homes, and leaving them on the ground with blood pouring from their noses and split skin

he tossed their IDs and the brass knuckles into the car and walked over to you

"are you alright?" he asked with worried eyes running his hands over your arms

you nodded your head and leaned forward into his chest, the sound of his heartbeat calming you

"c'mon, let's leave before the police come. we can go home and just lay on the couch today, yeah? i'll pick up some takeout tonight, anything you want love"

tangerine grabbed the shopping bags from your hands and guided you to the car. you rolled down your window as the men stood to their feet

"assholes!"

tangerine let out a small laugh, placing a hand on your knee as you gave them the middle finger

[shaisuki]

Hi, I just discovered your blog and I love it, we need more chubby readers! 💜

Can I request yandere Sanzu and Izana (separate) with a gender neutral reader? When they discovered that his s/o have really bad nightmares (maybe because is the first time sleeping together or because they are spying on them while they are sleeping, wharever you want I'm sure will be amazing!)

[hurt/comfort]

DON'T LET THE BED BUGS BITE

FT. SANZU HARUCHIYO, IZANA KUROKAWA

content warnings: stalking, mentions of murder and illegal activities, hints at noncon, dubcon, bonten sanzu, delusional thoughts.

synopsis: a nightmare, what kind was it or is the person watching you is the nightmare?

sanzu had barely the time to take sleep when the night comes. as an executive of bonten he's usually tasked in cleaning out the traitors and exterminating them out of their holes. one could say that it is too tiring but to sanzu nothing's too tasking when it comes for the sake of bonten. after all of that blood he will reward himself going back to you.

to his sweet darling.

residing into one of the most expensive penthouse he owns where he kept you captive and provided with your basic needs. he recently just moved you there where he can keep you under surveillance with multiple bodyguards at the door. your security is far above more important, second to bonten.

tonight is where he will have the time to be with you. bonten was taking much of his time and leaving you all by yourself and he shall make his presence known to you and he was brimming with excitement.

masking it with a cold hard stare as he passed the halls where your bodyguards are stationed and within a minute he's standing in front of your shared bedroom with him. expecting you would be asleep at this hour sanzu carefully steps in but only to find you awake.

gaze softening a bit when he sees you. shivering from what he knows as fear. “don't be afraid.” he mutters. a huge grin plastered in his face as he throws his vest followed by his gloves being removed.

you should be. you were taken away from home and you're in an unknown place with a stranger who claims to be your protector but you didn't need one.

“i need to go home please.” pulling the blankets and shoving them beside you. sanzu frowns. “nonsense. you belong here now and it's our first night. you don't want to upset me.” his voice dead calm and you bit your lips. finding there was no way you can reason with a man like him.

your body jerk before your brain could process what was happening. cold hands in your shoulder while you're being slowly pushed in bed. his smile offsetting by the scars in the corner of his mouth moving. “w—what are you doing?” you stammer out. heart beating a mile from the touch and the bells ringing in your head from what he's about to do.

“putting you to bed. you had a long day and i shall rest with you.” placing himself beside you and you were not sure what you are doing and he said to rest and so you complied but still scared to the bone with an unknown man forcing you to sleep with him.

your head hit the pillows and you were covered by the blanket you previously shoved. “sleep.” he orders. “aren't you going to sleep?” you ask him. he only shushes you however your mind and body isn't accustomed to being with him. part of you thinks that you need to follow him or else it's going to be bad. trying to ease your mind and relaxing your body, your eyes begin to get droopy and the last thing you see is his torso and the feeling of his hand gently petting your head.

a content stoic look graces sanzu's face. he didn't had the time to admire you closer and when you've gone to sleep, he sees all the blemishes decorating your face along what you hid underneath that pajama. it's been a month since he made you captive. obsessed with the idea of you being his and so he did.

your chest falls up and down with every breath you take. adorned with a soft body and although he's quite sleepy he resisted it. he wanted to take you this night but left the idea of it. he can do it the next time and you're looking much more tired than him.

tenderness isn't the no. two of bonten's executive greatest strength. used to the taste of ecstasy pills giving him the adrenaline along with the blood bath of traitors and enemies and yet he's capable of this to you along with the filth he wishes to do so.

his cold digits brushed over to the roundness of your cheek and before he could fully admire it, a whimper coming from your lips and your brows furrowing indicated that you were having a nightmare and in his sick mind enjoys seeing the look of terror in your face along with your body convulsing but haruchiyo can't be cruel to you for long.

he gently shake you up and when he got your body ridden with nightmare awake, he pulls you closer towards him. his thin arms wrapped around your shoulder while he whispers you sweet nothings until you're fully calmed down. soft pants coming from you and sanzu might discovered that you're prone to having nightmares and he feels a little bad. who would comfort you when he's not with you? it's not like he's permitting others to touch you cause he won't. a bullet would come for them before they can lay a finger to you.

“it's only a nightmare.” he whispers to you. your plush body cradled by him. you pursed your lips. as if a nightmare isn't bad enough not when your kidnapper is comforting you. playing along is what you can do and you manage to get yourself back to sleep. afraid of what the morning comes and what your brain might conjure up. it's the least of your worries, really.

it is nothing when your greatest nightmare is besides you.

IZANA KUROKAWA

the night is only reserved for the creatures like izana.

thin rectangular hanafuda earrings gently sways with breeze along with the strands of his white hair. his red gang uniform delicately moves with the wind. it's almost to similar to wind chimes tinkling with the summer breeze rolling.

that's why you weren't awoken up to his presence being near to your sleeping form. it would destroy his plans if you were to find him. izana doesn't like to make his appearance known to you. contented lurking in the shadows. ensuring his beloved is safe and away from the dangers of the streets and he could always admire you.

watch as you peacefully snooze under the covers of your room. soon to be terrorized of nightmares that awaits you upon descending in your wonderland. izana doesn't like that. it is bad to start when he can't comfort you. he needs to wait or it will just go down in the flames.

first time it happened, although he may not show it he's deeply worried about you. your angelic face scrunched up with sweat beading in your forehead and the small whimpers similar to cries. tossing back and forth and you wake up with terror upon your face. it hurts him. he wishes he was there to ease and tell you that it was fine and it's only a nightmare.

izana may be cruel and bitter but he can show compassion to his beloved. loved them dearly and he must work to fulfill his plans and achieved his goals and when all is on place, you would depend on him. find solace where him is only way to have peace.

and one day, you would regret when he's taking you away from your world and he would be the nightmare that didn't visit you in your mind but only to chain you with him.

[kitixie]

Little Girl Gone (pt 6)

word count: 2k

information: y'all, i am so sorry this took so long, i've been in a slump and clinicals just started so i've also been super busy. but i promise i am going to finish this!

warnings: smut. dirty, filthy, nasty smut. seriously, its like 3 pages of smut with some dialogue, but i won't apologize for it 🙃

taglist: @budugu, @ajmiila02, @filmtv2022, @cyphah, @ce1iat, @thenattitude, @globetrotter28, @tn22220-blog, @fudgethisyo, @geeky-politics-46, @chaengist, @lostgirl219, @amberpanda99, @sharrren, @bookishbabyyyy

Tommy’s POV 

It had been a week. It had been a fucking week since I had last seen Y/N, since I had tasted her lips on her kitchen counter and gathered the strength to pull away. Dealing with business and family had made this week drag on like months, leaving a hole in my chest that grew everyday I wasn’t around her. I had been so close to having her, her body and mind were almost mine, and then I remembered that stupid, pointless meeting in Camden, and I pulled away like an idiot. I was needed at the meeting, but still; I needed her more. 

Everytime that my mind has dared to go back to that night, it always ends the same. Me in a bathroom or closet or any other private place, jerking my cock like a madman. I couldn’t stand it any longer, I needed to have her. I knew I wouldn’t be able to see her for a while, and that only made it worse. It only made me treasure the memories more. 

“Thomas,” Polly croaked, I could still see the tear stains on her face from earlier. 

Business had not gone well, ending with Arthur and John being arrested, and Michael getting his ass handed to him in the process. Polly had been crying and screaming the entire time, along with Ada, who is ever the dramatic. Ada has now resumed her vow of silence against me, at least until I get our brothers free, and Polly won’t stop fucking crying, tears coming out between her hands as she covers her face. I understand her upset, I really do, but it isn’t my fault that her son manages to get beat to a pulp everytime we go out, and she knows it. 

“Yes, Pol?” I finally answer, the solemn look not leaving my face. 

“What are you going to do? Ya have to get your brothers, the longer their in there the more pissed they’ll be,” she breathes, “I can take care of Michael, but you’ve got to handle things with the prison.”

Finally recognizing some of the life that comes back to her eyes, I sit for a moment. It’s not a problem to get Arthur and John out, I pull people from the jail all the time. I’m just not sure what to do with them once they’re out. They’ll be angry, looking for revenge, and I’ve got a sweet girl waiting on me that overpowers all thoughts of payback. Everyone will get what's coming for them, we are the Shelbys after all, but I want to come first. Preferably all over Y/N. 

- 

Another week gone by, and still I haven’t gotten to see her. The hole is now a gaping wound, and my cock is sore from how much my hand has been on it. 

I was right, Arthur and John drug me straight back to Camden Town after they got out, and it’s taken all week to stalk and plan out our retribution. We got it, but at what cost? I still haven’t been around to see Y/N. I know she's been at the house, Pol called and told me that she asked her over and watch Finn while she tended to Michael. Hearing that made my heart swell the most it has in a long time, just knowing she cared enough to do something as simple as watch my kid brother. I am so far gone for her, and I don’t even think she realizes that she holds the most powerful man in Birmingham at her fingertips. 

The three of us eventually arrive back to Watery Lane, and I immediately notice that Y/N’s umbrella is propped by the door. The adrenaline begins to rush through my veins, waking up all of the feelings that I just got to lie down this past week. All that lust and longing comes flooding back into me, all from an umbrella by the door. I enter the house first, and hear the sounds of laughter coming from the seating room. I peek around the door frame to see Finn and Y/N, locked in some sword battle, using sticks as their weapons. They slash at each other, Y/N obviously holding back given that she has almost two feet in height on the kid, but still it’s one of the most adorable things I’ve ever seen. 

I, Tommy Shelby, just found something adorable. Something is truly wrong with me. 

I ultimately decide not to disturb them and continue walking to my room. It’s only when I get to my room however, that I notice the tent that has formed in my pants. Fuck, I can’t even see her without getting aroused. I hear John and Arthur speaking to them downstairs, and figure that they’ll keep them busy long enough for me to handle my issue. I carefully shut my door, and lie down on my bed. Loosening my pants, I free my cock from its confines. The skin is red from straining against my clothes, but it only adds to the tenderness as I stroke myself. I imagine it being her hands, dragging up and down my length, toying with the sensitive head. I run my thumb over it, letting the pain from being so hard morph into the pleasure I’m imagining in my head. I picture her mouth, those soft, pink lips wrapping around me, licking and kissing all over my skin until she finally makes her way down. She’d start slow, testing the waters to see how she could handle me, until finally sinking all the way down, my cock touching the back of her throat. The same throat that makes all those mouthy remarks, and keeps all those secrets of what she wishes I’d do to her. I even go so far as to imagine her own fantasies, picturing her getting off to the thought of my hands on her, just like I’m doing now. The soft moans that would spill out of her mouth, falling hard in the silence of her apartment. The way her fingers dive and retreat in and out of that pussy; I know it’s tight, it has to be. That leads me to my next train of thought. The warm center between her legs, that would be dripping in arousal by the time I got around to it. She’d be so wet that it would go down her thighs, it’d be enough for me to drink. I let out a small moan, the feeling of my hand and the delusions in my head becoming too powerful. I can almost feel the softness of her lower lips, as they part to let me in. The filthy sounds she would make as I drove into her, first from on top of her, then once she got adjusted to my size, the way I would take her from the back. 

The motion of my hand stops as soon as I hear a glass shatter, and I peel open my closed eyes to find Y/N, standing at my door, face flush, with a shattered glass and pool of water around her feet. Her eyes do not meet mine, and I realize that they’re dialed in on my cock, with my hand still wrapped around it. 

“Tommy, I-I am so sorry, I had no idea-” 

I don’t let her finish before I’m on my feet. I step over the glass, scooping her up in my arms before placing her inside my room so that she doesn’t step on the glass. I close the door behind her, somewhat aware that my hard on is still out on full display. 

“How long have you been watching me, bad girl?” I say, bringing the same hand that was on my cock seconds ago up to her cheek. Her skin feels better than mine ever could. 

“Not long, I swear it Tommy,” she rasps, trying to keep her eyes on my face. 

“Did you hear me moan? That was for you, Love. You were what I was imaging,” I breathe, tipping my head towards hers. 

“No-”

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N.” 

“Yes, I heard you Tommy. It was a beautiful sound.” She finally admits, leaning into my touch and resting her forehead against mine. 

I smile at her, and go back to sit on my bed. When she doesn’t follow, I make the decision then and there. She can watch. 

I begin stroking my cock again, this time keeping my eyes on her. I can see that she’s a little confused, but more aroused than anything. I spot that blush spreading from her cheeks down her neck, and onto her chest. I can see how heavily she’s breathing, her eyes darting between my face and my hand. I let out another moan as I see her hand go up to her breast, palming herself through the fabric of her shirt. She’s as needy as I am, she just won’t admit it. 

I keep my pace, speeding up my hand to keep time with her breathing. The rise and fall of her breast picks up enough that I can feel my end coming near. She’s still watching, waiting to see me finish. I’ve never had an audience before, but I like that she’s the one seeing me. I give my length one last pull, and cum erupts, landing all over my stomach. I keep my hand moving until the last drop comes out, dribbling down my thumb. 

“Come here, Y/N.” I say, motioning her with my finger. 

She approaches me, staring at the mess I’ve made at myself, all at the sight of her. 

“Yes, Tommy?” She questions, that sweet voice dripping in feigned innocence. 

“Open your mouth.” I demand. 

She does as she is told, and I stick my thumb into her waiting mouth. 

“Clean it.” I poke her tongue with my digit, and she closes her mouth around it. 

She swirls her tongue around my thumb, lightly sucking at the calloused skin of my hand. She is very thorough, but if she doesn’t stop, I’m going to take her right here, with every member of my family in this house. She pulls away, letting my thumb go from her mouth with a pop. I move to sit up, heading to the bathroom to clean myself off. Before I have the chance to reach my feet, she pushes me back down, her hand gripping my shoulders. 

“What are ya doing, Love?” 

“I’m cleaning you up, Thomas.” Fuck, even just my name coming from her mouth is almost enough to have me hard again. 

She straddles my knees, bracing her hands on either side of my hips. I just allow her, wanting whatever physical contact she’ll give to me. She lowers her head, bringing it to the bottom of my stomach. She darts her tongue out, licking up the cum that pooled at my waistline. She swallows it, and I am in awe as I watch her. She traces the erratic trail up my body, her mouth leaving warmth in its wake. My skin flushes at her touch, and I jump when she lands her mouth on the ticklish part of my side, where the liquid has started to drip down. She lets out a small laugh and keeps going. Finally, when she has licked every last bit of evidence from my torso, she moves up, the crotch of her pants sitting right on top of my once again hard cock. I don’t move, in fear of not being able to stop, but she leans down, and whispers in my ear. 

“You taste delicious, Tommy.” She darts her tongue out again, letting the warm thing touch my ear before she nips at it with her teeth. 

I go to grab her hips, having had enough of her teasing, but she jumps off of me, landing her feet on the floor. 

“I think I heard Finn calling for me,” She says, turning towards the door where the broken glass still lies. 

She steps to the mess of glass and water and looks down. 

“It’s a shame about your water, Love, I’m sure you’re parched.” She smirks, stepping over the shards and sending me a wink before she closes the door. 

[foxgloveprincess]

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Female Reader [Second Person Narrator]

Summary: You didn’t mean to catch Ransom’s attention, and you’ll do whatever it takes to lose it. 

Word Count: 8.1k

Attic Wives Anonymous Masterlist

Warnings: UnBeta’d, Dark, Dubious Consent (Kissing, Blow Job, Vaginal Sex, Overstimulation, Mild Degradation/Humiliation, Praise Kink), Coercion (Payment for Sex), Stalking, Fear/Paranoia, Yandere Vibes, BDSM (Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, Rope Bondage, Suspension, Aftercare, Leather Cuffs), Pet Names (dear, birdie, pidge). Minors do not interact (18+).

A/N: Hope you enjoy it. Let me know if I should continue it! Up next is A.W.A. Meeting (#2), then hopefully Lloyd. 

I love feedback, so go ahead and reblog if you want. However, I give no permission to copy, translate, rewrite or post my work on any third party website or app. Seeing my work posted anywhere beside my blog, my library blog, or my AO3 account (FoxglovePrincess) means it’s been stolen/plagiarized.

I don’t do tag lists, so follow @foxglovefics to sign up for notifications on my fics. 

Please DO NOT click ‘Keep Reading’ if you are not 18+ years of age or if you are uncomfortable with the pairing, themes, dynamics, or warnings. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Thank you!

The song has been stuck in your head all day. Soft and sweet and romantic, it buzzes past your lips in a quiet hum while you end your work day by tidying your space.

“You know,” Harlan says as he leans back in his chair, contemplation narrowing his stare, “my offer still stands to make you my full-time personal assistant.”

You sigh and continue to clean up your papers, clipping them in neat packets for easy access when the research becomes relevant. “And you know I have other commitments.” You glance over your shoulder with a grin and shrug. “I can’t leave Chase hanging.” You snort at the unintended pun and continue working. Your hand brushes a spec of fuzz from the corner of your table, leaving it immaculate.

Harlan makes a noise of agreement and sits up before standing. “Well, if things ever change.”

“You’ll be the first to know,” you agree. The final clip snaps onto your last packet. “Now,” you address your boss with a playfully stern finger pointed in his direction, “don’t mess this up.” You nod toward the space set aside as your desk. Pens, post-its, and papers neat in a row.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” There’s a mischievous twinkle in the man’s eye, and you know you’ll be reorganizing on Monday morning, but you don’t mind. Not when Harlan’s done so much for you, and you know he’ll inevitably make your job easier somehow.

The dogs start barking outside. The front door slams and heavy steps thud toward the kitchen. No greeting, no real indication of who it might be. But you’ve worked in the Thrombey house long enough to make an educated guess.

“Looks like your grandson’s paying you a visit,” you muse while packing away the last of your belongings. “Don’t tear each other to pieces, alright? I still need this job at the end of the weekend.”

Harlan chuckles and shakes his head. He’s a good man, kind but indomitable. You admire him a moment longer. Fond warmth reflects back at you in his gaze. You’ll never forget how lucky you were he decided to take a chance on you.

“Goodnight,” you bid with a smile.

Harlan sends the same after you as you turn to the stairs, waiting for his grandson to make his surely dramatic entrance. The Go board already in hand. You wonder if he will take his grandfather up on the challenge.

Passing Marta and Fran on your way out the door, you say your farewells. And you almost make it out before coming face to face with the notorious ass—Hugh Ransom Drysdale. To think you’d been able to avoid him for so long. You should have taken the back exit through the patio.

“Who’re you?” he asks, inspecting you like a blot of dirt on his Beemer.

“Hello, Mr. Drysdale,“ you greet softly, short and professional. His head tilts and his gaze narrows at the address. “I’m expected elsewhere. If you’ll excuse me.” But you don’t wait for him to move, skirting around his broad frame before making it out the front door. His stare burning into your back the whole way. Constant, uncomfortable.

Safe and locked in your car, you’re able to shake it off. At least for a moment. When it starts to creep back up your spine while pulling out of the driveway, your hand reaches over to flick on your stereo, blasting the feeling away. You sing along, belting out any lingering unease. Getting yourself ready and letting the week’s stress seep from you.

The drive back into the city winds long, but passes quickly. Only forty minutes. But part of that convenience is negated by the absolute bear it is to find parking downtown. Another ten minutes of struggle before you get out—the urban parking gods not on your side tonight. Your car beeps with the lock and you sigh. It’ll be a longer walk.

The sun sinks behind the buildings and the orange glow of the streetlights paint the sidewalks. You bundle yourself in your jacket, shift your duffle higher on your shoulder, and start marching. One foot in front of the other. Glancing at familiar storefronts and navigating around the few passersby finding their Friday night adventure.

By the second block, you pause. The hairs on the back of your neck prickle. Eyes bore into you from behind. Heated, focused. You spin on your heel, but find no culprit. You swallow and breathe deep. Just your imagination, surely. Maybe.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath and turn to begin walking again. Quicker.

Your steps beat light on the pavement, though you don’t want to seem rushed. Trying to find a steady, rapid pace that doesn’t signal your distress. Still, the sensation doesn’t cease.

The evening gets darker and you see Chase’s studio in the distance. The industrial building looming and dark, intimidating. But your safe haven. The back door stands just within reach. You knock a rapid shave-and-a-haircut on the wood and wait for it to open. Phantom fingers dance along the back of your neck and you whip around. The alley stands empty save for a grimy dumpster and a few trash bags. Yet your heartbeat continues to thunder in your ears.

“There you are,” a gruff yet relieved voice exclaims. Long fingers wrap around your bicep and pull you in, the door closing behind you and cutting you off from your paranoia.

“Sorry,” you reply automatically, distracted before you shake away the adrenaline and turn to your friend. He beams brightly and lets his hand slip down to yours. With a turn on his heel, he guides you through the hallways to the back room. “Minor delay and had to find parking a few blocks away.”

“Don’t worry about it, li’l bird,” he shrugs and opens the door. “The room’s still filling out and Caleb is doing his sensation thing.”

You hum and enter behind your friend, setting your bag down in its usual place by the futon and shrugging off your coat. Your neck rolls on your shoulders, releasing any residual tension. Warm hands wrap over them and knead the muscles.

“You okay?” Chase asks, genuine concern in his voice. “You’re looking a little rattled.”

You lean into his gentle but firm touch, letting your eyes drift shut. Sinking into the feeling and focusing on it. Keeping yourself out of the instinctive loop of fright that lingers at the fringes of your mind. Chase’s hands travel down your back and over your sides—comforting, but objective in their precision.

“I’m fine,” you reply, breathy and calm. You pause, feeling his hands do the same. “Just,” you bite your lip, “maybe have the others keep a watch on the crowd tonight? I’ve had this strange feeling.”

Chase’s warm hands move back up to grasp your shoulders, reassuring in their press. “Of course.” He steps back and releases you. You spin to meet his eyes. “You know I always look out for my girl.” His lips lift in a soothing grin. “Now, let’s get you ready.”

You nod and begin to strip. Your blouse unbuttons and falls from your shoulders. Chase helps you step out of your skirt and grabs your outfit from your duffle. You change quickly from your everyday bra into the elaborate sports bra saved for these occasions. Chase helps straighten the straps, keeping them from turning on themselves and arranging them as they’re supposed to be. The bike shorts slide up your legs and sit at your waist. A quick peek in the mirror ensures you’re presentable—effortless yet alluring.

“You ready?” Chase asks softly.

You catch his eye in the mirror and nod with a small grin. “Ready.”

He offers his hand and you turn to accept it. Fingers squeeze around yours and draw you out. The crowd gathers around the elevated stage. The rig is all set up, the mats on the ground, the spotters standing on the fringes, everything waiting for you both.

Chase stops right by the steps up. He turns to you and takes your other hand in his. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you reply immediately. A deep breath calms your spiking heart and the butterflies in your tummy. Displaying yourself in such a vulnerable position never stops being terrifying—or exhilarating.

“Then come along, birdie.”

The lights blare bright on the stage. Hot and revealing. You cannot look to the crowd waiting out past your line of sight. You’d freeze if you did. Instead you keep your focus on Chase—your constant, your rock, your Dom.

He brings you to the center of the stage and releases your hands. His chin dips in a bid for you to kneel. You sink the onto the floor, hands resting on your thighs, waiting. Your eyes locked still on him.

“Good evening.” He addresses the crowd with all the charisma you expect from him. “I hope you’ve been enjoying yourselves.”

As he continues, you let your mind center on your body. Keeping yourself present, but counting your breaths and feeling the steady pulse of your heartbeat. Rope uncoils. Instructions and explanations fall to a rapt audience.

Chase walks over, turning his back to the crowd to face you. He smiles. “There’s my good girl,” he says just for you. Your lips stretch, preening at the compliment.

He cups your cheeks, tilting your face up. His lips descend to press a kiss to your forehead before he finds the bite of his rope and begins.

The rope slides over your exposed skin. Each caress precise, purposeful. Chase works quickly, but pauses every so often to address the audience again or check in with you. Your arms lift. You bend and submit to the way he moves your body. The rope cinches too tight. You wince. Immediately, Chase corrects it.

Around and around, you’re bound. Your thoughts quiet, steady and calm. The last knot ties everything together and Chase steps away.

Another speech before he positions you and the hooks pull taut. You breathe deep, preparing yourself. Your body rises from the stage, suspended. Like you’re flying. It takes a moment to adjust. Chase places his hand on your side, grounding you in the way you need. Your eyes fall shut. Blissful in the darkness behind your eyelids.

Chase stays nearby. He watches. The spotters watch. The people watch. You’re used to the appreciation. Admiring the way you hang from the ceiling, the way your body contorts to the shape of Chase’s vision.

Music begins to play through the studio. You hang like a piece of art. Whispers and conversations pick up until it’s the drone of a crowd filling the high ceilings. Talk about your dedication and grace. Discussion of Chase’s skill. Various mingling. But all the buzz of the background mellows in your head. Your blood flowing through your veins and the tension of the rope on your frame.

Chase brings you down earlier than usual. He lowers the rig and starts to untie you, except for the final ring that keeps you hooked. You stay there for a few minutes until he’s certain of your stability.

All the while, he begins your favorite part. His hands pet over your limbs. The blood already pooling under your skin, creating tender contusions. He whispers words of affirmation and praise. You savor the bliss of his aftercare and feel exhaustion’s tug.

The spotters dissemble the rest of the rig and release you from the final tether. Chase’s arm wraps about your shoulders and the two of you exit off the stage to wind your way back to your room.

It’s quick, habitual work for Chase to prepare the futon for your nap. And you sink onto the bed with a sigh. The mattress dips beside you. Your Dom strokes his hand over you head. As always, he insists you drink electrolyte water and eat a little snack, each presented to your lips by his own hand.

“You did so good for me, li’l bird,” he whispers, coaxing you toward rest. “Just close your eyes for me and I’ll let you sleep for a while.”

You hum in response, knowing he’ll stay beside you until you’re under. A thought drifts toward the surface before it escapes your grasp, floating away from you until it’s gone and you’re asleep.

By Monday morning, you’ve forgotten the encounter with Ransom Drysdale, too distracted by your weekend to remember an insignificant meeting. Pleasantly fuzzy feelings and bright spirits follow you in your drive to the Thrombey estate. But it all evaporates when you turn toward the house and see Ransom standing there, leaning against one of the porch columns. A grimace twists his lips and his arms fold across his chest.

“So, you’re grandad’s research assistant,” he says with a derisive edge to his tone.

“Morning, Mr. Drysdale,” you return on a whisper, waking past him and into the house. Ignoring the derogatory sting of his remark.

His brow furrows and he follows. You take off your coat and scarf, hanging each with care in the entryway. The whole time, Ransom’s stormy presence grows increasingly agitated behind you. When your feet turn toward the kitchen for a calming cup of tea, you take only one step before finding yourself flailing and dragged backward by a strong arm clutching at your waist.

The hard wall of Harlan’s office digs into your back. But you would take that discomfort if not for the fire flashing in Ransom’s eyes.

“Your grandfather is waiting for me,” you say without inflection, staring at him and waiting for his tantrum to cease—for him to get bored and release you. “Please let me go.”

His lips screw up in disdain before he responds with an decisive, “No.”

You keep your breath even, refusing to let him get under your skin. Hoping you haven’t unintentionally gotten under his.

“Tell me how you came to be Harlan’s assistant.”

You don’t reply. The hallway clock ticks. Your nerves spike as it continues, knowing Harlan expects promptness.

“You’re being quite rude, pigeon,” he says after a tense minute, stretching his arms to brace against the wall, keeping you cornered but elongating his body in a spectacle of power. He leans close, invading your space until his breath brushes your cheek. “Why don’t you coo for me? I would hate to have to contact my Uncle Walt at the publishing company and get your position filled by someone more…friendly.”

A swallow clicks in your throat. “Mr. Drysdale, your grandfather hired me himself, and I’m not directly associated with Blood Like Wine Publishing,” you explain in clipped syllables, clinging to your calm while he looms closer.

His brow quirks in intrigue and his lips press into another smirk. Words form on his tongue. But as the stairs creak at someone’s approach, they remain unspoken.

“There you are,” Harlan calls from the stair landing, peering into his office. “Come along, dear, time to get to work.”

His eyes flash to his grandson, a sharp look challenging his obstructive position. Ransom meets it and they lock gazes for a charged moment. You take your window of opportunity for what it is, surging forward under Ransom’s left arm. In the space between his frame and the wall paneling, you squeeze through. Though your body drags against his and your balance falters, you get past. Ransom grunts in displeasure and protests, but you march your way upstairs following your boss.

“Be careful of him,” Harlan warns in a whisper as you pass him along the stairs.

You nod and continue on. A final glance over your shoulder confirms your suspicions. Ransom remains planted in place, jaw ticking and arms crossed. His attention focuses on your retreating figure, brow furrowed in thought—a glint in his eye you instinctively fear.

In. Out. You focus on breathing. A steady cadence, a calming exercise. Your safety and escape with the ropes biting into your flesh.

This week pushed your limits. Every day affected by unease—following like a burning gaze. You’ve seen little of Harlan’s grandson. Yet every time you feel yourself tipping into that unsettled state, you find your thoughts turning toward him.

In. Out. Now is not the time to think about it. Not when you don’t have to. Not in this state. Suspended above the mats. On display. In. Out. Focus. It works, mind drifting on the softy syllables of Chase’s conversation with a curious patron. Grounding you, guiding you toward peace.  

Until it returns. That burning prickle at the back of your neck. The paranoia. It sets your teeth on edge. Despite your head being supported above your heart in tonight’s position, it becomes light, dizzy. Your eyes snap open, darting from face to face. Searching for his sinister features.

A flash—brown hair, sharp blue eyes, a regal sloping nose, a tan coat. It’s just a glimpse, but you meet their eye and see the beginnings of a smirk. Your vision swims. The studio blurs. Your heart pounds in your ears. You swallow, throat dry.

A croak escapes your lips. Chase’s concern meets your panic immediately. The spotters step forward, but his form eclipses your view of the rest of the studio—the crowd, the figure hidden amongst them—first. Your Dom reaches out to you and steadies the unconscious flail of your limbs. His fingers stroke across your skin. Slowly, it calms you. Your fear receding in the surety of his presence.

“Do you need to come down?” he asks, ready at a moment’s notice to lower you back to the ground—cut you out of the rope, if need be—and sweep you away to the safety of your room.

“No,” you say after a minute and a few deep breaths. “I thought…” Your words trail off in a mumble as you shake the silliness of your concerns away. It couldn’t have been Ransom. How would he know about this? It’s your mind playing tricks on you.

Chase examines you a moment longer before conceding with a wary nod. He steps back, letting the flood of the room rush back. Your eyes close again to force your way back down to comforting darkness. In. Out. In. Out.

Yet the evening becomes soured by that one moment. Chase’s distance expands like a chasm between you as he unwinds the rope from your body and steadies your walk back to your room. His methodical aftercare lacks in a way that sears a hole deep in your belly. Though you can’t name why. You wait for his tenderness to make it all feel better, but it doesn’t.

He settles you down on your futon and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. His eyes flicker with that same concern, but he says nothing more of it. Simply feeds you your snack and tilts your water past your lips. They slosh uneasy in your stomach, but you follow your routine, praying for some solace.

His muttered praises do little to coax you toward rest. Fidgeting and turning over and over, you body thrums even as you feel the weight of exhaustion. You close your eyes, forcing yourself to give in. Chase stays a moment longer before leaving you to the sticky blackness of sleep.

Though it’s not long until you’re disturbed. Like pulling you up through tar, you find the surface. Your reluctance to awaken keeps your eyes stubbornly shut, but the figure beside you strokes their hand over your head. You sigh and a small smile twitches at your lips. The touch soothes your soul.

“Chase,” you mumble on a sleepy murmur. He makes no response, but lets his fingers trail over your cheek. Your hand reaches out, grasping his and tucking it close to your chest. “Stay with me til I’m back asleep?” A yawn punctuates your request. He says nothing but stays beside you. His legs stretch alongside your body. And he makes no protest when you half-consciously scoot closer, letting you cling to him for the first time as you sink once again.

Harlan’s warning rings constant in your mind, “Be careful of him.” But there is no careful—there’s no more safety, no escape. Because you weren’t wrong. That figure in the crowd, watching you and sending you spiraling toward panic—that was Ransom. Following you again and again to the studio. Each week struggling to find a way to bring it up with Harlan, and failing. Each weekend spent suspended with Ransom’s eyes piercing through you.

You’ve tracked his approach, stalking closer and closer to the stage with each passing week. His eyes never leaving you. Not concerned with whatever Chase says. He has his focus. And it never wavers.

He doesn’t glare or glower—his observation far from menacing. Though foreboding still blares at the back of your mind each time your gaze meets. And you cannot stop yourself. Hanging from the rigging, you always find him. Your heart always lurches before you cut away the room by closing your eyes.

You drift awake, rested from your nap. Your phone proclaims the time and you groan at the early hour before sitting up on your futon and stretching. Muscles protest in the most delicious way and your lips tilt toward a grin. With a roll of your neck, you stand to gather your belongings into your duffle so you can return home.

The door to your small room clicks behind you. A step, two, and you catch a dark figure in you periphery. Your bones jump and you gasp. Turning toward the intruder, you clutch at your heart. Your diaphragm starts spasming, hiccups bobbing up your throat.

“Who,” you hiccup, “Who’s there?”

They step forward, their head bent and hands hanging by their sides. The glint of the ring on his pinky catches the light. You lick your lips and hiccup again. A hand presses to your abdomen hoping to calm the convulsions of the muscle.

“Oh, pigeon, did I scare you?” His mirth grates on your thin tolerance. He doesn’t do anything technically inappropriate during the demonstrations, but this confrontation is.

“Mr. Drysdale,” you say with a heavy breath, trying to swallow around the hiccups. “Why are you here?

Amusement continues to dance bright in his eyes. You’re just waiting for him to start laughing at you. Like there’s a cosmic joke to which you aren’t privy. But you’re willing to wait while he explains himself. All the while starting to feel sick from the incessant hiccups—and maybe something more.

“Let’s just say I have an itch I need you to scratch,” he replies with a teasing shrug.

“That doesn’t explain much, Mr. Drysdale.”

His jaw ticks and the amused light in his eyes dims a fraction. He shifts on his feet and stands straighter. The glint of a gold watch shines in the light. You swallow at the reminder of his status and your precarious position in the hallway with him—the ways this could spiral unpleasantly numerous and beginning to swarm in your head. A thought of Chase materializes in your mind. His bedroom nearby but too far all at the same time.

“Call me Ransom,” he suggests, though even the way his head ticks to the side reads more as a command than counsel.

“Right,” you mumble with a hint of disregard—too focused on yourself, your position. Your eyes dart around the cramped hallway, looking for an escape. “What do you want?”

He hums, deep and threatening in his throat. “You.” The statement simple. Yet it rocks your world—sends you reeling and off-kilter. But he continues, “You see, I can admit you intrigued me on our first meeting. Especially after Harlan refused to tell me much about you other than your job title.” He sighs and takes a step closer. In retreat, you press yourself to the wood of the door. “Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since. And I need to fix that.” His arm cages you in, resting beside your head as he leans forward, crowding into you. “So,” he says, drawing out the word. His chin dips and his voice lowers to a whisper. “Name you price.”

Your chest jumps in another hiccup, voice jumping with it when you yelp, “What are you talking about?”

A smirk twitches on his lips. “I’m a very wealthy man. I need one night to get you out of my system.” His breath brushes your cheek. “Name. Your. Price.”

You sputter, mind whirring. You’re not naïve. You know for what he’s asking. You used to consider it, when the rent wasn’t adding up—before Chase, before Harlan. But not with someone like him. Your tongue swipes over your lips. His gaze continues to wander over you, examining you like a slab of meat.

“Five hundred thousand dollars?” The number, plucked from the air, grits past your clenched teeth in hopes it will deter him.

He grins and gives you a sliver more space to breathe. “Done.”

You gape in shock. Such an easy agreement. “Wait—”

“Do you want more?” His fingers tickle along your throat while his brow quirks in curiosity.

Your head shakes, vehemently against it. “No. I don’t—”

“Then, what’s the problem, pidge?” His voice husks, a moment away from descending upon you. The glimmer in his eyes hungry.

“I don’t want you,” you reply. The force of your statement knocks him back. His head tilts and his jaw ticks in irritation. His gaze narrows. “I wouldn’t want you for a million.” You push at him, but he doesn’t budge. Too strong, too firm.

His nostrils flare with his ire. A deep breath expands his lungs, pressing his chest to yours. He closes his eyes and calms himself. When he captures you again with his sapphire blue eyes, they’re softer. The sharpness dulled for his plea.

“Look, pidge,” Ransom croons. Sweet as pie but far too deadly. “It’s one night. That’s all.” He backs away, though he keeps his touch close by, ready to swoop back in and strangle you. “You’ll get one million dollars, alright? I never bother you again—never show up to this dump, never meet you at granddad’s. You’re done with me and I’m finally done with you. Got better things to do anyway.”

He lets you think. The moment stretches taut between you. Your hiccups the only disturbance.

“I’ll never have to see you again?” you ask, wary of his answer.

He grins, triumphant. As if he’s already won—which he has. A million dollars can do a lot for you. Clear most of your debt. Make your paycheck stretch further for a little while. Maybe give you a little cushion for a rainy day.

“When?”

“Oh, I knew you’d say yes.” He smirks and trails his fingertips over your cheeks. You turn your head away but he follows, ducking to catch your eye. “You made the right choice. I’m gonna give you the night of your life.”

Air expands your lungs and escapes in a steady hiss. Another hiccup interrupts the stream and you close your eyes in frustration. Lips press to your cheek. You jerk away, startled.

“I’ll text you the details, pidge.”

He leaves, his business concluded by sneaking a pat to your ass. The hallway expands around you once more and fills with your precarious relief.

The door looms too tall before you. You eye the keycard slot. Check the time on your phone. Another minute passed. You wonder if he knows you’re here. Your hand rests on your abdomen for a moment, calming your nerves. Your other reaches out and swipes the card. The light blinks green. You breathe deep, open the door, and stop right in your tracks.

There in the center of this great, grand hotel room sits Ransom cushioned by a big black leather chair. You swallow hard and glance over your shoulder. Your heartbeat flutters anxiously in your throat. You take a step back. Fingers cling tight to the doorknob. You clear your throat.

“Well,” he hums with a twisted grin, “there you are. I guess it’s true—amazing what some people will do for a chunk of change.” He eyes your position, still straddling the threshold and clutching at the doorknob. “You gonna try to run?” His brow quirks and he stands, relaxed and unconcerned. His hands shove deep in his pockets, but his sweater sleeves sit folded up near his elbows. “I thought you were braver than that, pidge.”

With a defiant tilt of your chin, you step forward and let the door close behind you—accepting his challenge. It brings a smug grin to Ransom’s face, but you ignore it by setting aside your bag and toeing off your shoes.

“How are we going to do this?” you ask without looking at him. “Do you have some kind of contract? Or will oral negotiations suffice?” You grab a small notebook from your purse and the attached pen, releasing it from its holder and clicking the cam down.

The scoff and eye roll you receive in reply sets your teeth on edge. Ransom shakes his head and says, “we’re not going to do that, no matter how fun oral negotiations sound.”

You blink. “But—” you begin in your shock before closing your lips and clearing your throat to gather your thoughts. “I realize this is for one night only, but it’s important—”

“You’re right,” he interrupts with a wave of his hand, turning his back on you and meandering around the back of the chair. “This is only for one night. We don’t need all that boring shit. I want to fuck you, not exchange friendship bracelets.” As he comes around to settle on the cushion, he tucks something beside him you can’t catch. “Now.” He leans forward. You stare, entranced by the confidence of his movements. The way his fingers clench on the arms of the chair and his chin tilts. “Get on your knees.”

They threaten to buckle at the command, but you stand firm. Still uncomfortable with this little exchange, you’re not yet ready to start. Not like this. Your tongue lashes out to lick your lips, eyes darting about for something to prolong the conversation. Another question to ask, another point to make.

“Will you listen if I safeword at least?” you ask as your toes tap on the floor in a nervous rhythm. The notebook in your hand crinkles with your grip until you place it and the pen back in your bag.

“You have my word,” Ransom promises, hand pressed—sincere or mocking—to his chest. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Not exactly.”

He chuckles and shrugs. Whether his word means anything, you don’t know. All you know is that he’s not getting any more patient. He nods toward his feet, the open place between his knees.

You take a moment to gather yourself and find that safe space in your head, taking slow steps to approach him. Watching him—wary of any sudden shift. The fluffy carpet meets your knees when you sink down. Closing your eyes, you concentrate on steadying your breath.

Ransom waits—for what, you couldn’t guess. Until he rasps, “Open your eyes. Look at me like you look at him.”

Your eyes snap open and meet his. “Like him?”

But he simply holds up a pair of padded cuffs, dangling from his index finger. “You want me to stop, you say ‘Hugh’. Understand?”

Your head bobs in a nod, keeping eye contact. “Yes, Mr. Drysdale.”

In a flash, he grips your chin with his free hand. His fingers dig into your cheeks, anger flaring in his gaze. “You. Call me. Ransom.”

You swallow hard at the abrasive grit in his tone. “Yes, Ransom,” you respond with a stilted nod.

“Good,” he hums in satisfaction, “I prefer good girls.”

The tension drips away as he releases your face. Fingers scratch at his jaw and he stretches, relaxing back into the cushion of the chair. The cuff chain clinks, drawing your attention. His follows, lips twitching toward a smirk.

“Now, can we begin?” he asks with a raise of his brow.

“Yes, Ransom,” you reply, resisting the urge to drop your gaze. Unsure of what reaction might await at such a disregard for his request, but unwilling to risk a punishment—not from him.

“Give me your hands.”

You offer them up, blood vibrating in your veins. He holds them gently despite his prickish nature. The cuffs wrap around your wrists, latching snug to your skin. Perfect—not too tight or too loose. You stare at them. The detailed leather work. The minky lining. The safety buckle ready to release at a moment’s notice. They’re quality, expensive—an indication of forethought, research, commitment.

A weight lifts from your shoulders. The nerves buzzing inside you start to disperse. With a final pat to the leather, his hands stray to explore your body. He traces the curve of your lips. He feels your pulse throbbing at your throat. He cups your breasts and kneads the flesh until your breath hitches.

“Just like that,” he purrs while toying with you. “You’re gonna sing for me, aren’t you?” He plucks at your nipples through your shirt, staring you down to drink in your reaction.

You swallow a whimper—needy and plaintive. Thoughts flurry in your head tinged by heat. Submission tempts, at odds with an insistence on remaining in control. He catches the hesitance when your teeth worry your lower lip. He clicks his tongue in disappointment, and your heart lurches.

He lets the silence settle around you both, reclining back and taking his touch with him. A minute ticks by. His attentions drift over you, searching. Only he knows for what. Your lungs draw in a steady flow of air, each calmer than the last. Your hands itch in impatience, craving contact. Your fingers flex toward him. The chain rattles.

Ransom reads something in that sound and tilts his head, lowering his lips to yours. You blink, unsure of your boundaries with such intimacy, but he swallows any protest with a kiss.

You expect it to be harsh and demanding. Clacking teeth and a suffocating intrusion. That’s not what you get. The way he kisses you like a lover locked in a forbidden embrace between the stacks of an old library—sensual, passionate, and all-consuming. Letting you taste a hint of his hunger, his desperation.

Your bound hands raise to cup his jaw. Drawn to him like a magnet. Because this is the best you’ve ever been kissed. Sure, you’ve been kissed by amateurs, by creeps, by lovers, but nothing like this. It’s addictive.

Without meaning to, you sigh your delight against his lips. His twitch toward a smirk, even as he licks into your mouth and drinks you in. His hands cradle your throat and tilt your head back. The dance between you a delicious exercise of control.

With one last brush of his lips to yours, he draws away. Your head floats, hazy with the sparks of lust ignited by his kiss. Unconsciously, you follow his retreat, leaning up to him like a flower seeking the sun.

He stands, a slow movement that breaks your hold until your falling hands rest upon his thighs. He stares down at you, a conceited pleasure glinting in his appraisal. But you’re past the point of caring or becoming peeved by his superior attitude. You just want him to kiss you like that again. It’s only for one night anyway, what does it matter if he’s proud of himself for making you his plaything—or that you think you’ll enjoy every minute of it.

“Up,” he beckons with an outstretched hand.

You place your hands in his and rise. He squeezes and saunters toward the bed. A noise of approval rolling in his throat, observing your body.

“We’ll need to fix this,” he says with a gesture. You glance down—the plain tee, the jean shorts, your socks. He steps forward, pressing his lips to your ear. “You wear something special for me, pidge?”

You swallow, but can’t answer. Voice stuck in your throat.

“That’s okay,” he coos, playing with the collar of your shirt. “I’ll see soon enough.”

Fabric falls from your body. It pools on the floor at your feet. Your gaze falls with each article of clothing. Exposed to his scrutiny, you stand in your best lingerie set. Thinking he should get what he paid for, you’d donned it but now find a seed of apprehension blooming in your belly. Another thing he’ll nitpick or tease.

“Look at that,” he rasps, hand smoothing across your waist and gripping you close. Your feet stumble over each other and you brace yourself against his chest. “So pretty and just for me.” His fingers pluck at a bow on the front of your bra.

A shock of arousal hits you at his praise, leaving your knees weak. Gripping at his shoulders, you try to support yourself, and his eyes shine with amusement.

“You like when I talk sweet to you, pidge?”

He spins on his heels and takes you with him. With another stumble and a toss, your back bounces on the mattress. You gaze up at him, eyes wide as he chuckles and undoes his belt. With a snick of his zipper, he releases himself and strokes his cock. And, god you hate to admit it, it’s a thing of beauty. You meet his eye and feel the heat crawling up your cheeks.

He quirks his eyebrow and dips his chin. You push yourself clumsily to kneel before him on the soft mattress. His fingers trace your lips until your tongue licks over them. He smirks and leads you down with a firm hand.

The first tentative taste of his flesh sends a shiver up his spine and a breath puffing from his lips. You kiss his tip, eyes locked with his. His cock twitches. He growls and urges you forward until he enters your mouth and rests on your tongue. You purr around him and begin in earnest.

A few bobs of your head work him back as far as you can manage. Eyes close as you focus on your task. Head drifting on greedy waves of sensation and muscle memory, you swallow him further and further. Listening, yearning to hear how you affect him. Drool pools on your tongue, stimulating every part of him it can reach. Part of you wishes you might have your hands free, if only to feel him. Urge him further toward release.

His hips buck against your face and you gag. But he keeps you steady, a guiding hand pressed to the back of your head, gripping and massaging your scalp.

“So cute,” he muses with a brush of his fingers over your forehead. “Look up at me, li’l birdie.” Your eyes flutter open, waterline wet with the start of tears. Ransom smiles down at you and winks. You hum around him. His head falls back on his neck with a groan, abdominals flexing as he pulls you off and up. A weak noise of protest escapes your lips, plump with blood from the stretch of his cock. He pants, tongue darting out to lick over your swollen flesh. “Not bad,” he comments with a tilt of his head. “But I think I’m ready for a bit more, aren’t you?”

With a hand smoothing across your throat, his other lowers to find the apex of your thighs. A twist and pinch, a rip and your panties fall away. His fingers free to explore the most intimate part of you. You whine at the squelch of your arousal. The slickness shamefully copious as he plays with your pussy and grins. He hums in delight, but doesn’t say anything. That sound enough of a gloat to humiliate you.

“I can’t help it,” you protest, brow tilting pathetically.

“Oh,” he croons, smearing his lips across your cheek, “I know.” The gentle mocking of his words pierce through you. You huff in pitiful indignation.

His fingers pinch at your lower lips and your hips jolt. He barks a laugh, but his touch turns nicer. Stroking over your folds and swirling around your clit. Your breath hitches. The sensation curling in your belly, building your pleasure. Teeth nip at your pulse point, startling you. Ransom chuckles against your skin and begins to suck.

You’re weak with him. The prick of his teeth and the soothing swipe of his tongue mingling with the skill of his fingers. Filling your head until you can hardly think. Moans and gasps build in your chest, too persistent to ignore. Just as you reach the precipice of your climax, though, Ransom stops.

He grips your chin with sticky fingers, pecks a kiss to your gaping lips, and smirks. “Not yet.”

Once again your back finds the mattress. You stretch out, bones jelly and blood thrumming. You crave release now. More than you can say, leaving you only able to reach out as he strips off his sweater and jeans.

A chiseled Adonis he is not. Muscles flex beneath skin supple with just the slightest layer of cushion borne from a life of luxury and indulgence. So when he descends and pins you to the bed, you feel it against you—his strength and softness.

He slots himself between your thighs, pulling them up to his hips. His cock finds its place, slicking itself against your sex. You sigh and loop your bound hands around his neck.

You bite back a “please,” but he sees it shining in your eyes and denies you. Content to roll his hips. Each thrust knocking the head of his cock against your clit until you whine and wriggle beneath him.

“Don’t be like that, pidge,” he says with a mocking pout, swiping a thumb over you cheek where unbidden tears fall from your eyes. “I’ll let you have what you want.”

With the slightest shift, he prods at your entrance. Bare. You breath hitches. Hands grip at his hair.

“Protection!” you protest at the last minute, surfacing from the lusty daze with fear in your eyes.

Ransom takes it in stride, continuing his persistence. “What for?” he asks with another roll of his hips. A delicious, sparkling sensation skitters up your spine. “I’m clean, you’re clean, you’re on birth control. Right?” The drawl of his voice accompanies his descent toward your neck. Another nip and suck of your skin as you reluctantly nod. He reaches a hand down between your bodies, gripping his dick. “Then there’s no problem here, pidge.”

You whimper, “I—”

He thrusts into you. The stretch divine. His gorgeous cock filling you inch by inch until you ache. A moan rips from the depths of you, a wounded sound of pleasure. Your eyes squeeze shut, sweat dotting your brow. How can a douche like Ransom Drysdale feel so right when he’s inside you?

He pauses, eyes squeezed shut and chest heaving. “Fuck,” he hisses beneath his breath. Your own hips roll in an attempt to adjust, but his hand lashes out to stop you. His grip tight. “Squeezing me like a vice, pidge.” The husk of his voice, the strain, the need dripping from each word, it sends a shiver down your spine.

“Ransom,” you plead with a gentler tug at the roots of his hair, “please move.”

His eyes open, the blue tinged dark with desire. His lips part around a shuddering breath. Finding his composure, he tilts his hips, filling you just that little bit more until you gasp. “I’m gonna fill you up just right. Don’t you worry your pretty little head.”

There’s not a moment more to prepare yourself before he begins fucking you. The drag of his cock against your walls enough to make an endless stream of sounds dribble from your lips. You grip him for dear life. The clap of your bodies filling the room with your moans and heavy breaths.

Ransom takes and takes, filling you and grinding against you until your vision blurs. You cum on his cock, screaming your release. Your knees squeeze his sides. You cling to him. Yet no matter how he ruins you, he keeps going. To sate his own pleasure, to see you crumble just a little more, to chase some ineffable desire.

It takes him longer. The stutter of his hips, the warmth of his cum flooding you. You mewl, hips shifting at the sensation.

“Hold still,” he commands, gripping your face with one hand.

His other travels down your body. Pausing to play with the sensitive beads of your nipples. You squeak. But his true destination lay between your thighs where he keeps himself nestled. Your clit throbs with your pulse, overstimulated and tender. You tense, bracing for whatever his plans.

He plucks at the aching bundle of nerves despite your every twitter of protest. Smirk plastered on his face. His intentions clear as he rips another orgasm from you and another. Letting you milk his swelling cock with your sex.

Your tongue swipes across your dry lips. Knowing by the wiggle of his hips he prepares himself for another round—one that will surely be a delicious torment. Your head shakes, arms tightening around him. Hoping your silent pleas will be understood. Already overwhelmed by the night’s exertion.

But he starts again, pleasure gleaming in his eyes every time he knocks your aching clit with his pelvis. You reel with the sensations scourging your body. The way the pain washes over you with the sweetest hint of pleasure. That hint just enough to keep your mind searching for more. Clinging closer and rolling your hips in tandem with his.

Your head lolls on your shoulders, sure to keep your eyes locked with his. Knowing he might stop if you let them wander just a moment—both needing and dreading that brief reprieve.

“There we go, that’s what I’m looking for,” he purrs staring deep into your glassy eyes.

Sweat dampens his chest, pressed against you as he cages you in with his weight. His fingers lift, two of them prodding your lips and delving into your mouth. Your tongue tangles with them, teeth nipping his knuckles. You swallow around them and they withdraw, trailing a cool line of saliva down your throat. His wet fingers trail beneath the cups of your bra, pinching at the tender buds. A raw moan rises out of you at a particularly wicked thrust of his cock. And another. You shudder, an unstoppable wave of pleasure ripping through you and leaving you in a fit of pained euphoria.

But Ransom says nothing more. A look shining in his eyes, thoughtful and indecipherable. If you could contemplate the dawning of such a look, you might. Though, with the rush of your own orgasm flooding your head, the stutter of his hips and the spill of his cum, you’re lost. He falls off you with a grunt, sprawling across the open area of the bed.

“Shit,” he mutters to the room. Sweat glistens along his skin and musses his hair. His chest rises and falls with deep breaths. A hand wipes over his face. You might have taken offense to the utter disbelief radiating from him, if so inclined.

Instead, you rise, prising through the quick release of the cuffs. Emptiness and pain halts your movement. An ache between your thighs that plucks its sweet agony. No choice but to push through it.

As Ransom recovers, you gather your things. Aftercare far from your thoughts. Willing to face any possible repercussions yourself and in your own space. You dress hastily, intuition begging for retreat. Knowing that another moment with him might cement something inside you. Something you know will only end in pain and disappointment.

Each step, each movement he follows with his eyes. They burn into you. Whether in anger or some other resentment, you don’t know—don’t need to know. Slipping your shoes on at the door and gathering your bag, he says nothing to stop you. You pause with your hand on the doorknob and glance over your shoulder. He continues to rest on the bed, body gloriously lax, and stares. Quiet and contemplative. You leave him there.

All thought of the money forgotten. No. All you want now is to escape that seductive lure he offers. You pray he’ll keep his word. That you’ll receive what he feels he owes. You’ll manage with what you’ve got until he does and start forgetting this night ever happened. Move on, work with Harlan, perform with Chase—lead your normal life.

You rush from the hotel, cool morning air slapping you in the face. You stop and tilt your head back. Your regret washes over you. Your lips press together, holding it back. Keeping it at bay.

The trek home stretches before you. Tenuous hope growing that you’ll never see Ransom Drysdale again, even as you feel the fierce burn of a gaze at your back.

[saber-slutt]

It Just Makes Sense (Cad Bane x F!reader) 18+

Hey gang! A fic with smut! Who cheered!

Anyways, 18+. I’ve decided that my whole blog will be 18+, so please block me if you’re a minor, thanks!

≽^•⩊•^≼ Warnings: Smut, m receiving (f receiving in next chapter), female reader, dirty talk, mating cycles, Cad Bane

≽^•⩊•^≼ Please leave criticism! I’ll take anything, I just want to improve at writing

Cad Bane liked to consider himself above the primal instincts that resided in the core of every being. He was a hunter, of course, but a sophisticated one. That’s why this time of year, in the weeks leading up to his mating period, he was rather irritable. Quick to snap at Todo, reserved towards you, and overall angrier. It sucked. For you, specifically. You had only known Bane for a few rotations. You met him as you held a lot of information on one of his bounties, and you helped him catch the guy (rather gleefully, too, that man had stolen many credits from you). Bane took some pity on you, as your life resembled a lot of his youth, and invited you to work aboard his ship for a while. Your smarts and beauty would surely come in handy in trapping and luring potential bounties. And it had. But maker, you were wishing you could go back in time and not take this job. Credits be damned. Looking at his beautiful face be damned. Bane was being a dick. And he was getting worse everyday.

You had sympathy at first. You knew Duros mating periods were rough. You couldn’t imagine what it would be like to not feel like yourself, and giving into something that wasn’t you, but still, somehow was. But right now, Bane was taking it too far. He acted as if you couldn’t do anything right. Ship maintenance, cleaning, cooking, it was all wrong to him. And he brutally vocalized his displeasure. Your patience was wearing thin. Just one more week, you thought as you bit back your tongue from his recent snap, (“I don’t know why ah’ took you aboard, you can’t even clean a damn window right!”) just one more week until he’ll be down for a week in a pheromone crazed episode. Then I’ll be free from him, and he’ll come back normal.

You sighed as you sat back in the copilots seat, hesitantly turning to Bane. “Listen, your mating period is coming soon. Do you have any plans? Where are we gonna stop and wait, while you, y’know?” you began.

“Shuddup. Ah don’t wanna talk bout it with you.”

“Come on, please? It’s getting close now. You’re not the only one this affects. I really know nothing, and I need to make some plans. Do you need help with arrangements?”

“Ah don’t need your damn help! Jus’ stay out of the way and stop bein’ an idiot,” he shouted, before stalking out of the cockpit to his quarters.

You turned to Todo, whispering, “Is he always this much of an asshole before his mating period?”

Loud footsteps charged back into the cockpit. Oops. Not whispering quietly enough. You couldn’t even react before long fingers wrapped around your throat and lifted you from the copilots chair to standing on your tip-toes.

You gasped, while he growled, “You have no idea what this is like. I’ve handled it for almost thirty years before you, and I will handle it after you. Unless you want me to fuck you for a week straight, I suggest you be silent and stay out of the way.”

You only stared back with wide eyes.

He dropped you back into the seat and stalked off again. You didn’t dare to breathe.

Four days had passed since that incident. You hadn’t spoken to him. You knew he would never force you into anything, but he had also never been physical with you. He had scared you, plain and simple. You sighed as you sat on your bed in your quarters, fiddling with a sweater you were knitting, feeling rather bored. One of your favorite pastimes was annoying Cad Bane. But now, you were confined to isolation. Worse yet, you still had no idea what his plans were to take care of his mating period. Which was a problem, considering it was three days away. He was also becoming antsy (sexually). You had never heard him take care of himself before; he once joked that jacking off requires more effort than just walking into the nearest bar and finding someone to suck him off. You had heard him a few times at night in the past week, groaning and growling through the walls. You felt a wetness between your thighs at the memory. Maker, you wished you could hear him groan and growl in your ear, hands wrapping around your thighs as he spread you wider, pounding into you at a merciless pace as you could only whimper-

“Hey, lil’ lady,” Cad Bane interrupted your thoughts, standing in your doorway. You jumped out of your skin. “There’s a brothel on Nar Shaddaa that caters to species mating periods. We’re going there soon. You can just lay low on the ship for the week.”

You didn’t say anything, a look of fear etched on your face. You prayed that he didn’t suspect what was just running through your mind. Hopefully, he would leave soon, before his olfactory organs could pick up on your pooling wetness.

He sat down on the edge of your bed.

Shit.

He raised his head to the air, eyes closing, and basking in the scent of the room for a moment. “Doll, you can’t do this so close to. . . it’s unfair.”

You stayed quiet and wide-eyed, truly not knowing what to say next.

“Ah’ could really go for a lil’ taste, right now.”

You sucked in a breath, “Bane.”

He moves closer, taking your face in his fingers and forcing you took look at him, “It’s takin’ everything in me not to jump you right now, and pin you down while I fuck you so hard you can’t stop screaming,” he growls, before backing off as quickly as he had started toward you, “Course, then I wouldn’t let you leave, and you’d be stuck with me for a week.”

You were breathing heavy now. Lust clouded eyes meeting Banes’ own. His self control was truly impeccable. Three days, give or take, before he would enter a pheromone-filled, sex-crazed episode, and he was restraining himself.

“I’m setting a course for Nar Shaddaa,” he growled, standing, leaving your room and slamming your door.

Maybe a few months earlier, you would’ve left it at that. But you had grown closer to Bane, and you trusted him. And truth was, you were worried about him. Unlike Cad Bane himself, you were open with your emotions, and you wanted him in good hands during what you knew was a difficult time for him (also, the prospect of him undressed and wrapped up with someone else send jealous pangs through you). You maybe, possibly, had a tiny, itsy-bitsy crush on the Duros. The moment you laid eyes on him, you were down bad. And spending a few months in close proximity with him did not alleviate these feelings. You decided that you would proposition him for his cycle. It just makes sense.

You walked nervously into the cockpit. Cad Bane was sitting straight as a board in the captains chair, staring out at the hyperspace blue illuminating the front windows.

“Cad,” you started, the name foreign on your tongue. You didn’t call him by his given name, out of an unspoken sort of respect, but now you needed to truly, truly, speak with him.

“Go to your room. Now.”

You let out a shaky breath, “Listen-“

“If ya stay here any longer I can’t be held responsible for what happens to ya. It’s here earlier than I thought,” he drawled. “I want ya to go to your room and lock the door. Don’t let me in no matter what I say. We won’t make it to Nar Shaddaa in time, because I’ll be fully under in a few hours.”

“And what? You’ll go through it alone?”

“Yep. Grab some food and water for the week.”

“Wait, just wait, what if I do it?” you questioned, a bit frantically.

He said nothing, scoffing at your hasty proposition.

“I’m serious! Everyone knows how bad Duros breeding cycles can be. If you don’t have someone, you’ll be in hell. I don’t want that,” you pouted.

Internally, Cad Bane didn’t want to argue. The image of you under him, face twisted up in pleasure and completely at his mercy was difficult to pass up. But it’s a lot to ask of someone. You’d be exhausted by the end of it, bruised and busted. He’d get to reap all the benefits from it; a week of pleasure with a pretty person. Not to mention the possibility you could get pregnant, which neither of you could handle. But still, you were offering, and he’d be in hell otherwise.

“You understand what that entails?” he queried.

“Yes, sir,” you spoke softly. He shifted.

“Still, der are some things you gotta be clear with.”

You were feeling brave now. “Okay, but, what if we take the edge off first? Before we go through the details” you questioned, eyes gesturing to the bulge in his pants. He straightened up again, silent as all hell but letting out a curt nod, signaling his approval.

You lowered yourself to your knees. He watched you intensely, but remained unmoving and stiff. Gingerly, you undid his fly and pulled him out, already hard. You looked up at him with doe eyes, before kitten-licking his tip. He shifted and lightly hissed at the contact, bucking slightly. You licked again, and again, gradually licking longer stripes, as Bane’s resolve dissipated.

He growled, “Put me in your mouth. Stop teasin’ me.”

You complied. You were unfamiliar with Duros anatomy. His cock was long and ridged, and almost indigo in color. Maker, was he long. You felt a gush of liquid between your thighs at the fact. Surely, you’d see the bulge in your stomach when he split you open.

You worked Bane’s cock like your life depended on it. You bobbed your head up and down, hollowing out your cheeks and applying slick pressure with your hands where you just couldn’t reach. Filthy, wet sounds filled the room as you occasionally let him hit the back of your throat, tears welling in your eyes. You let out a couple of whimpers, which based on the way he growled and bucked in return, he greatly appreciated.

“It’s gettin’ close doll,” he let out in a strained voice, “swallow all of it.”

You whimpered in response. Cad Bane’s self-control snapped. He grabbed the back of your head, fingers wrapped up in strands of your hair, and forcefully guided you up and down his cock, moving you so fast you didn’t have time to breathe. Tears fell from your eyes. With barely a grunt as warning, he came, spilling past your tongue and down your throat. He held your head on his cock and didn’t allow you to move, forcing you to drink every last drop, moaning before each time you swallowed. And maker, was there a lot of his cum, and you knew it would definitely spill out of you in the future. Finally, your mouth slid off Bane’s cock, a strand of spit connecting your lip to his to his tip. Panting, you look up at him. Expecting to see a sated Bane, instead you were met with an even more lustful stare. You felt heat rise in your cheeks.

“Not bad, lil’ lady,” he began. “But I’m still hoping for that taste I was talkin’ about earlier.”

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

If You Met Me First - Rooster

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw / Warrant Officer!Reader (Callsign: Echo)

Word Count: 3.0k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warning: Confession of Feelings; Seemingly One-Sided Feelings; 'In Love with Someone Already in a Relationship' Trope; Bar Fight; Physical Fight; Threats of Violence; Not Healthy Relationship Dynamics; Jealousy; OC Boyfriend of Reader; Rooster Isn't Innocent Either; Female Reader with Callsign (Echo)

Summary: Rooster confessed to Echo that he was in love with her before the mission. One minor problem: she has a boyfriend.

A.N. This was inspired by "If You Met Me First" by Eric Ethridge, if y'all wanted to set the mood while reading this.

Part 2

Master List

Rooster leaned on the standing table on the edge of the Hard Deck, staring over at Echo in the corner. The warrant officer, who also just happened to be the love of Rooster’s life, was chatting with her boyfriend, Luke, who came to visit her after the Dagger Squad was officially stationed in Miramar for the foreseeable future.

“Stop looking at her like that, or he’s really going to knock your lights out,” Phoenix warned Rooster, keeping her voice low. “I’m serious, Bradshaw.”

Rooster broke his stare at Echo and turned to Phoenix, who shot him a knowing look in return. Rooster let out a light scoff and shook his head at her before reaching for his beer.

“Stop fucking around with her,” Phoenix continued, not letting it go. Not with that look in Rooster’s eye. “She’s in a relationship. With another guy. Not you.”

“I’m aware, Nat,” Rooster huffed, taking an aggressive swig of his beer.

“Evidently not.”

Phoenix glanced over at Luke and Echo, studying their interaction for a moment, before turning back to Rooster. Her gaze hardened a bit. She was growing tired of having this conversation over and over again with Rooster. The man wasn’t going to lose hope. Phoenix wasn’t even convinced that Echo actually getting married officially would. Not really.

Look at Maverick and Penny. The tenacity was in Rooster’s blood.

“You’re lucky that he hasn’t knocked your front teeth out for telling Echo that you’re in love with her.”

“You know that she told him?” Rooster asked, tapping his fingers on the table.

“It’s Echo. Of course, she told him. You know how much she values honesty,” Phoenix muttered, shaking her head at Rooster.

“I was just being honest. We all thought that we weren’t coming back from that mission,” Rooster doubled down, even if it made him into a bigger asshole. “I don’t regret telling her how I feel before the mission. I don’t.”

“And how would you react to some other guy telling your girlfriend that he was in love with her?” Phoenix countered, causing Rooster to look away. “Exactly. So, drop it.”

“I really do appreciate the reminder,” Rooster muttered, kicking at the ground.

“Rooster, you . . .”

Phoenix trailed off when she spotted Luke and Echo in the middle of a disagreement. Fanboy and Bob, who had been sitting with them earlier, seemed to have slipped away to the bar to get refills, leaving Luke and Echo by themselves. Luke was clearly agitated and Echo was trying to calm him down, but she seemed to be failing at that.

Because Luke stood up from the table and started stalking over to Rooster with a fairly murderous expression on his face.

“Oh shit,” Phoenix cursed, straightening up.

Rooster, however, maintained a sense of calm and stood at his full height when Luke reached him. Luke was fairly well built, but Rooster did have a bit of a height advantage between them, which only seemed to stoke Rooster’s own ego and ignite Luke’s fury.

“Can I help you?” Rooster asked sarcastically, squaring his shoulders.

“Luke,” Echo called, hurrying after her boyfriend. “Stop it. Now.”

“It’s fine, sweetheart,” Luke replied, instantly causing Rooster’s blood to boil. “I just have to ask him one little question and then we can go.”

“Luke, this isn’t funny,” Echo demanded, grabbing his arm. “Let’s just go home.”

“Did you tell her that you loved her?” Luke snapped, ripping his arm out of Echo’s grip. “Back before this ridiculous mission that you all worked on. Did you tell her that you loved her?”

“Whoa, whoa, fellas,” Hangman drawled, sauntering over.

He wore an amused smile, but it was clear by the glint in his eyes that he wasn’t playing around. He could sniff a bar fight brewing between Luke and Rooster and he was quite sure that it was going to be a fight to the death. And, so, the best thing for everyone was to prevent a fight from breaking out in the first place.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Because the second that Penny glances over here, she’s going to throw both of you out on your asses,” Hangman continued, gesturing over at the bar.

“Yes, thank you, Hangman,” Echo spoke up, grabbing Luke’s arm again. “Which is why we should just home, Luke.”

“Do not escalate this,” Phoenix warned Rooster. “They’ll pull your wings if you get in a fight.”

“Come on, let’s go,” Echo tried again, tugging on Luke’s arm. “Please, Luke.”

“Don’t play so fucking innocent,” Luke snapped, rounding on Echo. “I saw the way that you look at him.”

“Don’t fucking yell at her,” Rooster demanded, coming to Echo’s defense.

“Bradley, I don’t need—” Echo told him, which only set Luke off again.

“—Why do you call him by his first name, but not anyone else here?” Luke countered, causing Echo to frown slightly.

“Why did you even come here if you were just going to yell at me the whole time?”

“Because I’m trying to fight for our relationship, which you seem to have given up on. Because he,” Luke jabbed a finger in Rooster’s direction, “told you that he loved you and you got all fucking confused because you like him and you just won’t admit to it.”

“I’m with you, aren’t I?” Echo replied, standing up for herself. “And you know what? He did. But I turned him down and told him that I just thought about him as a friend because I was committed to our relationship. And if that’s not good enough for you, I don’t know what you want me to do. I can’t control what other people do.”

“I want you to look me in the eye and tell me that you have zero feelings for him,” Luke demanded, gesturing over at Rooster.

“That’s fucking ridiculous—”

“—Do you love him?” Luke interjected, causing Echo to glance over at Rooster. “Do you love him?”

“I don’t love him,” Echo replied, her tone and expression completely unconvincing. And the glance that she shot in Rooster’s direction all but sealed the deal.

Luke, his assumptions confirmed, whirled to face Rooster again with his fist clenched. And, in seemingly slow motion, he raised his fist, about to swing to break Rooster’s nose. But luckily, for Rooster’s sake, Hangman was faster than Luke.

And that was when chaos broke out.

Hangman all but tackled Luke to the ground to prevent him from swinging at Rooster, which immediately alerted the bar to the ruckus, if they weren’t already. Echo was about to step in to try and get Luke to stop but Fanboy, who she knew for the longest time, came up behind her and dragged her away from the scene before she could get hurt.  

Phoenix yelled at Rooster to stay back as Coyote ran over to help out Hangman with Luke. The bell rung and Maverick arrived at the scene with Payback right behind him. Bob hurried around Maverick to help Phoenix with Rooster while Maverick diffused the situation.

“Stop, or we’ll call the fucking cops,” Maverick warned Luke, who simply glared up at him. “Are you alright, Hangman? Coyote?”

“Not my first bar fight,” Hangman returned, keeping a tight hold on Luke.

“You’re all such fucking sell outs,” Luke cursed, glaring up and around at the Dagger Squad. “If any of you were in my position, you would understand where I’m coming from.”

“That’s no reason to throw a punch and start a bar fight. Talk it out like adults. And you owe Echo an apology for your conduct,” Maverick scolded Luke. “Are you alright, Echo?”

Maverick, the rest of the Dagger Squad, and Luke glanced up for any sign of the warrant officer, but Echo was nowhere to be found. And neither was Fanboy. Bradley looked around frantically for any sign of Echo when Payback cut through the tension.

“I’m going to make a call,” Payback stated, pulling out his phone and stepping away.

“Take him outside,” Maverick snapped, gesturing for Hangman and Coyote to throw Luke out onto the sand for starting a bar fight. As Hangman and Coyote dragged Luke away, Maverick rounded on Rooster, who was still tense. “What the fuck is going on, Bradley? Telling Echo that you’re in love with her? What were you even thinking?”

Rooster opened his mouth to speak, but Maverick quickly cut him off with a wave of his finger.

“Don’t you dare,” Maverick warned Rooster, serious.

“It was right before the mission,” Rooster mumbled out as Bob and Phoenix finally released him.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Maverick sighed, rubbing his face tiredly.

“I heard from Fanboy. He took Echo to a safe place,” Payback announced to the remaining Dagger Squad. “But he’s not saying where that is.”

“To me, you mean?” Rooster guessed, causing Payback to shoot him a look.

“Who else?” Payback replied, somewhat coldly. “I’m going to meet them with the rest of their stuff.”

Payback walked off as Hangman and Coyote returned from outside, having deposited Luke onto the sand, and made sure that he left on his own accord. Rooster slumped down into his seat, holding his head in his hand, as the rest of the Dagger Squad stared at each other.

“Shots?” Hangman suggested nonchalantly, earning an immediate smack on the arm from Phoenix.

~~~~~

On Monday, the Dagger Squad reported for duty like normal. But the dynamics were clearly off.

Fanboy spent the duration of their classroom time glaring holes into Rooster’s head. Phoenix seemed to still be on Rooster’s side on things, but more on a technicality than anything else. It was clear that she still thought that he was an idiot. Payback, who knew Echo through Fanboy, also focused on glaring at Rooster with his WSO.

But the most startling difference was the fact that Echo wasn’t standing beside Hondo like normal.

It ate away at Rooster for the entirety of the day, until he found his boots leading him towards the offices. Passing various personnel, Rooster burst into Maverick’s office without so much as a preamble knock.

“Bradley, what—”

“—Where did Echo go?” Rooster asked, causing Maverick to sigh.

“Bradley—”

“—Please, Mav,” Rooster begged, sounding desperate.

Maverick slowly looked up at his godson. Frankly, with all the escapades that Maverick had during his life, he was really not in any position to criticize Rooster for his choices. But Maverick knew better than to mess with an existing relationship. Hell, he attended Penny’s wedding, even if he felt like someone was repeatedly punching him in the gut through the whole ceremony.

But seeing just how desperate and quietly broken up Rooster seemed to be about it, Maverick relented.

“She asked for a transfer. Filed the paperwork with Cyclone and it got approved immediately. She’s no longer part of the Dagger Squad. Not officially, anyways.”

“What?” Rooster breathed out, feeling his heart crawl up his throat. “Where is she going?”

“I don’t know, Brad. Really, I don’t. But, you should—”

Before Maverick could finish speaking, Bradley had already turned and ran out of the office. Glancing at his watch, Rooster ran through scenarios in his mind and sprinted faster through base with a set destination in mind. He spotted Fanboy and Bob walking out of their specific WSO training and made a beeline over to them.

“Fanboy!”

The WSO in question turned at the sound of his callsign, but immediately frowned when he spotted Rooster running over to him. It seemed that he still wasn’t a fan of Rooster after the shenanigans from the weekend. Bob and Fanboy shared a look before Rooster finally stopped in front of them. Though he was a little out of breath, Rooster quickly got to the point.

“Echo’s transferring?”

“Yes, she is. Because someone couldn’t keep their mouth shut,” Fanboy snapped, causing Rooster’s chest to cave in just a little more.

“Where is she transferring to?”

“I’m not telling you,” Fanboy replied defensively. “You’ve put her through enough.”

“I know I have, okay!?” Rooster yelled out, probably a bit louder than he intended. “And now I’m trying to fix it before she runs off and I never see her again!” Breathing rapidly, Rooster took a step closer to Fanboy, who continued to glare at him. “Please, Fanboy. I just . . . I just need to tell her that I’m sorry. I need the last moment that I see her to not be her crying because of me . . . okay?”

Fanboy stared evenly up at Rooster for a long moment. He noted the dark circles under Rooster’s eyes, the slightly fidgety way that he stood. The way that his breathing was still rapid and uneven. He looked like he was in rough shape and rightfully so, in Fanboy’s personal opinion.

But Fanboy never liked Luke and after what Echo confessed to him last night, he wavered for a moment.

“Her flight leaves in a little over an hour. Terminal 2. If you’re fast enough, you might be able to make it to see her before she leaves.”

“Thanks, Fanboy, I—”

“—Move, dumbass! You don’t have time!” Fanboy yelled, gesturing towards the parking lot. “What the hell are you waiting for? Go!”

And without another word, Rooster turned and sprinted off.

~~~~~

Echo was sitting by her gate, just scrolling on her phone. She had been texting back and forth with her mom, updating her on her flight so that she could pick her up from the airport, when she saw a familiar mustache hurrying down the hall.

With her heart nearly beating out her chest, Echo stood up from her seat and stared down Bradley, who seemed to instinctively feel her gaze on him. Still dressed in his flight suit, Rooster spun around to see Echo.

Calmer now that he found her before her plane started boarding, Rooster walked over to Echo, a softer expression on his face. Echo wrapped her arms around herself and stared up at Bradley, trying to keep up a face of calm.

“Hey,” Rooster breathed out, stopping in front of her.

“Hey,” Echo returned, just as awkwardly.

Rooster opened his mouth to speak, but he seemed to immediately lose his train of thought. Breathing in and out rapidly, Rooster stared down at the ground for a moment. Finally turning back to Echo, Rooster seemed to finally find the words.

“I just needed you to know . . . that I’m sorry,” Rooster replied softly, causing Echo to nod. “I . . . I didn’t mean to confuse you and I didn’t mean to put you in that position.” Echo nodded slowly, pursing her lips together nervously. “It was my fault. And I’m sorry, Echo. I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you,” Echo spoke softly. She glanced down at the ground before turning back to Rooster. “I’m sorry about Luke.”

“Don’t apologize for him. He’s responsible for his own actions,” Rooster stated, causing Echo to nod slowly. “He left you alone, right?”

“He left me a nasty voicemail and sent me a video of him with some other woman, so I’m pretty sure that’s over and done with,” Echo replied quietly, not looking that broken up about it. “I . . . we made it work for a lot longer than we should have. I should have broken up with him a long time ago.”

“I . . .” Rooster paused for a moment. “. . . won’t comment on that.”

Echo breathed out a quiet laugh and looked away from him for a moment. Turning back to Rooster, Echo stared into his soul, and Rooster stared right back at her, practically bowling over with how much he was drawn to Echo’s physical presence.

“Flight AA79344 will begin boarding shortly. Passengers, please . . .” the gate agent announced, shattering the moment.

“You’re not going to tell me where you’re being stationed, are you?” Rooster guessed, causing Echo to nod softly.

“I just need some space and some time. For myself,” Echo replied, causing Rooster to nod.

“Of course.” He glanced over at the gate before turning back to Echo. “But, if you . . . if you change your mind or clear your head . . . I’m all ears, Echo.”

“I know, Bradley,” Echo returned genuinely.

Pulling him into a hug, Echo buried her face into Rooster’s chest, memorizing the familiar feeling and the mix of gasoline and his faint body wash. Rooster rested his head on top of Echo’s own, holding her as close as he possibly could. He didn’t want to let her go. And she didn’t want to let him go. Not when the both felt like they finally found a bit of peace.

“We’d like to welcome our passengers who are active-duty service members to board.”

Reluctantly, Rooster released Echo, who took a step back from him. Gently cupping his cheek with her hand, Echo smiled painfully, rubbing his cheek with her thumb. Rooster grabbed her hand with his own for a moment before she slipped away. Echo walked up to the till with her backpack and scanned her ticket. Shooting Rooster one last pained smile, Echo headed down the tunnel for the plane.

Rooster watched, in near physical pain, as the plane backed away from the airport and turned for the runway. He stood there until he watched her plane take off and fly out into the great blue sky and didn’t turn away until he couldn’t make it out among the clouds.

Finally turning away from the glass, Rooster tried to discretely wipe his tears away before heading for the exit.

Part 2

[threadsun]

Hi I've been stalking your blog and had a cute idea for head cannons with bo and jack- since jack can at least somewhat read mcs mind, and bo is always listening, what if they heard mc realize their in love with them? Like just an ordinary day and out of no where the realization dawns on them that their in love- cheesy I know but it's too cute not to imagine bo hearing mc whisper "holy shit I'm in love with a tamogatchi..." Or sunshine thinking to themselves "oh my god...I'm in love with jack..." No pressure, just figured something sweet and cute would be a nice change from the Horny™ asks-

Oh that's super cute!!! I definitely love the horny asks, but I don't mind doing something sweet for a change!!!

Content: being listened in on/having your thoughts read

Bo:

You're not sure exactly what it was that made it dawn on you. Maybe it was the fact that you'd turned down plans with your roommate three nights in a row now to spend time with him. Or maybe it was the way you blushed when you thought about him. Or, perhaps, it was just the bubbling happiness in your chest every time you closed your bedroom door behind you so you could take him out to play.

Whatever it was, the realisation seemed to creep up on you slowly, and then hit you all at once like a pile of bricks. It leaves you standing in the middle of your room, staring blankly at the wall as you try to process your feelings.

"I'm in love with him." You feel every shape your mouth makes keenly as the words come out. "I'm in love with my DachaBo... what the fuck..."

The words hiss from your throat like releasing steam, but it's loud enough for him to hear you from where you've left him face down on the bed.

You love him. You love him. After all this time, all this waiting and loving you and trying to get you to love him back... You love him.

The realisation blooms like a flower in his chest. The relief, the joy, the... euphoria! Of loving and being loved, finally, in return.

You love him.

Jack:

It's something you've sort of been chewing on for a while now. Your feelings for Jack. It's hard to parse what's friendship and what's love, what's platonic and what's romantic.

It's not easy to do. This man came into your life and changed everything. You've gotten into a solid routine, begun eating more balanced meals, started going outside more and generally taking care of yourself. How can you tell what's love and what's just immense relief and gratitude that he's made your life so much better?

The distinction comes to you clear as day. Out of nowhere, you understand. Standing in the yogurt shop, trying to imagine making a life with anyone but him, it hits you. You're grateful he's helped get your life together, sure. But you do also love him.

If you could get rid of him and keep the habits, you wouldn't. It's not the habits you love. You appreciate them, sure. But its his company. His kindness, compassion, humour. That's what you love.

Your heart softens at the thought, eyes straying for just a moment to the ghost sitting on the counter behind you before returning to your walnut chopping. You love him. You really, really love him.

Jack feels warmth spread through him, joy and comfort. You love him. You love him, and you don't want to live without him. And that's all he needs.

Because he loves you too.

[gaysindistress]

When Night Comes - Eighteen

Summary: Who would win in a staring contest? New York’s resident mob boss and master of the side eye Bucky Barnes or the daycare teacher who really wants to go home and smoke?

pairing: Mob!Vampire!Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: cursing, major character death(s) again, Alix is in this one so that's a whole warning in itself, angst, like a lot, enough that I want to give Bucky a big hug now.

Word count: 2.9k

Seventeen | masterlist

a/n: AND WE'RE DONE! When Night Comes is finished! I'm so thankful for all of the love and support as usual! I don't have anything lined up next so if anyone has any requests, send them my way! xoxo to all of my lovelies!

tag list: @cakesandtom @elizacusi-blog @unaxv @hidden-treasures21 @buckybarnessimpp @vonalyn @thebuckybarnesvault

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest

Fear strikes into Y/N’s heart when she sees the people standing in the doorway.

Peggy, Alix, Thor, and Loki file into the room one after another while Luca and Ana Cristina grab ahold of her arms. Their grip prevents her from getting out and running however the thought barely crosses her mind. Y/N knew that even if she did manage to get out of their grasp, any one of the four traitors before her would catch her. Running for her life naked through the house while dripping water would not make for a successful escape so she stays put. Her anger replaces her fear and the boiling water feels like it has replaced the blood in her body. Whatever hate she felt for Alix increases tenfold with the help of the generational rage that has been stored in her body. She doesn’t even notice that she’s being held down anymore because she’s too focused on Alix, the creator of her nightmares and reason for her life of running. Y/N hadn’t seen this demon of a woman in five years but nothing has changed. She is still tall and lean, her long braids piled on top of her head give her a towering appearance. Her face is still somber and rigid from the years of bad deeds she’s done. She’s duller than before, thanks to the stress of trying to find Y/N but her eyes are what catches Y/N off guard. 

They’re gold. 

A yellow gold unlike before. 

The same yellow gold that a Lycan’s eyes become when they turn. 

Against her dull and lifeless face, the contrast is horrifying and gives her an inhumane like mien. That alone is enough to make Y/N break eye contact but she refuses. Even the simple act of breaking eye contact will feel like an act of submission to Alix and that is something that Y/N can not give to her. 

“There’s my baby girl,” Alix mocks her as she circles the tub like a predator stalking its prey. 

“What are you doing here?” she asks Alix. 

“Use your brain. What do YOU think I’m doing here?”

Y/N doesn’t answer right away. 

“Cat got your tongue? I’ll just tell you,” Alix says as she keeps circling Y/N, “Your little witch friends agreed to help me kill Bucky in exchange for you.”

“What do you mean in exchange for me?”

“They get to keep you since apparently you’re some important doppelgänger. I quit listening after a while.” “I thought you wanted me for yourself.”

Alix shrugs, “I did but then I found you that caught feelings for that Strigoi bastard so now I could care less what happens to you.”

Y/N chooses not to answer and when Alix is behind her again, she turns her angry eyes to Peggy who is not shy in her joy. A smirk is painted across her face and it sends a dagger right into Y/N’s heart. 

Y/N leans forward enough to make sure that Peggy knows that she is the object of her words and spits out, “How could you? After everything that Bucky has done for you, for Steve, for your son. How could you betray him like this?” Peggy’s smirk falters at the mention of her son, “That man has done nothing but cause my family pain. He’s made Steve his servant, murdered my best friend, and put my son in harm’s way too many times to count.”

“You are to blame for my murder.”

A gust of wind causes the candle’s flames to flicker and a pressure fills the room, making it feel tight and cramped.

“You were the one who was supposed to protect me and you didn’t,” Y/N says but there’s a hollow look in her eye, “You were supposed to go with me that day but you were too busy sleeping with Dorian Wright to come and that’s why I’m dead.  If you had just left Steve like you told Dorian you would then I would still be alive.”

Ana Cristina and Luca glance at each other but neither make a move. The gust of wind had been anything but normal and the two witches fear for the outcome. 

“They were after you that day, not me but you know that.”

Peggy’s eyes open wide in fear and she stumbles backward but Y/N doesn’t stop, “You used the fact that the Wright gang had tried to kill me in the past as an explanation for my death as a way to cover up your affair. You used the curse that my husband sold his soul for to cover up your affair and now you’re trying to fix your mistake via the worst plan I have ever seen. How exactly does siding with the great granddaughter of your paramour and my murderer achieve what you want?.”

Peggy goes to defend herself but Y/N will not have it and interrupts her, “How does this plan make any sense, Margaret? It most certainly won’t free you from your guilt nor will it end well for you. If it’s freedom that you’re after, THIS will end with you running for the rest of your miserable life and facing that eternity completely alone. Steve will not forgive you, your son will not remember you, Bucky will not rest until you have paid for your betrayal, and I will let you forget what you did.”

Y/N slumps forward, breathing raggedly like she had run for miles and silent tears stream down Peggy’s face. Alix, Thor, and Loki to each other for answers but none can produce one. 

“What the fuck was that?” Alix demands Ana Cristina and Luca. 

The two bring Y/N to rest against the back of the tub and exchange silent words through glances. Ana Cristina provides an answer, “It appears that Celeste used Y/N as a mouthpiece.”

“Ghosts can do that?”

“Celeste is not a ghost, she is a spirit and yes when a witch with enough power dies, they can sometimes use that power to communicate with the living or,” she looks to Peggy, “to those who are neither living nor dead.”

“Is she going to do it again?”

Ana Cristina dips her head to look at Y/N’s face, “no. Y/N is not strong enough for that. Celeste won’t risk killing her doppelgänger and angering her coven even more to get revenge on Peggy.”

“Can we hurry along with the spell? I don’t want to give her a chance to try,” Peggy mumbles as she wipes away at the tears and straightens her back. 

Ana Cristina and Luca nod before gesturing to the other two men to come forward. Thor and Loki take their place next to the tub but Y/N grips onto the cook’s arm. 

“Please don’t do this. Please…” Y/N begs her, “Please, don’t let them hurt me.”

Ana Cristina puts her hand on top of Y/N’s, “It won’t kill you, I promise.”

With that she tears Y/N’s hand away and allows Loki to take her place. All trust that Y/N had placed in her or Luca shatters and spills out of her eyes as tears race down her face. She begins to sob and thrash against the men’s grip, pleading with them to let her go and to not hurt her. Ana Cristina tells Alix to join her at the table and starts to go over her portion of the spell. 

Peggy stays pressed against the wall, still reeling over what Celestse had said to her. Any and all emotions are racing through her as she tries to process it all but one thought sticks out; if Celeste could use Y/N to say all of that, what else could she do?

The answer of what else can Celeste do comes in the form of a vision to Bucky. On their way back from dropping Natasha and Wyatt off in town, Bucky lets out a howl of agony and Steve slams on the breaks of the car. 

“What was that for?” he asks as he starts to drive again, “Are you okay?”

Bucky takes deep breaths to manage the head splitting pain, “There’s something wrong.”

“I gathered that.”

“No there’s something wrong with Y/N. I think….I think Alix is at the estate.”

Just as Steve goes to speak, he sees Yelena usher a wounded Juliette into her car. 

“You’re right. Something is very wrong.”

Bucky nods as he grimaces and looks up to see the same thing. Steve is already calling Yelena and has confirmation of the worst. 

“Yelena said that Alix is at the estate but Y/N is safe because Ana Cristina and Luca are there,” he tells Bucky. 

“That means absolutely nothing to me because we’re not there. What I want to know is why the fuck Yelena knows that.”

“She said it was a long story but that we need to get back as soon as we can.”

“Bull fucking shit it’s a long story,” Bucky sneers and rips Steve’s phone from his hands, redialing Yelena’s number, “What the fuck is going on and why do you have Juliette with you?”

“Let go of me,” Y/N howls at Loki and Thor as she uses any strength she has left to rip herself away from them, “Let fucking go of me!” “Take her out and sit her in front of me,” Ana Cristina tells the two men who do as she says. 

The entire time they are lifting her, Y/N is kicking and fighting them until she manages to kick Thor in the chest. Having the wind knocked out of him, he drops her and Loki does the same in efforts to check on his brother. She makes a run for it and makes it to the stairs but Alix is quicker and looms above her, blocking any chance to get past her. 

“Silly girl,” she mocks her once again as she grips her tight enough by the arm to leave bruises. Y/N tries her hand at fighting again and when Alix turns to chide her, she spits in her face. Alix freezes and slowly takes a deep breath. The hand leaves her arm and threads into her hair as Alix yanks her down the hall by it.

“I forgot how fucking stupid you are when you’re mad,” she mumbles as she drags Y/N back to the group. 

“Be a good girl for once and stop fighting,” she snaps before throwing Y/N to the ground at Ana Cristina’s feet. Thor and Loki stare at her in disgust while Peggy refuses to acknowledge her. Luca doesn’t meet her stare and keeps his head bowed as Ana Cristina bends down to Y/N’s level. 

In her hand she has a bowl with a red paste in it and she dips her fingers in it to draw on Y/N’s skin. She’s singing under her breath as she starts the process of tying their lives to each other but doesn’t speak to the doppelgänger otherwise, treating her as though she is just the doppelgänger and not someone who’s come to care for. 

“Please,” Y/N whispers to her as she shivers and tries to hide herself from everyone around her, “Please don’t do this.”

Ana Cristina makes eye contact for a moment but breaks it and continues to sing while adorning her with paste markings. Luca hands her various other things needed for the spell; herbs, jewelry, and other pastes. They are finally complete in their decorating when a metal headdress that is dripping with chains, jewels, and coins is placed on Y/N’s head. Her naked body is covered in runes similar to those that Bucky wears and she smells of the earth thanks to the burned bundles of herbs. 

Luca helps her to her feet albeit both reluctantly and he squeezes her hands. She glares at him and pulls her hands away, hoping that the cold shoulder will hurt him as his betrayal has hurt her. Ana Cristina steps in front of her, takes Y/N’s hand, and begins to sing even louder with Luca joining in. A similar gust of wind to before causes the candle flames to flicker and the brothers join in on the singing. The candles got completely out and Y/N let out a loud gasp. 

The candles burst back to life and the runes on her body are glowing a bright red as another voice uses her body to sing along. Alix shifts uncomfortably next to Peggy as the voice grows louder and louder until it stops. 

The witches collapse onto the ground, leaving Y/N to stand on her own as the glowing runes start to dim. She opens her eyes which are a flaming red and fixes them on the two women before her. The voice from before speaks to them.

 “Alix Wright,” it says as Y/N walks towards them, stepping over the bodies around, “Your family is disappointed in you. All that you have done in the Wright name has been for your own gain. You have forsaken your sacred oath to serve and protect Lycan. You’ve chosen a human over your siblings and now those who you brought with you are dead. Their blood is on your hands, how do you plead?”

Alix looks wildly between Peggy and Y/N, fear fresh in her yellow eyes. 

“You’ve sanctioned the murder of your siblings and now you must be held accountable, how do you plead?” the voice asks again.

“How am I supposed to have been killed?” Alix asks, anger replacing her fear as she tries to square up to her.

Y/N rolls her flaming eyes and utters Alix’s death sentence, “You are guilty. Lumină pe foc.”

Fire spills from Y/N’s body and races across the ground towards Alix, licking up and consuming her whole. Peggys lets out a scream and jumps away from a burning Alix. She tries to run towards the stairs but Bucky, Steve, Yelena, and Juliette block her way. Bucky grabs her by the throat and throws her against the wall next to them. 

“What the fuck did you do?” he growls at her as the others flock to those who are still laying on the floor. 

“She attempted to usurp your position and cover up her betrayal by taking the side of your enemy,” Y/N answers for her. 

Bucky turns to look at her and meets her stare with shock. He recognizes the voice of Celeste but the woman standing there does not look like her nor Y/N. Covered in ritualistic runes and jewelry, she reminds him more of the witches that his father warned him of and the waves of childhood fright he instilled into him come crashing back. 

“She is guilty of treachery, murder, and infidelity. How do you plead, Margaret Carter Rogers?”

With Ana Cristina in his arms, Steve yells, “Not guilty! She’s not guilty.”

Peggy takes her chance and breaks Bucky’s arm before sprinting to her husband’s side. Bucky lets out a howl of rage and pain as he resets his arm. 

Steve looks to his wife and pleads with her to say she’s not guilty but she just offers him a sad look and kisses his forehead. 

“I plead guilty.”

Y/N smiles, “So be it. Binecuvântează-ți trupul, Strogori.” 

As soon as the words leave her mouth, Y/N goes rigid and collapses on the ground while Peggy begins to choke. Bucky rushes to Y/N, cradling her burning up body in his arms and whispering words of reassurance to her. Steve, on the other hand, goes to do the same to his wife but hisses in pain when he touches her. Peggy wails and sobs in pain as her skin begins to sizzle and crosses appear in the places where her skin is unmarred. He looks to Y/N in horror and back to his wife. 

“What did she do? Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop!” he shouts and his despair awakes Ana Cristina. 

She groans and shifts in Steve’s lap which draws his attention back to her. He begs her to help Peggy but she explains that she can’t. There is no way to stop the blessing process once it’s started. His horror grows even more as Peggy’s cries grow quiet until there is nothing. 

Thor and Loki slowly sit up as Ana Cristina drags Luca closer to her. Bucky is holding Y/N against himself while Yelena and Juliette stay huddled by the doorway. Peggy’s and Alix’s bodies lay motionless as Steve stares distantly at them. 

All is still and peaceful in the room. The only sounds that can be heard are the shallow breaths of those awaking and Bucky’s whispers.

“I love you, Y/N. I have always loved you and I always will. Te iubesc, T/N. Te-am iubit mereu și o voi face mereu. Mereu și întotdeauna.” 

Mereu și întotdeauna.

Always and forever.

Always and forever means endless nights and long days for people like Y/N and Bucky. It’s a promise of love everywhere and in everything. As her breathing remains shallow and his whispers become a song, their new love does not fade but grows for it’s the only thing it can do. It’s fitting isn’t it?

His lost love coming back to him years later only for her to then suffer at his hands the same way she had before. The cycle will continue.

Always and forever 

as it means in 

this life 

or 

the next.

[j0kers-light]

Hi Chaos! MASSIVE FAN of your work!

A little headcannon/short story idea (If you find it suitable and to your liking, of course <3)

We keep on hearing of how y/n interacts on social media- but what about the Joker? Does he have a secret account for fun, does he stay away from it or is there a third alternative?

Bonus! (In honor of Spotify wrapped coming out): What type of music genre do you think the Joker enjoys listening to?

Hey hi anon!!! 🖤✨

wow, haven't had one of these in a hot minute. I miss answering anon... 🥺🥺ANYHOO!!!

THANK YOU FOR BEING A MASSIVE FAN! I LOVES YOU MUCH! *opens up my docs so I can work hard to make content for mi sweet loving anon*

Let's get into it! Straight to the point because I can go into heavy detail AND I WILL. I WILL GO INTO HEAVY DETAIL! 👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾

First and foremost, Joker isn't addicted to modern technology like we are as a culture, this man is soooo old fashion it makes your eyes roll.

He doesn't see the appeal of TikTok or apps like Snapchat even if the filters make him all sparkly and look cool. He takes silly selfies with you if you beg him to and he lets you save some on your phone however; if he sees them anywhere else-- say goodbye to fun selfies forever!

He can't have any evidence of his real face floating around. Phones can be hacked! So you suggest Polaroids and Joker breathes a sigh of relief.

Get it? Polaroid? Just like in the infamous photo Joker snapped in the chapter Push and Pull! 🤭

If Joker uses any social media platforms, it’s in an anonymous fashion.

Joker is on Twitch because he's secretly a gamer but he doesn't use a cam. He loves stalking your personal blog and he's always going down a rabbit hole on YouTube.

You won't find him anywhere that requires a legal profile. Anything that can be traced back to him and most importantly you is a no go. He won't risk you being used as blackmail or worse.

He'll check your Patreon from time to time if you're a digital artist or something of the sort but other than that, his phone is used primary for communication with you.

Joker would rather leave behind sticky notes or his signature playing cards than send a text. He scatters the apartment with little love notes; it’s so corny but sweet.

Now on the other hand if you need assistance whether it be for a skit, making a reel, etc., best believe Joker will hold your camera for you, he'll help you edit videos, he’ll even direct the content so its the best on the internet!

He'll be so supportive if you're a content creator. Scratch that. Joker is supportive in everything you do!

Granted he doesn't understands a lick of social media or its lingo, he will go above and beyond to make sure your content is phenomenal.

Need a nice shot of the Gotham Bridge or a background of somewhere cool? Its mysteriously empty for your use...

Need good lighting for a quick reel? Joker is setting off explosions in the background. Fire is really good natural lighting... far better than a ring light. 👀

Whatever you need, say the word and its yours. Joker will get anything for his Light.

THAT BEING SAID! BONUS ASK ITS A TWO FOR ONE DEAL!

I think I answered a similar ask like this but I'll do it again because I love to answer questions!!

(I have a confession to make. I do not have a Spotify... so I can't do the viral wrapped thingy but I'm aware of it!)

I fully support Joker being older than you (teehee we stan mature older men around these parts!!)

That being said.. Joker grew up with good music like back when music meant something—not just mindless noise to add onto a video for likes.

He has an ear for jazz, crooner, classic R&B, and the occasional rock, heavy metal stuff if it has relatable lyrics (it channels his inner psycho don't judge him)

He cannot stand pop music or anything that's featured on the top 100's or played on repeat in a department store. He will stab someone over it. No questions asked.

If his Bunny is singing/dancing along to it he might make an exception because your voice is so soothing to him, it puts a different spin to the song. There's still a fifty fifty change he's tuning it out.

But he strongly believes all boy bands should be executed, no exceptions. That's where he draws the line.

Totally forgot I made a oneshot about Joker and music too!

Slippery When Wet lol...

Hope that answered your ask beloved! 🖤✨

[thefloorisbalaclava]

needs and wants [dave york x f!reader]

Pairing: Dave York x F!Reader Words: 4.4k Warnings: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE HEED THESE - divorced Dave (no infidelity here), some stalking, drugging (reader wakes up before Dave does anything to her), threats. This is FILTHY - kissing, spitting (like…lots of it), slapping, spanking, unprotected sex, rough sex, dirty names, dirty talk, spit as lube, anal sex, semi-clothed sex, oral sex, creampie, facial, face fucking, hair pulling, some D/s undertones, boss/employee relationship, power imbalance, slight daddy kink. Summary: Dave secretly lusts after you, so when you and your boyfriend break up, he seizes the opportunity to make you his. A/N: Decided to post this here for Kinktober. This is a little...more...than I'm used to writing, but Dave is the type of character that helps me get out of my comfort zone. Some of you have already read this on my private blog. Those of you who haven't, I beg that you skip this if the warnings above bother you. I rather not hear about how gross I am for exploring and experimenting with my writing and things I enjoy.

Dave would be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t been attracted to you as soon as he saw you. Of course, he had every bit of information he needed on you—early thirties, Master’s degree, living alone. You weren’t married, but something told him that you were taken. You were far too pretty not to be. As much as he wanted to be flirty with you, he had an image to maintain.

He gave you menial tasks that had you spending more time than needed in his office. Honestly, he just liked looking at you. Especially when you wore those little sundresses, he should be reprimanding you for that, but he enjoyed it far too much.

“What are you doing this weekend, Mr. York?” you asked happily, standing in front of his desk with your notepad.

“It’s my weekend with the girls,” he said with a small smile.

“Aww, I bet you’re a great daddy,” you said innocently but hearing the word daddy leave your lips had something stir within him.

“I do my best.” He was looking at his phone, pretending he wasn’t hiding a hard-on under his desk. “How about you? Any plans?”

“Yes. My boyfriend is finally taking me to that new restaurant in the city.”

Boyfriend. His nostrils flared, but he fixed his face into a friendly look. “Oh, I know the one. The food’s great.”

“I’m hoping he proposes.” You smiled dreamily, and Dave suddenly wanted to kill the man.

“What’s the rush?” he asked, putting his phone down to give you all his attention.

“Um…” You hadn’t given it much thought.

“Married life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” Dave said, gauging your reaction.

You shrug, then play with the hem of your sundress sheepishly. “You’re divorced, right?”

Dave was shocked he even heard your question. His eyes had followed your hand down to the hem of your sundress, where just enough of your thighs showed to make him wonder what would happen if he told you to pull the dress up for him. He met your eye and sat back in his chair.

“Yes, I’m divorced.” He wanted to see where you were going with this line of questioning.

“Did you fall out of love?” you asked, hoping he didn’t kick you out of his office for getting too personal.

“Something like that.” He noticed how you nodded at his response. “Why?”

“Uh…no reason. Just wondering.” You wanted to change the mood. “I could always set you up with one of my friends,” you joked.

He looked at you, and there was a dark glint in his eyes. “I have a feeling I wouldn’t be their type.”

“What is your type, Mr. York?” You tilted your head. He wanted to say you. He wanted to corrupt you and the innocent little aura you emitted. He wondered if it was all a front. If he told you to get on your knees and crawl to him right now, would you?

“Mr. York?” you repeated.

“Sorry. A lot on my mind.” It was true, but you didn’t have to know what it was.

“I’m sorry. Here I am running my mouth when I should be working.” You smiled sweetly. “Call if you need anything, sir.” You gave him a mock salute and walked out. Dave watched you walk, clenching his jaw and telling himself to stop silently.

He waited for you. He knew where the restaurant was. At first, he was going to get himself a table. Instead, he sat in his car, one you hadn’t seen, and did a sort of stake out across the street. He wore a beanie to cover his hair and dark glasses that hopefully disguised him a little more.

A car pulled up, and you got out of the passenger side. You were smiling, and your boyfriend walked over and put his arm around your waist. The dress you wore was sleek and sexy. Dave glared at the man with you. He wanted him to stop touching you.

Your dinner was uneventful. Your boyfriend didn’t propose; you two didn’t even have sex. When he dropped you off, you didn’t even bother kissing him.

“Bullshit,” you mumbled as you walked into your apartment.

Dave was watching. He could see that you were unhappy. He wondered what had happened.

“Trouble in paradise?” he mumbled to himself with a grin.

On Monday, you walked into the office in the worst mood while Dave was prepared to ask you how everything went, although he knew.

“Good morning, Mr. York,” you said as you walked into his office. You didn’t have the pep you usually did.

“Good morning. Everything okay?” he asked, feigning concern.

“Not really.” You shrugged as you handed him his black coffee.

“You wanna tell me about it?” he asked.

“My boyfriend and I are taking a break,” you told him, voice cracking.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he lied, standing and walking around his desk to you. You looked up at him and sniffled. “I usually don’t do this, but…would you like a hug?”

“Oh…” You had often thought about how his arms would feel wrapped around you. “Okay,” you said in a small voice. He hugged you, and his scent immediately enveloped you. You closed your eyes and melted into his arms.

Dave rubbed your back. You were so small in his arms. He liked that. “Feeling better?” he asked, although he didn’t wanna let go.

“Yes, sir,” you said against his shirt. Before you pulled away, you swore you felt something poking you. “Thanks, Mr. York.”

He stared at your pouty, plump lips and wanted to move in for a kiss and dip his tongue into your mouth just to see what you tasted like.

“You got it.” He touched your chin gently, and you just stared at him.

“How was your weekend with the girls?” you asked as he sat back down.

“Oh, it was great. Took them to the beach.” He pulled out his phone and showed you some pictures. You leaned in to see them better, and his eyes went straight to your breasts. He wondered what they looked like. Did you like them played with? He thought about how you would react if he put clamps on your nipples.

“Very cute,” you exclaimed.

“I was wondering if you mind staying late tonight.” His eyes drifted back to your face.

“Not at all. It’s not like I have anything else to do.”

“Thank you.” He smiled at you, and you smiled back before walking out.

You walked into Dave’s office after everyone had left. He was sitting at his desk, head in his hands.

“Are you okay, Mr. York?” you asked quietly.

He lifted his head and nodded. “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

“You look like you need a drink,” you said. You knew where he kept his whiskey. You walked to his desk, pulled out the lower drawer, and reached back to find the glass bottle.

“How did you know that?” he asked.

“I know more than you think, Mr. York.” You found the whiskey glass next, then poured him some.

How submissive, he thought. How would you react if he told you to drop to your knees right now and suck his dick?

“Aren’t you gonna have some?” he asked. “There’s an extra glass.”

“Um…”

“Come on. Live a little,” he urged.

“Fine.” You grabbed the other glass and poured yourself some, toasting him before drinking and feeling the warm burn in your throat.

You’re not sure how many glasses you had, but the bottle was nearly empty, and you both were a bit looser. You sat atop his desk, complaining about your boyfriend.

“The sex wasn’t all that great either,” you told him, and he laughed. “One or two positions.”

“Not enough for you?” he asked, pouring you another glass.

“Hell no. He wouldn’t even get rough with me,” you complained.

“Rough?” His cock sprung to life in his slacks.

“Yeah, you know, hair pulling, spanking, slapping…dirty names.” You finished off another glass. “Mmmm…”

“Good, huh?” he asked. He knew you had no idea that he had slipped something into your glass.

“Very good. I think I had too much,” you said, trying to move off his desk. You stumbled a bit, and he stood just in time to catch you as you passed out.

You woke to find yourself in an unfamiliar place. Someone else was in the room with you, but you couldn’t focus just yet.

“Don’t try to sit up too fast, sweetheart,” a familiar voice said.

“Mr…Mr. York?” you mumbled. “What happened to me?”

“Had a bit too much to drink,” he lied.

“Oh,” you whispered. You sat up carefully, and he passed you a glass of water. “You can take me home as soon as I finish this. I don’t wanna intrude….”

“You’re not intruding. You can stay the night if you need to.” He took the empty glass from you.

“I couldn’t possibly….”

“I insist,” he cut in.

You could finally focus on him—he had taken his tie off and undone a few buttons, and his sleeves were rolled up. Your mouth watered at the sight of his forearms. You rubbed your legs together.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“N-No, sir,” you mumbled. “Am I in your bed?”

“Yes.” He sat on the bed beside you.

“I’ll sleep on the couch or something. This isn’t fair to you.” You started to move, but he put his body in the way

“I would like for you to stay.” He was very close to you. So close you could smell his cologne. You looked down at his lips.

“Is this a good idea?”

“Of course it is.” He made no effort to move away from you. “You want to kiss me, don’t you?” he asked, and you felt that familiar rush go straight between your legs. It’s not like you haven’t thought about it…

“You’re my boss. It’s not appropriate.”

“Yes, I’m your boss, so you have to do as I say, right?” he asked, and you nodded slowly. “Let me see that tongue.”

You took a deep breath and stuck your tongue out. He grabbed the back of your neck and swirled his tongue against yours. You tried to move in for a kiss, but he yanked your head back and tsked.

“I just want your tongue for now.”

You stuck it out again, and you both licked and sucked at each other’s tongues until he pulled you away again.

“Be a good girl and open that pretty little mouth for me.” He yanked your head back again and then stood up so that he was looking down at you. He spat down into your mouth and then tapped your cheek. “Close and swallow.”

You did as you were told and blinked up at him innocently. He squeezed your cheeks, making your lips pucker. “You’re not as innocent as you look, are you?” You shook your head. “Yes,” he chuckled. “Boyfriend wasn’t rough enough for you.”

“No, sir,” you tried to say as he still held your cheeks. He leaned down and licked your lips, then let go of you.

“I followed you, you know? You and your wimpy ass boyfriend when you went on your date,” he told you.

“You did? Why?”

“Honestly? I wanted to kill the fucker because I want you for myself, but I practiced my restraint that night. I did do something a little naughty tonight, though.” He playfully grimaced.

“What?” you asked nervously.

“I drugged you,” he admitted.

“What?!”

“I wanted you here with me,” he said.

“You could’ve just fucking asked,” you snapped.

“Ooh, fiery little thing.” He smirked at you. “But if you talk to me like that again, you won’t like the consequences.”

“What are you gonna do to me?” you asked.

“I’m gonna fuck you,” he said calmly. “Give you what you’ve been wanting this entire time.”

You rubbed your legs together again.

“But first, you’re going to suck my dick or rather…I’m going to fuck your face.” He began to undress but left his pants on with the belt undone. He walked over and pulled you to the end of the bed. “Lie down, head hanging off the bed.”

“Okay…” You were doing this. You were about to suck your boss’s dick. When he pulled it out, you gasped audibly.

“Open up, sweetheart.” He looked down at you as he stroked his cock above you. As soon as you opened your mouth, he slipped his cock in. You immediately gagged, and he hummed, then chuckled. “You can handle it.” He began pumping in and out of your mouth, his balls hitting your face repeatedly.

You gagged again, but that only egged him on. He pushed in and stayed there as you choked and swallowed around him. When he pulled out, you sputtered, saliva dripping down your face.

“Fuck, you look good like that.” He was about to slide back into your mouth, so you lifted your head. “Greedy little slut, huh?” He started slapping you in the face with his dick. He slipped in and pushed against your cheek when you opened your mouth, making it bulge. He hit at the bulge, and you squeezed your legs together. He pulled it out of your mouth, and you gasped.

“Mr…York…” you sputtered.

“Shhh.” He moved so that his balls were near your mouth now. You automatically opened your mouth and sucked on them. “Fuck, you know what you’re doing, don’t you?” He looked down at you, nearly cumming from the sight of you tonguing his balls, spit covering your face. He hissed and pulled away.

“Mmm,” you whined.

“What are you trying to do? Trying to make me cum already, hm? Get up.” He grabbed you by your hair and pulled you to your feet. “I need you to be good. Can you do that for me?” His finger was pointed at your face. You nodded, but he pulled your hair more.

“Y-Yes, Mr. York.”

“That’s better. Now, get on the fucking bed.” He shoved you away, making you fall onto the bed. You crawled up to the headboard and waited for your next direction. “Get your tits out.”

You pulled the straps of your dress down and then your bra, revealing your breasts to him. “Hm. I knew it….”

“Knew what?”

“That you were hiding perfect tits under all those sundresses.” He crawled onto the bed and up to you, grabbing you by the neck to make you sit up against the headboard. He let you go, then slapped your tits before grabbing one and spitting on the nipple. You moaned quietly as he began to pinch it. Then he was pinching harder and harder. You grimaced in pain as he twisted and pulled. He moved his fingers away only to quickly replace them with his mouth, sucking and licking before biting down hard and pulling.

“Oh…fuck…”

“Spread your legs,” he said before clamping his teeth around your nipple again. “Knees up, slut.”

You were spread open for him now, but your panties blocked what he wanted to see. He pushed your dress up so he could see your panties.

“Aww, you’re all wet, sweetheart.” He rubbed at the wet spot. “Up,” was all he said, and you knew to lift your ass so he could get your panties down. He balled them up and then brought them to his face to sniff, stroking his cock as he did.

“Look at that pretty little thing,” he said, looking at your pussy. Now he was stroking himself with your panties. He squeezed himself so that a bit of precum beaded at the tip, then swiped his finger along his tip to gather it. Then he was rubbing your clit with his precum. You don’t know why that was so fucking hot, but it was.

“Spread it for me,” he demanded, so you used both hands to spread your lips. He gathered more precum, and this time he slipped the finger inside you.

“Oh my God,” you gasped. He slipped two more fingers inside, and you whimpered.

“Fucking tight pussy, but look at how easily you take your boss’s fingers.” He pulled his fingers out and spit on them before shoving them back in. Your walls pulsed and squeezed around his thick fingers. “Oh, someone doesn’t wanna let me go, hm?”

“Fuck…Mr. York…please.” You moved one hand to grab his wrist, and you moved with his fingers. “Fuck my pussy!”

“Look at you.” He smirked at how needy you were. “You’ve thought about this before, haven’t you?”

“Mmhmm,” you moaned.

“Yeah, me too. I wanted to put you on my desk and eat this fucking pussy until you cried. I want to bend you over and fuck your tight little ass until you beg me to stop. I’d even fuck you in front of your cuck of a boyfriend. Show him how a real man is supposed to fuck.”

For some reason, that sent you over the edge. “Fuuuuuck meeee,” you screamed. He kept finger fucking you so hard that it began hurting a little. You ignored the pain for the overwhelming sense of pleasure as you began gushing and squirting all over his fingers.

“Ahhhhh, look at you, you good girl. Such a good girl for daddy, aren’t you?” He finally pulled his fingers out, and your pussy clenched at nothing. “You made a mess all over my bed.” He slapped your pussy repeatedly until you were writhing.

“Please…please…”

“Fuck, look at how swollen that clit is.” He crawled in front of you, then grabbed your thighs, yanking you until you were flat on your back. He pushed your legs open and back so that your knees nearly touched your chest. “Gotta get a taste of this. What a pretty little clit,” he said before swirling his tongue around it. He began sucking it, and you saw stars.

“That feels so fucking good, Mr. York,” you moaned, looking down at him.

He pulled away from you, sucking your clit into his mouth until he couldn’t anymore. “You like when your boss eats your pussy? Yeah, I know you do, whore.” He pulled away from you, and you could still hear his belt clink. This man hadn’t taken his pants off yet. Maybe this was how he liked it.

You looked down and watched him stroke as he stared at your pussy. Then he looked at you. When you caught his eye, he smirked.

“That innocent look won’t work anymore, sweetheart. You just had my dick down your throat, my fingers and tongue in your pussy, and now you’re able to have my cock in there too. Be a good girl and spread those legs nice and wide for me…now spread that pussy too….”

You laid there spread open for him in every way. The head of his cock nudged at your entrance, and you whimpered. Before continuing, he spat on his dick and then on your pussy. He pushed in slowly, letting you feel every inch, every pulse of his cock.

“So fucking big,” you murmured as you watched him slide into you.

“God…fuck!” Dave growled as he slid in the last few inches. “What are you so fucking tight for, huh? Saving this pussy just for me? We both know your boyfriend wasn’t treating it right.”

He leaned over you, his hands on either side of your head so that his arms caged you. You were fascinated by the sinew of his forearms, the veins bulging with exertion. You looked up at him then, and he sneered before pulling out and slamming back in, making you cry out.

“Gonna stretch this pussy right out,” he said as he started fucking you. “Why are you so tight?” he asked again before slapping your cheek hard enough to make it sting. “Tell me you like it.”

“I…fucking…I love it, Mr. York,” you whimpered, feeling him push even deeper.

“Fuck, you fucking slut. Gonna make me cum in this perfect little pussy, hm?” He made sure you were looking directly at him before spitting on your face.

“Please don’t stop,” you begged, but he did. He pulled out of you with a growl, squeezing the base of his dick.

“I want your ass. Now.” He flipped you onto your stomach roughly, then used your dress, which was now bunched around your waist, as a handle to pull your ass into the air. “Anything ever been in here?” he asked as he spread your ass cheeks and then played with the tight ring of muscle.

“No, sir.”

He spanked you. “Good answer. You must’ve known you were saving it for me.” His tongue swirled around your ass before you felt his spit land on your hole. He eased his finger past the tight muscles, feeling you pucker around it.

This went on for a few minutes, with him adding another finger when he felt like it. You were grateful that he had at least done that for you. He seemed like the kind of man who would shove his dick in and not care if you were in pain.

“This might hurt a bit,” he said happily behind you, pushing his cock into your ass already. You cried out into the pillow, grasping at the sheets as he inched himself inside.

“Mmm, my ass,” you cried out into the pillow.

“What was that?” he asked, already fucking you slowly.

“Fuck my ass,” you said, turning to look at him over your shoulder.

“Shit!” he said through his teeth. Suddenly, his hand was holding your head down against the pillow as he began moving faster, harder. “Fuck, this ass is mine. It was meant to be mine,” he groaned, moving in and out of your ass easier now.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you moaned.

“Fuck yeah. I’m gonna cum in this tight ass.” He slapped your ass hard. He pulled out suddenly and chuckled behind you. “Look. At. That.” You felt him spread your ass cheeks. “Nice and stretched for me. Your gaping hole is clenching around nothing, waiting for my cock to be in there again.”

“Mr. York, please,” you begged.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Want you to cum in my ass. I wanna know how it feels. Please,” you cried. Seconds later, he was in your ass again, pumping fast, his balls slapping against your ass. You could feel the cool metal from his belt buckle against the heated skin of your ass. “Fuuuuck…right there.”

“Yeah, you like that, huh? Gonna cum in this tight ass.” He growled behind you as he fucked into you like a wild animal. “Ahhhhhhhh,” he groaned loudly as his thrusts came to a halt, and he pressed himself as deep as he could. “Fucking…take all of it. There we go….”

You whimpered when he pulled out of you. He was silent behind you. He was staring at your ass when you looked over your shoulder.

“Love how much I stretched you,” he said quietly. He eventually laid down beside you. “Lie on your stomach. I don’t want any of it dripping out of you.”

You lowered yourself to bed slowly, looking at him closely. “Why do you…keep some of your clothes on during sex?” you asked.

He shrugged. “Just something I do. Why? Do you like it?” He smiled.

“Maybe a little.” You smiled back.

“Little slut,” he murmured adoringly before grabbing your head. “Come here.” He pulled your head towards him and kissed you.

“Can we do this again sometime?” you asked.

“Hmm…” He licked his fingers and then traced your lips. “You want to?”

You nodded. “In your office,” you added shyly.

“Oh, listen to you,” he chuckled. “You wanna get that pussy pounded on my desk, huh?”

“Yes,” you said innocently.

“After hours? Or do you like the idea of getting caught…fucking while everyone else is working at their desks?”

You only blinked at him.

“We’ll try both. How about that, hm?” He squeezed your ass before slipping his hand between your legs to get to your pussy. “I want you in a dress every day. No panties.”

“Yes, Mr. York,” you whined as you swirled your hips, and his fingers rubbed your pussy.

“Gonna let me suck on that pretty pussy whenever I want?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Gonna ride my dick in my chair while I’m on a phone conference?”

“Fuck, that’s so filthy.” He pinched your clit before pulling his hand away. “I want you to be mine and mine only.”

“Okay,” you said quickly.

“My name is Dave, by the way,” he told you.

“I know what your name is.”

“You do? Why did you keep calling me Mr. York?” he asked.

“Because you were in charge. You are in charge, Mr. York.”

“Are you trying to get me hard again?” He dragged his fingers up and down your back.

“Will you cum on my face this time?” you asked, and something dangerous flashed in his eyes.

“Roll over,” he commanded. Once you were on your back, he straddled your stomach. He was half-hard, but it only took a few thrusts between your tits to get him rock hard. He began stroking himself over your face and then moved so that the tip rested on your lips as he stroked. You could feel his precum wetting your lips. You stuck your tongue out and tasted it.

It didn’t take him long to cum this time. He cursed and moaned above you as he came all over your face and then pushed himself into your mouth. He held onto the headboard as he fucked your mouth again until he became too overstimulated.

“All messy,” he panted before tapping your cheek. “My little cum dumpster.” He hummed contentedly as you licked your lips, tasting his cum. “You’re staying tonight.” He climbed off you and then off the bed.

“Okay,” you answered.

“That wasn’t a question. You’re staying,” he said again.

“Yes, Mr. York.”

“Better. Get up. We’re taking a shower.” He snapped, and you rolled off the bed quickly as he walked into the bathroom, leaving you behind. You smiled as you followed him.

“Yes, Mr. York.”

[foxgloveprincess]

Summary: When problems arise, the group always works together.

Word Count: 1,597

Attic Wives Anonymous Masterlist

Warnings: Dark, Lots of Implied References to Dark Themes/Actions, Kidnapping, Death/Murder, Stalking/Surveillance, Possessiveness, Banter, Cursing, Callous Regard for Life. Minors do not interact (18+).

A/N: I’m loving tying these chapters in to connect the other stories in this universe. Next stories I’ll be working on are Lloyd’s introduction and a second chapter for Andy and maybe Jake. Hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think!

I love feedback, so go ahead and reblog if you want. However, I give no permission to copy, translate, rewrite or post my work on any third party website or app. Seeing my work posted anywhere beside my blog, my library blog, or my AO3 account (FoxglovePrincess) means it’s been stolen/plagiarized.

I don’t do tag lists, so follow @foxglovefics to sign up for notifications on my fics. 

This is not Beta’d, so all mistakes are my own.

Please DO NOT click ‘Keep Reading’ if you are not 18+ years of age or if you are uncomfortable with the pairing, themes, dynamics, or warnings. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Thank you!

“Fuck!” Andy storms into the meeting hall, carding his fingers through his hair. “Fuck.” He slumps into the seat set up for him and runs his hand over his face. “She’s sick.”

“Your happy little housewife?” Lloyd asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Color me surprised.”

“Have you contacted the doctor yet?” Ari asks, cutting a sharp look toward the mercenary before returning his attention to the Andy.

“He can’t see her til Saturday,” he sniffs, standing up to pace back and forth outside the circle. His hand covers his mouth as he does, attempting to hide his worry, his weakness.

“Your girl isn’t going to die from a couple days in bed,” Robert snarks with a roll of his eyes.

Andy drops his hand and glares at the blasé remark. “Watch your mouth.”

Lloyd snaps a few times, drawing attention, excitement shining in his eyes. “Now’s your chance,” he enthuses with a smile and tilt of his brow. “The perfect time to move your girl outta that shitty basement and up into the cozy attic.” He gestures with his hands and shakes his head with mirth. “She’s weak and vulnerable right now. You show her you’re not a complete bastard and just want to take care of her—I’m telling you, it’ll be perfect.”

“I already offered to take her up there,” Andy growls, and resumes pacing. “She spat in my face.”

Lloyd snorts, waving through the air as he says, “Wait, wait, wait. You gave her a choice?”

“Of course I gave her a choice,” Andy snaps back. His voice drops, under his breath he sneers, “I’m not a monster.”

Lloyd cackles and clutches at his chest. “That’s exactly what you are, goody two-shoes.”

Robert grunts in agreement. Ari remains silent but fold his arms across his chest and cooly meets the attorney’s eye. 

“Roll with it,” Robert advises, “the sooner you accept that you’re no longer squeaky clean, the more you can shape your life into what you want.”

The doors opposite each other in the meeting room both burst open. Jake enters one, Ransom the other—both hurried and bordering on frantic.

“Guys, I need help,” Jake says as Ransom blurts, “I’m in deep shit.”

The rest of the group turn toward one or the other, confused by their behavior. Andy’s hands raise in a gesture of affronted incredulity. Ari’s raise to silence them all. 

“Wait a minute, one at a time,” the older man bids. The two exchange a terse glance before nodding toward the de facto leader of the group. “What’s wrong?” he asks with a wave toward Jake’s direction.

The young man’s hands fidget, fingers flexing and arms crossing. “It’s her agent,” he replies, a sharp bite in his tone, “she needs to stay the fuck away from my angel.”

“What?” Robert asks, a lecherous glint in his eye, “she making a move?”

Jake’s head shakes, brow furrowed in his displeasure. “She’s trying to push her into a PR relationship.” He pauses and faces the group, vulnerable before them and desperation bright behind his glasses. “I haven’t been able to find it in the emails yet, but I know it’s there. My baby would never do this to me.” He meets the eye of every other member of the group, pleading without words. “I gotta get her away from that.”

Lloyd’s brow quirks. Ari’s furrows in thought. Andy pulls out his chair to take a begrudging seat. Ransom continues to stand—waiting for attention to return to his dilemma.

“Is that right?” Lloyd asks, resting his fingers over his lips and breathing deeply. His lips quirk at scent lingering at the tips. Though his tone remains dubious, he leans forward in interest. “Seems your only choice is to grab her. You ready?”

“I am,” Jake agrees with a quick nod. “But even if I weren’t, I couldn’t leave her like that.”

Lloyd’s hand falls away to reveal a smirk before he glances to the other two experienced members of the group. Ari nods. Robert shrugs. At the exchange, Ransom rolls his eyes, his foot beginning to tap in impatience. 

“It’ll be tricky for you with her celebrity,” Ari intones, still thoughtful as he leans back and crosses his arms. “Too many people might notice her disappearance.” His head tilts toward the mercenary in the group. “You think you could figure it out?”

Lloyd’s shoulders lift in an enthusiastic shrug. “If I call in a favor or two. Could play it off like how I got my sweet li’l girl,” he muses with excitement. “Or you wanna handle this Freezy?”

“Fuck that,” the man in question grunts, voice gritty with annoyance. He pulls out a cigarette and rests it on his bottom lip while searching his pockets. “You deal with that shit.” The click of the lighter concludes his refusal with a beat of finality. 

“Oooh,” Lloyd drawls, hands rubbing together. His eye gleam and mischief radiates from his every pore. “This is gonna be fun.” He leans back, brandishing his phone and begins tapping happily on the screen. The light of it highlights his features and his macabre glee at his task. 

Jake takes the empty seat beside him and observes over his shoulder. A point and mutter of suggestion exchanged between the two as they work together. All thought of the group forgotten. 

“Now,” Robert says with a snap of his fingers toward Ransom’s looming figure, “can we make this quick? My princess got hit by the crimson tide and I need to get in there. The fuck is up with you?”

Ransom startles out of his thoughts, stepping forward and gripping the back of his chair. “I found her,” he snarls—his ire either directed at the hitman’s testy temperament or his own predicament without clear target. 

“You did?” Ari asks without an attempt at concealing his skepticism. 

“Yeah, I did,” Ransom replies with insulted emphasis.

Lloyd’s head pops up from his phone, curiosity sparkling despite Jake’s perturbation at the pause. “What number was she on your list?”

Ransom’s fingers squeeze the plastic of the chair. It creaks under his grip and the legs flex dangerously. His head dips and he mumbles. No one catches a word. 

Andy leans forward, trying to decipher the man’s quiet response without success and asks, “What was that?” 

Ransom looks up with a fierce glare. His jaw ticks as he grits out, “She wasn’t on my list.”

No one makes a comment until Lloyd crows with laughter. He grips his peck and doubles over, too pleased by the revelation. Robert smirks and pushes his glasses up his nose. Ransom rolls his eyes and skirts around the chair to sit.

“I’m glad you’re settling down,” Ari says with a firm pat to Ransom’s shoulder.

He huffs in response and leans back in his seat, letting his legs spread wide. “Unfortunately, she works for my grandad and that old bastard will definitely suspect me when she disappears, but I need her.”

“Serves you right,” Lloyd says with a snicker and elbow to the tech genius beside him. Jake shifts and only briefly lifts his gaze from his device. “Now you gotta be just as love sick as the rest of us.”

Ransom hisses and sneers, but the mercenary’s already back to his task.

“That it?” Robert puffs smoke toward him with the question.

The trust fund baby grimaces. “Yes,” he bites. 

“Thank fuck. I can do that easy.” The hitman stands and shrugs on his jacket. “I’ll text you in a couple weeks. Just make sure when I do, you get witnesses—preferably your grampa himself. You’ll be in the clear and go home to a sweet li’l thing in your attic.” He taps off the ash from his cigarette and cocks his head. “Just like I did with Mr. Hero over there for his hellcat.” He chuckles at Andy’s glare and straightens. 

“That’s not gonna cut it,” Ransom barks back. “Harlan’s way too cunning. He’ll know.” He gestures to his temple and stands back up, stepping firmly toward the hitman. “It can’t just be a smash and grab. We’ll need to plan this out step by step—a long game.”

“Fine. Do it your way, prick,” Robert grunts with a glare, nudging his chair back from the circle. “Now, can I get home?”

The men exchange looks. Jake stands, phone tucked to his side. A wave of his hand prompts Lloyd to follow. Lloyd looks up and shrugs, grabbing his own jacket from his chair. 

“If we don’t have any other business, I suppose.”

With a muttered, “great,” Robert spins on his heel and charges off without any further notice.

Ransom grumbles and glances around in agitation, hesitating only a second before dashing after the hitman’s quickly retreating figure. The door closes behind them with a clunk. Jake follows, a skip in his step while Lloyd brings his phone to his ear and greets the voice on the line. A flash of a wink sent over his shoulder toward the oldest member of the group before he bursts out the door. 

Ari hums, deep and low, and turns toward Andy. The man’s jaw ticks with frustration. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Shame hangs heavy on his shoulders, a sense of failure. Ari can smell it in the air. He smooths his hands over his thighs and waits for the D.A. to acknowledge him. Andy turns almost immediately, eager to hear any word of advice.

“I think it’s time I step in,” Ari declares leaving no room for argument.

[sunshineman2-0]

Art Teacher!Reader x Math Teacher!Sanemi Shinazugawa x Science Teacher!Kyojuro Rengoku

Reader is black female

Modern A.U.

Tw: Kyojuro is kinda a creep here. Also Sanemi gets a little possessive. Both they ass are asses. Mentions of stalking. Your landlord putting someone in their place. Shinjuro being an idiot. He's not homophobic, just an ass. (Bare with him)

I dont condone any of the actions depicted. This is only for entertainment purposes only. This is your warning. Do not read if these subjects make you uncomfortable. And ffs do NOT make comments about how this isn't something you like to read. It happened on one of my other blogs and it killed the vibes I had to write. I WILL DELETE THIS BLOG IF I SEE IT.

You have been warned

Chapter 6: Whipping Pot

🔥🔥🔥🔥

Kyojuro sat next to you. Interested in your "play-date" with Shinazugawa and his dog. The younger brother was there, but Kyojuro assumed he was there only because Sanemi didn't have the courage to meet you alone. The older flame haired brother never had a problem with women. Usually because of Tengen, they would flock to him.... But Kyojuro never paid them any mind...

You were different. You never begged for his attention, nor did you chase him. He had been chased for... He stopped keeping count honestly. And when Tengen couldn't get a bite for Kyojuro, the music teacher gave up and shifted his attention to Sanemi.

But back to you. Your two toned lips, soft and plump. He always daydreamed about how'd they feel against his own... And he remembered the night at the club. He just only acted like he didn't. But the way you felt against him felt right. Your thighs so plush and soft. No other woman had felt right against him. Not when they held on to him, he pushed them away. They pressed against him while dancing, he would dissappear in the crowd.

He watched as you smiled about his competition. You were beaming, mostly rambling about the man's dog, Winter. Happy to know about Sanemi's situation with his PTSD. Kyojuro had to fight to roll his eyes as you started to talk about the other man.

"And then I went home! Well not fully home."

Kyojuro perked up at this. Alarmed at the fact that you didn't go home.

"My neighbors invited me to eat with them."

"Ah, your landlords?"

He asked stuff like that to show you he's paying attention. In reality, Kyojuro had followed you to the park. And them back to your apartment complex. Oh, it was easy to find out where you lived. The office women really liked him. Kyojuro could ask them anything and they'd tell him. Yes. He did break into your apartment, on the days he could manage to get away from home. Maybe you thought some of your clothes went missing?

You nodded at his question. Then you looked at your plate. It was empty,

"They're always letting me eat with them."

Kyojuro saw you eyeing his dessert, and slid half of it on to your plate. When your eyes lit up, he smiled. Allowing you to eat and clear your mouth. Then you looked at Kyojuro, your honey eyes shining at him.

"So what'd you want to do today? Or did you have any other plans?"

You had been out trying to do some grocery shopping, and he had "bumped into you". And insisted on treating you to lunch. He looked up and thought for a second.

"Not really. I can join you on-"

His phone began to ring, and he looked at the call. His father, Shinjuro's name popped up and he frowned. He looked at you apologeticly, and answered the call.

"Yes, Father?"

"Just say "dad" damn it." His father fussed, but continued, "pick me up some stuff. I need-"

Kyojuro cut his father short and smiled at you,

"Im on a date. I'll bring your things to you, when I've finished here, alright?"

He was going to get an earful and probaly a smack to the head, but you were the most important thing right now. After putting his phone back in his pocket, he stood up.

"If you'd like we can take a walk. Or-"

You smiled standing up with him.

"Maybe you should get home? I don't want to keep you all day."

Kyojuro frowned for a moment but then he smiled,

"Why don't you just come with me? Senjuro would be happy to see you. And you could meet my father."

He'd make the old man behave if he needed to. Kyojuro respected his father, but if the man started to make you uncomfortable or did any thing that was less than a gentleman... Well punishment would be handed out accordingly. Giving him a smile you nodded and linked your arm with his own. Kyojuro tensed for a moment, it wasn't out of surprise. He was trying to restrain the psychotic part of him that wanted to make you his right in that moment. When you felt him tense, you started to back away. He forced himself to relax, and gently pulled you back to his side.

"Forgive me. You just surprised me a bit."

You smiled at his explanation, and giggled, letting him lead you to his home.

💜💜💜💜

Standing at the door way, Kyojuro opened the entrance and let you walk through first. You both were holding groceries, and Kyojuro announced that he was home. Being sure to say that you were accompanying him. Senjuro rushed into the hallway, excited to see you and gently took the bags you had in your arms.

"Miss (L/N)!! Are you staying for dinner? If so, I've got something special to fix for us!"

You nodded at him and slid your shoes off, setting them next to Kyo's. Shinjuro made his way to the hallway.

"This is her?"

Kyojuro's face twisted in to a snarl, just for a moment, directed at his father. A silent warning to keep his mouth shut. You blinked at Shinjuro, unsure of what to say...

"I've told Father about you. Being new and all to the school. He likes to hear about my day, sometimes."

You nodded, a bit unsure. Kyojuro had never acted like this... You'd only seen it in small intervals... And it was usually over you... You just figured that it was because he was your friend and it just came with being around him...

"Ok. Calm your shit."

Shinjuro waved you both into the house more. And you followed a bit eager to see where Senjuro scurried off too. You heard him buzzing around the kitchen. He had music going, while he cooked, Senjuro was doing a little dance. You smiled, as he seemed to be in his element. Plus it was cute. Shinjuro just stared at his youngest son.

"Boy may have some sugar in his tank..."

He gave you a look and then raised his eyebrow.

"I dont think so. He's just happy to be cooking."

Shinjuro nodded, and smiled a bit. Then kept walking. Instead of following you walked into the kitchen and sat at the island. Kyojuro joined you and nudged you with his elbow.

"SEN!"

At his brothers bark, Senjuro threw the large spoon he had at Kyojuro.

"Dont do that! You know I'm easily spooked!"

Kyojuro caught said spoon and gave it a lick,

"The curry is coming along great! And I have to be sure your aware of your surroundings even at home."

He nodded, satisfied with his own answer, only to get a pinch in the ribs from you,

"Hey! Ow!"

"Thats not nice! Sen should feel comfortable in his own home!"

Senjuro, snatched the spoon from his brother and gave Kyojuro a light smack. Then turned to clean the spoon and retrieve a new one from the drawer. He quickly stirred the curry. You took a seat at the counter, and watched the teen cook. You admired Senjuro, he took up a lot of the house work while Kyojuro and Shinjuro worked. For a moment, you wondered what it would be like to be apart of the house hold here...

But you were snapped out by Kyojuro waving his hand in your face.

"(Y/N). Are you ok? You seemed abit out of it..."

His big eyes looking at you gently. You nodded and smiled at the man.

"Yeah! Just entranced by that delicious smelling curry!"

Senjuro smiled bashfully,

"Thank you... its just seafood curry..."

You nodded at him. Eager to eat. Shinjuro walked back into the room and sat on the other side of you. Looking you on the face.

"So. You datin my eldest?"

You snapped your gaze to him, speechless at the fact that Kyojuro's father would even ask that!

"N-no! We're jus-"

"Father. (Y/N) and I are just co-workers."

🔥🔥🔥🔥

Kyojuro's face darkened, and he glared at his father. A sign for the other man to shut up.

~~~~~

After dinner, Kyojuro walked you home. You thanked him profusely and he waved it off. Telling you it was fine. Once you scampered off, Kyojuro turned to leave but was stopped by Benimaru, one of your landlords. The elder man frowned at Kyojuro.

"You're the second man to walk (Y/N) home. What the hell do you want with her?"

Kyojuro stopped in his tracks and tilted his head to the side.

"Im just-"

"There are cameras all around here boy. I've seen you break into her apartment. The only reason why I haven't called the police is because I know (Y/N) would be a bit upset."

Shit... Kyojuro had slipped up in his eagerness to be closer to you... He put his hands up.

"I only broke in to return her things. She had left them at the school."

Kyojuro was trying to lie... But he could tell Benimaru wasn't taking any of it.

"Stay your ass out of her damn apartment. Or you'll deal with me."

The elder walked back into his apartment. Leaving Kyojuro to glare after him... He'd have to be more careful...

Uh... so it's been a while... I just lost the motivation to write. But this mf will get finished! And there will be two endings. One for Nemi and the other for Kyo. Thanks for reading. And any feed back is welcome.