#soft!dark curtis everett

[krirebr]

Luck Be a Lady

Pairing: soft!dark Curtis Everett x female reader

Word Count: ~10.1k

Summary: Desperate for money, you accept a job as a cocktail waitress at an underground casino. You think you know what you're doing, but when you meet Curtis, will you realize you're in over your head?

Warnings: Mob AU, violence, allusions to murder, explicit language, dubcon touching, noncon touching (not Curtis), willfully oblivious reader, SMUT - facefucking, dirty talk, light d/s dynamics, praise kink, other explicit sexual content. This is definitely on the darker end of the soft!dark spectrum, so proceed with caution! All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto

Masterlist

A/N: And here it finally is! This is my first real attempt at soft!dark. I hope I did it right! ��

This was inspired by two things: 1) me going to a rep screening of Goodfellas and spending the entire time wondering why I hadn't done a mob au yet and 2) @bigtreefest saying "enforcer!Curtis Everett and mob boss!Andy Barber" in my general direction. Thanks for the inspo, friend!!

And big thanks as always to @paperweight91 who not only came up with Curtis's name for reader but also offered heaps of encouragement and was a great sounding board. And thanks to @stargazingfangirl18 for helping me figure out how exactly we'd get to the smut. Thanks Siri!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Please come scream at me about this! 😄 As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

You fruitlessly tug down your very short skirt as Holly talks at you. You’re both standing in the corner of the bar’s basement waiting for the night to start in earnest—your first night.

“Lloyd’s not so bad,” she says of your boss, the man who runs this little underground gambling ring. “You’ll have to split your tips with him at the end of the night, but he doesn’t take that much, and you’ll make enough that you won’t really notice. As long as you do that, he’ll mostly keep his hands to himself.”

You nod along, glancing at the mustachioed man conferring with the bouncer at the door. The interview process for this job had boiled down to a thorough once-over that’d made you feel naked in your jeans and t-shirt and a “You’re not too stupid to take a drink order, are you?” and then you had the job.

Holly had vouched for you. Neighbors for almost half a year, she’d come home early one morning last week and witnessed you trying to convince the landlord that you were good for your past-due rent. She’d taken you for coffee and told you she might be able to help if you were good at keeping your head down and mouth shut. And now you were here.

“The customers, on the other hand,” she continues, smacking her gum, “you’ll have to let them touch, at least a little bit. Within reason, you know? But if anything gets out of hand, you can just tell Jake at the door and he’ll take care of it.”

“Within reason?” you ask, voice shaking, just the littlest bit, as the pit that started forming in your stomach when you agreed to this grows a little more.

The look she gives you verges on exasperated. “Well, you want to make money, don’t you?”

Yes, you do. Very much so. It’s a need, not a want. So you nod and try to listen as she keeps giving you the rundown. 

Before you’re ready, the first patrons start trickling in and then you’re off to the races. It’s not too bad. No one’s orders are too complicated, mostly just bottles of beer and glasses of straight whiskey. The bartender, Colin, is friendly enough, although you learn that he’s another person you’ll need to split your tips with. 

As for the touching, there are hands on your hips, pats to your ass. But you’re rewarded with folded-up bills held up between fingers or tucked into the strap of your top. Or, twice, slid behind the waistband of your skirt. Once you realize that the majority of these bills aren’t ones or fives, but twenties, you care about the touching that comes with them much less. Plus, you’re too busy to really think about it that hard. 

You can’t believe how busy it is for a random Tuesday night, multiple games of poker, craps, and who knows what else all going at once. But when you mention that to Holly, she just laughs and shakes her head. “This is nothing,” she says. “On the weekends there’ll be three more of us and another one of Jake. Things get wild.” 

You don’t have time to decide whether that makes you nervous or excited before someone is signaling for your attention again. You manage to suppress your grimace when he slides his arm around your waist to tell you what he needs from the bar. You’re rewarded for your troubles by a wad of twenties. You aren’t sure who these men are to tip so freely, but you know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.

It’s an hour or two later that Lloyd calls you over to where he’s speaking to a large, impossibly broad man, dressed in a soft-looking henley under a leather jacket with dark jeans. There’s dark ink all over his hands that disappears up his sleeves and reappears on his neck in intricate lines. He’s got close-cropped hair and a full beard that’s neatly trimmed. His deep blue eyes drill into you right away and you do your best not to shiver.

“Got a new girl tonight, Everett. Still learning the ropes, but she’ll take good care of you, won’t you, Cupcake?” 

“Yes, of course,” you say, before Lloyd wanders off to check on one of the poker games.

The man, Everett, lets his eyes rove over you. “Cupcake, huh?” His voice is deep, gritty, but there's something there that's much gentler than you expected.

You give him what you hope is a coy smile. “Sure. If you want.” Lloyd was treating him like he's important. You hope important means deep pockets.

He hits you with a penetrative stare, so strong you almost have to take a step back. “No,” he finally says. “I don't think so. I'll find something more fitting.” Then he turns and starts to walk away, before calling over his shoulder. “I'm gonna get dealt in. Bring me a whiskey once I'm settled.”

You watch him go for just a moment, and then head to the bar, asking for a whiskey. 

“This for Everett?” the bartender, Colin, asks. When you nod, he grabs a fancy bottle off the top shelf. “This is all he drinks. And he doesn't pay for it, alright? Don't ever think about giving him a bill.” 

You look back at the man in question, seriously looking at the cards he’s just been dealt. Who is he???

You collect his whiskey and move back to him. As you set it down, he turns to you. “How about this?” he asks as he holds up a crisply folded hundred-dollar bill between two fingers. Your eyes widen at the money. All you’ve done is bring him one straight pour. “There’s another one of these in it for you if you make sure I never see the bottom of this glass tonight. Sound good?” And then he folds the bill one more time in his thick fingers, before sliding it under the low-cut neckline of your blouse. Your skin tingles where he brushes against it.

“Yeah, you got it,” you just breathe out, a little shocked you’re able to form words. He gives you a smug smile that you can only describe as shark-like before turning back to his cards, and you understand it as the dismissal that it is. 

You move around the room, collecting empties, getting refills, trying to goodnaturedly accept unsolicited touches. The whole time you feel eyes on you, but whenever you glance Everett’s way, he’s focused on his poker game.

Eventually, a down moment finds you catching your breath against the wall. The moment Holly sees you standing still, she’s quickly making her way to you. “You need to be more careful around Curtis,” she hisses, lowly.

You look at her, confused. “Curtis?” Jake’s at the door. Colin’s behind the bar. You don’t know a Curtis.

“Curtis Everett!” You glance at the man at the poker table. He’s running a poker chip across his knuckles mindlessly. Then he looks up and you briefly make eye contact before you quickly look away. Holly is staring at you and she looks worried. But the name still doesn’t mean anything to you, so you shake your head and shrug. She groans as quietly as she can. “He’s Barber’s top enforcer!”

This whole conversation feels so out of the blue that it takes you a minute to catch up. Barber. Andrew Barber. The most feared mob boss in the city. Probably the state. Maybe even more. Ruthless and exacting was how the papers described him. He’d been the subject of multiple stings and taskforces and whathaveyou but nothing ever stuck. “He works for Andrew Barber?” you ask, shocked and a little appalled.

Holly stares at you in a way that you can only describe as dumbfounded. It takes her a few moments to find her words, then, “Bitch, you work for Andrew Barber!”

Everything stops. “What?” you gasp.

“Oh my god,” Holly groans. “This was such a mistake. It’s an underground card game in his city! Who did you think was running things?”

“I– I don’t know,” you stutter, stupidly. The god’s honest truth is that you’d never really stopped to think about it. You’d been staring down an eviction, struggling to afford groceries. Unable to make ends meet no matter what you did. When Holly told you about this job, all you saw were dollar signs. You didn't think about anything further. Of course, you’d known these games were illegal, but it seemed so minor in the grand scheme of things. You hadn’t connected it to anything bigger because you just hadn’t wanted to.

But now– Now that you know the truth, what are you going to do? You know what you should do. You should walk out the door right now. You should find some other legitimate way to pay your bills. It’ll be safer. It’ll be better. It’ll be so much harder.

As you bite your lip, trying to process all of this information, Holly continues. “Listen,” she says, “still get him drinks, be friendly, whatever you need to do. But keep your distance however you can. Don't encourage him. He's just– He's really dangerous. They don't call him Barber’s attack dog for nothing, ok?”

“Yeah,” you say. You start to look back in Curtis’s direction but stop yourself. You think about the hundred you already have and the one promised to you at the end of the night. You think of how empty your pantry is. But then you see the genuine fear in Holly's eyes. You let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. I got it. Thanks.”

“He doesn't even come in here that often. I'm surprised to see him tonight, so I'm sure it’ll be fine,” she says, but you can tell she’s nervous.

You nod, absently, finally letting yourself glance over at him. His drink is getting close to the bottom. “Shit,” you mumble. “I gotta get him his refill.”

“Do you want me to do it?” Holly asks. 

You should let her do it. You absolutely should. But you just can’t give up on that tip. You shake your head. “No, I’ll be fine. But thanks.”

You head back to the bar and grab Curtis’s top-shelf whiskey of choice from Colin, then make your way to his table. You set it down next to him, hoping to move away without him even noticing, he’s so engrossed in the game. But as you take a step back, his hand shoots out to grab your wrist. He holds it tightly until you meet his eyes. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and you can’t help the sharp intake of breath or the way you feel his words in your knees. He strokes his thumb down the inside of your wrist, then abruptly lets go, pushing his chips to the middle of the table. You step away, gathering yourself as subtly as you can, and get back to work.

The rest of the night goes quickly. The crowd gets a little rowdier as they drink more, but you find that it’s nothing you can’t handle. The reality of who these people are, what they’re connected to, never leaves your mind. But really, they’re not so bad. None of this feels so bad at all. And soon, people start heading out. You’re beginning to clean up, when a recognizable voice rings out, “Bambi!” You turn and lock eyes with Curtis. He crooks two fingers at you and you quickly make your way over to him.

“Bambi?” you ask.

He grins at you and it feels more than a little predatory. You’ll never admit how much you like it. You try to keep Holly’s warning at the forefront of your mind. “Wide eyes and just getting your legs under you,” he says. You instinctively duck your head at that, which earns a dark chuckle. “Here,” he continues, as he pulls a genuine, fat money clip out of his back pocket. You’ve never seen something like it in real life before. He peels off two bills and holds them out to you. “This is what good girls get,” he says, a low rumble in his voice.

You swallow as you take them from him. Two hundred dollars. Twice what you were expecting. “Thank you,” you say quietly. 

He shakes his head. “You earned it.” Then, after one last long look at you, he turns around and leaves.

You stand and stare after him. You don’t doubt anything Holly said, but three hundred dollars, just for bringing him drinks. He doesn’t seem that bad, not really. A little intense maybe, but there’s some sort of interest there, and it can’t be that bad to encourage it, just a little if it earns you these sorts of tips, can it??

Any hesitance you have about this entire endeavor completely disappears as you count your money at the end of the night.

Your first week flies by. You're starting to get the hang of the job. You get along with your coworkers. You get to know the regulars. You like it. Even Lloyd isn’t so bad as long as you give him his cut at the end of every night.

And you’re making so much money.

In your downtime, you pay your landlord what you owe him. You go grocery shopping without scouring for coupons first or calculating exactly what you can afford beforehand. You make a Pinterest board of what you want your apartment to look like now that you might actually be able to buy things to fill it. For the very first time, you’re thinking about things you actually want, not just desperately trying to figure out how you’ll pay your bills. You’ve never felt this calm, this relaxed, this free before. It’s an incredible feeling.

And Curtis. Despite Holly’s reassurances that you wouldn’t see him much, he seems to be there whenever you are, trying to capitalize on his winning streak at the poker tables, you assume. His tips are still insanely generous. You don’t think he carries anything less than hundred dollar bills. 

And there’s just something about him. The way he looks at you. The way he touches you. It’s not like the other men here. His touch is like fire, warming from the inside. There’ve been times when his hand on your hip has almost made your knees buckle. That doesn’t happen with anyone else here.

But you’re being smart and you’re being safe. You are. You’re going to set a savings goal, you think. And once you hit that number, you’ll be out of here, onto something more legitimate. And until then, you’ll just keep your head down and mouth shut, like Holly said. You haven’t even really seen anything. It’s a good plan. It’ll be fine.

She’s right that the weekends are wilder. Even with three additional girls working the room, you’re kept running. You do your best to keep an eye on Curtis’s drinks, but it’s much harder than on weeknights. And you aren’t really able to pause when you drop them off. It’s one of these times, as you’re pulling away from the table as soon as you’ve set his glass down, that you’re stopped short by his hand on you. He pulls you back in by the wrist and says, “They’re just running you ragged tonight, huh, Bambi?”

You smile and shrug. “It’s busy.”

He holds out a bill and you try not to smile even wider as he slips it into the waistband of your skirt. “For all your hard work.”

You bat your lashes a little. “You spoil me.”

“I like spoiling you,” he says, lowly. 

“You’re too sweet,” you say softly. Then, pulling your arm away with a wink, you add, “Gotta run,” and you’re onto the next table.

You’re getting good at this, figuring out what level of harmless flirting is just enough to keep the money flowing. And you’re having fun. You’d never expected that.

Holly and two of the other girls, Jane and Kristi, are congregated at the end of the bar, waiting for drinks, when you join them. They’re all watching you warily. “So, uh,” Jane starts quietly, “you seem to be getting pretty cozy with Curtis.” 

Before you can respond, Holly scoffs behind her. “I’ve tried to warn her but she won’t fucking listen.”

You roll your eyes. You’re tired of hearing this. “I seriously don’t get what the big deal is. He’s nice and he tips well. It’s harmless!”

Kristi just gapes at you. “He’s nice?!”

Holly slams the drinks she was waiting for onto her tray. “Whatever,” she grumbles. “It’s her fucking funeral.”

You shake your head as you watch her go. It’s fine. You can take care of yourself.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. You don’t get much of a chance to talk to Curtis, but you feel his eyes on you before he disappears a little before closing.

At the end of the night, once you’ve helped clean up, you cash out with Colin and Jake and then go to find Lloyd in his office. You think it’s kind of ridiculous that you’re basically paying him to work there, but it is what it is. And Holly was right, you’re making so much that you barely even notice. 

Lloyd is sitting at his desk, looking a little more disheveled than you’re used to. He startles at your approach, which is also new. 

“Oh, hey,” he says, with slightly rounded eyes. “What can I do for you?”

You look at him, a little confused. “Just here with your cut,” you say as you hold out his money.

His hands immediately fly up to his chest, palms out. “No, no,” he says. “You made that fair and square. You just– you keep what you make from now on, Cupcake. Sound good?”

You swallow and nod, preparing yourself for whatever other price you’ll have to pay for keeping your job, mentally calculating what you’re willing to do. But Lloyd doesn’t do anything, doesn’t make any move to get closer to you. Just stays there at his desk, turning back to his work. “You have a good night,” he says, clearly dismissing you. 

You leave confused, but richer, telling yourself not to question it too hard.

Things go so smoothly for a few weeks that you’re a little shocked when the bubble bursts. 

It’s a relatively quiet weeknight. There are a few games going, but nothing compared to the weekend. The pace of the night feels leisurely. It’s nice.

It’s maybe the first night you haven’t seen Curtis there. It feels weird. He’s become such a part of this place for you. A fixture, like the bar or the carpet. Just one of the elements that make it what it is. But it’s fine. Of course, he doesn’t come every night. He probably has a whole life outside of this. He must’ve gotten bored of playing cards. Oh well. It was nice while it lasted.

You’re passing the time talking to one of the regulars at the bar, Vinny. He’s in his fifties, you think, with gray hair and laugh lines. He’d gone bust at the poker table (or maybe it was craps tonight) earlier and then had moved to the bar to drink away his sorrows and bad luck. That was how his nights tended to go.

He’s sitting on a barstool, his arm around your waist where you stand next to him. He’s a little close for comfort, but he’s always just been a friendly guy, so you’re alright. Which is why you’re so surprised when, in the middle of a story about the good old days of the Copa Cabana, his other hand suddenly finds its way between your thighs. You freeze. For just a second. Then you force out a laugh and try to push his hand away. “Bad boy,” you try to tease, your voice shaking. His hand will not move. What is happening? “Come on, let’s keep our hands to ourselves.”

Instead of doing what you’ve asked, his thumb briefly brushes the inside of your leg and then his whole hand begins moving higher. You stop breathing. You push again but he won’t budge.

“You’re such a pretty doll, aren’tcha?” he says. 

Tears start to gather in your eyes. You look around wildly to see if anyone’s noticing what’s happening. Colin’s busy making drinks. Jake and Lloyd are talking by the door. Everyone else is engrossed in their own business. “Vinnie, stop, please,” you whisper. You don’t know why you can’t get your voice to work, can’t get your body to move.

“Come on,” he cajoles, “I’m being nice, aren’t I?” 

Then his thumb brushes against your panties and your entire body jolts into action. You wrench your leg out of his grasp and take several steps away from him. Your whole body is shaking now. “I gotta–” you start, trying to keep your tone casual and failing miserably. “I gotta get back to work, Vinny.” Then you grab your tray off the bartop and walk away as fast as you can.

You don’t really have a destination in mind. You pick up a few empties as you wander between tables. You can feel his eyes on you, following you. You try to take a deep breath, calm yourself down. It isn’t very helpful. You look up to see Jake by himself now. You make your way over to him, Holly’s words on your first night in your ears. That was out of hand, wasn’t it?

He looks up as you approach. His big golden retriever smile on his face. “Hey, what’s up?” Then he actually takes you in and his smile drops. “What happened?”

“Um, Vinny, he, uh–” You feel a few tears fall down your cheeks and you just shake your head.

Jake’s face darkens. “Did he hurt you?” 

“No, uh, he– he just–” You shake your head again. “No, he didn’t hurt me.”

Jake doesn’t say anything for a moment, just looks at you. There’s something about the way he does it that makes you think he understands everything you just can’t say. He nods once. “Alright. I’ll take care of it. You go take your time in the back. Do what you need to do. He’ll be gone by the time you’re done.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Okay, thank you,” you say so quietly. Then you get yourself to the back room as quickly as you can.

It’s really more of a hallway than a room, small and narrow. All of the storage space for the building is in the legitimate bar upstairs. But there’s enough room for you to crouch down, your knees pulled up tight to your chin. You bury your face in your thighs and let the tears you’ve been holding in finally fall. You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re safe. You’re fine. 

You don’t know how long you’ve spent trying to calm yourself down when a large shadow suddenly looms over you. It takes you a moment to gather your strength to find out who it is. You hope it’s Jake telling you Vinny’s gone. You’re afraid it might be Lloyd, here to tell you to get back to work. There’s a slowly building terror that it might be Vinny himself.

After a deep breath, you look up to find Curtis staring down at you, concern on his face and fiery anger in his eyes. “What happened?” he growls.

You shake your head and turn away. He crouches down in front of you. “Are you alright?”

A humorless, uncontrolled laugh escapes you. Once you finally stop, you ignore his question and ask your own, “Why are you here?”

It takes him a very long time to answer. He just looks at you seriously for several moments. Then, finally, “Jake called me.” While you try to figure out why on earth Jake would do that, he continues, “I'm sorry I wasn’t already here.”

“Why?” you blurt out without thinking. 

He looks away without saying anything. You both just sit in the silence for a few moments. Then, you try to change tactics. “Where were you?” you ask out of morbid curiosity. You can't imagine what his life is like outside of here.

“Working,” he says curtly. He plays with a ring on his middle finger and the movement draws your eyes to his hands, specifically his knuckles. They're scraped and caked with dried blood. 

You swallow and you catch how his eyes track the movement. His eyes are always on you. He catches everything. 

“Someone touched you?”

“Lots of people touch me,” you say, flatly. “It's part of the job. You touch me.”

His eyes narrow at that. “But this was different.” It isn’t a question.

You look down at your hands in your lap and don't say anything. 

“Tell me who it was.”

“No,” you say instinctively, something about the moment feeling incredibly dangerous. 

He huffs in frustration. “Are you trying to protect him?”

“No!” you say, sharply. “I’m protecting myself.”

“You don’t have to do that. Not from me. Not ever.”

You don’t know how to tell him that every atom in you knows that that isn’t true. You can’t explain it, and it wasn’t until the moment he joined you in this little closet, but you’d swear that he’s a danger to you. You just can't articulate how, but you feel it in your bones. And still, here you stay.

At your silence, he grits out, “If you don’t tell me who it was, Jake will.”

Jake probably already has, that’s what you’ve figured. “Great,” you say. “Then you don’t need me to say it.”

“Bambi,” he lets out in an exasperated growl. “I'm trying to help you.” 

You just look at him and then figure you may as well ask the main question that's on your mind. “Why did Jake call you?” 

He ignores you and stands up. “Come on,” he says and extends his hand, “I'm taking you home.”

You just blink up at him. “My shift isn't over.” 

He shakes his hand at you impatiently. “It is now. Come on.”

You shake your head. “Curtis, this is my job. I can't just– Lloyd will–”

“I'll take care of Lloyd. Let’s go.”

You think about going home. About sitting alone in your small apartment. At least here you'll have something to do, things to focus on, to keep you busy. At home, there'll be nothing to think about other than that hand between your legs and– “No,” you say as firmly as you can manage. “I'm staying here. I'm finishing the night.”

His jaw ticks but he doesn’t say anything, just tries to stare you down. You stare right back. You will not concede this. 

Finally, he exhales through his nostrils, then growls out an unhappy “Fine. But I'll–” He's interrupted by his phone ringing in his pocket. He takes it out and glances at the caller ID and sighs. “I have to take this.” He steps away as much as he can in the tiny area and answers with a curt “Everett.” There's a slight pause. “Yeah, I took care of it.” Another pause that has him glancing at you. “No, something else came up.”

You don't wait to hear the rest of the conversation. You take the opportunity to go back to the main room and get back to work. 

You don't see Curtis again that night. You don't spare much thought to where he might've gone. You're too focused on getting through the remainder of your shift. When it's done, Jake insists on seeing you home. You don't ask why. You already know who's behind it.

The next few days are fine. You try to put what happened behind you, doing your best to ignore it. But that becomes impossible when three days after the incident you watch Vinny walk in. You can’t help the little burst of panic you feel as you warily watch him sit down at his usual table and get dealt in. 

As subtly as you can, you make your way over to Jake. You don’t even say anything before he’s looking at you, chagrined. “I know,” he says. “I’m sorry, but I had to let him in. I promise it’s all going to be taken care of. It’s just– You can ignore him tonight, ok? Just trust me. You don’t need to worry about him. I promise.”

“Ok,” you say reluctantly, trying to resist looking back at Vinny. “I just– I didn’t think I’d have to see him again.”

“I really think that after tonight you won’t,” he says sincerely.

You don’t really understand what that means, but you nod anyway. “Ok,” you say. “I, uh, I should get back to work then.” 

He just nods after you, looking a little concerned and a little sad. But the room is filling up, so you don’t have time to delve into it.

Sometime later, as you’re taking a brief moment to idle by the bar, a strange hush descends over the room. You’re facing away from the door, away from the rest of the room, but you see Colin take in whatever it is that’s caused this. His face pales and he lets out a quiet, urgent, “Shit.” 

You turn around to see what on earth could be going on and you immediately freeze. Curtis is here. But that’s not what’s garnering all of this attention. Well, not all. Because he’s not alone, there’s a man with him. A little shorter, not quite as broad. But you’d be able to feel the power radiating off of him, even if you didn’t recognize him. Soft dark hair, thick beard, an immaculately tailored suit. You’ve seen him in the papers, on the news, but in real life, he’s even more intimidating. Andrew Barber.

Barber leans in close to say something to Curtis, who nods, eyes scanning the room until they land on you. Your breath catches, but luckily Colin calls your name behind you and you have an excuse to turn around. He places two glasses of dark liquor on the bar. “Everett,” he says, gesturing to one, then “Barber,” while waving his hand over the other. “Got it?” You nod and place them on your tray. They’re identical to your eyes except for the fact that Barber's has a muddled black cherry at the bottom of the glass.

You carefully bring them over, trying to force yourself to breathe. Curtis intercepts you and grabs the drinks when you're a few steps away. “Thank you, Bambi,” he says, lowly. 

Barber perks up. “This is Bambi? Really?” He extends a hand and you have no choice but to take it. “Andy Barber,” he says with a disarming smile. “It's a pleasure to meet you finally.”

His handshake is firm, demanding. He is terrifying in his friendliness. And he knows who you are. Has known, for who knows how long. You glance at Curtis, but he's just calmly drinking his whiskey. You don't know what to say, what are you supposed to say?? So after too long a pause, you practically whisper, “Thank you, Mr. Barber.”

He chuckles lightly as he takes back his hand. To Curtis, he says, “You're right, Bambi does suit her.” Then he turns back to you and adds, “Andy, please.”

“O– Okay, Andy,” you say, with what you desperately hope is a benign smile. You look over at Curtis, you’re not entirely sure why, but out of these two dangerous options, he, at least, is familiar. “I should get back to work.”

Curtis is staring at you, but it’s Andy who answers. “Mmm, and we have a game to join, don’t we?” Curtis nods but still doesn’t break his gaze. Andy smirks, “No rest for the wicked.”

You have no idea what to do with that sentiment, so you take the opportunity and get out of there. You walk through the tables, checking to see if anyone needs anything, but the mob boss’s physical presence seems to have ground all action to a halt. The room is collectively holding its breath. 

You go back to the bar for want of anything else to do. Colin is standing ramrod straight, coiled in case he needs to spring into action. Lloyd is sitting down at the end of the bar, drumming his fingers, eyes moving all around the room. You settle next to Holly, who looks just as scared as she did that first night when she was trying to warn you off of Curtis. “Is this,” you start to ask, your voice shaking. “Is this normal? Does he come here a lot?”

“No, never” she shakes her head. “Why would he come here? He has real clubs and restaurants. He doesn’t need to hang out in a shit hole like this.” She shakes her head again. “He’d only come here for a reason.”

You turn your head back to the room and find that Andy and Curtis have settled at Vinny’s table, joining his game across from him. Your heart lands in your throat. That can’t– No. You’re just some cocktail waitress. Even with Curtis’s obvious interest in you, you aren’t important enough to bring the most powerful man in the city here. You’re nothing. He must have other reasons.

The room is quiet enough to hear a pin drop as everyone waits for something to happen, which is why when Andy does start speaking, you don’t have to strain your ears to pick up every word.

He looks at his cards carefully, then over at Vinny. “You know, Vinny, you’re a hard man to track down.” His voice is so calm, it sends a chill up your spine. “You don’t go home, we can’t find you at work. I was starting to get worried.” He runs a few chips through his fingers before tossing them into the center of the felt. “That’s why, when I heard you were showing up here, I sent my best man to investigate,” he nods towards Curtis, “just to make sure you were ok.” 

You don’t have a great view of Vinny from where you’re standing, but you can see how stiff he is, how silent. But he still calls when it’s his turn.

“You can imagine my relief when I found out you were alright. Except,” he raises again, a few more chips into the pot, “you’re losing a lot of money, aren’t you? Now, this upsets me. Not because you’re losing your own money. But because it’s mine, isn’t it?”

Vinny finally tries to pipe up. “Andy, hold on. I can ex–”

“You owe me $150,000, Vinny. With interest, that total’s climbing every day. And yet, you sit here and you just keep losing, don’t you? At my own game. What would you do if you won, huh? Would you really try paying me back with my own money? I thought maybe you’d at least have the smarts to cross the border and try this at one of Roger’s casinos. Huh? Paying me back with my enemy’s money, at least that I could respect. But no, it’s only me you think is stupid enough to fall for your bullshit. So now I’m here to give you the chance to fucking do it to my face.” With that, he violently pushes all of his chips into the center of the table. 

Everyone else has folded. It’s just Barber and Vinny now. You’re not sure Curtis even actually played. He’s just staring Vinny down, although occasionally his eyes will flick up and meet yours. You hate feeling like you’re a part of this, but you don’t know what else to do besides watch it play out.

Vinny is just spluttering, while Andy calmly looks on. It’s all the expected, cliche stuff you’ve seen in gangster movies. He’s got the money, he swears. He just needs a little more time. Andy has to know he’s good for it! You want to roll your eyes right along with Andy.

“Call, Vinny,” Andy cuts him off, sternly. “That’s $150,000 I just put in the pot. Call. And if you win, we’re even. Your debt’s erased. But if you lose, well then that’s $300,000 you’ll owe me. And you know I won’t be able to tolerate that. So call. And let’s find out where we stand.”

You can’t see what Vinny’s doing, but you can imagine the way his fingers must be hovering over his chips, his eyes moving down to his cards to check, one more time, if they’re as good or bad as he remembers. You know there’s no way out for him either way. He’ll have to call. He’s just delaying the inevitable.

You feel like you can't breathe as you wait for him to just finally do it, but Andy cuts in again. “The thing I can't understand, Vinny, is why you kept coming here after Curtis showed up. Either you're very stupid or really fucking greedy.” He looks at Vinny carefully. “Maybe a little of both. I hear you've been touching something that doesn't belong to you.”

You gasp. No one notices, but you do. He can't be talking about you. He can't. He can't. 

Vinny seems even more confused than you. “What are you talking about? I haven't touched anything!”

Andy continues to ignore him. “So you're stupid and greedy. That's why you aren't afraid of him like you should be. They call him my attack dog, did you know? Have you heard that? Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe you think he’s some puppy that follows me around. You’d be stupid to underestimate him, underestimate me. But maybe you only do that because you've never seen my dog off his leash.”

Curtis springs into action, lunging across the table to grab Vinny by the collar, and then slams his head into the felt. Before there’s even time to react, he’s stood and he's picking Vinny back up and hurling him onto the floor. Curtis comes around the table to stalk after him and the look on his face has you gasping for breath. You've never seen Curtis like this. There's a glint in his eye that might be the scariest thing you've ever seen. Who is this man? What is he capable of?

Vinny is dazedly trying to crawl away, but Curtis catches him easily. He grabs Vinny’s collar and hauls him back up, delivering two punches to his face in quick succession. The sound it makes. There's no other sound in the whole room. No one's saying anything, no one's doing anything. Everyone's just watching, hypnotized. You turn away, your stomach churning. Your eyes catch on Andy, sitting back in his chair, placidly drinking the whiskey you brought him, completely relaxed, like he's watching anything else. You can't look at him either. 

The room is completely silent except for the crunching of bones, Vinny’s whimpers, and Curtis’s grunts. You look up again to be startled by eye contact with Curtis. His eyes are wild, unhinged. Feral. But there's something else in it, like all of this is for you. That all of you are there, everything is happening, because Vinny dared to touch you. It takes your breath away. It’s mesmerizing.

Andy finally stands and strides over to where Curtis is holding Vinny up in the middle of the room. He looks down at Vinny, then spits in his face. “I'm tired of trying to draw blood from a stone,” he says. Then he turns to Curtis and finishes, “Get rid of him.”

Curtis gives you one last long look, his face unreadable. You feel it in your knees. Then he drags Vinny out, leaving a bloody trail behind him.

The moment they're gone, it's like the entire room can breathe again. “Lloyd,” Andy calls out. “How ‘bout a round for everyone? On me.”

Lloyd nods to Colin who hurriedly starts pouring drinks. And you, so grateful for something to do, instead of just standing there, shaking, start loading the glasses on your tray.

As you begin to pass them out, Andy of all people, pulls you aside. “Bambi,” he says quietly, “I hope you know now, we take care of our own.”

You gaze at him, shocked. It feels like a comfort and a threat. But why? It's not so much the implication that this all had something to do with you, but you can't for the life of you imagine what you've done to get yourself to a place where Andy Barber might consider you his, however distantly. It can't just be that you work here. You can't picture him doing something similar for Holly or Colin. Once again, this all feels so incredibly dangerous. 

While you're struggling to come up with anything to say to that, he grabs a drink off your tray and downs it quickly. Then, with a wink, he turns and leaves. You’re left staring after him until someone calls after you and you're scrambling to pass out drinks again. 

The night ends quickly. No one seems eager to stay and drink and play after everything that's happened. Not when there's still blood on the floor.

You do what you can to help clean up, but when you stare at the stain helplessly, Lloyd tells you not to worry about it. He's got a guy.

Colin walks out with you so you aren’t in the parking lot alone. You're grateful. You're still so shaken. As you approach your car, your beater that you still don’t quite have the money to replace, you see someone leaning against it. You stop short, looking to Colin for help, but he just keeps walking to his own car, his head down. That’s when you know it’s Curtis. 

You take a deep breath and then force yourself to keep walking towards him. You can't begin to parse how you feel to see him now. Your keys are ready in your hand like you might just get in and drive off without speaking to him. You know you won’t.

When you reach him, his voice is rough as he asks, “Are you ok?” He’s cleaned up. There’s no more blood on his hands, his clothes have been straightened.

You open your mouth to answer, even though you have no idea, so instead what comes out is “Did you kill him?”

“Did you want me to?” is his immediate reply.

It stops you in your tracks as all sorts of feelings come bubbling up, ones you can not, will not examine. This is about his propensity for violence, how terrifying he became, not– No. “Did you?” you insist. 

He looks at you carefully then shakes his head. “I don't think you actually want me to answer that.”

“But you've killed before?” You can't stop yourself from pressing, from pushing. You don’t know why. 

He just sort of smiles, gently almost, in a way that is deeply unsettling. “You need to stop asking questions you aren’t ready for me to answer, Bambi.” And it’s the way he says the nickname, like you really are that babe in the woods, just born with no knowledge of the world around you, that has your hackles rising.

“Andy called you his dog,” you say, like he should be offended.

To your surprise, he laughs, his head thrown back. Then he takes a step closer to you, and you take the opportunity to sneak in behind him, get to your car. You realize your mistake immediately when he turns back around and cages you in, your back pressed against the driver’s side door. “Everyone calls me his dog. Because he’s the civilized man in the designer suit, and I’m the animal just begging for a reason to slip my leash.”

Your heart pounds wildly in your chest. You should get into your car. You should drive away as fast as you can. You should never come back. But you don’t. “You did it for him,” you say, mustering all the strength into your voice that you can. “You didn’t do it for me.”

He leans over you, the space between you shrinking rapidly. “Yeah, he asked me to do it,” he nods. “But if he hadn’t, I still would have done it. For you.”

 You try to shake your head, to tell him that that can’t be true, even as a wild, loud part of you starts to rise up and claw out of your chest. You try to tamp it down, deny it, but before you can, Curtis is leaning in further, his whole body pressing against you, and then he covers your lips with his.  

There’s a heat that comes up out of him that fills you, the instant his skin touches yours. His hands are on you, your neck, your hip. You can’t keep track, can only say that his hands are there, everywhere, that his body touches all of yours, that his lips and his tongue are demanding, unrelenting. You are burning up from the inside.

Too soon, but ages later, he pulls away. His eyes are on fire as he looks at you. Then he tears his gaze away, and hits the roof of your decrepit car twice, looking at it disdainfully. “You get home safe,” he says, then steps back to allow you the space you need to get into your car.

You do what he wants you to do. You get in your car, sit in the driver’s seat, and then stare blankly out the windshield. You’ve never felt so out of control in your life. How did this happen? You were flirting for tips, that was all! You encouraged it for money, that was it, and now– You press your thighs together, trying not to pant. You will not be unmoored. 

A slight movement in your periphery makes you notice that Curtis is still standing just to the side of your car, watching you. You turn your keys in the ignition and shift into drive.

It doesn’t mean anything it doesn’t mean anything it doesn’t mean anything, you chant to yourself all the way home.

It’s your next shift back, and everything seems to have changed. You don’t understand it. You keep doing laps of the room, keep sidling up to regulars you were so friendly with just a few nights ago, but now, they won’t even look at you, let alone touch you. No one’s ordering anything.

Or at least, they aren’t ordering from you.

Holly has been running around nonstop all night, basically having to take care of the entire room by herself. You watch man after man after man slip her little bundles of money. 

You want to scream. What the fuck happened? What did you do? What are you going to do?

You go to stand by the bar to wait for something you can do. Colin gives you a brief nod of acknowledgment but that’s it. He’s been cold, too. No. Not cold, distant. You don’t understand what’s changed.

You take a deep breath. It’s one weird night. Things will be better tomorrow.

Things don’t get better. The next night is the same. You’re starting to panic. This job was supposed to be your lifeline. Without it, without the money you were making, you’re not sure how you’ll survive.

Curtis comes in after a couple of hours of nothing. You could cry you’re so happy to see him. But terrified too. If he gives you the cold shoulder, this job really is over. But you have no idea how he’s going to act, not after what happened last time. You’re not sure how you’re going to act either. You can still feel his lips on yours.

You bring him his whiskey immediately and he greets you with an arm around your waist, pulling you in. “Hey Bambi,” he says quietly. Then he gets a good look at you. “What’s wrong?” 

You look at him carefully, not sure what to confide. You aren’t even sure what the problem is. You shake your head. “Not my best night,” you say with a tired smile. “But I’m fine.”

He stares at you for a moment, then stands up. “Come on,” he says, grabbing your hand and leading you to the little back room. You feel eyes on the two of you the whole way there.

Once he’s closed the door behind you both, he asks again, “What’s wrong?”

You sigh. “The last two nights have been weird here. I don’t– I don’t know. I’m just worried. I don’t know what happened but I’m not making any tips. No one’s treating me like they used to.”

“Mmm,” Curtis hums thoughtfully. “I think,” he says as he takes two steps closer to you, which in this small space is significant, “everyone else here has figured it out.”

It’s suddenly a little hard to breathe with him standing over you like this. His presence, his attention is always so much. “Figured what out?” you ask, confused.

“That I have lost my patience for watching other men touch you.” 

It hits you like a freight train. “What?” It comes out in a whisper.

“I’ve let this go on for too long,” he says, his voice is calm, casual. “I don’t want you working here anymore. This is done.”

“I– What? Curtis. What?! I have to work! I have to pay my bills! I don’t understand. I don’t–”

He takes one last step forward. You feel the heat coming off of him. “Shh,��� he soothes, cradling your cheek in his hand. “It’ll be alright. I’ll take care of you. I take care of what’s mine.”

You pull your face away, even as the urge to nuzzle into him is so strong. You feel like you’ve missed something, a thousand things. You feel too many steps behind. “Curtis, I’m not– I’m not yours.”

Something comes into his eyes and you’re reminded of him standing over Vinny, covered in blood. His hand travels down from your cheek. He strokes your throat once, and then his hand closes around it. “Look me in the eye,” he growls, “and say that again.”

His hand is firm, snug, but it doesn’t tighten. But you can imagine so easily how it might. You look him in the eye. You open your mouth, ready to say it again. But then– then you see it. In the way he looks at you, the way he’s always looked at you. You feel it in his grip on you, now. You can’t deny it anymore. 

Curtis shoves you into his bedroom. You’re panting already. You need his hands on you, right now. You don’t have to ask for it. He gets you to the center of the room and yanks down your skirt, tearing it in the process. You step out of it and take your blouse off, throwing it on top of your skirt. Curtis’s eyes are cataloging your body, the swell of your breasts spilling out of your bra, your soft tummy, thick thighs. His gaze, as always, takes your breath away.

You reach out for Curtis’s shirt, but he grabs your hands. “I want you on your knees,” he growls and you immediately kneel for him. He throws off his shirt, revealing the expanse of his chest, the muted blacks and grays of his tattoos. You’re desperate to run your hands over them, trace the art, but instead, they just twitch at your side. He'll tell you what you're allowed to do.

He begins unbuttoning his jeans and your mouth drops open. He chuckles darkly. “Perfect little slut.” He takes his phone out of his back pocket and aims it at you, taking a picture as you gaze up at him under your lashes, your mouth wide open. “I've been dreaming of getting you on your knees for me.” He puts his phone on his dresser, then continues taking off his pants. “You ready to choke on my cock, baby?”

“Please,” you whine. You're practically salivating now. His bare thighs are as thick as tree trunks, the muscles corded. His abs ripple as he moves. His shoulders, his back. You want.

He frees his cock and rolls his black boxer briefs down his legs, stepping out of them. It's long and thick, just like the rest of him. Your breath catches. You don't think you've ever taken something that big before.

He takes a few steps so he's completely in your space, his cock bobbing right in front of your face. He takes it in one hand, the other firmly on the back of your head and slowly feeds the tip into your mouth. You taste his musk on your tongue. As he rocks into your mouth, going a little further each time, your hands come up to grasp his thighs. On his next thrust in, you run your tongue along the underside of his dick. His movements stutter just a little and then he looks down at you, a smirk overtaking his face. It's just a touch mean, in a way that has you soaking your panties. “You ready?” he asks, his voice rough. And then without waiting for the answer, he thrusts in all the way, making you take him deep in your throat.

You flail, slapping his thigh as you try to swallow around him, breathing frantically through your nose. After holding you there for a moment, he sets a brutal but steady pace. It takes you a moment, but you find your rhythm, your panic subsiding. Once you feel steady, you lift one hand from his thighs and bring it up to cradle his balls. “Fuck, Bambi,” he grinds out. “You're gonna– I– fuck!” His hand moves from the back of your head down to the back of your neck, which he grips firmly, pulling you off his cock. As you cough and splutter on the floor, he growls, “The first time you make me come is gonna be inside that perfect cunt.”

He helps you stand on wobbly legs, then shoves his hand between your legs, cupping your pussy over your panties. “Shit, fucking soaked just from deepthroating me?”

You let out a needy little whine, trying to push further into his hand, but he withdraws it, instead settling on your hip. “Well,” he grins, “if they’re ruined anyway…” then uses that hand to rip the black lace down the side, letting them fall to the floor. He makes quick work of your bra as well, then takes a step back and sighs, “Shit, Bambi, look at you.” It’s the reverence in his voice and on his face that has you launching yourself at him, unable to keep from kissing him any longer. He lets you, quickly taking control, letting you feel all his hunger, the want he’s kept barely bottled up since he first laid eyes on you. You understand it all now. His erection brushes against you, and now it’s his turn to whine, just a little. 

He pulls away, brushing a hand down your cheek, then says “Get on the bed, on your stomach.” You quickly comply, laying in the center of the bed with your knees pulled up and spread beneath you. He brings his hand down on one asscheek harshly and you can’t help the lewd moan that escapes you. He chuckles, “Oh, I will definitely remember that for later.” He grabs your hips and cants them up, then whistles at your exposed cunt. “I knew it. Absolutely beautiful.” Then he unceremoniously shoves two fingers into your hole and you choke on nothing. “Shh,” he coos. “You can take it. My cock’s gonna be a lot thicker.” 

As he starts scissoring his fingers inside you, you can’t hold it in any longer and start babbling. Mostly a combination of “please,” and “Curtis,” and “I need,” over and over.

“I know, baby,” he says as he pulls his fingers out of you. “I’ve got what you need right here.” You have a brief moment to feel the tip of his cock on your pussy lips before he’s thrusting it into you, as far as he can go without making it hurt. 

“Oh my god,” you cry, pressing your forehead into the mattress and balling his dark blue sheets in your hands. You feel so full. It’s so good. He’s working himself into you as quickly as he can, desperate now. You both are. Once he bottoms out, fully seated in you, he pauses. Then with one hand on your stomach and the other around your neck, he pulls you up onto your knees, your back flush to his chest. You cry out at the new angle; he’s somehow even deeper now. He starts thrusting up into you at a punishing pace. You’re bouncing up and down in his firm grasp. The hand on your neck turns your head to face him, his lips brushing against yours. He holds eye contact with you as the hand on your stomach snakes down your pelvis so his thick fingers can begin circling your clit. “Fuck! Curtis, please!” you shout. 

“Yeah, come on,” he breathes, “you can let go. You can do it. Come for me like a good girl.” It’s those words that send you careening over the edge, your cunt pulsing around his cock, squeezing him until he’s coming too with a grunt, filling you up until both your cum is leaking out around him. 

He holds you there, on your knees, as you both come down, your twin pants all you can hear.

You wake up slowly, the sun shining on you through the soft drapes. You start to shift then groan at how stiff you are. The night before comes back to you. Curtis took you two more times before you both collapsed in satisfied exhaustion. He’s still out like a light beneath you. 

You take a moment to look at him. It’s odd to see him so peaceful, so still. There’s nothing of the feral predator he projects to the world. It makes you feel oddly close to him, seeing him like this.

You carefully get up without disturbing him and begin collecting your clothes. You put on your bra, but there’s no saving your panties. Same for your skirt; it’s ripped along the seam. So instead you pick up Curtis’s t-shirt from last night and put it on. It smells like him. You breathe it in shamelessly knowing there’s no one to witness it.

You savor the soreness as you move out of the bedroom. It’s like you can still feel him inside you, how much he wanted you, needed you. It makes you feel a little powerful, having that effect on a man like him.

You make your way into his living room. You didn’t really have a chance to look at his house last night, as determined as he was to get you into the bedroom. If you’d ever thought to picture it, this wouldn’t be far off. It’s all rich blues and greens and grays, leather and dark wood. Masculine. It suits him. 

As you’re admiring the room, you hear footsteps behind you and then two big arms are encircling your waist, pulling you into him. “Good morning,” he rasps. 

You turn your head to him. “Good morning,” you say with a smile.

“Fuck, Bambi, you’re even hotter in my shirt than you were last night.”

You smirk at him even as your face heats. “Mmm,” you hum. “It’s comfy. You might not get it back.” He nuzzles into your neck as you continue. “I was hoping you might have something I could wear for bottoms, too. You destroyed my skirt.”

His beard roughly drags against your skin as he asks, “Why the hell would I let you wear bottoms?”

You laugh. “Because I have to leave the house, Curtis.”

“No, you don’t,” he says as his hand begins to move between your thighs.

You playfully swat him away, even as you feel yourself getting wet again from his attention. “I have to go home.”

“Why? You’re staying here.” It’s how certain he sounds that has you turning around in his arms.

“What?”

“I don’t like your building. It isn’t safe enough. Now that I finally have you, of course, I’m going to keep you here with me.”

Once again, you feel too many steps behind. You just blink at him, confused. How does he even know where you live??

He takes your chin in his hand, his fingers gentle. “I told you, Bambi, I take care of what’s mine.”

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[navybrat817]

Happy valentines day in advance my dear Navy😘

I saw these dark prompts you shared

“It makes my blood boil every time I see you talking to him/her/them.”

“Go ahead, lock your doors, change your phone number. I’ll still find you.”

“I would never ever hurt you.”

And I thought they would go amazingly with our favorite sheriff Lee Bodecker OR with Boxer!Curtis Everett👀 I hope this inspires something ✨❤️

My beautiful Carrot! Someone else asked for Lee and “Go ahead, lock your doors, change your phone number. I’ll still find you.”, so I went with Curtis. Hope you like it!

Cold as Ice

Pairing: Soft!Dark!Boxer!Curtis Everett x Female Reader

Summary: The newest boxer at the gym sets his sights on you.

Word Count: Over 900

Warnings: Possessive and overbearing behavior, dark vibes, talk of violence (not against reader), Curtis Everett (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You tapped your finger against the keyboard as you looked over the schedule. You needed a vacation, and you luckily had some time, and a bit of money saved up. It was just a matter of how soon you could take it because you needed the break. Somewhere warm, and far away.

It wasn't that you didn't want to be at the gym. You really loved working there. It had its perks like free workouts and being close to some of your favorite spots. But it was getting to be more and more stressful going into work each day. All thanks to Curtis Everett.

The boxer with a mean right hook, buzzed hair and a beard as dark as coal, and eyes as cold as ice. For whatever reason set his sights on you the second he joined the gym. Maybe because you smiled at him. You really didn’t know. But it didn't take long for his workout schedule to conveniently match the days you were working. If he had a question or issue, you were the only one who could help him. Even if you were busy helping someone else, he’d wait. Your boss didn’t seem to care when you made a comment in passing one day since he was a “customer” and it was expected of you to provide the best service.

Curtis seemed to always be where you were, too, which wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't so imposing. If you were in a certain area, cleaning machines or setting anything up, he was suddenly there like a shadow casting darkness over you. You felt like you couldn’t breathe with him so close. He even left when you did some nights, keeping only a small distance while you went to your car and not walking on until you got in safely. You always locked the door quickly just to be on the safe side.

Some days he didn't say much to you. Just grunted or stared, or glared at anyone who spoke to you. The last guy who tried to flirt with you ended up with a broken jaw when Curtis offered to do a practice round with him. And while the guy was on the ground in pain, Curtis looked over at you. The expression “blood ran cold” was a real thing because you immediately trembled under his gaze.

It was just getting to be too much.

“Have a good night,” Steve said when he walked by.

You looked away from the computer and nodded. Steve Rogers was one of the best boxers around, and one of the kindest. He was also good looking. The entire package. “You, too, Steve.”

He stopped, his brows pinching when he took in your expression. “Are you okay?”

“I will be. “Steve was a good guy. If you said someone was bothering you, he would've stepped in and helped. You couldn't ask that of him. This was your problem to deal with. “Thanks.”

“Well, let me know if you need anything,” he said, flashing that kind smile of his.

“I appreciate it,” you smiled back. Your shoulders slumped when he walked out. He was one of the last guys to leave. Oh, god. That meant the only person left was-

“It makes my blood boil every time I see you talking to him.”

The bass of Curtis’s voice made you jump. You hated how easily he scared you. “Curtis, you shouldn’t be behind the counter,” you chastised, closing out the schedule.

“And you shouldn’t be flirting with Rogers, but here we are,” he said, gripping your shoulder and spinning you around to face him. His nostrils flared as he towered over you, and you feared he might strike you. Your eyes rounded at the thought, your back hitting the counter when you backed up. “Were you smiling that sweet smile that should only be for me?”

“I-I wasn’t,” you promised, shaking when he brought a calloused hand to your cheek. He wouldn’t try anything, right? Not out there in the open. And it wasn’t like the security cameras would catch anything. Your boss said they went out recently and he had to get them fixed. “Curtis, please.”

“You think I’m going to hurt you?” The ice in his eyes melted only a little as he closed the distance, his lips ghosting yours. “I would never, ever hurt you.”

You trembled, wanting so badly to believe him. “What do you want from me?” you asked, hating how small your voice sounded.

“I want you to finish up work and tell me where you’re planning to go on your trip,” he answered, chuckling at your expression. “You think I didn’t know? Of course I knew. And I’m going with you.”

He might as well have punched you with how winded you suddenly felt. “Go with me? But-”

“And Rogers might not go down as easily as that other prick, but I’ll wreck him if I catch you flirting with him again and I’ll give him a lot worse than a broken jaw. That’s a promise,” he said, brushing his nose against yours before he pulled away. You had to reach behind you and grab the counter to keep from falling. “Let’s go. We need to figure out the details for our trip.”

Tears blurred your vision. “Curtis-”

“Just nowhere cold,” he interrupted, his icy blue eyes on you like always. “I hate the cold.”

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[bigtreefest]

Tangled Up

Pairing: Andy Barber x Soft!Dark Reader

Summary: Andy has no idea how he’s found himself so quickly tangled up in your web. And your basement…

Word count: 2,756

Content/warnings: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, dark themes including but not limited to kidnapping and isolation, restraints and interrogation, noncon/dubcon, emotional manipulation and humiliation, forced and semi- dom/sub dynamics, kissing, smut, grinding and pussyjob, p in v unprotected sex, cum tasting, mentions of starvation, swears

A/N: I’m SO EXCITED for you all to read this! This reader is a certified feral loony and such a blast to think about. Made in collaboration with @brandycranby

Comments, reblogs, and asks are especially appreciated!

Dividers by @ghoulbloggerrr

AU Masterlist | Bigtreefest Masterlist | Brandycranby Masterlist

Andy roused from a restless slumber fully confused and disoriented. His head was pounding, eyes crusty, hair matted to his forehead likely from a stress dream he couldn’t remember now, despite the way the cortisol still flowed through his bloodstream. Everything around him was unfamiliar, yet he’d memorized the barren surroundings in the couple days he’d been trapped in this basement. At least he thought it’d been a couple days. Time seemed irrelevant now.

He never thought it would happen so quickly, having been solitary for so much of his life. Before, being alone meant peace, but since the divorce, and a couple days with such few creature comforts, he realized that wasn’t the case.

He moved to run a hand over his face in thought, in an attempt to clear off his brow so he could focus a little better, but winced from the pull at his tender wrist. That’s right, the man with the goatee tied him up pretty tight. His back was slightly arched, shoulders digging in uncomfortably to the backrest of what he assumed to be a dining chair. His lower half was nearly numb from the worn cushion underneath him, tailbone growing sore. He attempted to adjust, just to remember his ankles were restrained, too which yanked him back down to the hard wood.

The hiss Andy let out mixed with the vague sounds of footsteps upstairs. It just barely made it through the soundproof walls, but was easily picked up through the deafening silence. That must’ve been what had woken him, they were coming. You were coming.

His body went stiff as a board at that, no longer groggy, but fully at attention. This would be the time to fight back. Maybe he could finally convince you to return him to his bachelor pad, to his life.

Andy sat in anxious anticipation. In seconds that felt like hours with the way his heart was in his throat, the door at the top of the steps cracked open, golden hour sunlight bouncing off of the drywall and towards his eyes through the double glass doors of his cell, the first non-fluorescent glow to hit him in eons. Andy had never been one to stop and admire the sunset, except maybe on vacations with Laurie, but now, he’d give anything for a glimpse of the sky. Because that would mean freedom. Freedom from this place that he still couldn’t quite understand that he found himself. It was gone too soon as the door clicked shut.

He watched as your bare feet padded down the steps, tantalizingly slow, revealing bare legs under a short, silk robe. Warm food steamed in a low-brimmed bowl that balanced on your hand, the other holding a glass of water with a straw. Your eyes were focused on the next step until you reached the bottom, finally looking up to meet his gaze. It was so beautiful, so blue, but so full of turmoil. You smiled, seeing him in all of his glory, finally in your house.

Your slow stalk towards him was diverted to the basement bathroom to grab a washcloth, before you resumed your walk to the airlock. As you made your way through the double doors, a smirk broadened your lips at the sight of Andy tied up in the center of the room. Unable to do anything but be at your mercy. You set the bowl of food and glass of water down beside his chair and sat sideways on his lap, placing a gentle hand on his cheek as your eyes roved over his face, taking stock of every detail. At your touch, Andy turned his head away and squeezed his eyes shut, causing your face to scrunch in disappointment.

“Andy, honey, let me clean you up.”

He moved just barely enough to shake his head as you lifted your other hand to his face, firmly guiding him to look towards you once more. He opened his eyes again to be met with a soft look.

“That’s better, now, isn’t it?”

You began to wipe off his eyes and forehead, doing your best to clean him up. Andy’s breath picked up as his lips parted.

“I want to go home.”

Your hands froze, just about to tousle his hair, cupping his beard instead. As your eyes bored into his, all Andy saw was deep, deranged darkness behind them.

“You are home, silly. How many times do I have to tell you that? I’m going to take such good care of you, but you just have to let me. The more you learn about how to be a good husband, the more freedoms I’ll allow you, hm? Now, how about some dinner?”

Andy’s eyebrows were furrowed in anger, disgust as he stared you down, pulling at his restraints until he realized it was better to avoid the rope burn that was developing. But you didn’t seem to be bothered by that at all, setting down the washcloth and swapping it for the bowl of food, no longer steaming, but still warm. He could tell it by the way the scent surrounded him, and he hated that he thought it actually smelled good.

As you resettled in his lap, Andy found himself looking in the bowl, seeing gravy, speckled with bright orange carrots and something green, over rice.

You nestled in close, putting together a spoonful of the food and clocking his curiosity.

“It’s beef stew. Curtis is nearly famous for it. So savory, so delicious, and packed with love for this very special Valentine’s occasion. It’s a real treat.”

He was confused by your evident excitement with the dish. Were you trying to sell this to him? Poison him? What was the point? Who was Curtis? And it was already Valentine’s Day? Where had the time gone?

You held a bite up to his mouth, eyes sparkling, but your eyebrows gathered when you were met with sealed lips.

“Open up, Andy. It’s good. You’ve got to eat. Don’t want those plush swimmer’s muscles wasting away. That would be a shame!”

The tone of your voice was almost as shiny as the lipgloss you wore, making Andy’s stomach turn more. You attempted to make another bite, a smaller one of just rice, and put it to his lips again.

“C’mon. Just a little. He worked so hard on it!”

Andy opened his mouth and scraped the grains off the spoon with his teeth, chewing slowly and swallowing them down. Carbs were good, maybe that could fuel him for a few more days like this, and keep him in your good graces. Your face softened in satisfaction to the way he acquiesced and you held up another spoonful, which he promptly refused. You shrugged and set the bowl down, this time straddling his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck when you came back.

Your tone was congratulatory, yet nonchalant, “One bite! That’s progress. I’m sure I’ll have you eating out of my hand soon enough.”

Andy looked up at the ceiling. Anywhere but at you and the way your silk robe had parted where your legs had spread, teasing what little fabric lied underneath.

A grumble emerged from his lips. A mere mumble you were hoping you didn’t catch correctly, as you ran your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“What was that?”

He directed his face towards you again, eyes sharp as his nose and jawline, a killing look almost.

“You’re sick.”

You threw your head back with a light laugh.

“Honey, I’m nothing of the sort. I just know what’s best for you, and that’s being here, with me.”

He shook his head, moving to gesture to the nearly empty room, only to be reminded of his restraints again.

“This? This….empty torture chamber!? This is what’s best for me? There’s nothing down here! It’s just some shitty IKEA rug over a concrete floor, blank walls, a mattress, and a prison bathroom!”

Your face flashed a hint of anger at his defiance before you steeled yourself quickly, replacing it with a look of concern.

“Well, there’s not much down here because I don’t want you hurting yourself, Andy pandy. You don’t know what’s best yet, I’m taking care of you. Once you learn how to behave, there’s no need for these precautions. You can have all sorts of trinkets and decorations eventually. And if you’re really good, maybe you can come upstairs and stay in bed with me.”

His jaw ticked at that. This wasn’t his home.

“I have a house. It has everything I need. People are looking for me! I’m sure it won’t be long.”

You playfully rolled your eyes and your head dropped to your chest, a low, dry laugh emanating from your throat before you shook your head and met his eyes that were full of faltering conviction.

“Andrew, no need to lie to me. We can be honest with each other.” Your voice was sickeningly sweet and dripping with feigned sympathy. “I know you live in a sad, lonely apartment. And that your name as Assistant District Attorney doesn’t get you as far as it once did. Especially with the way you fumbled into success on your last case.”

His nostrils flared with ire. He opened his mouth to respond, deny, but was met with your shushing finger.

“Let me finish. A little birdie told me that you’re going to be let go any day now, especially with the several days you haven’t shown up, without a single call! And then what are you to do? Wither in your bachelor pad, squandering your nice severance payments? It’s not like Laurie would jump to comfort you. But I would. So, be a good boy, and let me take it from here.”

Andy shuddered as you shuffled closer to him, his tight lips denying the kiss you pressed to them.

“Still gonna be difficult? We can move to dessert. I know you hardly had any dinner, but let me give you a taste of how sweet things could be for you, old man. Just relax and sit back.”

Behind his back, Andy’s hands gathered into fists and his teeth clenched together. He had a feeling what your agenda was, and it was solidified by what he saw as you shrugged the pink robe off of your shoulders. Underneath it lied a white, lacy teddy, adorned with small pink hearts all over. So darling and sweet, and innocent. It was nauseating, the image coming together in front of him. The honey that poured from your mouth and hugged the curves of your body, soured by your true intentions that bubbled below the surface.

You tentatively ground your hips in a circle over the dress slacks that he still wore, pleased as he struggled to contain a moan. No matter how much Andy tried to deny it, his body was betraying him, blood rushing south, gaze sucked into the sight of your breasts being pushed up near his face by the flimsy lace.

Your pleased expression couldn’t be hidden either as you continued to hump against him, your hands moving to rub up and down his chest through his dress shirt which was no longer pristine and pressed. As you smoothed some of the wrinkles, you felt the broad expanse of what was underneath.

With a simmering eagerness, you began to undo the buttons painstakingly slow, revealing his faded undershirt. Your fingertips gently, teasingly grazed over the ridges of his pecs, thumbs flicking his nipples, gracing your ears with a low growl from his throat. You bit your bottom lip in excitement at what you were able to pull from him already, leaning in to press a soft, rewarding kiss to the straining muscles of his neck. He really was so beautiful like this, so needy already.

His dick was pressing against your thigh almost insistently with every fluid motion you were making to brush over it, mirroring the growing impatience you felt rising within your belly. Without wasting another second, you scooted back to undo the zipper of Andy’s dress pants and reached your hand in, his cock immediately standing at attention, precum already leaking from the angry red tip.

You swiped it up with your finger and sucked it off between your lips, taking pride in the way Andy’s breaths continued to pick up.

Genuine elation was filling you at that. “Mmm, tastes so good. Gonna give me more?”

His pupils went wide and dark, nearly as much as yours. You could tell his protests were wavering, despite the wispy denial spilling past his lips.

“N-no. Stop. I-I don’t want this.”

Your hand lowered again to cup his cock against the lace that covered your pussy, hips grinding up and down his length. The pressure and pleasure was almost dizzying with how you could feel the ridge of the head nudge your clit. The thin lace was quickly becoming soaked.

As you looked up at Andy, his face was turned downward and to the side again, so your brought your hand up to his hold his jaw, lovingly brushing your thumb over the apple of his cheek. You could tell he was biting the inside of his mouth to refrain from making any more noise, and you simply couldn’t have that.

You placed your forehead against his, speaking in the hot and humid air.

“I don’t believe you. I think you want more.”

You reached your fingertips under the gusset and pulled it to the side, revealing your bare, slick pussy, and pressed in closer, ground faster, watching as his cock was hugged between the lips. When your eyes flickered up to his again, his long eyelashes were brushing against his cheeks, gaze glued to the slick sight before him. It was the source of both his pleasure and his torture, and he evidently couldn’t get enough from the way his hips bucked into yours.

A wry grin graced your face as you took him in. A blush crept up his neck, and painted the tips of his ears. It was everything you wanted to see, but still not enough. You needed him to fully submit. To give in to just the beginning of the pleasure you knew you could give him. In your bounces over his lap, you inched yourself higher, his tip catching your entrance and slipping in with a delicious stretch, finally drawing a moan from the grumpy, stoic man.

It was all too much, all at once. The wet, tight warmth surrounding was him better than anything he’d felt in years. It only took a couple more bounces of your ass against his thighs, slaps muffled by his dress pants, for you to feel his dick twitch. You pulled him out just in time for his thick spend to coat your lower torsos, painting the innocent white material in sin. Andy whimpered, his orgasm torn from his grasp as you rubbed your clit to tip over the edge with him, the sight and sounds driving you towards bliss.

Drained to near exhaustion, he flopped forward as far as the restraints would allow him, straining every part of his body as it jerked and tensed beyond his will. His chest heaved, shoulders rising and falling with each heavy breath, eyes squeezed shut in a whirl of feelings and emotions. Shame, fear, relief, confusion.

You giggled triumphantly at the scene, smiling with fulfillment of the first step of everything you wanted from Andy. You brought your lips to his forehead and placed a kiss, speaking softly against his dewy skin.

“See? I think that was really nice for both of us.”

You lingered there for a second, breathing in his scent.

“Jake will be down in a little bit with a change of clothes and to help you freshen up.”

You pushed yourself up out of his lap. Andy sat there stunned, still in shock with his head limp and facing the floor. As you gathered your robe and shrugged it on, you made your way to the airlock and entered the code to leave his room, turning back for one final look. Andy just barely glared at you through those long lashes, resenting the sweet smile you gave him once again, but the cloudiness penetrating his mind made him think it was maybe a little less so than he did an hour ago. You waved teasingly with your fingertips before gracing him with your parting words.

“Welcome home, Andrew. And happy Valentine’s Day.”

Bonus A/N: who fed us after midnight? Because we’ve become gremlins😈

Taglist: @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly @mercurial-chuckles @steviebbboi @thiquefunlover63

[nemesyaaa]

i'm currently starting to have an addiction with curtis everett and your imagine is awesome, i cant get enough. it was great, and curtis is a good liar haha

— Your wet cotton panties are stuffed into your mouth, silencing your whimpers. His fingers are pressed to the hilt, his rough beard rubbing your petals as he sucks on your clit, flicking his tongue against the nub. 

no bcz it get me 🥵🥵🥵

“Did you check the backyard? She was out there yesterday.” His tongue collects your slick, only to spit it onto you again while heat combs over your skin and your stomach tightens. 

ah so good with lies again

“She is.” Curtis promises with a smirk, licking his lips as you tremble above him, so broken already and it’s only the beginning, “She’s very safe, no need to worry.” 

i can't tell how much i love this whole text, ty for writing this and sharing with us ‼️💓 your blog is full of amazing pieces

Dad’s best friend!Curtis

Your family usually joins him at his hunting lodge every year but due to your parents divorcing you haven’t been there for quite a few years. Now that you’re getting through college you decide you deserve a break so when dad asks if you wanna join this year?

You accept and after you arrive, Curtis isn’t quite sure he wants you to leave

AHH HERE HE IS !! 

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | soft!dark dad’s best friend!Curtis Everett x reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | smut - minors dni, age gap, soft dark, manipulation, coercion, daddy kink, oral (f), p*ssy slapping, fingering (f), size difference, dirty talk, exhibitionism: almost caught/not afraid to get caught, spitting, gagging (with panties), size kink, degradation, dumbification, hints of sadistic!Curtis. mentioned: thigh riding. 

𝗪/𝗖 | 1033

🍆 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲? 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲… 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲? 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Your name is called from down the hall, through the walls you can hear your father’s footsteps as he searches for you. Shame sinks deep, anchoring you to the floor, and pinning you to the eager mouth of a man almost twice your age. 

The both of you are tucked into a closet, the only light provided by the small lightbulb. You’re pressed into the wall, and fallen hangers and coats litter the floor from Curtis’ manhandling—he was so much bigger and stronger than you, it wasn’t hard for him to overpower you. 

You didn’t put up much of a fight either, you wanted him too. 

Your wet cotton panties are stuffed into your mouth, silencing your whimpers. His fingers are pressed to the hilt, his rough beard rubbing your petals as he sucks on your clit, flicking his tongue against the nub. 

Your knee is hooked around his broad shoulder keeping him close as he devours you, groaning into your swollen folds, already sensitive from his previous teasing. 

“Feels good, dumb baby?” Curtis asks against you, pulling back to spit messily on your slit, watching it drip down to your wet hole. He adds a third finger, stretching you wide as he swoops down to lick firmly up your cunt. “I know my jeans were so rough on your pretty pussy—daddy’s so sorry.”

You know he isn’t, you know he took great pride in being mean and hurting you. That was his whole attitude, a rugged man with a sadistic side, hell, he’s even joked about locking you in the basement so you’d never leave. 

Looking down at your wrists tied with his belt, you fear he wasn’t completely joking. 

Another shout of your name has you jumping, accidentally grinding against Curtis’ thick beard, and you moan softly, squeezing your eyes shut. 

“Where the hell—” Your father’s voice sounds uncomfortably close, “Curtis!”

Your hands fist his beanie as your hips start moving slowly, riding his thick fingers and his merciless mouth, soaking him with your juices. 

“Yeah?”

Your heart stops and you stare down at him in terror, trying and failing to shove him away when a shadow appears under the door. 

“Have you seen my daughter?”

Curtis’ dark blue eyes flicker up, twinkling with mischief as he pulls out his fingers, and traces them along your cunt, spreading your cream. “No, not since breakfast.” He pulls back and lands a swift slap on your core, marvelling in your sharp gasp. He repeats the action again, and again, getting harder and louder. 

Your legs flail when the doorknob rattles, “what are you doing in there with the door locked?”

“Something you don’t wanna know.” Curtis murmurs, diving forward to mouth messily at your pussy, guttural groans sending vibrations through your body. His warmth soothes the burn from the slaps, “taste so fucking sweet, baby, like you were made for me. Such a little slut, those college boys don’t give it to you good, huh?” 

“What was that?”

“Did you check the backyard? She was out there yesterday.” His tongue collects your slick, only to spit it onto you again while heat combs over your skin and your stomach tightens. 

“Yeah, I checked everywhere. I hope she didn’t go outside, it’s dangerous all the way out here��” His voice fades away as Curtis licks you again, all sounds going muffled from the pleasure. 

He reaches up to pluck your panties from your mouth, he tucks them into his pocket and trails down your body. His fingertips trace along your chest, groping your breasts over your shirt. He pinches your nipples through the thin fabric, “you hear that, dumb baby? Even your daddy says it’s dangerous, especially for sweet little girls like you. I told you it’s safer here with me.”

“Curtis—I can’t stay.” You had a whole life, a career in the making and friends back in the city. You couldn’t leave it all, abandon it for him of all people. 

“Yes, you can. Don’t you want to stay here with me?” He reaches for the lock, holding it between his thumb and forefinger before looking at you once more. “I’ll treat you so good, baby, I promise. You’ll never have to worry about a thing, daddy will take care of everything.”

Your eyes flicker from the lock to him, still on his knees with your arousal around his pink lips and traces of it in his beard, he sinks forward to gently lap at your cunt. Blinking up at you with his thick lashes, softly suckling at your clit, and even dipping into your hole with his tongue. 

“Don’t be stupid and make me do this, baby, it’d ruin everything.” Is what he says, but you know he gets off on this, the sick thrill, the cruel taunting. “Do you wanna get caught and never speak to your father again? Do you wanna make him hate his best friend, and be ashamed of his whore daughter?”

You start crying, unable to do anything with your bound wrists and weak legs. His suckles get rougher, torturing your button with a hard suction, lewd noises filling the small closet with his moans. You don’t even notice when he prods at your hole again, sliding in deep with three long fingers. 

Your father is still rambling about your disappearance, totally unaware of his closest friend between your thighs. Curtis barely twists the lock, and the faint click snaps you out of that trance. 

“I-I’ll stay…” you choke out, tasting the bitterness of your tears. “Please don’t, please, daddy.”

The door locks again and Curtis’ hand returns to your hips, pressing you against the wall as he kisses along your thighs. The gentle gesture only makes you more embarrassed, with your soaked pussy inches from his face and your father on the other side of the door—he’s managed to trap you here in his hunting lodge. 

“I’ll go do another round outside the lodge, she might’ve wandered too far or something. God, I hope she’s safe.” 

“She is.” Curtis promises with a smirk, licking his lips as you tremble above him, so broken already and it’s only the beginning, “She’s very safe, no need to worry.” 

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

「 take her under your wing AU 」

warnings: innocent!reader x various, stepbro!steve rogers, bucky barnes, professor!peter parker, professor!reed richards, ari levinson, marc spector, ransom drysdale, curtis everett, lloyd hansen, andy barber, thor odinson, scott lang, miguel o'hara, frank castle, billy russo, dark content, essentially everyone is soft!dark, college au, polyamory, idk what to tell you this is just porn

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FICS:

the many firsts

something in return

locked out

i dare you

what i say goes

too big

the basement

REQUESTS:

gaming + intox kink (headcanons)

billy & frank catch you discovering billy’s toy collection (headcanons)

desperate to help (headcanons)

curtis helps you fall asleep (headcanons)

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[biteofcherry]

Not a proposal

part of Unbreakable Ties

mob boss!Curtis Everett x female reader

summary: A direct follow-up to this bit that started the whole universe of dark mafia boss Curtis. You're taken to Curtis' home - your future home and argue with him about his choice of a wife.

warnings: dark and soft-dark elements; arranged marriage; forced marriage; threats; dominant and possessive behavior; Curtis is too damn smart; also who doesn't love to live a spoiled wealthy life; brief mention of breeding kink

Author's Note: I had this scene in my head forever, but somehow couldn't get around to write it. Until today. Just sat down to it at morning and ten hours later here we are 😅

Curtis Everett Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Curtis Everett was a scary motherfucker.

For many, his position as the head of the mafia was enough to deem him dangerous and terrifying. His orders were behind many lost lives, disappearances, blown up places, companies going forever out of business.

Yes, that was enough to consider him scary.

But as you sat in the back of his car, eyeing him from the corner of your eye, you knew there's more to be afraid of.

Until today, you thought yourself to be disinterested in him and the aura surrounding him. Of course, being connected to the mob web, you were aware of who he was, how he looked, and how he operated. But you were rarely at the events he frequented. Your family was in the mafia, but not on the upper levels, not in the inner circle that would grant you such nobility.

Well, until he dropped the bomb with his decision to fucking marry you.

Out of all the available, better matched mafia princesses.

That term might suit you in the general way - a girl who was brought up in the mafia; but it wasn't a category you'd put yourself in as an adult woman.

The fact you were mostly on the outskirts of mafia social life was one of the reasons. All the more making the whole situation unbelievable, that Curtis would for some reason choose you.

This unpredictability, as well the fact he appeared to be two steps ahead with every move, made him that scary motherfucker in your eyes.

Lack of physical violence against you (aside from being tossed over his shoulder and carried to the car) was surprising, too.

Your father and uncle might have been good men when it came to treating women, but there were enough disgusting scumbags in the mafia who raised their hands on their wives or daughters. Who held them hostage in abusive households, while wetting their dicks in diamond-encrusted bitches that dared to look down on those scorned women as if they were better.

Yet, something told you Everett, despite being the law when it came to the conservative traditions gluing this dark world, wouldn't raise his hand on you.

Even as he hoisted you over his shoulder, he was careful with his force.

Oh, you hated him at that moment. So much. But a slightly breathless thought passed your mind when he put you in the backseat of the car.

That Curtis Everett was a man.

As primitive as it sounded. Shallow, too. Still, you couldn't stop that fleeting thought that no man before him was able to just lift you up.

Well, not the men you dated, anyway. Aside from a short fling with one of the young mafia soldiers back when you were barely eighteen. After that, your choices have been guys outside of the famiglia.

Nice guys. Charming, non-threatening, with safe passions and gentle hands.

For so long, you told yourself that's what you wanted. That's what was healthy and normal. You were still convinced of that, it's just that some part of you liked the brief moment of being manhandled by an imposing, lethal man.

A man sitting next to you in the confines of a heavy black suv, with his legs spread wide, tattoos crawling up his fingers from beneath the cufflinked sleeves of a pristine steel gray shirt paired with an equally dark suit.

In the small space of the backseat of a car you could smell his perfume. Pine and herbs and salty sea.

Funny, you would expect that the ruthless devil at the head of the most powerful mafia to smell of grime, gunpowder, and death.

Taking a deep breath, you smoothed out the fabric of your dress over your knees.

"I really think this is the wrong choice." You spoke up, keeping your voice confident, but not daring.

You had the will to fight for yourself, but you were aware of the workings of the world, especially this criminal one. There were repercussions for everything and it'd be stupid to think you could get away with disrespecting the fucking Don.

You also liked living, so you had no intention of chewing through your own arm just to get free, like a caged animal.

Curtis' pointed a single finger at you.

"That is exactly why you're the perfect choice." He said, with the same calm, polite finality he was talking with at the dinner at your family's place.

"What?" You frowned, confused. "The fact I don't want it?"

"No. Because you are furious, but able to control yourself. Because, despite trying for many years to stay outside of mafia workings, you know how to play that game."

"If you want a smart wife, I assure you there are quite a few to choose from. Not every mafia princess is a spoiled, stupid bimbo." Which wasn't their fault, either. It was how they were raised.

Who knows, maybe if your dad was up in the ranks and more influential, you too would be groomed to be a completely docile, sweet mouse.

"Each woman brings different advantages." Curtis said, not the least remorseful.

"I don't come with many," you countered.

Your family was a part of the mob. Your father, his brother, your brother and your cousins. They all were on mafia payroll, though they dealt with a small part of the whole crime machine.

Their influence and wealth were slightly above compared to middle class civilians, but not much compared to mobsters of higher status.

Besides, it's not like Curtis needed more money. He had the most of all.

Power, too.

"I disagree." He surprised you with his simple but genuine statement.

"But let's continue this at home." It was that moment you realized the car had stopped and you reached the destination.

Home. Curtis used that word purposely. Not his place, not inside the house. He called it home, reminding you of the inevitable fate.

As you stepped out, the materialistic part of that future spread before you in its glory.

The mansion was impressive. The grounds surrounding it, as well. Not a monstrosity, but a surprisingly warm classic, like an Italian villa. You bet there was a swimming pool.

Damn, you loved swimming. And sunbathing. And sweet cocktails.

You shook your head, getting yourself back on track as Curtis' hand touched your lower back and nudged your forward.

Inside, the interior was welcoming and stunning. You half expected an overabundance of gold and kitsch, but was greeted by classic comfort. This was a place that could really feel like a home, not just a statement on status.

Curtis guided you to a spacious room in which a wall of windows was interrupted by a massive, stucco fireplace.

"You may claim to be insignificant or not belonging, but I see it quite differently." Curtis opened a small wine fridge in the custom made bar and poured two glasses.

He handed you one.

"I'm confident in my worth as a human being," you took the glass from him. "But I don't see reason behind choosing me for a mob wife. For you out of all!"

If some soldier working under a Capo wanted to ask for your hand, it would be more believable. More likely a situation to fight and decline, too.

But the boss of bosses staking claim? Unbelievable.

Inevitable, too.

"Hmm, the Don is usually expected to marry for alliance." Curtis agreed. He stood opposite of you, neither of you sitting down. "However, at the moment, I'm in no need to form an alliance. Don't need to support the power using outsiders."

"What I'm in need for is to strengthen inner structure."

You took a sip of wine, mostly to wet your lips and throat.

"Okay, I get wanting to marry a daughter of your own men." You nodded in return. "It provides them with honor and respect, while further securing their loyalty to you. Still, it doesn't-"

"Lower ranked can be the weakest links when it comes to loyalty, but your family has been spotless for many years." Curtis explained.

"I don't believe you made that choice just to reward my family." Curtis may have been an honorable man, as far as criminals went, but even he wouldn't make such a big gesture for an insignificant last name.

"I didn't." He took a sip of wine, and you couldn't help but watch the way his throat moved as he swallowed.

"Your family's so called reward will echo through all the ranks."

Curtis' eyes glinted something cold and calculating. Instead of being only scared, you found yourself intrigued by the plan he was weaving.

"For the others on lower level it will mean hope for their potential promotion in the future. That their daughters will marry to higher ranks, or sons given positions under Capos."

"Sons... you mean my brother will-"

"He'll be working under McGregor." Curtis confirmed, the corner of his mouth curved into a smirk. "And with that new prestigious position and connections, he will get the hand of Giana."

It was shocking that the Don himself knew of such minor, gossip-level things like a foot soldier being in love with Capo's niece.

"Moreover, it will shake the upper ranks." Curtis continued in the same calm tone, only his eyes betraying heightening triumph.

"And sometimes, when you shake a branch, bad fruit falls."

Shit! He truly was two steps ahead. Of everyone.

Your breasts rose up in a quickened breath. You had a certain weakness for intelligence. A dose of fear spiked anew, too, for it meant Curtis definitely had a counter argument to every point you might roll out.

"If it comes to it, you'll find out which of your ups are greedy and power hungry enough to betray you." You concluded with a nervous swallow.

Curtis only nodded, taking another sip of his wine. Taking you as his wife wasn't just a whim for him, even if some might see it as it. Actually, it served him well, if most of people remained clueless.

"As for you," the cold in his eyes transformed into something ravenous that almost made you take a step back, "before you list me names of other unmarried girls from lower ranking families..."

You really were ready to come up with some propositions.

"You're fit to play the game and be a rightful queen by my side. Smart, confident, brave. And-" he sighed with relief- "a woman, not a child barely out of age."

Pressing your lips together, you almost laughed at his clear discomfort at the prospect of marrying and fucking an eighteen year old. You'd give him a point for that.

"What about the part of me not wanting to be a mob wife?" It had to be the wine that made you ask so boldly.

Or, perhaps, you were slowly accepting the unchangeable fate and merely poking at the bear.

"I would call it bullshit." Curtis shrugged.

"Excuse me?" You bristled.

You took a few quick steps over to the coffee table to put your glass down, then braced your hands on your hips. Curtis didn't move from his spot, only turned around to face you.

"You paint this picture of someone who's been trying to cut ties with the mafia, but you're still here. Sure, we can discuss how you'd probably be chased and brought to heel, but-" slowly, he took another sip of wine, completely unbothered- "would you, really?"

Before you opened your mouth to retort, he continued:

"You're very smart and resourceful, know how to talk people up and make connections. If you were truly determined to get away from it all, you would. And we probably wouldn't find you."

"Honestly, it's possible we wouldn't even put much power behind that chase. A daughter of a lower ranking mobster, we'd do it for the sake of your family's name, but named the case cold after a few weeks."

Your pulse quickened with annoyance. At his words, but more at the truth he was revealing and which you knew at the back of your head. Because, if you put all your effort into disappearing, you'd fucking succeed. For-fucking-ever!

"Still, you stayed." Curtis' voice was a smooth blade, cutting off your armour piece by piece.

"You ventured outside the lines of mob's web with your dates, but never formed close friendships with those not from the famiglia. Perhaps you'll claim it was to keep people safe, but I wonder if it wasn't because you feel more at ease with those who understand this life. Who understand certain comforts, dangers, and... cravings."

Your blood rushed south, pooling heat in your core at the mentioned thrill.

"You went all bold with the degree unusual for most mafia princesses to choose, and I admire that. Yet, here you are, not looking for a job in that field. You upgraded your family's small business, but it's nowhere near what you're qualified to do."

Because you wanted to be different. You wanted to be more than just a mold everyone else was cast from. You wanted to sate your ambitions and stimulate your brain.

At the same time, you couldn't imagine not being at your family's cafe.

"Actually-" Curtis paused to put his own glass on the table and took a step towards you- "you don't seem to have been doing much different things than other mafia princesses."

"You work more, yes. You spend less, yes. You don't frequent many brunches and cocktails, only Carmella's monthly spa spree. But you eat only at mafia owned places. You participate in Fiore's and Layton's community cookouts."

You wanted to scream at him that you supported the community, nothing else. But was it the sole truth?

It was also a habit. And, somehow, a distaste for anything that wasn't from the world you knew.

You could also admit that you acted spoiled on rare occasions. You couldn't afford to buy only brands, or to splurge on three bags full at Sephora. And you were fine with it. Still, you bribed Sabrina at Claude's boutique, to put away for you that short, pale pink faux fur they had in the upcoming order list.

Curtis' gaze slowly slid down your body then up again. It wasn't lecherous, yet felt like a dark promise of devouring you whole.

"Maybe you don't like to be called that, but you are a mafia princess. And you can be swooped away by the mafia king."

"You have it all figured out, don't you?" You huffed, frustrated with losing all reasonable arguments, beside just pure spite.

"Yes." He didn't gloat, he simply stated.

"Well, you haven't even really proposed! No getting on one knee and offering a ring!" You blurted out, throwing your hands in the air.

Mirth formed soft wrinkles around Curtis' eyes. His mouth widened in a grin that balanced between amusement and a shark's bite.

"Because it's not a proposal."

No, it wasn't. Proposals had the option of refusing. He wouldn't accept yours. Already didn't. It was quite magnanimous of him that he even entertained the whole discussion on the matter.

"But if it matters to you so much-"

His hands gripped your hips in a flash. He lifted you, so easily once again, then tossed you onto the sofa.

The world spun, before your gaze settled on the light wooden beams crossing the pristine white ceiling. Then your eyes shifted to look at the man hovering over you.

He pushed your legs apart, kneeling on the floor between them. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small velvet box.

Your pupils widened, and breath hitched in your chest. Though you weren't sure if it was because the motherfucker was clearly prepared for an actual traditional proposal, or if it was because of the way he had you splayed under him.

Curtis opened the box and a setting of blinding stones sparkled at you. The ring was stunning. Possibly worth half of this mansion.

You gaped as he took the ring in one hand. With his other, he lifted your hand, which somehow felt beyond your control. Slowly, he slid the ring onto your finger, all the while holding your gaze.

"I won't ask if you marry me, because you will." Curtis rubbed your knuckles with his thumb.

His other hand moved to your chest. Fingers brushed over the swell of your breasts then circled your throat.

"In six months." He leaned down, his voice lowering into a purr as he laid each new tile of your fate for you.

"Official announcement comes next week. We'll host the annual Christmas party for the famiglia as an engaged couple. A few other events before our spring wedding."

He pushed closer. You felt the heat of him between your thighs. Your clit throbbed with interest. His fingers on your neck tightened slightly and your pulse quickened beneath his thumb.

"I won't fuck you until our wedding night. I'm traditional like that. Plus, I don't want anyone to have any doubt about me choosing you. There won't be any claims that I did an honorable thing after knocking you up."

There was a mention of condoms at the tip of your tongue, nearly rolling out in a begging tone.

"Because when I fuck you-" his breath tickled your lips as Curtis leaned closer- "you will take me bare. Always. In every hole. You will leak with my cum and swell with my child."

Your pussy clenched around nothing.

The gasp that fell out of your lips wasn't of an outrage, nor mortification. Curtis read it for the need that it was, his eyes igniting with victory.

He slid his hand up your neck, until his long fingers bracketed your jaw. He held you in place, with a dab of force to remind you that he would always be holding the reins, even as his mouth took your lips in a soft, sensually maddening kiss.

[witchywithwhiskey]

WitchyWithWhiskey's Sweethearts Game Masterlist

happy valentine's day!! thank you to everyone who sent in asks for my sweethearts game!! (as a reminder, entries are closed!)

all fics have now been posted! i'm sorry if i didn't get to your request, it either came in after i hit the cap or didn't follow the rules. i hope y'all enjoy the sweet and smutty love fest ♡♡

here are all the fics:

be my cupid [smut] lloyd hansen, established relationship

bite me, baby [smut] ari levinson, ceo au, enemies to lovers

the demon of your dreams [smut] andy barber, soft!dark incubus au

more than chocolate [smut] steve rogers, husband/wife au

light up the night [fluff, smut] johnny storm, best friend au

off-limits [smut] jake jensen, bodyguard au

skincare routine [fluff, smut] ransom drysdale, boyfriend au

the vampire's pet [smut] curtis everett, vampire au

your favorite sweet treat [smut] andy barber, established relationship

a permanent brand [smut] curtis everett, established bdsm relationship

it's kind of a funny story [smut] bucky barnes, divorced neighbor au

taste so sweet [smut] lloyd hansen, brother's best friend au

sweet talk [smut] johnny storm, boyfriend au

better than the book [smut, fluff] ari levinson, best friend's brother au

everything for this event can be found under the #witchywithwhiskey's sweethearts tag on my blog.

[steviebbboi]

Ooooooooooooohh my god. OoooooooooooOoOoOOoOoh. My god. LOL. The way that this series is GRIPPIN’ me is wild. I loved this chapter with Curtis- there’s something about possessive!Curtis that feels so canon!

The last thought has me thinkin’ Curtis is feeling more for reader than he should— and so shook that Curtis would be the first to experience it too (given how saucy he is) 😏 I can’t wait to see her with Ari at the next installment!! Thank you for this amazing work!

Sleeplessly Embracing You

Characters/Pairings: Curtis Everett x curvy Millennial female!Reader Word Count: 2.4k Summary: You don't get a lot of sleep with your tattoo artist men, but it happens on occasion. Some of the nights are spent with both of them, other times it's just Curtis or Ari. Tonight, it's Curtis. CURTIS POV

Content/Warnings: previously negotiated free use, somnophilia, explicit smut: vaginal fingering, vaginal intercourse, unprotected sex, insemination; dirty talk; light degradation; use of pet name: sugar; some feels

Notes: Some of the pieces of the Obsidian Stain & Sin Series can stand alone - THIS ONE DOES NOT. Also, this is the FINAL offering for my Birthday Jubilee!

Previous Installment | Series

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You remain blissfully asleep in Curtis’s bed when he has to get up to piss in the middle of the night one night in January.

When he pads silently back into the bedroom, he looks at your naked form all tangled up in his sheets, half sprawled, half curled up, sinful skin and curves that tempt him constantly, and he’s not tired anymore.

He moves closer, his steps silent on the plush carpet. As he reaches the side of the bed, he can see the rise and fall of your chest with each slow, deep breath. Your lips are slightly parted, soft puffs of air escaping as you slumber peacefully.

Curtis's fingers twitch at his sides, itching to touch you. He knows he should let you sleep, but the sight of you sprawled out so invitingly in his bed is too tempting to resist. Slowly, carefully, he lowers himself onto the mattress beside you.

His hand hovers over your body, his fingers trembling slightly with anticipation. He loves to play this game with your unconscious, sleeping form, to see how much he can tease, please, elicit responses from your body in your most vulnerable state. It’s intoxicating and fascinating to him. He loves to see the responses he knows and explore touches and places and techniques while you’re unaware so he can apply them again to you later when you are awake.

He starts at your shoulder, ghosting his fingertips down your arm in a feather-light touch. Your skin is warm and soft under his calloused hand, and he relishes the contrast.

His touch drifts lower, tracing the curve of your waist before settling on your hip. He pauses there, his thumb rubbing small circles on your skin as he watches your face for any sign of waking. Your expression remains peaceful, undisturbed by his gentle exploration.

Emboldened and sure he has his sleeping plaything, Curtis lets his hand wander further. He skims over the swell of your ass, squeezing gently before continuing down your thigh. As he reaches your knee, he changes direction, his fingers trailing up the inside of your leg.

Your legs part slightly in your sleep, exposing your pussy to his hungry gaze, as if inviting his touch.

Begging for it, really.

In the dim moonlight filtering through the curtains, he can see the glistening of your folds. Even in sleep, your body responds to his touch, a slight sheen of arousal coating your intimate areas. Curtis licks his lips, his mouth watering at the sight.

With exquisite care, he traces a single finger along your slit, barely grazing your sensitive flesh. Your body responds instinctively, your hips shifting slightly towards his touch. A soft sigh escapes your lips, but you remain asleep.

Curtis repeats the motion, applying slightly more pressure this time. He feels your wetness coating his finger as he explores your folds. His cock twitches with interest, hardening as he continues his gentle ministrations.

He circles your clit with feather-light touches, watching intently as your breathing quickens slightly. Your brow furrows, and you make a small noise in your throat, but you don't wake. Curtis smirks, pleased with your unconscious responses.

Slowly, carefully, he slips a finger inside you, groaning softly at how wet and warm you are. He slips it back out and in, out and in, and your inner muscles clench around the intrusion even as you remain asleep. He bites his lip to stifle a groan, not wanting to wake you yet.

With practiced skill, he begins to pump his fingers in and out of your pussy at a languid pace. His thumb brushes over your clit with each inward thrust, applying just enough pressure to stimulate without overwhelming. Your breathing grows slightly heavier, soft sighs escaping your parted lips.

Encouraged by your unconscious responses, Curtis adds a second finger. He spreads them slightly as he pushes in, stretching you gently. Your hips shift, pressing down against his hand as if seeking more. A small whimper escapes you, but your eyes remain closed.

Curtis leans down, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, "That's it, sugar. Let me make you feel good."

Curtis continues his ministrations, his fingers moving with practiced skill inside you. He curls them slightly, seeking out that sensitive spot that he knows drives you wild. When he finds it, he applies gentle pressure, rubbing in slow circles.

Your body responds beautifully, even in sleep. Your back arches slightly, pressing your breasts up towards him. A soft moan escapes your lips, barely more than an exhale. Curtis feels your inner walls fluttering around his fingers, a telltale sign that you're close to climax.

He increases his pace slightly, his thumb circling your clit with more purpose. Your breathing grows heavier, small whimpers punctuating each exhale.

But then, a mumbled whine of, “Ari,” falls from your lips, and Curtis stops abruptly.

He and Ari have shared you so easily for months now, no strings or labels or competing, but you’ve never said the other man’s name in your sleep, and the ferocious beast that leaps to life in his chest is so unexpected, that he can’t stifle it and springs into action.

Roughly, he rolls you fully onto your back and yanks your legs open, his earlier gentleness replaced by urgent need. He positions himself between your spread legs, his thick cock fully hard and ready. Without preamble, he thrusts into you in one powerful stroke, burying himself to the hilt.

The sudden intrusion jolts you from sleep, your eyes flying open as a gasp escapes your lips. Before you can fully process what's happening, Curtis is already moving, setting a punishing pace as he pounds into you.

"Curtis," you moan, your voice thick with sleep and confusion. "What-"

"Look at me," he growls, one hand gripping your chin and forcing your gaze to his. "Keep your eyes on me while I fuck you."

Your mind still foggy with sleep, you struggle to focus on his face, but he��s determined. His powerful body looms over you, muscles flexing with each thrust.

"Who's fucking you right now?" Curtis demands, his voice a low growl. "Whose cock is buried inside you?"

"You," you gasp, your body rocking with the force of his thrusts. "You, Curtis."

He grunts in approval, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. One of his hands slides down to grip your thigh, hitching it higher around his waist to change the angle. He knows he hits the spot that makes you see stars with the head of his cock when you cry out in a gasping moan.

"That's right," he growls.

Curtis's hand slides up from your thigh to grip your chin firmly, his ice-blue eyes blazing with possessive fire. "Open your mouth," he commands, his voice low and gravelly.

Still dazed from sleep and the sudden onslaught of pleasure, you comply without hesitation. Your lips part, tongue lolling slightly as you gaze up at him with wide eyes, blinking up at him through your lashes.

His hips never stop their relentless rhythm, and he wants to groan with each thrust as he feels the way your cunt still has to stretch to accommodate him, squeezing him better than anyone he’s been with before. But a shiver runs down his spine at the way you look up at him.

Curtis's thumb traces your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly to open your mouth wider.

He leans in closer, his face hovering just inches above yours. His eyes never leave yours as he gathers saliva in his mouth, then spits into your mouth. You flinch at the action, but not away from him, just at the sensation, and you keep your eyes locked on his.

And that makes him groan. “Swallow me down like your greedy little cunt is about to swallow my cum, Sugar.”

You swallow obediently, your throat working as you take down Curtis's saliva. Your eyes stay locked on his, wide and trusting despite the rough treatment. His thumb traces your bottom lip again, smearing the remnants of his saliva.

"Good girl," Curtis growls, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. "Such a perfect little slut for me."

His hand slides from your chin to your throat, applying gentle pressure. Not enough to cut off your air supply, but enough to remind you of his control. Your pulse races beneath his palm as he continues to pound into you.

“Rub your clit, Sugar, it’s time for you to come for me.”

Sleepy though you might still be, you obey Curtis's command without hesitation, your hand snaking between your bodies to find your clit. Your fingers circle the sensitive bud, matching the rhythm of Curtis's powerful thrusts.

"That's it," he growls, his voice rough with exertion and desire. "Show me how good I make you feel. Come on my cock, Sugar."

Curtis's eyes never leave yours, his gaze intense and possessive. He loves that you instinctively know he demands that eye contact in this moment. It makes it all so much more intense. It’s too intimate to keep any of yourself from him.

"Curtis," you moan, your voice breathy and desperate. "Please, I'm so close."

He squeezes your throat, applying more pressure for just a few more seconds, and then when he releases, your orgasm crashes over you in waves. Your back arches off the bed, pressing your breasts against Curtis's chest as your body convulses with ecstasy. Your inner walls clench rhythmically around his cock, milking him as he continues to thrust into you.

"That's it, Sugar," Curtis growls, his voice strained as he fights his own release. "Let me feel every bit of that sweet pussy squeezing my cock."

Your eyes stay locked on his, even as they glaze over with pleasure. Soft cries and moans fall from your lips as your orgasm continues to roll through you, your body trembling beneath him.

Curtis's thrusts become more erratic, his rhythm faltering as he nears his own climax. His fingers tighten on your throat once more, not enough to choke you but a clear reminder of his dominance.

"Gonna fill you up," he grunts, his voice strained. "Gonna pump you with my cum. Want you dripping me between your thighs.”

With a final, powerful thrust, Curtis buries himself to the hilt inside you. His cock pulses, flooding your inner walls with his hot release. He groans deeply, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating against yours. His hips continue to move in small, involuntary jerks as he empties himself completely into you, and your walls squeeze him deliciously milking every last drop.

Curtis's hips continue to move in small, involuntary jerks as he rides out the waves of his climax. His breathing is ragged, hot puffs of air fanning across your face as he hovers above you.

As the last pulses of his orgasm fade, Curtis slowly withdraws from you. You whimper softly at the loss, and he looks down in time to see a trickle of his cum drip out - a sight he never gets tired of.

He reaches down to push it back inside your pussy, and you moan and shift, overstimulated and sore, but still weak for his touch there.

Curtis leans down, his arms caging you in on either side, and captures your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, tasting you, claiming you - always eager to have more of you.

His kiss is demanding, almost bruising in its intensity. Curtis breaks the kiss only to trail his lips along the column of your throat and down to your chest. Your fingers thread into his hair, holding him close as he lavishes attention on your sensitive skin. Curtis nips and sucks at the swell of your breasts, leaving small marks he knows will bloom into bruises by morning. A possessive thrill runs through him at the thought.

Curtis takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking and nibbling gently. You arch into his touch, still sensitive from your intense orgasm.

"Curtis," you breathe, your voice a mix of pleasure and exhaustion. "That was... intense."

He hums against your skin, releasing your nipple with a soft pop. "Did I hurt you?" he asks, feeling a tinge of concern despite the possessive fire still burning in his chest.

You shake your head, offering him a sleepy smile. "No, just... surprised me. It was good, though. Really good."

The beast in his chest relaxes slightly, but there’s still an edge of something prowling - something possessive and primal. He runs a hand down your side, his touch gentler now.

Your hands move from his hair to cup his face and bring his eyes back to yours. “You good?” you ask.

He shifts up to kiss you again briefly. Of course you would think to ask about him. Too fucking sweet after all is said and done no matter how debauched you get with him and Ari.

“I’m good, Sugar. Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

You cock your head and he laughs.

“Fine,” he admits, “I didn’t originally mean to wake you up. Was gonna play with your pretty pussy while you were dead asleep.”

You shake your head, but he sees the heat in your eyes at his words. “You’re always trouble.”

“And yet you can’t stay away.”

“No, never.”

Curtis softens at your words, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He leans down to press a tender kiss to your forehead, then your nose, and finally your lips. The gentleness is a stark contrast to his earlier intensity, but he feels how it’s become just as much a part of him as his rougher side.

He shifts to lie beside you, pulling you into his arms. You curl into his warmth, your head resting on his chest. His fingers trail lazily up and down your spine, soothing you back towards sleep.

As your breathing starts to even out, Curtis's mind wanders. He thinks about the possessiveness that gripped him earlier, the unexpected surge of jealousy at hearing Ari's name on your lips. It's going to keep him up for the remaining hours before the sun rises - something he'll be thinking about for a long time.

....ooooooooh!

👀

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[eccentricallygothic]

About burglar!Curtis…

This idea occurred to me too, and to shut me up he’d use me for his needs and breed me full of his child 🥵🫣🫣

KATHYYYY YOU SEXY BEAST 🥵

| Wrong Place, Right Time | 

Warning(s): Noncon, burglar!Curtis, frisking, corruption kink, groping, unprotected p-in-v sex, bondage, breeding kink, choking, fear kink, pet names, dacryphilia, mild spanking, creampie, degradation, drugging.  

Pairing: Dark Burglar!Curtis Everett | Naive!You.

It was ironic and yet fateful. 

The house that the shadowy man had broken in to rob wasn't even yours.  

You had just been a friend who was there for a sleepover. 

Your eyes widen and you freeze in your spot between the double doors of the fridge when you hear a click from the kitchen backdoor that opens into the yard behind the house. Either you were too caught up in your rummaging of the contents inside the appliance to find something to snack on, or whoever it was that was slowly entering the dimly lit room with soft thuds of their boots now was such a professional that they hadn't required any prior tampering with the mechanism before easing it open, because you hadn't heard anything until the door was being noiselessly pulled open. 

Your head whips to your sides frantically as you panic, unable to decide a course of action that feels right. 

It is when the footsteps become louder and louder that you drop to your knees with your ears flaming hot and you crawl to the kitchen island and grab the first thing that you can reach; which is a rolling pin for whatever reason. 

Clutching your weapon close to your chest, you bite your lip to try and champion your panting as you move to your feet but remain ducking behind the island, vigilant eyes scanning your surroundings. Whoever it is has most probably figured out that they aren't alone due to how the refrigerator light had been illuminating the otherwise mostly dark room, the thumping close of the magnetized doors only further damning you. 

You tightly chew on your bottom lip as you slowly move around the counter, eyeing the kitchen door while the footsteps circle the workspace in the same fashion.

Your eyebrows furrow when they abruptly come to a halt and everything goes dead silent again. You take a few moments before raising your head and peeking over the marble top to check the intruder's position. 

But no one is there. 

Self doubt suddenly grips at you and you wonder if you hallucinated or misperceived something else for a creep but then–

"Boo~" a deep whisper sounds right beside your ear and your eyes widen as you spin so fast you can barely comprehend anything. The way in which the stranger suspends your rushed attack by wrapping his rough fingers around your weapon bearing band and depriving it of any and all liberty while his other hand flies to your throat to walk you back into a wall is all too quick for you to register until after it's happened. 

"Woah, now. What do we think we are doing?"

Okay, he is a professional. 

Your eyes that can rival saucers instantly fill with tears as the man gathers your other hand along with the one that had meant him offense above your head. He easily snatches the rolling pin from you before looking around and then tossing it in a basket that holds various kitchen cloths in it. 

The harsh blue of his eyes is so bright that you can make it out even in the liminal lighting. "Now, where were we?" As his amused gaze now trails over your barely clad body, you realize that burglary is no longer the center of his focus, for a deep pink tongue reveals itself from his bearded mouth and licks a long stripe of his chapped bottom lip. Since one of his arms is half raised to keep you locked in place, the heavy scent of what can only be described as raw manliness wafts to your nostrils and lingers in the air all around you. His pale face is dirty and stern, cheeks scarred in some places under the thick mat of his dark beard.  

The stranger does not muffle your mouth but you're far too petrified to attempt anything unwise. He does not need to press a weapon to your skin to ensure meekness either, for his bruised and naked lethal fists are threatening enough. 

So you let out the only thing anyone in your situation would in their helplessness. "P- Please." 

"Hm" his eyes lower to scan your erect nipples that push against the sheer fabric of your tank top, his pearly whites -that are in a stark contrast to the rest of the darkness- flash as he smirks when he locates the spot that your natural moisture has caused in your fluffy cotton panties. "Gotta make sure you don't have any more surprises for me first" and then you're whipped around before his free hand is all over you, the coarse pads of his fingers roaming over every bump and crevice of your form. 

You let out an audible gasp when his palm brushes against your breasts -that he had neglected along with your intimates during the initial frisk- and he lets it circle the shape before taking a proper squeeze. You wince and your body responds to the pain by making your muscles twitch. Your back arches as a result and your ass bounces up to collide with his own privates and then the man has no choice but to look down with a grunt at the assaulter. 

The sight that his cruel blue eyes meet with pulls his lips wider and his expression deepens into a grin. "Jeez" a small patch of fuzzy little threads resembling a bunny tail stands erect an inch or two above your covered pucker. 

What? 

You like cute things and so you reward yourself with them every once in a while. 

The realization that you are wearing that underwear claws at your throat and cheeks alike and you can't help but flush even in this depraved situation. 

"Didn't know I had myself a bunny here" your thumping heart begins to thunder when you feel his hand toy with the 'tail' for a few moments before he flicks it. You are on the verge of letting out a peep but he suddenly snatches your throat back into his grasp and sandwiches your body between his hard one and the wall you're facing. 

"Tell me" his beard scratches against the shell of your ear from behind and you tremble in fear. Your legs try to press together to try and cover yourself in any way you can but the stranger ruthlessly worms one of his feet between yours and roughly pushes them apart. The action causes you to lose your balance and your legs go to split but the knee he props up in the middle catches you just in time. "Do you like to breed like one too?" He doesn't care for the frantic shaking of your head and instead caresses your nether regions with the intruder he has pushed between them. 

"Plea–"

"I think you do" he decides for the two of you and marches you into the pantry closet before pushing you over a big carton that stands in the center. The stranger easily manhandles you and before you can try your luck even in vain, he grabs an apple from one of many baskets lined along the edge of a table before pushing it in your mouth. Your teeth dig into it and your jaw locks in place due to its size, your head having no choice but to lay against the box sideways as your eyes release stinging tears all the while. 

The man seems to be in a rut as he does not bother with ridding you of what little covers you have on, instead only roughly pulling down your panties before grunting at the sight of your sex that glistens even in the small light that shines in the dark closet from the kitchen. A calloused palm lands on your ass and makes you jump up with a whimper, your bloodshot eyes unable to see much even though they frantically dart about futilely in every direction they can. 

The man does not waste another second and aligns his rock hard cock along your entrance and pushes in within the next moment, groaning at the balmy tightness of your soft walls. "Fuck, bunny" while one of his coarse hands keep your wrists arrested above your ass, the other squeezes at your hip before steeling you in place. "Trying to shake your head no but makin' a mess inside those cute little bunny panties like it's your job" he jerks the rest of his seemingly never ending length deep up your cavern. 

Your pussy has had to expand so much to accompany him that you can feel a very obvious and painful strain in the band of your opening, the ache causing you to fear that you might rip. Your mouth is full of apple juice as you blink away your tears, face scrunched in discomfort as you stare at the wine rack in front of you. 

The man pulls back almost all the way out only to plunge his cock deeper and harder up your hot channel now. Your head spins and can tell that his unforgiving size has already located your sensitive bundle of nerves within the first few thrusts. 

His stiff and thick tip is unrelenting after that as he just keeps on increasing his speed, his heavy balls slapping your sore ass as they try to push their own way in with each push of his hips. The man grunts, curses, gropes, squeezes, spanks and somewhere along the way even leans down to bite at your tear stained cheeks, licking them in long stripes and twitching at the taste while the box below you violently shakes and threatens to come undone by how roughly it is being rocked back and forth. 

"You like that, huh, bunny?" He has realized that each time he spanks you or pulsates inside you, you clench sensitively with a moan. And so he has been doing that for the past couple pounds. "Like getting fucked like the little breeding bunny that you are?" His face is next to yours as you sob into the apple, forcing yourself to keep your eyes trained on the wine bottles as he glowers down on you while pistoning himself in and out of you like you're nothing but a toy meant for relief of the depraved sorts.

"What is with the crying, huh?" His hips snap against yours so hard that your aching ass and even pucker shake with each thrust. "You finally have what you always wanted; a man to breed you full and swell like the dirty little bunny that you are" his deep voice is now even more hoarse due to his irregular breathing. "Isn't that why you saunter around other people's houses in nothing but slutty little underwear? So someone can come along and take you for the breeding bunny that you are?" Your eyes move from their position for the first time in a while.

How does he know that it's not your house? 

"You don't have to worry about anything now" he wraps your hair around his hand before roughly pulling at it to withstand the force of his orgasm that shoots up your cavity. "Except. For. Bearing. Me. A. Healthy. Fuckin'. Fluffle." Your body naturally reacts to the overwhelming stimulation as he gives you a jab with each word, fucking his hot seed deeper and deeper up your womb, causing your hips to tighten and pussy to milk him as your eyes roll to the back of your head and you fall. 

Your owner takes his sweet time fucking his orgasm out and into you as you spasm against the carton helplessly, drowning in a numbing combination of myopia and vertigo of your forced ecstacy, thighs quivering violently. 

"Now," the stranger lets up only when he is fully satisfied… for now. Pulling himself out of your abused channel with a wince, he fixes himself up after letting your arms fall limp at your sides. "Oh– there, there" he abruptly halts whatever it is that he's doing behind you to pull up your panties when his seed threatens to spill out of your stuffed slit. "Can't let it go to waste now, can we?" He snickers to himself before appropriating the rest of his condition.

"Now, let's get you to your burrow" you are manhandled up to your malfunctioning feet by your nape and a wet cloth presses to your nose before your eyes can even adjust to the sudden burst of light that shines in from behind his towering form. His face is the last thing you can make out before your knees finally give out and you go to fall on your back but he catches you in one of his hard arms. 

"There, there, bunny" his voice echoes in your head as the world around you starts to melt. "I've got you" you feel him remove the apple from your now slack jaw before he lumps you on one of his shoulders. 

And then your consciousness fades into an unfathomable abyss. 

MASTERLIST

[krirebr]

Well, my heavy-duty writing plans for today were derailed by someone rudely setting my throat on fire (figuratively) but I'm still hopeful I'll be able to get my new one-shot up sometime this week, so here, have a mood board preview! I'm excited about this one.

[navybrat817]

Lovelies, between this ask about Jefferson having an attic spouse and Bucky being a dark or soft!dark lumberjack, I'm not thinking of Curtis converting an old train car into a home and keeping you there. 😈

[ronearoundblindly]

Kind of an angsty question: how do they deal with missing/being away from you?

Ooooo, okay, yeah...Kinda angsty but still super sweet. I can do that! I'm not writing this *exclusively* about being apart ON VALENTINE'S DAY, but that could certainly apply.

Warnings for language and vague sexual references only.

Steve Rogers

Absolutely does not realize how grumpy and on edge he gets if you two are separated for a long time. Steve may enjoy that technology has come so far in the last century, but hell if he's ever gotten the hang of texting. He will call or videochat, and he wildly prefers videochatting because he knows that sometimes you lie (fib, really) about feeling okay. Steve's great at reading micro expressions; time apart also equal time he isn't understanding the full lives of the people he cares about.

Bucky Barnes

Buck mostly blames himself for how much time apart he has from you. He, like Steve, doesn't deal with it very well. He mostly becomes more brooding and snippy the longer it is. Bucky is better at texting than his pal but not better about the contents, so no deep convos happening over the phone (partly because he's rarely alone, partly because he doesn't particularly like being on the phone).

James Mace

He's trained for this. I mean, quite a few of them are, and for very long stretches, distances where realtime conversations are impossible, but Mace is diligent about sending messages. He holds on to very tiny, specific memories of you, stories you tell, and places you've been. Your laugh is the best one, the thing that keeps him going. He does keep a file, notes of funny stuff to tell you when he's back.

Curtis Everett

Is not good at reaching out. Internalizes everything. It's...an ongoing problem.

Jimmy Dobyne

Suffers. Messes with his nails and cuticles a lot. If he's home and you're not, Jimmy obsessively works on one of his many Garage Projects to pass the time. He doesn't enjoy feeling needy, so he won't text more than his regular amount. He will, however, admit to how much he missed you after you return.

Johnny Storm

Uh, he's mostly fine. Hits him at the oddest moments--missing you--and when it does, Johnny can't word his feelings in any meaningful way. He gets antsy to do things, but he doesn't know what. The adrenaline just builds until he finally gets to see you. Basically, he mistakes longing for boredom, so he ends up treating the wrong emotion.

Jake Jensen

Leans a little stalker-y but not on purpose; he's so slick with the tech and using IPN, wifi, and GPS to track your devices. It's soothing when he's away to figure out where you are and what you're up to, especially if he knows you can't pick up the phone (or he can't actually talk anyway).

Lloyd Hansen

I don't know if I'm going soft in my old age or whether @ellethespaceunicorn has whittled down my hatred for him, but my gut is telling me Lloyd constantly checks in if he's "missing" you. (Sure, that's probably more of a sexting thing, and he probably would not answer if you were trying to check in.)

Ari Levinson

Torn. He is also trained to be away and go dark for long periods, but Ari really itches to talk to you, especially just before big moments like missions or presentations. You always help him relax and focus. He can't pinpoint exactly when he became so dependent on you, but he's a touch embarrassed.

Ransom Drysdale

Sends a stupid number of texts about absolutely nothing until you respond. The man has no shame.

Andy Barber

Distracts himself in work, go figure, but hey! that usually means he has wracked up overtime and earned a little vacation once you come back home. A nice long weekend together goes a long way.

Since Andy is very practical and won't put much emotion into text (tell him stuff like that face to face, he prefers it), mostly all he communicates while you are away are reminders of to-dos. He is, however, very diligent about saying he loves you everyday you aren't right beside him...and when you are right beside him

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Who Would... Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

a/n: omg is 'IPN' correct? why can't i frickin think of the thingy, the unique address thingymabobber. gerdermit!!!

[babyjakes]

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eun participates in kinkmas 2023, twenty four days of kinky thots, blurbs, and fics!

please note: prompts have no assigned date. due to an unplanned mini-hiatus, three days feature double prompts.

fics.

flamingo pink | daddy!ari levinson x puppy!reader | prompt: pet play

a diamond's gotta shine | soft!daddy!lloyd hansen x little!reader | prompt: toys

clear blue water | soft!dark!daddies!steve rogers and ari levinson x little!reader | prompt: watersports

lock them out and throw a feast | soft!dark!curtis everett x front-ender!reader | prompt: food play

help me hold onto you | steve rogers x avenger!reader | prompt: sex pollen

devils roll the dice | hitman!robert pronge x innocent!reader | prompts: sex tape + medfet

did something bad | soft!daddy!lloyd hansen x little!reader | prompts: interrogation + weapon play

you all over me | soft!dark!daddies!steve rogers and ari levinson x little!reader | prompt: double penetration

blurbs.

not trying to play | bf!jake jensen x subby!reader | prompt: nipple play

in the middle of the night | dark!stepdad!pete brenner x reader | prompt: somnophilia

delicate | daddy!ari levinson x little!reader | prompt: virgin

thots.

edging | mutual masturbation | massage | harness | sex shop | threesome | monster fucking | knotting | fucking machine | exhibitionism + piercing

[trinittyy]

fic recs

just a little assortment of my favorite works to keep track of them and also show love to the respective writers.

note - a majority, if not all, of the following works contain dark content that some could find triggering. tread carefully.

divider by @firefly-graphics

toxic affection - @love-toxin

warnings: harassment, bullying, some violence, forced relationship

pairing: yandere!bakugou x reader

literally unashamed to say that BNHA fanfiction is what brought me to Tumblr

but this was one of the first I found and it's epic

what's your escape - @gotnofucks

warnings: obsession, possessive behavior, non-con

pairing: dark!sherlock holmes x reader

the man is disastrously down bad for the poor reader

she was so witty and clever but in the end, he got what he wanted in the most satisfying way

infatuation - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor - masterlist

warnings: mentions of stalking, obsession, non-con

pairing: dark!clark kent x reader

poor girl didn't have a clue or a chance in the world to escape this man

sidenote: I can't add Roo to the recs without mentioning just how talented she is. She was the first proper introduction to dark fics in the Marvel fandom and I've been hooked ever since. The amount of detail and dedication that goes into her work is noticeable and she's a talent that deserves recognition. It's one thing to make me like a fic or two of my favorite Marvel men but another to have me thirst over shit I didn't think I'd like.

naughty ransom holiday tales - @jtargaryen18

warnings: kidnapping, non-con, dub-con

pairing: dark!ransom drysdale x reader

guilty pleasure series

hate to love ransom but I can't help it

what the king has - @sincerelythedarkside

warnings: dub-con, character death

pairing: soft!dark steve rogers x reader

royal au

love me a good jealous steve

plot twist shocked the shit outta me

smut was out of this fucking world

love bites - @cherienymphe - masterlist

warnings: character death, jealousy, non-con

pairing: dark!steve rogers x reader, peter parker x reader

modern vampire au (what's not to love there)

this actually made me cry like a bitch

ongoing series

sidenote: Seeing as Cherie will be on this list many times, I have to say it's difficult not to add every piece of work on this list because while some writers have a magnum opus, everything she writes is a work of art. Her range and the backstory she puts in her characters make each story feel like a movie I just can't get enough of. Will forever love her writing.

kryptonite - @cherienymphe

warnings: non-con, obsession

pairing: dark!bruce wayne x reader

the build-up and tension gave me actual chills

trailer park babydoll - @mypoisonedvine

warnings: dub-con, infidelity, age gap

pairing: wayne munson x reader

guilty pleasure fic

absolute filthy smut

wrath of the dragon - @straywords

warnings: non-con, chasing

pairing: dark!daemon targaryen x reader

yet another down bad man

overdue - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

warnings: creepy curtis, non-con, obsessive behavior

pairing: dark!curtis everett x reader

there's little to nothing i love more than a good ole broody man with attachment issues

anxious - @syntheticavenger

warnings: stalking, kidnapping

pairing: dark!peter parker x reader

tasm peter

cutest in a way lol little fic

the dream that got away - @dotieeee

there's not nearly enough dark fics ft my fave peter so I love this one

warnings: dub-con, non-con, manipulation, controlling behavior, obsession

pairing: dark!morpheus x oc!mera

probably the first dark fic about morpheus

each chapter was a masterpiece

and i still haven't seen the show lol

thanks for the invite - @syntheticavenger

warnings: non-con, bitchy friend behavior, implied drugging (i think), oral (f receiving), slight bondage

pairing: dark!lloyd hansen x reader

a funny little unhinged lloyd fic

rsvp - @syntheticavenger

warnings: dub-con, hide and seek, exasperated bodyguard, exhibitionism (a bit)

sequel to the fic listed above

lloyd is still unhinged and reader is still suffering

[buckets-and-trees]

Chris Evans Characters

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Unless specifically noted, all of my stories feature a female reader insert character.

dividers by my lovely og wife @vesearartistry

feat. Andy Barber, Ari Levinson, Curtis Everett, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Andy Barber

I’M YOUR MAN soft!dark mafia AU dubious consent, forced marriage, explicit smut

↠ I'm Your Man [3k] ↠ Morning Radiance [750] ↠ Prepare for Takeoff [1.5k] ↠ Don't Look Too Far [6.4k] ↠ Burned Off the Haze [4.5k] ↠ Cracking Locks [5k] ↠ Dangerous Desires [6.3k] ↠ ask: a moment on your honeymoon [350] ↠ Make Her Glow [1k]

EXTRAS: ↠ will Andy let the reader work? ↠ what if Andy were forced into marriage with the reader?

Legal Temptations [6.4k] takes place a year or two after Defending Jacob

Ari Levinson

OBSIDIAN STAIN & SIN Ari x reader x Curtis Everett tattoo artist modern AU soft!dark, initial mildly dubious consent, explicit smut, many kinks

+ Obsidian Stain and Sin [8.1k] + Taking You Home [6.2k] + Worship in the Bedroom [3.2k] + Get Closer to Me [5.8k] + Sleeplessly Embracing You [2.4k] CURTIS POV / NO ARI + Sensible Sorting [1.5k]

Slope - Concept Pitch [2.5k] modern AU - some college, then mid-30s second chance half imagine, half storytelling

Lakehouse Ari ask/thot [160] Quite the Morning [1.6k] mfm with Nick Fowler modern AU - brother's best friend, first part of The Lake House soft dark, smut

Waiting On One Look [300] apocalyptic omegaverse AU soft dark world, but not a soft dark Ari

Crimson Mornings [500] Ari x reader x Bucky Barnes explicit smut

Curtis Everett

OBSIDIAN STAIN & SIN Curtis x reader x Ari Levinson tattoo artist modern AU soft!dark, initial mildly dubious consent, explicit smut, many kinks

+ Obsidian Stain and Sin [8.1k] + Taking You Home [6.2k] + Worship in the Bedroom [3.2k] + Get Closer to Me [5.8k] + Sleeplessly Embracing You [2.4k] + Sensible Sorting [1.5k]

an ask about a water creature C!Evans character [1.2k] + Never Going Back Again [3.7k] Bolotnik!Curtis x reader undefined time period AU explicit smut, first piece: non/dubious consent, second piece: full consent, terato/monster fucking

THE LAKE HOUSE a collection of encounters in a modern AU setting soft!dark, explicit smut, no strings attached, brother's best friend(s), reverse harem

↠ Curtis shows up [1.4k]

Lloyd Hansen

HUFFILY EVER AFTER: A CINDERELLOYD STORY - COMPLETE modern AU, Cinderella adaptation, unknown identities + enemies/rivals to lovers, eventual smut

↠ chapter 1: The Masquerade [5k] ↠ chapter 2: Conference Day One [6.4k] ↠ chapter 3: The Panel [4k] ↠ chapter 4: The Awards Gala [6.5k] ↠ chapter 5: Fallout and the Final Morning of the Conference [6.6k] ↠ chapter 6: An Afternoon Adrift [6.5k] ↠ chapter 7: Conversations on the Final Night [6.9k] ↠ chapter 8: Departure Day [6.7k]

WELCOME HOME, PUMPKIN  set of three stories utilizing the same opening and sharing lines of dialogue and narrative but with soft, soft dark, and dark results

↠ soft: Sugar Pumpkin ask: before you got together | fic: Room to Grow | ask: holiday Lloyd - Christmas while you're pregnant ↠ soft!dark: Spiced Pumpkin ↠ dark: Smashed Pumpkin (non-con) Smashed to Pieces (non-con)

Unholy Errand [4k] Lloyd x reader, God the Bounty Hunter x reader, Ransom Drysdale dark, non-consent, dubious consent, explicit smut

Lloyd punishment ask [500] explicit smut, bondage, dom vibes

Lloyd hearteyes ask [330] light smut

Ransom Drysdale

Between the Lines [4.4k] post-Knives Out, fake engagement, slow burn, forced proximity, "enemies" to lovers, off-page smut

Steve Rogers Collecton

Main Masterlist

[biteofcherry]

Unbreakable ties

mob boss!Curtis Everett x female reader

summary: Despite your family being part of the mafia, you led a quite free life compared to the other single women in the mob. However, it's all about to change when the head of the mafia decides to make you his wife.

warnings: dark and soft-dark elements; arranged marriage; forced marriage; threats; dominant and possessive behavior;

Author's Note: For now it's just a collection of short musings and ficlets, not a full story. But since this Curtis gained quite a lot of attention, I think he needs a separate masterlist (for potential future purposes).

First installment

When he decided

Not a proposal

Christmas party

Random thots