#strange white man give me a chance

[gutsby]

Make It Stick

Pairing: Old!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel never thought he’d need a vasectomy. Then, one night, he accidentally finishes inside you.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected-peepaw-p-in-v (I’m sorry). Accidental creampie. Age gap. Cumplay. Breeding kink. Ovulation has led me places I wouldn’t go with a gun.

Note: Convergence is a painting by Jackson Pollock. We studied it in high school and I thought it looked like jizz idk

Word count: 4.7k

He should’ve gotten snipped when he had the chance.

Should’ve taken the plunge, faced his fears of needles and fluorescent-washed doctor’s offices like any man his age could have done and gotten the damn vasectomy. Now he was here, nearly two decades older and still none the wiser in this cold, dead world with a pretty young thing like you between his sheets. In lieu of elective surgery, Joel Miller had only to grit his teeth, bite hard, and repeat over and over again in his head, desperate:

‘Don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, DON’T—’

Words like those normally worked. With women that weren’t you, they tended to serve him exceedingly well.

But you were just so tight. And wet. And welcoming. And try as Joel might to pretend like he got laid on a regular basis, the truth was that he didn’t. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t seem to think straight when it came to this fixation he’d developed for you, so, instead, he let his dick do all the decision-making whenever he found himself around you. Ten times out of ten that ended in:

“J-J-Joel—oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—I’m gonna CUM.”

And that made it worth every last life-endangering drop.

Feeling how your flushed, lithe body came apart beneath his touch. How you needed him. How your eyes grew to half the size of your face and you gaped up at the man, lips parted, like you couldn’t even comprehend how the friction of seven inches could make you feel so good.

If he had it his way, he would’ve loved nothing more than to show you that feeling every night, and twice the next morning if his hip wasn’t giving him too much trouble.

But, at present, the man had bigger fish to fry. Like not becoming a new father at fifty-nine if he could help it.

With the last two fluttering pulses of your heat, and almost going cross-eyed from the pleasure as he felt it, Joel yanked his big, slippery cock out of your body and made a fist around his member as he always knew to do. Tugged and pulled and grunted above you—‘Sweet girl, you’re so fuckin’ good to me’—and watched your tits and your belly for the milky white ropes to ensue.

Strangely, though, your skin stayed the same.

No cum-spray Convergence appeared before him, no opaque and cloudy fluids dribbling down your ribs, nothing. Your stomach was as bare as the rest of you, save for a few beads of sweat, and that was all there was.

Joel shook his dick harder, confused. Beneath him, you were still coming down from your high smiling ear-to-ear and staring blissfully at the ceiling. Your chest rose and fell, rose and fell in quick succession, and while you endeavored to recollect your mind, Joel was losing his.

Where the FUCK was his cum?

In no naked horizontal tango to date had Joel simply…cum without noticing. Shit like that just didn’t happen to men, least of all to ones his age, so when he’d wrung his poor cock like a sodden towel and still saw nothing come out, he felt his stomach turn and plummet inside him.

He dropped to his hands and knees in less than a moment and lowered his head between your legs.

“No, Joel!” you squealed, giggling. Kicking your feet, “Another round and I’m gonna combust, you old perv!”

But Joel wasn’t looking to get his dick wet again. He was inspecting you. Or trying to, anyway. Quickly realizing he couldn’t see a thing in the darkness, he let out a breath through his nose and lifted you off the bed. Your naked frame thrown over his shoulder, bare hip beside his head and your strangled, muffled cry of, ‘What the hell, Joel?!’ hardly seemed to register with the man carrying you off.

You were toted to the bathroom. Joel was about to ease you down on your feet. Then, appearing to change his mind at the last second, he set you onto the sink instead. Your skin bristled with indignation, anger. A little arousal.

“Last time we did it on a sink we broke the faucet,” you reminded him, feigning more dismay than you really felt inside. If anything, you liked it when your fossil-age fuckbuddy switched things up. You were just exhausted.

Heedless of your words, Joel kneeled on the floor and pried your legs apart before him. When you swatted at his silver-flecked head, he brushed your hand away.

“Hold still,” he grunted.

“How come?”

“‘Cause I said.”

How quickly he commanded that tone of a father.

“Wanna sleep,” you groaned, about to roll your eyes.

But you couldn’t deny you liked being doted on by him.

Joel’s touch was gentle. Probing. Spidering down the most sensitive parts of your bare lower half, between your thighs, and slowly coaxing you closer to the edge of the sink. Your breath hitched when you saw his head tilt.

He appeared to be deep in thought—a rare sight for anyone who’d seen Joel Miller in the postcoital state. Most every time he’d blown his load before, the man was dead asleep within ten minutes. His joints could barely hold himself upright after a half hour of plowing the back forty, much less carry you, too, so you were puzzled now.

He thumbed at the seam of your cunt, and you whined:

“Jo-el—”

“Can ya…push, baby?” His eyes flitted up quickly.

“Push?”

“Yeah, just…” With a look you couldn’t quite read, he placed the palm of his other hand on your belly. Then, pressing, “Like this. Like you’re squeezin’ somethin’ out.”

You cocked a brow in muted confusion but did as he asked. You watched his gaze, and it stayed on you.

Or, rather, on that soft and pliant spot between your legs the old man seemed to favor so much. On any other occasion, in a position like this, he surely would’ve been wearing a smile. Tonight, his lips curled into a grimace.

And twisted even further when you ‘pushed’ like you did.

At first you felt nothing. A gentle clench of your walls supplied little more than a sense of having been stretched—no novel concept to you, who’d spent the last three-and-a-half months or so getting fucked by the finest AARP affiliate alive most every night. It wasn’t until you clamped down again that you got the feeling there was something else. Something thick and warm and slow as molasses trickling out from between your folds.

You let out a low, tender, ‘Mmph’ without meaning to; it felt kind of nice. Beneath you, Joel’s face turned grave.

He watched as his spend oozed out of your freshly-fucked hole and thought of vasectomies again.

You were young—too young to know better. Too sweet and naïve to see any peril in spreading your legs for a man like him, in a world like this. And Joel swore he’d be careful. But no post-apocalyptic birth control method was perfect, or even close to it, and it was clear he’d relied too heavily on reflexes to keep him from cumming inside you. Joel was old—too old to be doing this shit.

Too grown and well-versed in sex to be making mistakes as stupid as that. His brow pinched in, and he drew his next breath as if the air around him was growing scarce.

“Joel, what’s—”

“When’s the last time you— you— uh…bled?”

Hardly more in control of his face than the rate his heart went thudding in his chest, Joel winced at the end. This time, you were the one to knit your eyebrows together. You could tell by that tight, discomfited tone he wasn’t talking papercuts, but were still unsure of his purpose.

“Like two, two and a half weeks ago. Why?”

Well, fuck.

Joel buried his face in his hands. You scooted closer to the sink’s edge, thinking little of his cum leaking out.

“Why?” you tried again. Softer this time.

An old, weathered head lifted to greet you. It was bleak.

“You see this?” Joel paused. Swiping his finger through the viscous white substance that had trickled out on the counter, in a puddle now, “Y’know what it means, right?”

You let his look, and the question, remain suspended in air for a second. Then another. Then you shrugged.

“Yeah. But…you’re old,” came your answer at length.

You’re old.

Joel and you both knew as much, but the former wasn’t quite following your train of thought. Still wanting to try and mitigate damages while he could, though, Joel reached for the roll of toilet paper that was fastened to the wall and tore himself a strip. He bunched it up and, reaching for one of your knees to spread you further for him, took to daubing the tissue across your entrance.

“What’s me bein’ old got to do with anything?” A little sharp, then, seeing you flinch when he drew too close to your clit, “‘m sorry, baby, just— gotta get this out of you.”

You made a face but let him continue anyway. Your eyes followed each movement of his hand, and reflexively, the muscles in your thighs tightened. Why bother with this when the man has so many better uses for his hands?

For a second, your eyes fluttered half-shut.

“Maria says old folks are, uh…infertile. Got something to do with a middle pause,” you said, breaths labored.

Joel stopped just long enough to shoot you a look.

“Menopause,” he corrected, all too matter-of-fact, before returning to his work, “is a woman thing.”

What the hell were they teaching in Jackson’s sex ed classes, anyway? Then Joel remembered how his brother sincerely believed that women peed out of their vaginas until he was twenty-three, and the thought of you not knowing the ins and outs of male virility wasn’t the most far-fetched idea in the universe. Besides, sexual health wasn’t exactly the community’s highest priority when the world around it was in a perpetual state of decay and hordes of fungus-faced fuckers ran rampant in the wild.

He curved a tender, careful finger against the ring of muscles framing your sex, trying to absorb more cum, and your grip on the edge of the countertop tightened.

“S-So, you—” You swallowed, throat constricting a little too, “You’re sayin’…men can make babies…whenever?”

You sounded so innocent as you said it. Joel wanted nothing more than to club himself over the head for being the cause of this predicament—of being such an instrumental part of the perceived corruption, as it was.

Meanwhile, your head was swimming in filthier thoughts.

Deeper, Joel, keep…pushing in…dee-e-per. You would have scarcely had more luck giving a fuck what Joel was talking about now than if he’d just said the room was on fire. By his voice, you knew you should’ve been paying attention, but the dexterity of his fingers was too much. He was caressing the first couple inches of your inner walls, attempting to scrape what bits of his release he could get unstuck from the flesh, but it seemed he was succeeding mostly in just turning you on. Rendering you deaf to the drone of his words as you pictured him pushing something else inside your tight, throbbing—

“—whole lotta problems for us if you’re, uh…ovulating,” Joel finished, expression taut and oblivious. You hadn’t heard the first part of that sentence and didn’t care to.

“Ovulating,” you repeated slowly. Indifferent.

Joel carried on without a hitch.

“Kids just ain’t fit for this world. I know you know that.”

You nodded along, not hearing a word.

“And if you’re— if y’ever did consider, maybe…”

Your lungs took an extra sharp inhale when Joel’s fingers coaxed out a warm, sticky glob of his load, and he petted your folds with his thumb. Then let out a breath himself.

“…y’oughta start a family with someone your own age—”

That part snagged your attention. Too swiftly, it came:

“My own age?”

Sighing, in spite of those welts of pleasure so heightened by his touch that the space between your legs began to throb and ache. Hardly possessed of more sense to form words that weren’t just echoes of his own, you tried communication from a simpler source—your foot.

You nudged his shoulder, and Joel looked up.

“What?”

“What?”

Parroting was, evidently, a hard habit to kill. Your toes curled into the bare skin of Joel’s shoulder, and when he re-inserted his finger, you ground your heel even deeper.

“When’s that ev…ever stopped us from doing it before, hm?” you said, tone strained but laced with some humor too, “Thought you liked sayin’ you’d make me a mama.”

Joel’s face flooded pink at the recollection—as a matter of fact, there had been several such memories. Instead of answering immediately, he just averted his gaze again. He anchored one hand to your thigh, and with the other teased out another string of your shared arousal before wiping his finger on the tissue, clinically, and repeating. All he had to offer in reply after was: ‘That’s different.’

And it was, to some extent. Joel wasn’t blind to the sea of uneasy looks that trailed behind you both whenever you walked the streets of Jackson together. How wide the eyes would get when instead of observing some filial display of affection play out before them, as expected, you’d loop your arms around his waist and take his lip between your teeth as you kissed—‘Can we please go home now, baby?’—that Joel was certain he’d been cemented as the resident pervert among everyone in town. Just how much worse that reputation was liable to get if there ever happened to be a round and swollen belly between that embrace someday was unthinkable. Dirty talk was one thing; parenthood another entirely.

This is for the best, became the low, grating refrain in his skull. Why he dug so hard, pushed so far inside the wet, velvety interior of your body without a thought for his own desires in that moment; he had to cull every trace of himself out of there, before he had half a chance to think.

“Baby, hey, hey, no—” Joel cut in a second later, abrupt.

No, no, no. You weren’t thinking either. Wrapping your hand around his wrist, pushing his fingers deeper inside.

Smiling a little, too.

“What are you— no, honey, don’t— you can’t,” Joel’s words splintered in every direction, watching you plunge his own index and middle fingers into the slick and the warmth he’d just been trying to get his cum out of. He looked up and saw your lids were heavy, about to close.

“What are you doin’? This ain’t…no, baby, it ain’t…safe.”

Back to sounding like a dad in no time at all.

“What’s wrong with leaving it in a bit longer? Feels nice.”

You had no idea what you were talking about. Joel pulled back on his hand and, in less than a second, had it freed.

“I just told you,” he huffed, “You’re too young—”

“I’m plenty old, Joel,” you returned, eyes snapping open, “You’ve shown me that more times than I can count.”

Joel was silent, stunned. He rose to his feet as your eyes seared holes into his, and for a second, he was uncertain whether to take a step back or reach out for you again.

“Baby…”

To his surprise, something like hurt surfaced behind your eyes. You set your lips in a tighter line, and your grip on the counter grew firmer just the same. He would’ve taken that move as his cue to lean in gently, slot his body between your thighs, and venture an apology of some sort, when the next thing you did stopped him cold.

Without a word, you slipped your free hand between your legs—eyeing Joel closely, almost scornfully, as you did.

You took your middle and ring fingers and sank them into your cunt. Not intending to let a drop of his spend leak out, you wedged them in as far as they’d go. Joel watched. Gawked. Once sufficiently pleased with the look of shock taking over his handsome, aged features, you withdrew the fingers. You brought them up to your mouth, wrapped your lips around the tips, and sucked.

It was a rare thing to get a taste of you and Joel together like this, so you savored it. You moved your mouth further down to drink it all in, peering up with wide, indulgent eyes and a look that was meant to punish.

Feels nice.

Tastes alright, too.

You’d licked the last bit of this glaze off your hand when your stomach clenched. You knew it would happen. Full as you were, you feared your body still hungered for more. As such, it hardly came as a surprise when next your muscles tensed, and you shifted closer to Joel.

“Maybe I don’t want babies with someone my own age.”

Either one of your knees were nudging his hips. Drawing him in. Joel appeared to waver for a second, unsure, but the look on his face made it clear this was mostly a matter of a delayed reaction. He couldn’t get his legs to move because the rest of him was still in awe. Staring at your lips, where the residue of his spend was glistening, then to your eyes, which were no less inviting, then up to the crown of your head and over it, to fix his stare on the mirror behind it. You watched him watch his own reflection with a look that was both hard and unkind, breathing slow. When he didn’t stir from that position after a minute, you touched a hand to his lower stomach.

And, brushing the heel of your palm against what felt like a hundred grey hairs in the old man’s happy trail—your favorite ones—you smoothed a caress along his belly, back and forth, before moving it left. Your hand came to rest on a mound of muscle and fat sitting right above his hip. Love handles, Joel had remarked one morning with vague distaste. Love handles, you’d repeated, beaming. You held on tightly now, appreciatively, and used your well-loved wall of flesh to pull him closer. As with any beckoning of yours, Joel didn’t have so much as half a mind to resist. He did, however, refuse to meet your gaze while you tilted your hips and spread your legs wider, before winding your ankles around the backs of his legs.

“Don’t you think I’d look pretty?” You pouted up at him. Your folds made a light, warm suction rubbing along the front of Joel’s cock—of course he’d grown hard again, and you could hold him, point him down to that wet embrace awaiting him patiently at the edge of the sink.

Joel cursed under his breath.

“‘Course I do…” he said, voice hoarse, “Y’always look—”

“I mean…with your baby inside me, Joel. Right here.”

As if to put a finer point on your words, you nestled the head of his cock inside the first inch of your body. Joel had to seize the laminate underneath you and grit his teeth to keep from letting out a groan too loud. That tip may as well have been a first-rate conductor of heat, and your warmth the thing that might send him spilling again

“You don’t—” Joel choked out, nearly incensed, “—don’t know what the hell you’re sayin’, baby. What that means.”

In truth, there wasn’t a world Joel Miller could imagine where a girl like you could give more than a passing thought to getting knocked up by him—a man his age. What good would it do? You had your whole life laid out before you like a four-course dinner spread; there was no sense whatsoever in letting the meal go to waste on him.

He communicated as much by moving to pull out.

You met the effort with a push of your own, sinking down another inch or two on his shaft and smiling when you saw his eyes roll back in his head at the dizzying friction.

“I know more than enough, old man—” Grin stretching ear-to-ear as you dug your heels in his ass and tugged him deeper, “—who do you think taught me all this?”

Of course, it had been Joel.

Always, always him—the only one, in fact.

Your walls drew him in like a hug. For once, Joel conjured up the strength to take a look between your lower half and his, and when he did, the next moan was inevitable. It trickled through his lips. Your body looked sublime swallowing a third of his cock, and it was almost as though a maggot had crawled into his brain, chanting:

‘Make her full. Make her yours. Tell any man who’d even think of looking her way she belongs to someone else.’

He couldn’t.

Joel would never be so selfish. Just think of her youth.

But when his gaze drifted back to yours, every thought and any word besides seemed gently to melt away. Beneath him, your eyes were two pools of desire.

“You like this…don’t you, Joel?” Your voice was tiny.

“I do.”

In fact, he loved it.

“Then why can’t we?” Why shouldn’t we?

Minuscule now, the words that reached him barely exceeded a whisper. It was as though the moment itself had drained all fear from your face—and out of Joel, all common sense from his brain—leaving you both to stare at the other with shared, stupid, anoetic looks of bliss. The man who had you beat by thirty-odd years seemed nearly of the same mind, with almost identical ignorance.

Idiocy.

“Just once?” Joel croaked.

Somewhere underneath, unseen, you smiled.

“Just one?” you murmured back.

He sank in another inch. When your walls contracted around him, Joel’s hands found your hips by force of habit and pushed your back against the glass behind it. The mirror was cool, and inside you, Joel was throbbing.

“Once,” he repeated, not thinking too deeply.

“One,” you said, with a world of more purpose.

Joel relinquished the last three inches, and with it, all of his resolve. The handsome, scarred, and plainly greying features all twisted as one, and the expression that you knew too well to mean that the man was feeling good took on the slightest hint of guilt. He gripped you tighter.

“One?” Joel panted. Confused.

He pulled out halfway just to find his home again. Your pearly slick mixed together with his spend, and both coated over Joel’s shaft in a pretty, generous sheen.

“One more of you, I mean.” You sounded too sweet. There was no way in hell you’d actually meant it.

Joel’s cheeks flushed again, but he didn’t stop, either.

“Baby…” he trailed off instead. He pushed in, pulled out, felt your tender little hole make an ‘o’ around his shaft, and then he kissed the edge of your left cheek—maybe to rein in the need in his words before he spoke again: “One’a me takes and I’m givin’ ya fifteen more, y’hear?”

The smile he received told him as much as he needed to hear. He probably wouldn’t have believed it even if you’d said the words yourself. Joel’s thrusts sped up, and as the pleasure distended in the pit of his stomach with the friction and the feel, his words flowed a little more freely.

In disbelief, “Wanna be a mama that bad for me, huh?”

Your grin grew bigger. You nodded your head.

“Make your old man a daddy, is that it?”

Exactly. Senseless as it was, your look said it all.

To have slipped between the grooves and ridges of Joel’s brain and caught wind of even a fraction of the things he wanted to do to you then, a smarter girl would have run. Would have shoved him back out as swiftly as she’d let him in and told him no, that’s gross, and gone home. And, had the grey matter floating inside your own skull not been so completely dominated by primal need and wanting, that’s likely what you would have done, too. Instead, with a head full of lewd, youthful stupidity, you seized the black-grey curls dangling at the nape of his neck and drew him closer. You spread your legs wider.

“That is what you’ve wanted this whole time, right?”

Under his scruff, a muscle tensed as Joel bit down.

That’s all he’s ever wanted.

Let the neighbors talk.

Let them say what they wanted to say—it was probably all true to the point they were trying to make, anyway. That Joel was a pervert, of course. That you were naïve, also true. That you would look too good not to stare in a white cotton frock with a bump underneath, absolutely. These were the ideas permeating your brain and his while Joel took a firmer hold of your sides and brought his nose to rest against yours. With every stab of his hips, he pressed kisses to your soft, parted lips, speaking low:

“That what you want, too, darlin’?” More serious now.

The head of his cock nicked a sensitive ridge inside you, eliciting a whimper, but you nodded. You nodded again, feeling the brush of his stubble at your mouth and your chin, and nodded again when he bottomed out, stuffing you tight. It felt a little more momentous than any other time in the past, now that you were picturing a fullness that wasn’t just him. Him and you: a concrete being to soothe the sting of his absence long after Joel withdrew.

Something to stick.

“Please say it, baby.”

Someone to call yours.

“I want it,” you said, sounding desperate.

A coil was just starting to form in the place you felt him. Drifting up, pulling tight, making your eyes go glossy and wide while they stuck to Joel’s and begged him for more.

“Want what?” He sped up, and his thrusts got sloppy.

“Want you,” you breathed, “Inside me, Joel, please.”

As if predicting your next thoughts, the man lowered his hand to your belly. You hadn’t even noticed the smallest bulge had taken shape beneath the skin. Joel slowed, momentarily, then rubbed the base of his palm against the mound where your body was obliged to make room for his cock inside you. He drew soft, tender circles there and, with the motion, sent stars flying before your eyes.

“Good girl,” he murmured, “Right here?”

“Ri— right there. Right there.”

Joel adored that sound. The soft, elated look, the gentle knoll of flesh in a bump below his hand, the whimpers rolling off your tongue repeatedly, quicker and quicker the more the pleasure inside you continued to build. Joel’s release was coming soon, too. For the hundredth time that night, he silently wished he were a little younger; so he could fill you up once, twice, twenty more times until your insides were stuffed and painted white. As if reading his mind, as he had for you, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Hope our baby has your eyes,” you murmured to him.

It shouldn’t have had such a strong effect—but of course, it did. Joel pictured the small, sweet infant with irises that shone a bit like his, and his stomach caved in.

Tonight, tomorrow, or ten months down the line, he was getting you pregnant. He’d clear his whole schedule for it

“That right?” And now he couldn’t stop the smile as he spoke, leaning even further in, “What about their nose?”

He kissed the tip of yours.

“Hope they get this.”

He kissed either one of your cheeks.

“These too.”

You had to fight back a laugh while his scruff tickled skin. Two deep strokes away from the brink of release and he still somehow always stayed in tune with your needs.

The threat of your peak was perilously near. Joel’s spend and your slick, tender glaze made a chorus of sounds at each thrust, and the deeper he went, the bigger it swelled. Your smiles couldn’t stay for much longer when the feeling inside you both was being amplified like that. Sensing this, Joel took hold of your face and slipped his touch to cup your chin. He made you tilt your head up to him, as if to ask again, ‘Are you sure?’ and when you nodded, his lips twitched again. A fleeting hint of a grin, like he couldn’t be more eager to finish now if he tried.

Holding your face, cock swollen and throbbing and desperate between your walls, he felt a familiar twitch.

There it is.

[rboooks]

DC x DP Fic idea: The Ghost Trio's Food Trip

Gotham has always had an overwhelming pollution problem. They accepted it- even Poison Ivy knew there wasn't much chance to undo what's been done. She merely fought for what was left- and they learned to live with the tainted water, smoke-covered sky, and sometimes spicy air.

The Gotham river wasn't the color of water anymore, it's was either black or on good days dark green.

This is how it was for generations, some saying even before the first Wayne- one of the original founders of Gotham- moved in.

Then one night, Gotham saw three glowing figures in the sky. Now, metas weren't uncommon but everyone knew Batman's stance on them. Just as they knew it would happen, , the Bats attempted to knock the figures down.

Only.....the three fought off all the Bats and won. Gotham Collective held their breath as the strange glowing people brought their Dark Knight and his team to their knees.

A young girl with pure white hair kept Robin, Spoiler and Red Robin a fair fight but ultimately she was victorious.

A young adult man with the same hair color toyed with Nightwing, Red Hood and Signal, looking to be treating their fight like a game.

But worst of all was the young teenage boy who held off Batman and Orphan like they were a annoying fly.

Once the dust settled, the teenager- the apparent leader of the trio- floated a camera from a local need crew to broadcast they defeat of the Batclan.

He is holding the camera like a phone angering his face and the two others to share the screen.

"People of Gotham! I am Phantom, with me is my brother-um what's your code name again?"

The adult man rolled his eyes "Specter"

"Really? That's what you're going with?" Phantom asked and gets smack on the back of his head by Specter.

The young girl giggles, throwing her face into the frame to shout." And I'm Wraith!"

"Come on; we can't all be another word for a ghost!" Phantom whines. "Isn't there something else you want to be called?"

Specter raises a brow, forcefully taking the camera out of Phantom's hand so that his face takes up the entire screen. He stares into the lens, allowing every citizen of Gotham to see his inhuman feature as he smirks."Call me Daddy."

"DAN, NO!" Phantom screams in horror. Wraith cackles somewhere off-screen as Specter blows the camera a kiss. He slaps Phantom's hands away from the desperate attempt to get control of the video camera. "You can be Specter, just never call yourself that again!"

"Dan! Keep away!" Wraith shouts, and the man throws the camera at her as Phantom screams in outrage.

"Give that back!"

"Come and get it!" She taunts only to, throw it back to Specter as Phantom rounds on her.

As the camera jerks back and forth, Gotham can catch glimpses of their heroes. All tied up with glowing green ropes a few feet away, looking worse for wear but awake and quiet.

The three made the mistake of allowing time to plan.

Phantom eventually regains the camera after a while. He clears his throat. "As I was saying, I am Phantom and these are my brother Specter and my sister Wraith. We have ripped open a portal to your city to place claim on your resources! Should you get in the way of our feast, you will be destroyed!"

"What resources do you want?" Red Robin asked somewhere to the right.

Phantom points to the sky, the river and certain parts of the city, dramatically announcing "The ectoplasm!"

The what?

"Today we feast!" He screams and his siblings take flight.

Wraith jumps into the sky, flying across the city in neck breaking speeds, leaving in her trail.....a streak of clear blue sky?

Specter dives head first into the river, absorbing....the black tar and trash leaing clear water?

Phantom inhales, dragging up litter off the closet streets around him. It Flys around him in glowing green, and the boy stuffs them into his mouth. He moans as he chewing. "Scrumptious"

Specter returns, carrying a giant green transparent jar of what looks like Gotham slime swishing within it. He sticks in a straw, tilting the jar in his younger brother's direction. "You have to try a drink of this! The ectoplasm is amazingly sweet!"

As Phantom takes a sip. "Awesome! It's taste just like Far Frozen sparkling water!"

"Guys! Even the air here is tasty!" Wraith announces as she flouts back down her own transparent jar holding what looks like all the smoke and dangerous gasses of Gotham city. "Take a swift!"

The two slam their heads through the glowing green, taking in a long sniff and sighing.

"Wait. Wait. Wait." Red Robin calls, gaining all three attention, "All you want is Gotham's pollution?"

"No, we want the Ectoplasm," Wraith replies, crossing her arms. "And there is nothing you can do to stop us! Nothing any of you can!"

The feed cuts then as a giant portal rips above the city, and the three siblings, fly through it, laughing evilly the entire time.

They return several times a week to "steal" from Gotham and the citizens have never seen their city so clean.

Or Danny, Dan, and Dani have made up and become actual siblings once coming out to their parents. A few quick adoptions papers later, the trio bond by exploring through various doors of the Infinite Realms.

They quickly discover that different worlds have a ton of ectoplasm just up grabs since humans don't eat it and start a food tour across the multiverse during siblings night.

Jazz is welcome, but since she can't eat ectoplasm as they can, she always has a pizza- her comfort food- waiting back at her apartment and a fun session of Dnd ready for them.

Meanwhile, the Bats don't know what type of aliens the Ghost Trio are, but they have been helping with the pollution problem and can't find it in themselves to try and stop them. Damian has never seen the bottom of Gotham River, but he enjoyed painting it after Specter "stole all the ectoplasm" from it, leaving only clean water.

He hopes they visit the beach next. Maybe there was hope for their reefs with the Ghost Trio around.

Tim and Bruce are the only ones obsessed with finding answers, everyone else cheers when the three fly by.

[hanasnx]

“ DOESN’T ALWAYS HAVE TO BE SO BLACK AND WHITE ” — jason todd.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ WARNINGS: fem reader ノ established toxic relationship ノ reader has long hair ノ drug use: roofie ノ pain: scraped knees and hands descrip ノ size difference ノ objectification ノ kidnapping ノ sexual assault mentioned but does not occur ノ sex toy mention ノ dumbification. NOTES: use caution when reading this if you’re sensitive to drug descriptions. no smut but i might make a part two if someone has a good idea for it.

You stumble—hard—landing onto your knees and the heels of your hand. They burn against the pavement. Your internal equilibrium decays with each passing second as your head spins on your neck. To combat the dizziness, you squeeze your eyes shut, and your shoulder collides with the asphalt. You’d fallen further, unable to keep yourself afloat as distant voices sharpen.

“Somebody get her up.” The harsh and irritated command is followed punctually by rough hands sweeping your arms out from under you, hoisting you up as your hair hangs forward. You gasp from the change in altitude, as if your lungs are contracting, but you know you’re still on ground level. Like a doll without a spine of its own, you allow strange men to lead you while your head lulls and bobs from their curt motions. A long lock of hair sets between your parted lips, caught on the latent moisture there. Your heartbeat settles in the sting of your scraped skin.

Another foreign sensation grips firmly onto your jaw, directing your fluid movements towards a being that comes into focus slowly. Blue, and bright, you flinch at it.

“Ah,” that same voice exclaims in frustration. It grates your ears, there’s some kind of static or digital interference to it that churns your stomach in this state. “You gave her too much. Look at her.”

“We didn’t have a choice, boss, honest!” the armored man to your left responds, and the one on your right is eager to chime in.

“Couldn’t take any chances, almost clawed my eyes out.”

“Little thing like her?” he—the boss—confirms, and if you didn’t know any better you’d say there’s an edge of pride to his reply. “Give her to me.” Your body jostles as you’re transferred from hold to hold, the hard and prickly surface of armor and fabric press flush to your front. An arm, thick and muscled, wraps around your waist, and you bend backward. Your gummy limbs can’t handle your own weight, so he handles it for you. His bicep strokes up the curve of your back, so you surge forward but he expertly avoids bumping you. Instead, he looks into your relaxed countenance. The stranger juts his chin at your display, and an uncharacteristically tender gloved hand hooks down your cheek to drag the lock of your hair out of your mouth. “Gave them a run for their money, didn’t’ya? Hm,” That chuckle makes you furrow your brows as it passes from his firm chest to yours.

He stoops, letting you fall over his shoulder, nestling it against your stomach, and lifting you. That same arm secures you by strapping over the backs of your knees. “Let’s go, boys. I wanna stay ahead of schedule.” he says, lumbering with you in hand. Unable to stay in control of your body, you fade in and out of consciousness as the surrounding—deafening—mechanical din scrapes your ears.

You start to lose track of time, you don’t know how long you’ve felt like this. Every so often you’re fed a liquid, or a familiar pair of fingers invasively shoves something down your throat. It keeps you pliant. The dosage is lowered enough, however, until you can stand on your own. Your eyes are blank and empty, your brain just as much, and you stand as still as a doll. The Arkham Knight, you’ve learned his name, commands anyone you’ve ever laid eyes on since your abduction. You’re not sure why you’re here, or why he brings you along everywhere he goes. If it’s to keep an eye on you because you’re a flight risk… you’re not sure that you’d be able to escape and live under these circumstances. However, thoughts of escaping at all rarely formulate past the initial fight or flight instinct your body reminds you that you have. “I should do something… I should do something…” it says.

But you don’t.

All this contemplation causes you to zone out, and your delicate sense of balance deteriorates. Without realizing, you sway, and your weight carries you away from your keeper. Unable to get your feet under you in time, your hair swings to one side, falling fast until abruptly you’re halted. A hand snatches your wrist, and an ache strikes your shoulder socket from the yank back up. You say nothing even when he catches you with his body, your heavy one colliding with his hard chest. You stay there for a while.

When you come back to, the atmosphere feels different. You’re not in some cavernous underground mall anymore, you’re in the small hallways of a makeshift headquarters. Each of your arms encircle the necks of militia that you can never recognize, “C’mon, kitty cat, the Knight wants you. Let’s go.” one says as he adjusts you higher up. The nickname sounds resentful on his tongue, perhaps he doesn’t like you very much or the fact he has to carry you.

“Any idea what he does with her?” the other questions, like you’re not listening—like you’re not even there.

“S’not for us to know.” the first responds.

The armed escort chimes from behind you, “Hey, maybe it’s some form of advanced interrogation. What if she’s got some info on the Bat? Or worse, maybe she’s with the Bat.”

“… Ew,”

“I don’t mean it like that—well, it could be. We don’t know.”

“The way the boss handles her, I don’t think she’s ‘with’ anyone else.”

“You don’t think… you’re not saying—“

“I’m not saying nothin’.”

“Are we seriously lugging around some guy’s sex doll—“

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I went to Princeton, I don’t need this shit—“

“I said, ‘shut the fuck up!’” he hisses the warning, and your heavy eyelids flutter closed.

“Hey—Hey.” You wake up to the sound, and to the light patting on your cheek. “You with me?” That digital voice recites a certain tenderness, speaking low so as to not startle you but with the firmness of a man who won’t let himself show vulnerability. You wince at the brightness of his mask through your closed lids, and the heat of his presence retreats at the sight of you coming to. “Say something.”

The first time you’re prompted to speak. “Water.” you choke out hoarsely. The first time you’ve spoken. He flicks his head in the direction of the exit to one of his subordinates who punctually retrieves you clean water in a little paper cup. It’s a fragile thing, crinkling under the slightest touch of your fingers as you clumsily raise it. To aid you, the Knight’s hand overlays yours to guide the rim to your mouth, and you drink. You didn’t realize just how thirsty you are, downing the contents in a feverish motion. He signals for another to be brought to you, and you pant hard, wiping the excess from your upper lip with the back of your hand.

Your gaze then sweeps and lingers on his puzzling grasp over yours. He notes that, retracting.

“The medic is on his way to check you out. I wanted a moment with you first.” he relays it to you like you’re another one of his employees, someone to be briefed and dismissed. You don’t say anything. His sidearm is in plain sight, and your cognitive ability is slowly regaining. You wish it hadn’t. The Knight leaves you to nervously fiddle with the tearing paper of your cup while he nears a clunky laptop. Graceful fingers clack a few keys, and you wonder if he's summoning the medic or delaying him. "Something on your mind?" His tone conveys a sense of knowing, but he's guarded.

You will yourself to be silent. There's no right move here, you have no information, no leverage. You can't threaten a man with this many resources. Your strength fails you, when was the last time you had a decent meal? He holds all the cards, so you try patience.

"Don't be shy." he goads playfully, and instead of putting you at ease, it frustrates you to be talked down to. You crush the paper cup in your lap. Observing your reactions, he reassesses his attitude. "You won't be hurt." He idles, but when you stubbornly refuse his generosity, his heavy boots thunder as he returns to your seat. A frightening hand reaches out and you flinch away.

"Don't touch me." you bite. That hand hovers an inch away from your upper arm.

"Sir?" the faint interruption of the medic causes you both to whip your heads in his direction.

"Get in here." The Knight barks, and he's prompt to obey the command, setting his equipment aside you as he fishes out his flashlight to check your pupils. Before you knew it, the Knight departs without you.

You're kept in his custody for days, and since the medic barred you from whatever they were drugging you with, you're sober. Somehow, you've picked up on information, but none that explains your being here. The Knight keeps you close, but talks to you as much as he did when you were practically comatose. When you try to refuse him, planting your feet, he treats you as he did before. Overpowering you, he yanks you to him as he stoops, connecting his shoulder to your stomach: a motion that knocks the wind out of you when he hoists you above the ground. Unlike a lifeless body, you kick out and scream, thrashing on him as he takes you where he wants you without your say.

It's a long battle, but he's chipping away at your resolve. He can tell you're ready for round two, that spitfire in you couldn't stay dormant for too long. Militia men have a lot more trouble bringing you to the cockpit of the HQ, dragging you as you fight them.

"I preferred her roofied." one jests, and it does not go unpunished. A shrill shriek emitting from you as you raise on the tips of your toes, loosening their hold for a precious second.

"Nice going, you idiot. What are we supposed to tell the boss if she makes a break for it and you let her go?"

Regardless of your efforts, you sit in front of the Arkham Knight again. Even though he's clad head to toe in armor, there's a smug air about him. "Knew you wouldn't shut up for long. You know, the guys told me when they apprehended you you put up a fight. Gunmen, and you tried to claw 'em. You know how stupid that was? You never did have the best head on your shoulders."

Your brows furrow.

It's quiet. The Knight knows he slipped up.

"Do we... know each other?" you ask.

[sttoru]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 '𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐒, CHAPTER II: you smuggle the wounded man into your dorm room and nurse him back to health in secret. a fragile bond forms between you and the stranger - whose name you learn is toji - as you spend your first night together.

word count. 6.6k-ish

tags. assassin!toji fushiguro x college student!female reader. sfw. bits of angst. mentions of blood, knives, murder. reader gets called 'woman'. general warnings: size difference. age gap (reader early 20's, toji early 30's). chapter one here

Three. Two. One.

You accept your miserable fate with a gulp. You prepare yourself for the unbearable pain that awaits your body until the last breath leaves your lungs. You hope the anguish lasts for a second or two before your vision turns pitch black. Before your soul meets its maker. Or before it gets lost somewhere more peaceful than this life you've led.

Closing your eyes, waiting for the impact, and uttering your final words in your head felt like eternity. Maybe the man is playing with your emotions before he decides to make an end to your life. Perhaps he is such a nasty psycho. And you can’t believe that out of all people who could’ve met him tonight on the street, you did.

You sniff. Life is unfair. Even at your final moments, you couldn’t help but feel you got the short end of the stick. You wait and wait, but your death doesn’t arrive. You sigh and ask whoever can hear your thoughts to make it quick.

“Shit,” Your ‘murderer’ coughs. It sounds like a painful cough, one that came out the back of his throat. You hear metal clattering on wet concrete not a second later. Your eyes shoot open at the sudden noise, your vision instantly filling with a frightening sight. You watch as the injured man starts to cough up blood. He’s unable to lift a finger in that state of his.

This is your chance to make a run for it. The voice in your head is screaming at you to move and get yourself to safety. It’s a perfect opportunity to get help. But something inside of you is urging you to stay.

Any normal person would have escaped by now.

‘I must be out of my mind,’ you silently think. You don’t loosen the grip you have on your scarf, the one pressed against the man’s open wound. Your body is yelling at you—begging you to move away—yet your heart is pleading to stay put. There is no way your body wins over the strong will of your heart. Your soul, that’s strangely connected to his, a man that threatened to kill you without hesitation.

You surely have lost your mind.

“Sir, oh my god,” you panic. You chose to stay, however have no clue what to do. You’re trying your best to think of a solution to all of this. Your eyes catch a glimpse of your now wet phone laying in a puddle of rain. You hope it still works. Well, even if it does, you surely can’t call an ambulance for the man. He had stated that he didn’t want any help.

If you consider the possibility of him being a murderer, you’d understand that he wouldn’t want an ambulance to be involved. You shake your head as your body desperately tries to continue fighting against your heart’s desires. ‘Sympathizing with a possible murderer. God I really must have gone insane,’ you curse yourself out in your head.

The sound of heavy breathing brings you back into the current moment. You catch the way the bloodied man is trying to regain his strength. You try to coax him into staying still, “sir, please don’t move. It could worsen your injury.”

You voicing your worries only causes the man to try and push you away. Despite his weakened state, the little push he gives you is enough to make you lose the grip on your crimson stained scarf. You watch in pure horror as more blood pours down his black shirt, onto his white pants.

“No, please. Please listen to me,” you don’t know why you’re begging a grown man, a killer, to listen to you for his own sake. You shouldn’t even be here. You should be back in your dorm room, in your cozy bed, watching a series while it pours outside. You shouldn’t be playing the hero to a stranger.

You think quickly. The only option you have aside from an ambulance, is to try and help him out to your best ability. You don’t have anything with you that could help, but you do have some rubbing alcohol in your dorm. That could work as a disinfectant. Stitching his wound up is the real challenge.

“Okay, uhm,” you try to think of a way to do this as smoothly as possible. You quickly grab the knife from the ground and shiver at the sight of the blood on the handle. Time is ticking and it won’t be long until the man in front of you loses his consciousness and possibly… dies.

You take off your coat, making haste to do so. Your hands are trembling, and your heart is stammering. You hiss as you tear apart the material of your coat using the sharp knife. The leather should help slow down the bleeding. Even if it’s only for a little bit. That’s all you really need.

“Here,” you quickly replace the scarf with the cut piece of your coat. You wrap it around his waist and fasten it, making sure it doesn’t slip off. The man does not say a word nor does he fight you off. All the resistance is gone from his weary body. That should tell you enough; he’s barely holding on. His heavy yet faint breathing is the only sign that reassures you that he’s not fallen unconscious.

You collect your bag and all the other things scattered on the dirty ground of the alleyway. You don’t want to leave any evidence of you being here, helping an alleged killer with getting away. Your heart tells you it’s fine, but your body is telling you that you’ll regret all of it. Time will tell which is the truth.

You stand up. Barely. Your knees are nearly giving out on you because of the stress and anxiety, though the adrenaline pumping through your blood is helping you stay composed. Your eyes follow the flow of the man’s blood as it mixes with the rainwater on the concrete. You can’t clean that up. The only thing you can do about it is pray—pray that the rain will wash all of it away. Down the drains.

“Are you okay?” You whisper, checking in on the stranger. He doesn’t answer. You crouch down in front of him, a worried expression on your face as you carefully move the hair from his eyes. They’re closed. You freak out and your initial reaction is to gently tap his cheek for any sign of life, “sir? Sir? Don’t tell me he’s—"

“Shut up,” his gruff voice echoes in your ears. It seems like he still wants you gone, though is not trying to actively shoo you away anymore. Not like he can in the awful state he is in.

The stranger coughs again, his eyelids opening just halfway before closing again. You sigh in relief and move next to him. You lift his arm so that it loosely sits on your shoulders. You grunt softly—the muscles in them makes it a tough job. You try asking him for his compliance, “I’ll help you stand up, okay?”

As expected, you’re met with silence. You take it as an agreement and use all the strength left in your limbs to get up on your feet. It’s a struggle, with you nearly toppling over thrice, but you eventually get the co-operation you’re looking for. The bloodied stranger slowly but surely manages to stand up straight with your aid.

You’re shocked by his large stature. He was intimidating enough when seated, but now that he’s towering over you, his aura is reaching high levels of unsettling. You hope he’s got enough drive left to move his feet. You can’t expect your frail arms to half carry a six-foot-something man.

“Hang in there,” you mutter, trying to cover the anxiety you’re internally facing. You look ahead and move forward in small strides, the steps you’re making are wobbly, as are his. You look up and try to gauge the man’s reactions, though his eyes are once again covered by his wet bangs. All you can make out is the slight twitch of his scarred lips. He’s in pain.

You manage to escape that damned back alley. Your bag is soaked, as are your clothes. You take one quick glance back before you turn the corner and once again pray that the rain washes the blood away. You take the quietest and fastest route back to your dorm.

A couple people pass you by. They don’t look at you funny nor do they bat an eye to the man you’re helping keep balance. They have their own lives that they need to take care of first. The pouring rain makes it harder for them to concentrate on anything else as well. Besides, the material of your coat wrapped around the man’s waist covers up most of the blood. It’s not visible to others.

If someone were to describe the image of the stranger and you from an outsider’s perspective, they’d think you’re just helping your drunk partner back home. It’s not an uncommon sight in the busy streets of Tokyo, especially in the evening.

“Where...” The stranger speaks up, his deep voice hoarser than before. He unexpectedly grips your shoulder. His meaty fingers digging into your flesh makes you wince. He’s only using a small bit of his actual strength and you’re already in pain. You push through and continue helping him forward. “Fuck,” He cusses. He’s starting to become deluded due to the blood loss and pain, “where ‘re—”

The tall man coughs, interrupting himself. You cringe at the sound of that excruciating sound. You could see the lights in the distance. The ones you’re used to seeing when coming back to campus after a night out with your friend. Now, you’re coming back with an unknown man. An alleged killer that you’re bringing into the building. You don’t even want to think about all the lives you could potentially put in danger.

You try to avert your attention. Now is not the time for that. Your gut feeling says so. You need to figure out a way to sneak this man inside your room without anyone finding out. Not the security guards, hall monitors or students: No one can know. You answer his question with clear doubt in your voice, not knowing if you’ll both even make it, “safety. To safety.”

All the thoughts about your poor life decisions get pushed to the side. You grunt and try to increase your speed, having difficulty dragging the man with you. You’re sweating. The amount of strength you need to put in to take only one step is severely draining. You remember that there is one path that doesn’t have much surveillance cameras hanging around. It’s the one you and a couple others use to sneak back into your dorms very late at night.

“Almost,” you try to encourage the stranger, who’s silent is quite eerie. You hope he’s holding on. The way he’s dragging his feet over the bricks tells you that he’s trying to keep conscious. You hurry up and get to the hidden exit at the back.

It’s locked on some days, so you let out a breath of relief when you manage to push it open. That spares you the trouble of having to go through the main entrance and risk getting caught. Plus, you don’t have to use and show your student card now that you’ve infiltrated the building. You hope that there aren’t many people around this side, praying that they’re all eating dinner somewhere.

The creaking of the door is ten times louder than it is usually. Or it could be the fear in your body restructuring your thoughts. Luckily, your dorm room is only one flight of stairs up. You can’t take the elevator because of the cameras in it. You look over at the man leaning against your shoulder, his head tilting to the side in exhaustion.

“Christ,” The stranger grunts. His head sways a little closer to yours unintentionally and your breath hitches. For a split second, he rests the side of his head against yours, too tired to move away. It makes your heart stammer for a moment. To have this coldhearted man lean on you, depend on you, and lay his life in your hands.

You’re filled with another rush of adrenaline. “Are you still holding up okay?” your quiet voice snaps the man out of his disoriented state. He only then realizes that he’s leaning his heavy weight on your small stature. He grumbles and tilts his head the other way again, away from yours. He clearly hates to be vulnerable. Especially around a random girl he does not have any business with.

Without getting an answer back, you carefully make haste to your dorm room. Your room is the first one in the entire row, located the surveillance camera's dead zone, which works out in your favor again.

You hold in your breath and try to fish the keys out of your pocket. Your fingers move the old and now wet receipts and garbage to the sides, pulling the desired object out from between them. You fumble with the keys, your fingers trembling as you try to grab the right one.

The intimidating stranger looks down at your hand through a blurry vision. You’re in a hurry to open the door and avoid being caught. Someone could turn the corner right now and you’d be busted. He huffs in annoyance, though voices no audible complaints. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, he knows you’re helping him and that you have zero ill intent.

“Sorry,” you whimper before finally unlocking your door. You hurriedly get in an shut it behind you. It feels like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. Figuratively in this case, since you still have a whole man leaning on you. You help him over to your bed and carefully assist him down.

You’re ignoring your own boundaries for the nth time. The ones you are so adamant to follow in any other situation. You would never let someone sit on your bed with their outside clothes still on, especially not if they’re dirtied and wet. You’re tolerating it for now. All for this man that you have a sudden, unfathomable attraction to.

You don’t have time to think. You rush to your wardrobe and pull the drawer open. You search for a first aid kit. You had it laying somewhere—though never used. Your parents had given you it in case of an emergency. Which is right now.

You find a whole bunch of gauze rolls and a bottle of antiseptic liquid along with bandages, scissors, and pain killers. You have zero clue on how to treat a wound. You only saw such stuff in action movies and cartoons. You grab a needle and thread that you had laying around. A towel and a tissue box as well. Just anything that’s redeemed relevant for the situation.

You drop everything on your bed and fiddle around on what to use first. You’re tempted to grab your phone and look up some instructions on the internet, but you quickly get interrupted by a bloody hand reaching out for the disinfectant. You watch with worry as the man gets to work—not expecting any help from an oblivious girl like you. He’s gone through this before.

“Get some water.” The man huffs, undoing the coat around his waist slowly. You only have a few seconds to act. You look around frantically and find an old water bottle on your nightstand. You hand it to him, and he nearly yanks it from your hand, still showing that stubborn reluctance around you. There’s not a thank you in sight as he gets to work.

You can tell that the stranger has stitched up his own wounds many times before. It makes you think back to your initial thoughts. The thoughts about his occupation. His skills would be self-explanatory if he were to be an actual murderer. Having to deal with these types of wounds would be an everyday experience.

Yet, instead of being alarmed at the possibility, you manage to feel bad for his situation. You helplessly watch as he pours nearly the entire bottle on his wound, getting rid of any debris that’s got on it. He clearly does not care about the wet stains it’s created on your sheets. They’re messy anyway. “Give me that,” the injured man comments and nods at the needle and thread with his head.

You do as told, staying silent as you let the professional do what he knows is best. He cleans the needle with the antiseptic fluid and prepares the wound some more. You want to advise him to at least use some pain killers before he goes to work on it, however they’d take too long to take effect. There is no time to do all of that.

“Ah,” you hiss, like you’re the one experiencing the pain, as you notice how he’s starting the suture near the edge of his wound. You squeeze your eyes shut and turn your head to the side, not wanting to witness the gruesome scene. A few occasional grunts and groans sounding from the man leave you nauseous. You can’t imagine what he’s going through at the moment, cleaning and stitching up his own injury. He seemed to know what he was doing, so you don’t comment on it any further.

After a couple seconds pass, you hear another pained hiss. You can’t stand it. You’re just sitting at the edge of your bed, hoping for the best. Hoping that he could make use of all that you provided him with. “Can I help somehow?” You breathlessly ask, your voice a quiet whisper.

“Yeah, by shutting up,” The older man answers bluntly. He’s fixated on healing his wound the best he could, and your voice is disrupting that focus. He’s made some progress with the suture. It isn’t done under perfect circumstances, but he’s used to it. His body has been through enough since childhood to have built up a resilience to most things. The pain and discomfort are nothing he isn’t familiar with.

You bite your lip and apologize for asking him something, “sorry.” His deep voice makes you shiver. It only reminds you of the fact that you have a grown man in your room. A possible killer on the loose. You don’t push your luck and just remain silent. You don’t want to end up as another victim.

Though you have a feeling that he wouldn’t hurt you. Where that feeling came from, you have no idea. It could be your delusions, however you’re sure he wouldn’t harm a hair on your head. Maybe it’s due to that little moment of vulnerability he showed in the halls moments ago. Your body warms up at the memory of how his head laid against yours for a split second.

The man finishes off the suture with a firm surgeon knot. He cleans the remaining blood with the tissues he’s drowned in disinfectant. You look his way again when you hear him shifting in his place. Your baffled as you notice how he’s trying to stand up. You don’t know much about wounds, but you know for certain that someone cannot stand up after getting an injury stitched. It could reopen the wound.

Your hand moves on its own. You firmly grab the man’s wrist and tug him back down on your bed. The stranger lets out a surprised grunt and instinctively slaps your hand away. He wants to leave.

To him, it’s nothing serious. This is just another day in his life. He’s used to ignoring his body’s pleas for rest. Vulnerability does not look good on him. He hates it.

The older man parts his lips to defend himself, yet quickly decides on the opposite. He shuts his mouth once his eyes met your pretty ones. They’re glimmering with tears. He does not realize why you’re suddenly so upset. Nor does he actually care... He thinks.

He just wants to leave before you ask too many questions. It’s best to act like you two have never met. For his sake and yours.

You stare at each other for a few seconds. The silence creates an undeniable tension between you both. You don’t exchange words, though you think he knows what you mean with that look you’re giving him. You’re indirectly begging him to stay still and rest. You know he needs it. He secretly knows he needs it as well, though does not want to acknowledge that weakness.

The stranger sighs in frustration. He looks down at the wound he’s worked hard to patch up. His head hurts. His eyelids are heavy. His limbs are unresponsive. He has no other choice but to lay back. He promises himself that he’d leave after an hour or two. He wants to have nothing to do with you.

A college girl helping him. Who would’ve thought that day would come. Did he become that weak? He has always refused the help of others, so what would make this any different? He can leave and deal with the consequences of that poor decision on his own. However, his body doesn’t move an inch.

The man frowns as he realizes that his cold and distant attitude would get him nowhere this time. His body is actively resisting the urges to leave.

You cautiously ascertain his reactions. You notice the way he slumps back against your pillows with a curse word leaving his lips. You can’t help but feel relieved. You don’t know why, but you’re happy that he’s staying with you. Even if it’s just for a little longer. You want to make sure he’s going to be fine.

You nod silently and don’t say a word for a good while. You don’t want to annoy the man more than you already have. You get up, knees buckling as the adrenaline wears you down. You’re glad you haven’t been caught and that the man you saved didn’t die. You’re tired from everything that went down in the last hour or so.

Though, you cannot rest.

You clean up the mess around your bed. The used, bloody tissues. The rain that’s dripped down your clothes and onto the floor, making small puddles on the surface. The piece of leather you had used as a temporary solution for the stranger’s bleeding. After you’ve gotten rid of all that, you finally take off your coat and shoes. You want to take a bath as soon as possible. And dry your hair.

You don’t take your eyes off the man on your bed. He’s starting to stir again, which could mean one of two things. He’s either trying to escape or trying to change his position. To your surprise, you catch him pull his shirt over his head. The older man’s ripped physique comes into view. Faint veins run down his beefy arms, his abs are perfectly defined, and his waist compliments his bulky stature.

You’re staring. You only realize it when your eyes catch the way he’s attempting to wrap some gauze around his lower abdomen. You can tell that he’s struggling, but he does not ask for help. Nor does he even look your way—acting like it’s just him in the room. It’s easy to conclude that he’s never depended on anyone in his life. It saddens you.

You walk over to your bed and sit down at the edge. You wordlessly reach out to grab the roll of gauze from his hand. Your fingers brush against his palm while you do so, and you can feel the rough calluses on his skin. You don’t comment on it but make a mental note of your discovery.

You carefully wrap the gauze around his waist once. You’re as cautious as you could be, not wanting to inflict any more discomfort on the stranger. He doesn’t resist. He’s too tired to do so. Alhough, that doesn’t stop him from showing his complaints about the situation through his distant body language. His eyes are staring at the nearby wall, his expression as stoic as ever.

You go around with the roll of gauze once more. You lean a bit closer to his torso to properly do your job. You can’t help but feel a tiny bit embarrassed by your proximity. Neither of you says anything about it. He doesn’t move away, and you take that as a sign to continue tending to him.

The older man can’t help but feel that urging desire to push you away and leave. He doesn’t want to be involved in any of this. You weren’t supposed to find him. You weren’t supposed to help him. You weren’t supposed to bring him back here. He hates the idea of letting someone – you - get close to him. He hates letting others in his personal space.

 “What’s your name, sir?” Your soothing voice breaks the silence. You’re still visibly nervous, but also a lot less panicky. He finally looks down at you, seeing you put the gauze in place before grabbing a roll of bandages. He hates your touch.

The stranger clenches his jaw. He had to have scared you away in that back alley. He couldn’t and that’s what got him in such a predicament. One that triggers his many internal issues and struggles. He hates having to talk about himself to others. That’s how most bonds form.

“None of your damn business, girl,” The older man growls. His tone is harsh and cold, but you don’t back away nor even flinch. That only serves to irk him more. You’re meant to cower in fear, leave him alone and never turn back, but you do the complete opposite. You don’t know him and yet still choose to take care of him.

You nod, not pushing the matter any further. The injured stranger narrows his eyes for a second. Nothing seems to work on you. His intention is to scare you off, though the more he tries, the more you seem to get closer. It’s got the total opposite effect and he despises it.

He hates it all. Your closeness, your need to help him, your eyes that stare up at him with such worry, your hands bandaging him up. He promised himself, the day his wife died a couple years ago, that he’ll never involve himself with people if it isn’t for business related matters.

He’s managed to live all by himself for all those years and reached a level of independence that others could only dream of. Now it’s shattered. It feels like he’s back to square one because of your choice today. The choice to help a total random stranger.

The older man closes his eyes for a second and sighs deeply. It’s foolish of him to think of such unimportant matters. He’ll just use this to his advantage. He’ll use you, your kindness and everything you have to offer for his own sake. He’ll exploit you like he’s done to many other women before. That’s the way he’s used to treating others.

He’ll indulge your need to help him and try to act nice to satisfy those innocent wishes of yours. Just for his sake and his sake only, he promises himself.

The older man eventually speaks up again after you managed to bandage him up properly, “…Toji.”

You raise your eyebrows. You guess that that’s his name. Your lips curl up into a faint smile, feeling thankful that Toji decided to reveal that little detail about him. You grab his bloodied shirt and put it with the rest of your clothes that you need to wash. Your eyes wander over his exposed upper body for a split second, looking for any other possible injuries, only to find none. You nod in satisfaction as you grab a washcloth and wet it with some water, “that’s a nice name.”

That’s a first. Toji didn’t see the significance of complimenting someone’s name. Everyone has one, it’s not special, so why would you tell him it’s nice? Maybe he just doesn’t understand sentimental stuff like that. He’s not made out for such things. “Hm,” he lets out a small hum in acknowledgement and that’s all you get.

You walk towards him again and brush his bangs to the side. Toji holds himself back from moving away from your touch, but then remembers the decision he made mentally just moments ago. He’ll use that kindness of yours to his advantage until he’s all healed up. Then he’ll leave for good.

You place the cold cloth on his forehead. You know he’ll have a fever throughout the night because of the wound he’s suffered. You’re simply preparing him for that. You grab the painkillers that are scattered around the bed and place them on your nightstand, along with the water bottle. If he needs it, he’ll grab it, you think.

“Ah, sorry,” You snap out of it and realise that you haven’t introduced yourself properly. You might as well, considering you’ll be having Toji as your roommate for a couple days. Or at least you hope he stays that long until he’s all healed up. You continue, “my name is..”

“I already know.” Toji cuts you off before you’re able to reveal your name. You’re dumbfounded for a second. What does he mean by ‘he knows’? You tilt your head in confusion. You try to figure out how he could’ve possibly learnt your name but are unable to make any assumptions.

Toji easily notices your bewilderment. He admits that that could’ve come over as extremely creepy. He looks at the nearby wall and points at the decorations with his chin. You follow his gaze and instantly recognize what he’s staring at. It’s a picture with your friends that you have framed. They gifted it to you some time back and had engraved your name in the frame.

Toji must have cautiously examined his new surroundings whilst you were busy finalizing the treatment for his injury. You understand the need for that. Anyone would be wary in a new environment. “Hehe. Right,” he’s quite observant, you think to yourself.

You look outside of your window and close the tiny gap between your curtains. Even if you’re on the second floor, you don’t want to risk anyone finding out about what you did tonight. It still hasn’t properly processed in your brain; the fact that you have smuggled an alleged killer into your dorm. Maybe it will hit once you sleep and wake up tomorrow.

You look down at Toji with great concern. Even if the wound has been taken care of, you’re unsure if it’s even enough. A doctor would’ve been the safest option. But seeing how great Toji is handling the pain, you guess that it’ll be just fine. You glance at your hands. They have some dried blood on them. You also reek of the rain since you’re still uncomfortably soaked from before.

You decide to go take a shower. Before that, you make sure Toji has everything he needs. You give him a towel to dry himself off and make sure he can reach the first aid kit if needed. You stare at the pile of bloodied and wet clothes in the corner of your room. Both his and yours. You’ll take them to the laundry mat tomorrow.

You avert your attention back to Toji. He’s lying on his back, head turned away to the wall so he wouldn’t have to see you or look you in the eyes. It’s like he’s in his own world. You speak up again, this time a little louder, “are you gonna be alright now?”

Silence again. Toji doesn’t face you and keeps his eyes closed for some peace of mind. He sounds indifferent and distant as he answers you, “who knows.”

The ambiguous answer certainly doesn’t help ease your anxiety. You don’t want the older man to regress back to a state of near unconsciousness again. Despite your wishes, you can’t do much about it. Calling an ambulance or asking for help from others is a big no-no. For you as well, since you’ll be dragged into a big mess if anyone were to find out you gave shelter to a murderer.

“Uhm, all right. I’m gonna take a quick shower.” You announce quietly, not expecting a response. You would’ve preferred it if Toji did respond so you could leave your room for a couple minutes in peace. Without worrying about his condition. You know that you’re annoying him with the constant questions and comments, but you can’t help it. You’re worried. Even if he hates the attention and would love to have as less interaction with you as possible.

“D-Don’t move, ‘kay? I’ll be back.” You add quickly. You take a few steps towards the exit and place your hand on the door handle. Your limbs won’t take another step forward. You’re worried sick that Toji’s going to grab his chance and leave the moment you’re gone. You don’t want him to go. On one hand, it’s selfish of you, but on the other hand, it’s out of consideration for his situation.

You turn your head and glance at his still figure on your bed. His bulky stature nearly took up the entirety of it. You can’t help but ramble about your worries to him, hoping it’d convince him to stay, “If they find you, I’ll get in trouble and god knows what will happen to yo—”

“Just go, woman.” Toji’s deep voice rings through your ears. It’s the second time he’s cut you off. You’re pissing him off, clearly. You immediately zip it and do as told. You decide to put your trust in him and believe that he won’t take the opportunity to leave behind your back.

Without another word, you sneak out of your dorm room, making sure to close your door behind you. You act normal in case anyone walks by and finds your behaviour suspicious. You make a beeline towards the communal showers with your toiletry bag and pyjamas in hand.

Meanwhile, Toji is finally experiencing some real peace. He empties his mind, though cannot seem to get rid of your voice. He still can’t comprehend why somebody would be this worried for him. A college student who’d be at risk of being expelled if found out. You’re taking such great risks for a man like him? He doesn’t understand.

Toji rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands and groans in aggravation, “unbelievable.” Why he’s thinking it through is also something he cannot grasp. The man decides to enjoy the quiet atmosphere for now. He’s still somewhat disheveled from the entire ordeal and if he were to keep his brain running, he’d lose his mind completely. He drapes an arm over his eyes and lies there silently on the soft mattress.

A couple minutes pass. You feel like you’ve taken the quickest shower ever. You avoid as many students as possible while you make your way back to your dorm. You close your eyes and take a deep breath in. You open the door and peek through the crack. It’s pitch dark in the room. The sun had fully set a while back and your curtains cover any light from outside.

You lock your door and step forward carefully. You squint and wait for your vision to accommodate to the darkness. You approach your bed and finally let out that breath you’ve been holding in. He’s still there. Toji’s still where you left him. His chest is slowly moving up and down, his breathing steady as he rests.

You quietly turn on the nightlamp in your room. It casts a faint shadow over Toji’s face. He seems to be asleep. You can’t quite tell for sure since his bicep is nearly covering the entirety of his face, but you judge based on his breathing patterns. You sit on the edge of your bed and feel tired yourself after that eventful evening. You’re sleepy. The adrenaline has worn off and exhausted you to no end.

You glance down at the bandage around his torso. You’d have to change that for him tomorrow. For now, you’re content with the outcome of it all. You shift in your seat, which causes your hand to brush against Toji’s on the bed. You feel the warmth creep up to your head. His veiny hands still had stains of blood on the skin.

Now that Toji’s asleep, he won’t refuse your help. You grab a spare washcloth from your wardrobe and wet it with some water. You carefully lift Toji’s left hand. His palm touches yours and you find yourself enjoying the physical contact. His hand is heavy—bigger and rougher than yours. There are faint scars on his fingers which reminds you of his unknown identity.

All you’ve discovered until now is his name. His background is a mystery, and you have the feeling that it’s going to stay a mystery. You’ve realized by now that Toji does not open up to just anyone. You diligently clean the crimson stains from his left hand and move to do the same for the right one. You’re as careful as you can be, not wanting to wake the injured man from his well-deserved rest.

Once done, you put the washcloth away. You yawn and look at the clock. It’s nearly midnight already. You can’t sleep on your bed since it’s occupied, and it doesn’t fit two people. You look down at the soft carpet below your feet. That’ll have to do.

You grab an available pillow and a spare blanket, setting up your own little sleeping bag on the carpet right next to the bed. You lay down and stare at the ceiling. The ticking of your clock and the occasional sound of traffic outside of the building are the only loud sounds that distract your mind from any turbulent thoughts.

All you want is to sleep. What’ll happen tomorrow or the day after that is a problem for later. You’re safe for now. For today, you can relax. Your door is locked and the man you saved hadn’t left just yet. You feel a strange form of comfort having him with you. Even if he may be a bad person, his presence somehow soothes your tired body and mind. You feel like you’re safe with him. No harm shall come your way tonight.

And with that decisive thought, you close your eyes and give in to the slumber. You turn to lay on your side, facing the frame of your bed. Facing Toji.

You smile and utter your final words for the day, “good night, Toji. Sleep well.”

You drift into the land of dreams and discard your eventful reality. Little did you know that the man on your bed had been wide awake the entire time and is now left unable to sleep. . .

to be continued !

[nolita-fairytale]

give you my wild, give you a child | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x pregnant fem!reader oneshot

summary: your second trimester while pregnant with baby bear is way sexier than you expected.

warnings: smut, breeding kink, language, 18+ only, barely proofread.

word count: 3.7k

a/n: hi it's me with the second trimester sexapalooza smut i promised @starbritestarlite and @carmensberzattos. and with this new season, let me know if you want to be added to my carmy taglist!! i wrote this as a companion piece to the 'make my heart heart surrender' universe, specifically for the 'carmy as your baby daddy' headcanon/social media au series. anyways, i've been thoroughly enjoying season 2 and am sitting into the fact that i've created my own universe inside of their universe. god we love fanfic. anyways... this is nsfw so 18+ only.

Today 2:21 pm

Carmy “my baby daddy” Berzatto: On the way home for lunch. 

You: Hurry, baby. 

Carmy “my baby daddy” Berzatto: You good, sweet girl?

Your reply is almost instant, and Carmy wonders what could possibly come next as he sees the three dots appear below your message, indicating that you’re still typing. 

It’s a link, his eyes widening as soon as it appears in his iMessage history with you. 

You: Hottest Sex Positions For Pregnant Women | Cosmopolitan 

Before he can notice that it feels ten degrees hotter in the room, that his face has turned cherry red, that his pants are beginning to feel unbearably tighter, he’s interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice. 

“You good, chef?” Marcus asks, as he passes by, noticing the red tones that have risen to Carmy’s cheeks. 

“Wh-, oh yeah!” Carmy answers, almost too quickly, as if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing. 

Marcus shoots him a strange look, examining his boss’ face. 

“Just uh… gotta go home for lunch.”

*

3:03 pm

“What took you so long?” you practically growl as soon as Carmy gets through the door. 

He hasn’t even had a chance to close it properly before you’re on him like a moth to a flame. Dressed in the cutest pair of white shortalls, you’ve been working from home all day – or rather, mindlessly clicking through your e-mail while waiting for Carmy to come home all day, your mind preoccupied with the fact that Carmy hasn’t been home to give you exactly what you want. 

What you need, may be the better description. 

It’s as if the spirit of Eros himself has taken you over, unable to focus properly as your rapidly changing body needs is practically screaming out for one thing and one thing only: 

To be properly and thoroughly fucked by the man that got you here in the first place. 

“I-,” he begins, attempting to explain that he was running a little behind and got caught up giving feedback to one of his new line cooks before your mouth is on his in an all-consuming kiss. 

Now that he’s here, you regret even asking him, careless for the why when it feels this good to have him pressed up against your body. Your lips are desperate, hungry, intense, as you tangle yourself into him. It’s as if you can finally relax, like you can finally take a breath, now that your husband is finally here. 

He lets out a little groan of surprise against your mouth, as if you’ve charged towards him like the sexual equivalent of a tasmanian devil. 

And in his defense, you have.

“Baby,” he whispers against your lips. “Should we-, can we even-, shouldn’t you be working?”

He’s not wrong. 

You should be working. 

But the unbelievable and insatiable need for sex – for sex with Carmy – is the only thing driving you these days, holding you hostage to its unbelievable and all-encompassing power. You’re like a woman possessed as you reluctantly pull away from him to put his mind at ease. Your lust-filled eyes look him over, his curls already wild from a long day at the restaurant, as you shake your head ‘no.’

“I finished all my work for the day and signed off early. Perks of being a start-up sellout,” your well-kissed lips inform him. 

Carmy’s head spins in response to your answer.

Maybe it’s the prospect of the sex. 

Maybe it’s the way it’s the way your mouth feels against him as you kiss down his jawline and his neck.

“Okay, but I gotta be back at the restaurant at 4:15,” he smiles in agreement, more than happy to oblige.

“That’s plenty of time,” you coo, nibbling on his earlobe.

This time it’s Carmy who initiates, using both of his hands to cradle your face before his mouth is over yours again. The kiss starts slowly this time as he inhales deeply, taking you in. You shift closer, pressing your slightly-rounder-these-days belly against his body once more. He moans, his hands immediately traveling down your body, to your hips as he breathes you in again, wanting nothing more than to stay like this with you forever. His touch ignites something in you and you allow yourself to surrender, lost in the feel of his hands against you. His hands are everywhere – your hips, traveling up your belly, dancing across your fuller-than-normal breasts – and finally the drawn-out unrest of your mind can finally find peace.

He’s starting to get used to this. 

And he’ll admit that he really, really likes it. 

Carmy changes positions with you so that he can press you up against the front door as you continue your passionate makeout. 

Your first trimester had been hell – mornings spent on the bathroom floor together while you hurled the contents of your stomach into the toilet, days where you barely had the energy to get out of bed, nights where you were too hot to sleep that all you could do was lay on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, frustrated tears pouring out of the corners of your eyes – your body undergoing the hardest reset of your life. 

So when the fog and tumultuousness of your first trimester subsided, it was a more than welcomed change – and in so many ways. You’ve traded mornings of flat ginger ale, saltines, and sympathetic back rubs, with mornings spent tugging on Carmy’s perfect curls while you cried out his name.

“You smell like sandwiches,” you giggle in between kisses. 

“Ah shit. I should shower,” he sighs, reluctantly. 

He knows your sense of smell has been heightened lately, and he can’t imagine that smelling like a spicy Italian sandwich would be much of a turn on for you. He begins to pull away, but there’s now way in hell you’re letting him go as you grab his hands in yours. 

"No, Carmy, I can't wait,” you whine, the sound of your voice the most needy, beautiful thing Carmy’s ever heard in his life. 

“You could join me,” he offers with a raise of an eyebrow, presenting a solution you can absolutely get behind. 

“Uh huh. Yes please,” you nod eagerly, a girlishness to the way you answer him. 

Please.

Your usage of the word’s got him harder than a rock and he loves this side of you. Your sex life had been great before the pregnancy, but there’s something different about it now. Something about how needy you’ve been – the only thing that can possibly quell the fire inside of you being him – has him unraveling at the seams. 

How could he possibly say no when he’s more than eager to give you exactly (and then some, if it’s up to him) what you want? 

Your fingers are still tangled in his, licking your lips as you add, “My baby daddy thinks of everything.”

Carmy shakes his head, tugging at your hands as he leads you towards the bathroom, mentioning that he still can’t get over the fact that you’ve chosen to call him that in front of everyone you’ve ever known. You remind him that it’s cute, and though he’s not sure he gets it, he lets you do it anyway because it makes you happy.

As you both reach the bathroom, you patiently wait as Carmy turns on the shower, running a hand through the stream of water to check the temperature. One minute he’s focused on the cool water coming down from the showerhead, and then next he’s caging you in between his body and the bathroom sink. 

“You miss me this much, pretty girl?” he murmurs dreamily, his hand trailing up your inner thigh. 

You nod, taking note of how perfectly his top lip fits in between yours. 

“Yes, baby. Thanks for coming home for lunch,” you manage to get out, in between desperate kisses. 

“No need to thank me,” he smirks, a newly-found confidence in his voice. 

His hands are tugging at the hem of your shorts, as if he could slide the overalls down your body this way, a small pang of frustration welling deep in his stomach as he realizes that’s not going to happen. He kisses you with a fervor that makes you dizzy, as Carmy fumbles with the straps of your overalls. Trying his best to unclasp one side, he tosses the strap over your back, a clang sounding out within the four walls of the small room as the metal of the claps hits the porcelain of the sink. 

Carmy lets out a groan as he tugs at the second strap, causing you to giggle. 

“These stupid things,” he huffs, a look of embarrassment running through his brilliant blues. 

“Here, baby,” you say, slipping one of your arms out of the tangled strap. 

He groans as soon as his eyes meet yours again, more than happy to help you out of these damn things.

He pulls the overalls down with a rigor that stops right as the overalls drop to your waist, revealing your white tank top – one that you’re not wearing a bra underneath. 

“Sweetheart,” he groans, his hands ghosting over where your nipples stand erect against the fullness of your breasts. 

“You been like this all day?” he mutters against your skin, leaning down to drag his mouth over your still-clothed breasts. 

“Mmmmhm. Needed you,” you moan, your eyes closing as you lose yourself in the pleasure he’s giving you. 

He’s so incredibly hard right now it’s not even funny. 

“Yeah?”

By the time you open your eyes again, Carmy’s on his knees, so gentle, so tender with the way he slides the rest of the piece of clothing over the bump that’s been growing inside of your belly.

“Yeah,” you confirm. 

You shimmy out of your overalls as Carmy jumps back to his feet, removing your tank so that the only thing you have left is the pair of panties you’re still wearing. Before he can kiss you again, you’re tugging off his shirt, a sacrifice, an offering to the bathroom floor. 

“Should be warm enough, yeah?” you ask, gesturing towards the shower. 

“Yeah,” he agrees with a nod, removing his shorts. 

You feel all the blood in your body rush south as you see how hard he is already, swallowing hard. Carmy helps you into the shower, like the gentlemen he is, and you hope that’s where the gentleness ends. 

Before you can say anything else, he’s pulling you towards him, wrapping one of your legs around his waist as the warm water begins to wash over the both of you. 

“I’m so sorry, pretty girl,” he hums as his nimble fingers slip between your legs. He groans as soon as he feels how goddamn wet you are. 

“Fuck, honey.”

“See? I told you I needed you, Carm,” you pant, letting out a high keening moan as he draws lazy circles around your clit. You’re already bucking your hips into his hand and he’s barely started touching you. 

"You're so sensitive. So responsive, sweet girl,” he teases you, as he drags his fingers through your folds. You are so unbelievably wet that he’s not sure how he managed to get so damn lucky. 

"I just want you to fuck me, Carm. I’ve needed it all day. I need you to make me feel good," you beg, completely lost in the way his fingers feel as he slides two into you already. 

It’s like his touch sets fireworks off in your brain, setting your nerves on fire as you cry out. 

"Yeah?” he taunts you, an almost amused tone in his voice as he sets the slowest rhythm. “Think that’s how we got here in the first place, pretty girl.”

"I know,” you whimper, moving your hips against his fingers for any kind of friction. For something more. For something faster. For something deeper. But at this rate, with how much he seems to enjoy teasing you, with how horny you are, you’ll take anything. 

“But nothing feels as good as you, Carm.”

Your words go straight to his dick and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to leave you alone ever again – might as well quit his day job in exchange for this all-day never-ending second trimester sexapalooza you both seem to be caught inside of. 

He’s practically choking on his words as he manages to ask you:

"What’s that, baby? Did you touch yourself while I was gone?" 

You nod pathetically, moaning as he buries his thick fingers deep inside of you. He pauses, feeling the way your walls pulse around him as he stays inside of you, wanting to memorize this moment forever. 

In any other circumstance, he’d make you fall apart on his fingers, and then his tongue before you even went there, but with your recent admission, he’s decided that he has to have you now. In one swift motion, Carmy pulls his fingers from you, releasing his grip on your leg, eliciting a whine at the loss of him. 

Before you can even protest, he’s turning you around in the shower, and you can feel his hard-on pressing against your backside as he pulls you close.

“Sweetheart, you can’t just say things like this,” he taunts you, playfully, as he drags his cock through your folds a few times. 

“Carm,” you whimper, bracing your hands against the shower wall. “Don’t tease.”

“What’s that?” he coos, pressing his thick tip against your clit. 

“I don’t think I can take it. Please, baby,” you whine, so desperate for him to be inside of you. You push your ass back against him, offering your body to him for the taking. 

“Fuck!” he grunts out, because he just can’t resist you like this. 

You let out a sharp cry, as Carmy pushes himself inside of you, finally giving the thing you’ve wanted all day long. 

Carmy sets a slow pace at first, burying himself all the way to the hilt, so that you can feel all of him – every single ridge, every single vein of his cock with each thrust – and with how sensitive, how turned on you are, you’re already seeing stars. His hands hold onto your waist, controlling the speed of your lovemaking, as you press your hands against the shower wall, bracing yourself. You want him everywhere, all around you, consuming you with every fiber of his being, as if all you can do is hold yourself up and let him know how good he’s making you feel. 

Carmy’s lips are on your neck, leaving love bites across your shoulders, murmuring sweet nothings about how well you take him and how good you feel. And then he’s speeding up the pace of each thrust, pulling you back towards him. His hands are all over you: pressing you back against his chest, squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples as he takes care of you. 

His wife. 

The mother of his child. 

The love of his life. 

You turn your head just enough so that you can kiss him as Carmy’s hand reaches up to cup your face, making sure that he can kiss you properly too. This time you’re standing up taller, grinding against him, wanting to touch your husband more than you need to hold yourself up against the wall. Your hand slips behind you, grabbing at whatever parts of him that you can, bracing yourself against him, as if you could get Carmy even closer to you, while the other is guiding his across your body, your fingers tangled together. 

He’s perfect. 

This is perfect. 

It’s what you’ve been aching for all damn day. 

“I need you, Carm,” you moan into his mouth, as the consistent feel of him thrusting in and out of you has you delirious. 

"You have all of me, baby,” he reassures you in the tenderest tone of voice he can muster, his other hand resting just underneath your breasts as he fucks you. 

"More." 

"More?" 

He’s not sure what ‘more’ could mean at this moment, but the dirty talk is so hot that he’s more than willing to find out. He slows down his pace, dragging his cock in and out of you and the most delicious pace. 

"Yes,” you pant, pulling away from the searing kiss, your head hanging low. Your hands return to the shower wall as you arch your back, bending at the hips so that you can take him deeper as you add:

“I want to make you a daddy." 

His hips stutter for a second, caught off guard by what you’ve just said. 

"You-you are, sweetheart,” he chuckles, slowing his pace down for a moment as he watches himself disappear inside of you over and over again. 

“Carmy,” you groan, in response to his change pace. 

You’re grinding your ass against him, begging him to speed up, but his hands return to your hips, stopping you. 

The sight alone, and what you’ve just said, he thinks to himself, might kill him. 

You whine as Carmy brings his movements to a halt, trying to get him to fuck you again. But he can’t let what you’ve just said go unrecognized as he stills your hips. 

"What was that? You like walking around like this, hmm? Everyone knowing what I've done to you?" he asks you, holding your hips so that you can’t move.

You’ll give him anything to get what you want. 

Even if it means saying it again. 

“Yes, baby,” you sigh, and Carmy lets out another moan as you squeeze around him. 

“I want to make you a daddy. Just fuck me. Please.”

“Oh fuck,” Carmy mutters, knowing he’s not going to last much longer if you keep that up. 

He pulls out of you, and before you can protest, he’s slamming back into you in a way that makes you sob. He sets a brilliant pace this time, and you're arching your back, pressing your hands against the wall even harder – and all you can do, all you want to do, is take it. Hearing you chant his name over and over takes over him. He’s a man determined, with a single-minded focus on giving you exactly what you want. 

He’s reduced you to a moaning, mumbling mess, as you chase both of your orgasms. 

“Touch me, Carmy,” escapes your lips, and he’s more than happy to oblige, his fingers immediately coming to your clit. 

He’s so goddamn talented, using his cock and his hands to make you fall apart. 

You feel a familiar coil in your belly, and with the way you’re squeezing around him, Carmy can tell your close. 

“Come on, sweet girl. Go ahead and let go for me,” his voice sturdy, confident, strong. 

And seconds later, your eyes slam shut as you’re crying out his name, falling over the edge as your husband pulls the most delicious orgasm from your body. 

“That’s it, sweetheart. That’s it.”

He’s right behind you – literally and figuratively – as Carmy’s thrusts become more erratic, finally letting go after exercising an impossible level of self control. He spills inside of you with a grunt, holding you against him as he pauses. 

Breathless, you throw your head back, grateful that his shoulder is there to catch you. With the slightest turn of your head, you’re able to kiss him, placing the gentlest kiss against the corner of his mouth before Carmy’s hand comes up to lift your chin towards him again, so that he can kiss you properly. 

“Holy shit, Bear,” you sigh, a sense of relief washing over you. 

“Yeah,” he pants, trying to catch his breath with you. 

You both take a beat, a moment to let your brains catch up with your bodies, just holding onto each other – savoring the way it feels to be in each others’ arms. 

“I should uh… I should probably still shower,” Carmy starts, beginning to come back down to earth. 

You turn back towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck, entertaining him with slow, lazy kisses in between words. 

“But why don’t you dry off and get into bed?” Carmy suggests, using a quiet yet direct tone, almost as if it’s an order. 

It’s as if he knows that, though the last orgasm he’d just given you had been world-rocking, there’s no way in hell you’ll be satiated today with just one. 

“Really?” you ask, hopefully with a giggle. 

“Yeah,” he nods. 

“Heard, chef,” you tease him, eliciting a playful eye roll from him. 

He releases you, giving you the time and space to wring out your hair and step out of the shower. 

And as you do what he says, he rewards you for it, spending the rest of the afternoon with his face buried between your legs until he’s ready to go again. 

*

“And we’ve got a special tonight. Lemon chicken piccata. We’re talkin’ major Berzatto family recipe, ok? So let’s make sure we’re talkin’ up, alright?” Richie announces, following it up with a reminder to all of his servers of the main talking point during tonight’s pre-shift meeting. 

Carmy thinks he’s been stealthy as he attempts to sneak back into the restaurant, considering he’s thirty minutes late. He feels lucky that since everyone is preoccupied with the pre-shift meeting that they couldn’t possibly notice him slipping in this late. He hears the meeting end, making a mental note that tonight’s mise has been done right, praying that tonight’s service goes smoothly. 

He has, afterall, been using up a lot of extra energy lately…. 

“Hey, Jeffrey. We were wondering when you’d be in tonight,” Tina comments, as she returns to the kitchen, ready to lead service tonight. 

“Oh uh, yeah. Sorry, got caught up with some stuff,” he mumbles, avoiding her gaze as he doesn’t have an excuse or a cover story. 

“Mmmhhhmmmm,” she sounds, passing him by, because it’s no secret what Carmen Berzatto’s been up to lately. 

“Yo, cousin!” Carmy calls out, in search of Richie. 

Carmy makes his way into the dining room, and as soon as Richie sees him, knowing what time it is – knowing that Carmy’s running late – he smirks. A blush runs over Carmy’s cheeks as Richie shakes his head with a laugh. 

It’s as if Richie can see right through him, and suddenly, Carmy’s feeling incredibly exposed.

Richie wags a finger at his cousin, his laugh beginning to build. 

“Ahhhh man, cousin,” he sighs, an amused look on his face as he continues. “No one warned ya, huh?”

“I-,” Carmy starts, searching for any and all excuses he could make up on the spot, to no avail. 

“Men can’t resist a pregnant woman. Sheesh. Enjoy it while you can, jagoff.”

[heli-writes]

A dragon's heart, part 4.

Pairing: Barbarian!Bakugou Katsuki x female!reader

Summary: The dragonblood tribe is known for being cruel, barbarian warriors that slaughter, loot and rape all places they pass through. They are feared among the villagers and even bigger cities. Having lost most of their women to a plague, they're trying to ensure their tribe's survival by kidnapping women from other places. However, they're not the only monsters in human form out there. When y/n experiences this first hand, she has no choice but to ask for help from no other but the barbarian leader Katsuki Bakugou himself.

Disclaimer: mentions of injuries, violence, beheading, blood

[Please don't read if you are sensible to or triggered by the topics mentioned above.]

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Series Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

At first, y/n watches Katsuki pack by himself. Eventually, he starts barking orders at her that she doesn't get. He keeps pointing at things y/n starts moving his belongings toward his dragon. Katsuki binds the bags onto the saddle with some rope. When he's done, he shakes everything one more time to check if it's secure. Y/n stands next to him feeling a little bit lost. She feels insecure since she doesn't know what's going to happen next.

"Will he take me with him?", she wonders. If he does, what will it mean? She's not stupid. Y/n knows exactly who is standing in front of her. Bakugou Katsuki, leader of the dragonblood tribe, tamer of the biggest beast known to mankind, slaughter of man. The last thing she witnessed herself.

Clearly, she has heard enough stories about his clan. About their ruthlessness, their crimes. How ten of his men can take out an entire village. She shudders when she thinks about what the stories say they do to women. Y/n gnaws at her bottom lip in distress. So far, Katsuki hasn't shown any aggression or ill intentions towards her. She wonders if the stories are lies or at least exaggerations.

Then again, so far she's only seen Katsuki. He is rude and mean. Thinking back on how he laughed at her when she burned her mouth, he also likes seeing people in pain. Moreover, he easily could kill her if he wanted to. What would it be like if she was in a whole group of men like Katsuki? Group dynamics often develop a strange momentum.

The point is, does she want Katsuki to take her with him? If he takes her back to his home, she would have to live with these people she's heard so many terrible things about. She doesn't speak their language, she doesn't know anything about their culture. How would she even fit it? Y/n shakes her head trying to push the thoughts out of her head. She can't even be sure that that's Katsuki's plan. In addition, what other option does she have? She knows her chances alone out here are grim. Teaming up with the big scary men might just be a chance to survive.

Just when she decided that, as long as no other option opens up, she might as well go with the flow, Katsuki whistles at her sharply. Y/n is ripped out of her thoughts. He stares at her angrily and shouts instructions at her. When he gestures at her to come over, y/n walks closer to him.

When y/n stands next to him and the winged animal, Katsuki explains something speaking rather quickly and wildly gesturing. When y/n doesn't do what he wants her to do, he grabs her hips and lifts her up the dragon. Y/n throws a leg around the saddle and Katsuki pushes her up. Then Katsuki lifts himself up into the saddle. Sitting behind y/n, Katsuki grabs the reigns and gives the dragon a sign.

While y/n still feels anxious about being so high up in the air, she's not as scared as last time. She still clings onto the handle until her knuckles are all white. Katsuki's broad arms cage her in which gives her some sort of comfort. At least she can't fall off on either side.

After a while, she relaxes and suddenly becomes painfully aware of how close Katsuki is to her. She can feel his abs pressed against her back and his breath against her ear. She shivers even though Katsuki's body warmth keeps her comfortably warm.

Katsuki seems to have a plan for where they were going. They fly for about two hours before the dragon lands on the outskirts of the forest. Katsuki gets down first before he helps y/n get down. Y/n feels a bit unsteady on her legs. The inside of her thighs ache and y/n excuses herself behind a tree. Lifting up her skirt, she takes a look at the tender skin on the inside of her legs. They're red and sore. Y/n's surprised the skin hasn't grazed off to a point where she's bleeding. Her dress wasn't made for riding a horse or a dragon.

*~*~*

Katsuki watches y/n disappear behind the tree suspiciously. He noticed how she was still not comfortable with flying. He wonders whether she needs to piss or puke. Scoffing, he turns around and starts setting up camp. When y/n wobbles back, she starts helping him.

They were just about to undo the knots of the rope that secured the bags onto the saddle, when the dragon shifts and lets out a deep, threatening growl. Y/n shys away. "Woops, does he not like that?", she exclaims. Simultaneously, Katsuki swirls around watching the edge of the forest. His hand rest on the hilt of his sword.

Suddenly, the buzzing sound of an arrow fills the air. Katsuki grips y/n's arm and yanks her to he side just in time. Her injured shoulder almost gets pierced again. Next, a bunch or rough-looking men attack their little party with roars of war. "Bandits.", y/n thinks. Katuski yells something at her and gestures at the dragon.

The dragon moves quickly. One second he was behind them, the next he is in front of y/n biting a man's head off. Y/n ducks behind the beast. She hears Katsuki swearing and blades clashing against each other. Y/n rumbles through her back for her hunting knife.

Suddenly, a hand is pushed onto her mouth and an arm grabs her midsection. The person tries to drag her away. Y/n struggles against the man's grip. "Keep struggling and you only make it worse for yourself.", the man tells her.

The dragon blocks the view and y/n can't spot or yell at Katsuki. The man keeps pulling her backward. Instead of panicking, y/n suddenly feels very calm. Living on the road, the wandering folk teach all their children basic self-defense. The scenario of being grabbed from behind is something her elders have practiced her a hundred times.

She prepares to free herself out of the man's grip. She stomps onto his foot and bites his hand simultaneously. She bites so hard, she can taste the metallic flavor of blood. The man yells in distress and lets go of her in his surprise. Swiftly, y/n draws out her tiny knife. She goes straight for his liver. She should've gone for his Adam's apple, piercing his throat, as her elders taught her but somehow she's not courageous or fierce enough to do so. Instead, she stabs him in the liver. However, she's not sure if her tiny knife could even cut deep enough to harm the organ. Nevertheless, it's enough for the man to fall onto his back and clutch the wound in pain.

Y/n swirls around. The dragon is busy fending off some bandits. Somewhere behind it, Katsuki's fighting. Suddenly, Katsuki stumbles backwards and into y/n's view. There's a cut on his bicep and cheek. He holds a sword in his head that drips with blood. Three more bandits come into view, all three attacking the blonde at the same time.

"I've got to do something!", y/n thinks in a panic, "He can't fight them all on his own!". It's not a rational thought. Her elders always drilled into her head that the moment someone carries a knife or another kind of weapon, you do not try to fight them. Despite that, y/n finds herself rushing towards them. Without a real plan, she jumps onto on of the bandit's back. Her weight is enough to make the bandit stumble backwards. It also throws off the other two momentarily giving Katsuki enough time to swing his sword at one of them. He cuts open one of the bandit's throats similarly as he did to the man from y/n's village.

Meanwhile, y/n is still holding on tightly to the third guy's back who tries to shake her off. Y/n clings onto his throat for dear life and the bandit has trouble breathing. Luckily, bandits usually are not skilled swordsmen thus the man is too disoriented to get the idea that he could use his weapon against y/n. Unfortunately, he's still larger and stronger than y/n so he does manage to shake her off eventually.

Y/n falls onto her butt. An uncomfortable pain shoots up her injured shoulder. The man swirls around to her clutching his throat and raising his saber. His face is contorted in anger. "You little bitch!", he roars as he raises his weapon to strike.

Katsuki sees what is happening out of the corner of his eyes. He's still fighting the other bandit but upon noticing that y/n is about to get killed, he turns to the side in an attempt to rush to her aide. This gives the bandit an opening to strike. While Katsuki reacts quickly enough to stop the bandit from piercing him with his weapon completely, the bandit still manages to cut deeply into Katsuki's right leg.

Meanwhile, y/n is quick to roll over and the saber misses her by inches. Quickly she's on her feet again, crouching and holding her knife up in defense. The man takes another swing at her but before he can fulfill the action, his head is severed from the rest of his body.

While y/n wasn't looking, Katsuki killed the second bandit and went to her rescue. The bandit's head drops to the ground with a loud 'thup'. The rest of his body falls to the ground still twitching. Y/n stares at the sight in front of her with wide eyes. The sight doesn't seem to faze Katsuki at all but he is out of breath and his face in contorted in pain. He grabs y/n's injured arm and pulls her towards the dragon who is still fighting off some bandits. From the edge of the forest more cries of war are heard as reinforcements of the bandits run onto the open.

"Shit.", Katsuki curses. There are too many even for him. Where on earth were these assholes hiding? He should've been more observant. He shouldn't have been so distracted by this stupid woman. He pulls y/n towards the beast and pushes her up. Y/n is quick to react and pulls herself up into the saddle just as Katsuki does just seconds after her.

The dragon beats his wings and the force of the air sends a few bandits backwards. Some still try to climb the dragon in an attempt to get to Katsuki and y/n. When one manages to grab Katsuki's foot, y/n stabs her knife into the man's hand who immediately lets go.

As they rise into the air, more bandits lose hold and fall onto the ground. Arrows are shot at the three of them and Katsuki pushes y/n's head down in an attempt to stop her from getting shot in the face. Once they are high enough that the bandits can't reach them, Katsuki lets go of y/n's head.

Just when y/n thinks they're safe, Katsuki turns the dragon around and steers it back to the bandits. "Is he absolutely out of his mind?", y/n thinks as they descend again. However, they never touch land. Instead, the dragon lets out a rumbling sound and spits waves of never-ending fire. Suddenly, the world is burning and hot. Y/n hears the cries of the bandits and the heat licking at her legs.

Quickly they leave again and y/n watches the bandits and parts of the forest burn to the ground over her shoulder. Just when they are out of sight, she notices Katsuki's heavy breathing behind her. She also notices how his grip on her isn't as tight as it was before. That's when she feels a warm liquid drop down her leg. Katsuki rests his head on her shoulder.

Y/n lets go of the handle of the saddle and grabs his hands with both of hers stabilizing his hold on the reigns. The last thing she wants is for both of them to fall off the damn dragon.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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[Please comment if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters]

[breannasfluff]

using my own prompt-💥😅👍- for uh. I think it would be funny for DPxDC, Jack Fenton and Bruce Wayne. Yeah

“Hey! It’s Batman! Hi Batty!”

Bruce has seen a lot of strange things in life. He’s been to a lot of weird places. He’s friends with the Justice League. He’s adopted multiple kids who made it their life mission to give him gray hair early. 

Bruce has seen a lot of strange things in life. But this? This is going in the top 10. 

There’s a stranger in a bright orange jumpsuit in the middle of the Batcave. There’s no indication on how he got down here, but he’s got a futuristic gun on his back and metal gloves on. 

Bruce settles into a defensive crouch, scanning the rest of the cave. Why did none of the alarms go off? Where’s the rest of the team? 

“Batman! Hey! Hey Batty! Batty-man!” 

“What do you want,” he growls.

“I’m looking for a ghost! Chased the spook down here but he vanished. Wait, are you a ghost?”

Oh no. Bruce does not like the maniacal gleam in his eye. 

“Prepare to be wasted by the best ghost hunter, Jack Fenton!” The gun is level in his direction.

Before Bruce has a chance to jump out of the way it fires. Something glowing and green shoots toward him. He has a split second of guilt that his family will find his corpse like this before the blast hits. 

Green explodes around him. With it comes radio static that whites out everything else. Below it is the wail of departed souls, just barely on the edge of hearing. The explosion is all cold fire; no heat.

It also doesn’t hurt.

The green fades away and Bruce stands in the same spot, not reduced to a smoking pile of ash. What. Just. Happened.

Jack leans the gun on his shoulder and rubs his head sheepishly. “Huh, I guess you aren’t a ghost. My bad, Batty-man!”

Bruce is still stuck in limbo, adrenaline past its limit and onto the next. “You just shot me.”

“Yeah, but you aren’t a ghost. It’s fine!”

“You hit Batman.”

“It’s cool!” Jack gives him a thumbs up and a big grin.

Bruce growls, storming forward. Jack stays where he is; smile barely fading as his gun is yanked away. “You. Start talking.”

Rather than be cowed, Jack’s eyes nearly sparkle. “Oh man, just think if Batman uses Fenton tech! Think of what we could do with more funding! And look at the cool stuff in this cave! I bet I could rig that dinosaur into a robot to fight ghosts! And that penny could smash ghosts! And that–”

Bruce tunes him out before he strangles the man with his bare hands. Batman doesn’t kill people. But man, this guy sure is tempting. 

The elevator door pings as it reaches the Batcave and Alfred steps out.

“Ghost!” Jack whips out another gun–where was he storing that?!--and shoots at Alfred.

The butler freezes as the blast hits and harmlessly dissipates. 

Bruce turns to Jack. “Stop shooting people!”

Maybe he can knock the idiot out. Before someone gets hurt.

As a treat.

Prompt list

[hyunniesgirl]

Break up with your boyfriend, I'm bored

Pairing: Seungmin x fem!reader

Summary: Seungmin knew what he wanted since the first time he laid eyes on you. The problem is that you have a boyfriend... Actually, that's not a problem for him.

Warnings: angst, cheating, Seungmin is a bit of a meanie, unprotected sex(wrap it before you tap it), oral sex(f receiving)

Words count: 4,537

>>Part 2: Leave<<

A/N: I got this idea and I couldn't take it out of my mind 😭 I suck big time at writing smut but I'll only get better by writing it so bear with me.

My requests are currently open

Seungmin's having a lot of sleepless nights lately. It usually happens when he stays for sometime out of the country and gets too used to the foreign timezone. So one night, after getting tired of tossing and turning in bed he goes to the convenience store nearby, maybe a walk and some fresh air will make him sleepy or at least he can get a beer and some snacks.

That's the first time he sees you: an absolute mess. You are studying while eating spicy noodles, lips covered in sauce, glasses slipping to the tip of your nose, white shirt stained with red drops and hair all disheveled.

For some reason he just can't avert his gaze from you. Is it because you look a total mess in public and don't seem to care? Maybe he finds that interesting, since he can't do the same.

The second time he sees you, you are all dressed up with your makeup and hair done. You're laughing while looking at something on your phone and he thinks your smile is the prettiest he has ever seen. He can't help but stare at your every movement and the way your lips move while you speak on the phone is just enticing.

He thinks of talking to you, he just doesn't know how. Seungmin is usually not the one to make the first move, he's the one who's hit on. And while thinking about how to approach you, he sees you get up and walk out of the store, would you be there the next night?

You didn't show up for almost two weeks, but he didn't give up. Seungmin went back to the store every night hoping to see you again.

When you show up once more you are not alone, there is a man with you and Seungmin doesn't like it. He has his arm over your shoulder, stealing glances at your cleavage and slipping his hand into the small of your back, touching your ass every chance he gets.

Seungmin feels strange, sick, heart beating fast and head hurting. He shouldn't be feeling this way, you never even spoke with him but he can't shake the feeling that this is unfair, he wants you for himself.

Seungmin spent the night before cooking up a plan to get acquainted with you and the best idea he had wasn't the smartest one. You are seated, studying again and he's close to you on the table the customers use to eat. He takes a deep, dramatic breath, making you look at him.

As soon as your eyes meet his, you blush instantly. It's not everyday you meet a handsome stranger in a convenience store.

It's strange though, he looks really familiar, you just can't remember where you saw him before.

"Is there something wrong?", you ask, fixing your glasses closer to your eyes, you really have to get them adjusted again since they keep slipping.

"I bought this, but I didn't like the flavor", he lifts the food. "Do you want it?", he asks, getting closer. He saw you eating one of these every time you were at the store, so he knows you like them.

"I shouldn't", you answer, shifting uncomfortably on your seat. You're a little bit embarrassed, he's dressed really nicely and you're in your sweats.

"I'll just throw it away if you don't want it", he shrugs.

You pout, thinking carefully.

"I suppose I can have it then", while you take the food, smiling awkwardly. Your fingers touch his and Seungmin has to hold his breath so he won't gasp at the warmth of your touch.

"I see you a lot here, do you live close by?" You hear him again before you can go back to your book. "I don't know a lot of people here, I just came back from the U.S." He explains after the suspicious look you gave him.

Technically he's not lying, he doesn't know a lot of people in that neighborhood and he did just come back from the U.S. You smile understanding, you don't have many friends either.

"I go to the college nearby, so I usually come here when I stay late to study", you give your hand to him so he can shake it, "I'm Y/N, by the way"

Seungmin has to think fast, you don't seem to realize who he is yet and he wants to keep it that way for now.

"You can call me Sky", he answers, shaking your hand back and you nod.

"So you're going to stay? Or are you going back overseas?", you ask, curious.

"I'm probably staying", he answers, glancing at your phone that just started ringing.

You close your book, answering the call.

"Yes baby, I'm done", you say smiling awkwardly to Seungmin. "I have to go", you whisper to him, waving goodbye.

Seungmin can barely breathe seeing you go into your boyfriend's car, he's so mad and at that moment he realize that he's completely lost.

You're so kind, your voice is so much sweeter than he thought it would be, he wants you to call him babe, he wants you to go to him, moan and scream his name, cumming and begging for him to give you the release you want.

He shakes his head, what's he even thinking about someone he just met?

You meet each other almost every night after that, it's not on purpose on your part but Seungmin is always there at the store, he helps you study, buys you snacks so you won't have to get up every time you're hungry and massage your fingers when your hands hurt because you wrote too much, with time friendship comes naturally.

When you find out he's famous you can't believe it, your friend is an actual idol? Of course, he has the looks and the talent, you often thought he should be a singer when you two went to karaoke together. You're much more into girl groups than boy groups and with college and work you were just so busy it was impossible to follow the new trends, that's why you didn't recognize him earlier.

You thought his real name was Sky till six months into your friendship, when he had to buy drinks and they asked for his ID. You stole a glance at the document and read "Kim Seungmin". You were sure you heard that name before so when you looked it up on google you freaked out storming out of the store with a confused Seungmin after you.

"Wait, what's wrong?" He asks, grabbing your arm, making you look at him. 

"Kim Seungmin?", you scoff, you're mad that he didn't tell you before, did he not trust you? You're sure it's not that, but it doesn't make you less upset.

He takes a deep breath.

"I'm sorry", he looks down massaging his eyes with the tip of his fingers, "I should have told you, I just… lost the timing"

You shake your arm out of his grasp, stepping away from him.

"I can't believe a famous person saw me on pajamas", you blush, "It's so embarrassing"

Seungmin smiles.

"You look cute in your PJ's"

"I don't!", you whisper yell at him trying not to attract attention, "I look ridiculous"

He frowns, staring at you, lips tightly together.

"Never, you would never look ridiculous, okay?"

You cross your arms, pouting. You should be the one scolding him, not the other way around.

"Can you forgive me for not telling you? Just this once?", he asks, giving you puppy eyes.

You huff.

"You're going to pay for my food every time we go out together", you answer, crossing your arms.

"I already do that", he laughs.

"Yeah, but now I won't fight with you so I can pay nor will I feel guilty about it"

"Done", he smiles and you roll your eyes, you just can't stay mad at him.

Not long after, you graduate from college. You invite him and his friends to a little celebration at your house. You live a bit far from campus in a shared apartment with your best friend who has one more year to go until she graduates.

Seungmin arrived an hour late, he and the boys got stuck in practice longer than they expected but they finally made it.

A ginger girl opens the door to the apartment, he presumes she's Soojin, your roommate.

"Hey! I'm-"

"I know who you are", the girl interrupts, looking behind Seungmin, "woah, when Y/N told me you are her friend I thought she had finally lost it, I'm glad it's not the case", she chuckles, giving space for the guests to enter.

"Minnieeeeee", Seungmin hears your voice and turns to find you, you look beautiful with your hair down, a tight black dress and no shoes, he feels jealous that the other guys can see you like that too. You stumble a bit coming in his direction, you are already drunk.

"She got an early start when that asshole called saying he won't be coming", Soojin says, rolling her eyes.

So your boyfriend couldn't make it? Too bad, he thinks.

Seungmin walks towards you, holding your arms and supporting you so you won't fall.

"Hey, congrats on finishing college", he says and you smile widely.

"Finally!"

Seungmin introduces you to the rest of the boys, they are all so handsome you almost sober up seeing their faces.

"You look even better than on YouTube", you say and they laugh.

"It's nice finally meeting you", Chan says.

"Yeah, Seungmin talked a lot about you", Lee Know smirks, glancing at Seungmin.

"Oh, I hope only good things", you look at him too.

"Oh, yeah! Especially when he's drunk-", Jeongin starts to speak but is interrupted.

"So, where are the other guests?", Seungmin asks, glaring at the boys.

"She's a loner", Soojin says and you laugh, awkwardly. "I'm her only friend"

"Well, yeah…" you admit, "but I wouldn't have invited anyone else since you're all here, I want you to be comfortable tonight"

Seungmin feels his heart beat so fast in that moment, he thinks it will burst out of his chest. He has always known how sweet you are, but now the other boys can see that you're considerate too.

"Do you like truth or dare? Let's drink!" You laugh, running to the kitchen to pour some alcohol to everyone.

He can do anything for you, be it playing a stupid drinking game or stealing you from your boyfriend.

Since you graduated you don't go to that convenience store anymore and you don't need Seungmin's help with your studies either. But you both got really attached to each other, so you start hanging out in your house or his dorm.

You go shopping together, eat delicious food, watch movies and cuddle. Sometimes you think he's much more like a boyfriend than your actual boyfriend, and you feel guilty instantly after thinking that way.

When you are not at work you are hanging out in his dorm with the other boys, talking all night long and listening to each other's worries. It's no surprise how lonely you feel since they went on tour a month ago, you can't spend time with them anymore, Soojin is having her finals and to top it off your boyfriend is getting more distant by the day.

You are finishing your work day when your phone buzzes. You walk out of the company's entrance while reading your texts.

Minnie: where are you?

You: just finished work

You: why?

You frown, this guy is somewhere in Japan right now, why does he want to know where you are?

Minnie: stop frowning, you look ugly when you do that

You: what?

You: how do you know I'm doing it?

Minnie: are you dumb, do you wanna trip?

Minnie: look ahead when you're walking

You bump into someone before you can take your eyes out of your phone and Seungmin looks at you with that familiar condescending smile.

"You!" You scream, this man is unbelievable, of course he would show up out of nowhere. "When did you get back?"

You wrap your arms around his chest, hugging him and feeling him squeezing you into his embrace.

"I came here right after we landed", he answers, looking around and making sure no one's looking at you two.

"Oh, you must be tired", you poke him in the chest, stepping away from his hug, "I don't look ugly when I'm frowning, you're such a meanie", you point it out.

"Yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night", he sighs dramatically and you have to hold yourself to not punch him. "I actually rested a lot in the flight so I'm okay"

He grabs your bag, putting it on his shoulder. "Let's go, the guys are dying to see you", he says and you smile widely.

Seungmin missed you so much he thought he would die, but just by seeing your smile it makes him feel like the happiest person alive.

"Oh, I actually have a date with my boyfriend", you take your phone out of your pocket, seeing a message from him. You sigh, "never mind, he just stood me up"

You smile at Seungmin, "I was actually going to ask for a raincheck so I could go with you, so it's all good"

Seungmin knows it's not all good, after seeing you struggle in this relationship he decided it's time for him to make a move. He doesn't care about your relationship, not that he ever did, but now it's definitive. He needs to have you.

You arrive at the dorm and find Hyunjin, Felix, Han and Jeongin playing some game you don't know the name of, trying to decide who will wash the dishes.

"You're here!", Felix gets up quickly and runs to you giving you a hug. "We missed you a lot", he says.

"I missed you all a lot too", you smile, hugging him back.

"I think that's enough touching", Seungmin put his hands between you two, coming in the middle and making Felix pout, stepping away.

"Hey!", you want to fight back but he looks at you with a raised eyebrow, daring you to oppose him. You clear your throat not sure why that look made you feel so… hot? "Where are the other guys?"

"They went to the convenience store to buy drinks and snacks"

You nod, thinking maybe you should have brought something too.

"What are we going to eat?", Seungmin asks, sitting on the sofa's arm.

"Fried chicken?", Hyunjin suggests and you nod.

"I'm in", Felix says and Han agrees.

"I'm gonna send it on the group chat so the others can give their opinions", Jeongin says, already typing on his phone.

"Sounds good to me", you poke Seungmin asking him to come closer. "Do you maybe have some clothes I could change into?" You are uncomfortable in your outside clothes and if you want to eat a lot it's going to be hard with those tight jeans.

Seungmin has to take a deep breath and make a silent prayer to any god that's listening to him so he won't get hard by the thought of you wearing his clothes. Every other day you slept in his dorm, you came prepared bringing your own clothes, so this is going to be a first.

You follow him to the bedroom, which you had been to a lot before, however for some reason the atmosphere feels different this time.

Seungmin prepares a shirt and sweatpants for you, he steps out of the room so you can change even though he really wanted to stay there and watch you strip for him.

When he sees you his heart skips a bit, he did try to prepare himself beforehand but it was just too much, so much more enticing than he expected.

He avoids your gaze, clearing his throat and telling you to go on to the living room, he will change and be there soon.

He can't help but eye fuck you the entire night, he loves when you dress up, put some tight little dress and makeup on. But there's something about the comfy you, that leaves her hair to dry naturally and wear pajamas in every opportunity she gets, that's the you that turns him on the most.

You on the other hand, don't know why he keeps staring at you like that. Although, contrary to your expectations, you don't feel uncomfortable at all with that. It's been a few months since you began having these weird feelings about Seungmin.

It all started with a wet dream you had five months ago, he was fucking you so hard in your dream that you woke up drenched. That was when you started thinking about him in that way, of course you put these thoughts aside, you have a boyfriend and Seungmin is a celebrity he can have anyone he wants so you thought it best not to entertain the idea anymore than in your dreams only.

You didn't drink much, too afraid of saying something about your strange feelings if you were not sober. You were relieved when everyone called it a night and you went to the bedroom. You have always slept with Seungmin when your thoughts were still innocent but things are different now, you're feeling different.

Taking a deep breath you begin arranging the sheets, you can just put some pillows between the two of you and you can pretend he's not right there on the same bed.

Seungmin has some different ideas, seeing how he enters the room and locks the door behind him, staring at you. His eyes are dark like you have never seen before and you feel that familiar knot grow in your lower stomach.

"What is it?", you ask and he takes a long step forward, then another and one more. He's right in front of you now, towering over you.

He lifts his hand caressing your cheek.

"I can't take it anymore", he whispers as if he talked louder someone would barge in and take you away.

"What are you talking about?", you ask, a feeling of warmth climbing up your neck and cheeks.

"Please be mine", he slides one of his hands to your waist, pulling you closer and pressing his body against yours.

"I don't understand", you say while he bends, resting his head on your shoulder.

"Let me show you? Hm? I can show you how much better I'm"

You feel your heart beat so fast and loud you almost can't hear his words.

In that moment, you understand all the looks Seungmin gave you, all the smiles and affection he had shown you. All those times he told you how you could find someone better than your boyfriend, how he got mad every time you tried to set him up with someone or even when you asked if he liked someone and he always changed the subject. It was you all along.

You don't think it through, just wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him. He can't believe you're actually doing it, that you're letting him finally taste you, you feel so good, your lips are soft just like your gentle nature.

Seungmin is surprised, he thought you would be much more reluctant and that makes him feel reassured because it means you feel something too.

His hands slide down your thighs, helping you wrap your legs around his hips. You can already feel his hard on pressing against your cunt, making you moan slightly. He lay you on the bed, playing with the waistband of your pants and pulling it down, admiring your bare legs. He takes his shirt off and unbuckles his belt, crawling close to you.

"I waited so long for this", he says, caressing your face, the picture of Seungmin with no shirt, naked chest, wearing just his loosened trousers, makes you salivate.

You don't know what to do, you're not inexperienced but for some reason you want him to be pleased with everything you do.

"You look so beautiful", he smiles, his hands caressing your stomach, going down and wandering through your thighs.

Seungmin kisses you again, sliding his right hand to your hair, pulling it slightly. You gasp not expecting it and he smirks.

"If I do anything that makes you uncomfortable you can tell me, okay?" He tells you, teasing the waistband of your underwear with his free hand, threatening to take them off. He wants to do much more than what he's planning for tonight, but he has to take it easy, he doesn't want to scare you.

"Please", you beg thinking he will stop teasing you. You never thought you could feel so needy, you're not sure if it's because of the ambiance or because it's him.

"Oh, you want me to fuck you already, right?", he asks sarcastically and you nod.

"Too bad, I had to wait a year so you'll have to wait too", he answers, kissing your stomach and going up, riding your shirt up and taking it off. You're glad you took off your bra when you were changing, because the lustful look Seungmin has staring at your breasts is to die for. He stops for a moment trying to memorize the image only looking away when you try to cover yourself, you're feeling unusually embarrassed. He grabs your arms, pushing them down and pressing it to the side of your head.

"That's not good, I need you to feel comfortable with me watching you because I like what I see", he gets closer to your face and licks your mouth, literally running his tongue over your lips as if he's marking you.

You never thought you were into this kind of thing but the way your pussy clenches around nothing and the loud moan that comes out of your mouth beg to differ.

"I love the sounds you make", he kisses your cheek and goes down to your neck biting and sucking there. "But if you don't want the others to know exactly what we are up too, you better be quiet"

"What if they catch us?", you ask, finally remembering that you're not the only ones in the house.

"I don't care", he says, releasing your arms. He slides his hands down to focus on your breasts, squeezing and pinching your nipples, making you whimper and whine.

"I don't want them to know what we're doing", you respond, questioning if this is a good idea.

"I already told you then, be quiet", he tells you, biting your breast slightly and making you squeal, exactly the opposite of what he just ordered.

Seungmin chuckles deeply, going down, he's taking his sweet time even though he knows what you want. You hold your breath when he actually takes off your underwear and looks at your cunt like it's his favorite food, licking his lips and opening your legs even wider so you can be totally exposed for him.

Seungmin licks long stripes from your entrance to your clit where he attaches his lips and sucks hungrily. He brings two fingers to your mouth and you automatically suck on it making him moan and squeeze your thighs. He brings his hand down, inserting one finger inside you, making you groan. He sighs, bringing up the hand he had on your thigh and covering your mouth before inserting another finger.

You're already feeling the tight knot in your stomach getting bigger, looking at Seungmin eating you out so lustfully don't do much to help you. He can feel your walls clenching around his fingers, he squeezes your thighs even more, rubbing his hips in the bed to ease the tension in his crotch while he sees you coming undone in his mouth.

You're absolutely wrecked, breathing heavily and with no strength left. Seungmin makes a trail of kisses from your cunt, to your stomach, in between your breasts, your neck and finally arriving at your mouth. You can taste yourself on him, making you feel more turned on.

"You taste so good", he says, licking his lips. It's such a sinful image to see Seungmin mouth covered in your juices.

"Fuck me, now", you command and even though he doesn't like taking orders that's one order he won't object to.

Lining himself on your entrance, Seungmin takes a deep breath because he's afraid he'll cum just by feeling you around him. He stares at you while entering, he wants to make sure you're enjoying it as much as him.

You have your eyes closed shut, he's bigger than you expected and it's hard to take in, even though you're so wet. You hear him groan and open your eyes, moaning just by taking a look on Seungmin's face.

His eyes are locked with yours, he's biting his lower lip so hard you're sure it will bleed any moment. You squeeze him, just so you can see his reaction and he gasps.

"Fuck", he says, between heavy breaths, "I'm already on the verge of cumming, if you do that I won't last long"

You giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck and closing the space between you, kissing him. You wrap your legs around his waist trying to restrain your moan, earning another groan from him when he hits you so deeply you want to scream, digging your fingernails on his back.

Seungmin starts thrusting in and out of you, it feels so good having you underneath him, being inside you, he wants to stay in this moment forever but his release is so close, he's not sure if he'll be able to make you cum again before he does. He slides his hand to your clit, wanting to cum with you, feeling you squeezing his cock and moaning his name.

You can already feel your second orgasm building up, trying to keep your moans in a low tone.

"I want you to say my name, yeah?" Seungmin grunts, making you feel like you could combust anytime, "moan my name", he pleads and you do it, shaking and arching underneath him, feeling in cloud nine. He doesn't take much more time to cum too, you feel the warm liquid spreading inside you and Seungmin collapses on top of you, resting his head on your chest.

You two don't say much for a few minutes, both trying to catch your breath while you play with his hair. You feel so tired you're already drifting to sleep.

"I like you", Seungmin says before you lose all consciousness, "I want to be with you", but you're already too groggy to even answer him.

Seungmin wakes up with the noises of rustling, he opens his eyes slightly seeing you zipping your pants. You have your shoulder close to your face holding your phone in your ear.

"Yes, babe. I'm on my way", he hears you say as you take a look in his direction.

Seungmin stays there, pretending to be asleep while you close the door on your way out. He feels his chest ache so much, it hurts so much he thinks his heart is actually shattering.

______________________

If you like my work and want to support it, you can like, comment and/or reblog my content so more people get to know it. You can also buy me a coffee.

All characters in my writing are from my own imagination and don't represent nor reflect in any way the people in real life.

[jjkamochoso]

Don't You Know This is a Date?!

Fluff

Gen Narumi x gn!reader

Gen takes you on a date; you’re unaware that’s what’s going on until the end of the night!

Warnings: none

You were just about to file your last report of the day when you heard footsteps come up from behind you, whoever it was clearing their throat to get your attention. Turning around, you grinned when you saw who it was.

“Narumi! You’re always a face I look forward to seeing. How can I help?”

It never ceased to amaze you just how different Gen was off the battlefield versus on it. When he was fighting kaiju, he would be the most confident, cocky guy you’d ever known, always calm, cool, and collected. Now, however, in the depths of the First Division’s base, the disheveled, hoodie clad man standing before you was like a whole other person.

“L/n! I had a, uh… question… for you.”

You looked at him expectantly, his handheld video game console or phone nowhere to be found; that was the first strange thing about him. The second thing was how nervous he was acting.

“Gen? You alright? You look like you’re about to confess to a murder or something,” you joked, but he didn’t laugh so you tried not to either.

“I… waswonderingifyouwantedtogotodinnerwithme,” he blurted, talking so fast you could barely understand what he said.

“Dinner?” you asked, confirming that was correct. Indeed it was because he shook his head.

“Tonight?”

He gulped. “Yeah.”

“Of course. That sounds nice,” you replied happily, wondering why he was acting so weird about something so trivial. You often went to dinner with your peers and you were good friends with Gen so this wasn’t out of the ordinary. Even if you did harbor a secret crush on the handsome captain, going on a platonic outing like this was sure to be pleasant anyway.

“What time do you want to meet?” you wondered, prompting him to share more details.

“Oh! Right. I’ll meet you at your room at 7? Does that work?”

“It’s perfect. I’ll see you then.”

You sent Gen a blinding smile and he stood in a daze as he watched you get back to work. All of a sudden, the hood of his sweatshirt was being yanked back as he was dragged out to the hallway, sputtering from his sweatshirt almost choking him.

“Don’t you have work to do, Narumi?” fumed Vice Captain Hasegawa, releasing his hold on the man. “Stop ogling. You’re wasting time.”

“I wasn’t ogling! And even if I was, you don’t have to be so mean about it,” complained Gen as he walked away, nursing his minor injury.

“Young love makes me sick,” Hasegawa muttered.

7pm came and Gen was at your door right on time. He cleaned up well: his hair was lightly tamed, being the right amount of messy, he had changed from his sweatshirt into a nicer track jacket with a white t-shirt underneath, and he was wearing a cologne that smelled outrageously delicious.

If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought we were going on a date!

“You look amazing,” he complimented as he led the way to the restaurant.

“So do you,” you replied kindly. You two fell into easy conversation as you always did and you arrived to the restaurant in no time. You thanked Gen as he held the door open for you and you were taken aback by the extravagant interior. Gen had chosen a very upscale restaurant!

“So this is where your salary disappears to every month?” you teased.

“Nope,” he responded, his red eyes catching the light of the chandelier above, giving them an ethereal glow. “I chose this place just for you.”

Just for me?

You shook off the warm, fuzzy feeling that sentence gave you. You knew he didn’t mean it in a romantic way; it had come up in many conversations that you were a foodie and liked to visit all types of establishments. He must’ve remembered that you hadn’t had the chance to eat at very many high end restaurants so that’s why he brought you here. You both ordered appetizers and entrees, sharing portions of your meals with each other, all while having a grand time, laughing and chatting nonstop. You denied getting dessert, knowing there was a great bakery down the street.

“You ready to go?” he asked, standing up from the booth across from you.

“We haven’t paid yet. I’m no dine and dasher, Narumi.”

“I already paid for us.”

You gasped. “Gen! Nuh uh, no way! That was way too expensive! Tell me how much I owe you.”

He crossed his arms defiantly. “Nope.”

“Gen. I’m serious.”

“Never gonna happen.”

You groaned, putting away your wallet. “I’m going to start shoving money under your door when you’re not looking.”

“Maybe then I could pay Shinomiya back,” he muttered under his breath.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing! Time for dessert!”

You were able to get him back for dinner by paying for dessert, happily munching on your sweets together while walking down the street.

“Hey, I used to go to that arcade all the time!” you exclaimed as the light up sign shone bright in the dark of night. “Wanna play some games?”

“You read my mind,” said Gen, and you two ran inside.

You didn’t know how much of your paycheck you spent on tokens, you just knew that the past 4 hours were totally worth it. You and Gen had the absolute times of your lives, playing every game in the building at least twice. You especially loved playing the dancing game with him; he was extremely agile as his feet slammed each of the four squares in time to the music, hitting them perfectly almost every time. The claw games were also a source of entertainment for you both, angrily walking away and swearing you’d never try it again until the big plushie looked at you with its soulful eyes and convinced you to drop even more money trying your hand at grabbing it from the machine. Eventually, after many fails, you finally won and out dropped not one, but two, plushies. You excitedly hugged Gen at your success, relishing in the comfort of being in his arms if only for a few seconds. You happily gave him the other plushie and went back to playing more games, your heart bursting with elation. The arcade employees eventually had to kick you out since they were closing and you decided it was best that you went back home. As you walked to base, Gen right next to you, you wished that you could do this with him more often. Though, you really hoped that next time it could be in more of a romantic capacity.

“So… did ya have fun?” Gen asked, his hands in his pockets as he walked you to your room.

“I always have a fun time with you, Gen, tonight was no different,” you told him with a smile.

“Good. Yeah. That’s good.”

You walked in a comfortable silence until you finally came upon your door and you turned to him, making your plushie wave at him with its little stuffed arm.

“Thanks again for a great night. We should totally do this again sometime!” you exclaimed, the doorknob twisting under your grip. “See you tomorrow!”

“Wait!”

Gen lunged forward before you could disappear into your room, grabbing your hand. In an instant, he closed the gap between you and placed a kiss on your cheek, dangerously close to your lips. You stood there, dumbfounded at what just happened, your fingertips resting on where his mouth was mere moments ago.

“What… what was that for?”

Gen was sporting a deep blush as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s what people do at the end of dates, right?”

Now it was your turn to blush, shock written all over your face. “That was a date? You asked me out and didn’t even tell me?”

“Huh?!” Gen was just as confused as you were. “I asked if you wanted to go to dinner! That’s a date activity, everyone knows that!”

“Apparently not everyone,” you replied indignantly. “I go to dinner with other division members all the time.”

His jaw dropped. “You mean you’ve been going on other dates? Don’t tell me you’ve been sharing plushies with them too!” He quickly stood up straight, practically puffing his chest. “Alright, who’s my competition? I can guarantee I’m better than them in every way.”

You burst out laughing, causing Gen to deflate, his shoulders slightly drooping in the wake of you finding amusement in his actions.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you said. “No, I haven’t been on other dates, they were all dinners between friends. Like what I thought we were doing.” He went to speak up again but you put your hand up, effectively quieting him. “But I’m glad it wasn’t. I’ve liked you for a long time so this works out in my favor.”

He raised his eyebrows playfully. “So can I take you on another actual date then?”

“I would love that.”

“Me too.” Gen exhaled a sigh of relief before smiling and nodding at you. “Have a good night, y/n.”

As he stepped away, it was you who was overtaken by a surge of confidence this time.

“Gen?” you called out, getting his attention. “Let me show you one more thing people do at the end of dates.”

You quickly broke the distance between the two of you, your lips landing on his own. After his initial shock wore off, his hands found their way to your body, resting on your hips while yours were buried in his two toned hair. You opened your mouth a little more and he followed suit, tongues now dancing together as he pulled you in even closer, his hold on you unrelenting. You had lost track of time, too busy kissing Gen and never wanting it to end, but you knew you needed air so you unwillingly parted from his swollen lips, leaving both of you panting from your impromptu make out session in the First Division hallway. Your foreheads leaned against one another as you tried to catch your breath, Gen smirking at you.

“You’ll definitely have to buy me dinner after that.”

[mschoiyuki]

Silence

Trafalgar Law x f!reader

tw : angst. angst. angst. just angst. SFW

wc : 5.1k

a/n : Law is a foolish man. Interaction with the Straw Hat Pirates. I'm not good at writing summary, sorry ( •̯́ ₃ •̯̀) And I'm sorry for the grammar error. Actually I've been thinking so hard, should I make it a happy ending or not. But... Oh well...

It's best to read this while listening to :

❆ Taylor Swift - You're Losing Me (From The Vault)

❆ Bruno Mars - It Will Rain

❆ Paloma Faith - Only Love Can Hurt Like This

Enjoy ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

Law used to smile to you like that.

Law used to gave lingering touch to you like that.

Law used to sits next to you like that.

Your heart used to beats faster when you were with him.

But one day, everything suddenly change. You want to ask him why, but sadly you're just his crewmate. Law is your captain. Nothing special between you.

Even though he is your captain, you will give your life for him in a heartbeat. Maybe for Law it's just a natural things to do. Yes, another crewmates will also give their life to protect their captain. What's so special with you giving your life for him too? Nothing.

One day on midnight, it's your turn to on watch. You bump to Law on the hallway. There's some sweet perfume wafts from his body. You clench your fist, greeting him with a smile, "Captain." And off you goes, not wanting to hear any responses from him.

The next week when Polar Tang docked at an island for supplies. You bump at Law again at dawn. You can see a red mark on his neck. You just smile and greets him, "Morning, Captain." And you walk away.

You walk fast to bathroom, letting out whatever it is in your stomach. Slouching on the sink, gripping your arms tightly, you cry in silent. You don't want anybody to finds out.

From that day onwards, you made up your mind. Shoving that feelings deep down, sealing it on your pandora box, throw away the key far far away.

You act like a true crewmate, no feelings attached. Every mornings you wake up, you will perfecting your smile in front of the mirror. You train the muscle really hard, you must to make it as natural as possible. So no one knows it's fake. It has to be perfect.

No eye contact. You will answer Law question short and sharp. Giving your best smile without meeting his eyes.

No lingering touches. You will keep your distance an arm length from Law. As natural as possible. Even you try to eat first or later to not sit at his side.

Week turns to month.

Until one day, you witness it with your own eyes. When you leave the bar and want to go back to Polar Tang, you see him. Your beloved captain, Trafalgar Law, walks to a motel with a woman. His hand on the woman waist.

Your body trembling. Your head dizzy. You want to let out the beers you drank out from your throat, tears are threatening to falls. You clench your fist until it's turning white.

Sachi, Penguin and Bepo walks out from the bar, want to follows you back to the sub. But they halt their steps. Following the direction of your gaze.

They knew. Knew Law been to the bar. They knew there's always a girl at his side. They've confront him about this, but he told them to shut up, Law told them to not meddle his personal life.

You take a deep breath and blinks away the tears. And you start walking back to sub.

The man that you loved for years, breaks your heart to pieces. You even haven't confess to Law. Yet you already has the answer.

Then what's the point to stay at here? Why you have to torture yourself more than this? The answer is clear. You chuckle to yourself. Why are you so foolish. You're just a crewmate. Even if you're gone they won't make a fuss.

"Let's just wait for another chance." You thought to yourself.

That night, your heart losing it beats. It's not beating faster when you think about Law anymore. When you wake up with tears stain on your pillow, you lost your voice.

Strangely you're not panicking. Because you remember you read it on a book at Chopper's library, it can due to trauma or it can be from shock that your brain or heart produce.

The others panics. The trio runs to Law, telling him about you lost your voice. Law's face darkened hearing the news. Law immediately rushing to you.

"What happened?" Law try to reach your arm, but you take a step back. Avoiding his touch.

Don't touch me with those filthy hands. Those hands that touched other women.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, you smile and shrug. You write on the sketchbook "No need to panic." And you walks away from him resuming your duty.

Law just stand there, stunned. He remember this scenes long ago. Just like Cora-san when they first met. But are you really lost your voice? It can be you just faking it like Cora-san.

The trio know what Law's been thinking, Sachi breaks the silence "No, Captain. It's real."

Penguin chime in, "We already check on her, we try to prove it. It's real."

Bepo just start to panic and want to cry.

Law's minds been busy, thinking the way out to get your voice back.

But Law doesn't know about your plan.

You know Law's sleeping schedule, mostly Law will be at his office until morning. He rarely sleeps on his bed. Before dawn you slip something under his bedroom door.

While the other are busy getting ready to submerge, you walk out slowly without making any sounds to avoid bumping to other crews. Off to the fresh dawn air. Then you see a merchant ship docked at the harbor not that far, they starts to pulling their anchor.

You start to run faster to the merchant ship, after you reach them you write to them that you need a lift to another island to find your "husband". They agree to help you and they start to sail.

You look back again to the direction where the yellow sub docked behind a hill, the place that been home for you for years. The place full of happy and sad times. The place where your loved one is. The place where your heart used to beats full in love there.

You left your home. You left your family. You left the man you loved. You left your heart there.

When Law enter his bedroom, he step on something. He picks up a piece of paper and open it. His eyes widened and he start to search for you in every corner. Even your room is empty though your belongings still there. Law can't find you anywhere.

"Hakugan! How long have we been submerged?" Law slams the control room door, out of breath.

"Around six hours, Captain." Hakugan clench his heart, shock with the sudden burst and scared if he makes any mistake.

"Fuck! Turn back! Turn back to the island! NOW!" Law is furious now. How can he oversleep until this late? If only he didn’t stayed up late last night.

Sachi runs and stumbling at the door, "The letter... Captain.." Sachi tries to catch his breaths because he runs as fast as he can.

Penguin arrive behind Sachi, holding out the letter, "We found this."

Law snatch the letter and read it. It contains a simple words,

Thank you for the memories ꨄ︎

There's no doubt in it. This is your handwriting. The handwriting that Law always brush lovingly and memorize. The same handwriting on your letter that you left for him.

I loved you.

Law yell the order to Hakugan again, "Turn back to the island!" He walks back to his room, Sachi and Penguin follow behind him. When Law open his door, he rush in and slam the door right in front of Sachi and Penguin face. He doesn't need any lectures now.

He slides down from the door, sitting and read your letters again. The letter for him, I loved you. Loved. That means you don't love him anymore? Did he made a mistake? All of this is his fault? He stare hard on your letter, LOVED.

And suddenly a droplet of water stain the letter. Law choke on his own tears. He want to scream, he want to rips his hair off. But he can't. He punch the door in frustration, there a small yelp behind the door that goes unnoticed by him.

Six hours. Law prays that you're still at the island. He will take you back no matter what. If you ask him the reasons, he will tell you. He will tell you everything you want to knows. As long as it can takes you back to him. He will tell you his true feelings, his feelings toward you. He will do everything, anything. For you. He will make it right this time.

When Law arrive at the island he waste no time to cast his power. He use all of his energy to cast a big "ROOM" that envelopes the whole island. He close his eyes, he wish, he hope, he prays that you will appear in front of him. And he cast the "Shambles".

None.

Nothing.

You don't appear in front of him.

He tries, tries, and tries again.

Penguin grabs Law shoulder, "She's gone, Law. She's left. Let's go back inside."

That moment, Law feels like his heart being torn apart to pieces. It's all his fault he lose you. How could he be so foolish?

Why would he think being with another women will keep you safe? Why he didn't realize your pain? Why he didn't realize your changed attitude towards him? Your smile, your distance, no more lingering gazes and touches. Why he just realize it now?

It's too late now. He hurts you, he lose you too.

Penguin and Sachi follows Law to his bedroom. Law just sit at his bed with his hands in his face. Penguin and Sachi look at each other. Seeing their friend like this broke them too.

"Do you realize all the women you pick resembles her, Law?" Penguin break the silence.

Law still hide his face. "Their height, features, hair colors and lengths it's all resembles to her, you know." Sachi take a step forward.

"I didn't slept with all those women. I couldn't bring myself to slept with them. It never feels right, those women is not her. They can’t give me what I want likes her" Law shoulder is shaking.

Penguin kneel in front of Law, "Then why did you that, Law?"

"I just want her to be safe. You know I've got a lot of enemies. I'm so scared that I can't protect her. What if I lose her?" Law mutter, his voice is cracking.

Sachi sit next to Law, gripping his shoulder "You already lose her, Law."

Law can feel a sting in his heart, the pain almost unbearable. Being so broken Law poured all his heart out to his best friends.

"I shouldn't have let those women get close to me, let their stinky perfumes on my clothes. Gave me mark on my neck. She must've seen it. She must've knew."

"She saw you took a woman to motel, Law." Penguin sighs.

Law freeze and lift his face in horror, "What? When?"

"Night before she lost her voice." Sachi fills in.

"What? Then it's my fault she lost her voice?" Law whisper, his voice thick with sadness. Law can feel the anguish slowly engulf his heart and mind.

Sachi and Penguin wants to comfort him, saying it's not his fault. But the words just won't come out from their mouth. So they just stay there with him, watching Law stare blankly at his hand and crumble.

He will take you back, no matter what. He will travel around the New World again to find you. All he want is just for you to be safe. He prays to all the Gods for your safety, and to gives him your forgiveness.

For four months, Law lost his direction. He will only comes out from his office to give orders and then shut himself at his office. Sachi, Penguin and Bepo try their best to help Law. They will bring foods for him, dragging him to take a bath. If he force himself to sleep at his bed, he will just curls up clutching tightly on your letter praying that he will meet you on his dreams, smiling and holds him tight. He will gives you all his love for you. Hell, he even will says the three words to you. Even if it's just on his dreams. He drifts off to the dreamland with tears to meet you there.

Every times they reach an island, Law will cast the "ROOM", if there's no result he will order them to move to the next island immediately. Sachi and Penguin even beg to Law to stay for a couple days at the island to get some supplies and rest before resuming their journey. They understand Law impatience, but they still try to persuade him.

They think Law is just like a ghost now, losing half of his soul. The only thing that can cure him is you. They also prays every times they reach an island, hoping you are there. To end Law misery. They really want to tell him to give up, but they got tongue tied every times they see his face.

The first month after you left Law, you stay at the island for awhile to collect some berries for your next journey. Sometimes you will help the local doctor, or working at the diner as cook.

When the berries is more than enough, you will move to another island. Maybe you runs away from him, if you stay at the island longer you afraid you will meet him. Heh. There's no way he will looks for you. Who the hell are you? You're not that important to him. You're just a crewmate. Stop thinking so high and mighty about yourself, Y/N. You chuckles and shake your head in disbelief.

The second months, you meet the Sun God. The person you least expected to meet.

Luffy is so happy to meet you again after years. He wraps his arm around you, "Does this mean Torao also here with you? I want to meet him! I miss him!" Luffy chirps.

You just give him a sheepish smile, and you write, "No, I'm alone. I'm no longer Heart Pirates crew."

Luffy just stare and tilt his head, confuse why are you using that sketch book, and you explain to him that you lost your voice. Luffy then drags you to Sunny, "Chopper can help you! Let's go!"

You try to let out your voice, to tell him no but the voice is not coming out. You just let him take you to Sunny.

The other crews are so happy to meet you again. Nami, Robin and Chopper embrace you so tightly. They rush you to the infirmary to check your health. They are so shocks hearing Luffy's information that you lost your voice and no longer Law's crew. As you try to calm them down, "It's okay, it's not a big deal. I'm still strong even without my voice." You give them weak smile while show them the sketch book.

Nami and Robin knows there's more into it. They exchange glances and hugs you, Nami gives you pat on your head while Robin stroke your back. As if they know your real reason. As if they know your pain, your heartbreak. Chopper just hugging you too without knowing why.

For the first time after two months, you cry your heart out. Sobbing in their embrace. You want to let out all of your screams that you've been hold back for months. But you can't. There's no voice coming out. You cry until your throat is hoarse and dry, and fall asleep on their embrace.

The next morning you wake up with swollen eyes. Sanji rushing to get ice packs for you, "A beautiful lady like you mustn't cry, Y/N-chan. Tell me if there's something you crave, I will cook it for you in no time." And he kiss the back of your hand. Nami warned to the other crews to not mention Law's name. It's a forbidden word at Sunny, whoever utter that word must pay a huge amount of berries to her.

"Eeh. Whyyy?? Why can't I say Torao name? I want to ask her about how he's been doing." Luffy whine to Nami. Nami grab Luffy's collar and threaten him, "If you says his name one more time, you won't get allowance for a month. I dare you." Luffy zips his mouth tightly.

"Just stay with us, we won't say anything to him." Luffy sincerely say it while all of them gathering waiting for lunch. You can feels the tears are forming at the corner of your eyes, you mouthed "Thank you." and try to blinks away the tears.

Even though you're not sad anymore, the crews know you changed. You're not the same person as they met back ago when the alliance with Law's formed. Your smile is not the same, you're not the cheerful person like back then. What had happened between you and the Heart Pirates Captain?

One day when you, Nami and Robin enjoying Sanji's dessert at the deck, she can't help her curiosity so she cautiously ask you, "Did both of you broke up?" You put your spoon on your lips and write "We're not together. We're just crewmate and captain." Nami and Robin stunned with your words. Nami try to pushed again but Robin pinch her with her extra hand. They just don't understand why both of you are not together. They saw how Law gazed at you. How Law always following close behind you every where you goes, like a lost cat. But they didn't push further, maybe you're not ready to tell them yet.

Days by days pass peacefully, some part of you think maybe it's not that bad you get on board with Luffy. It's almost makes you forget about your pain. You can saves more berries, maybe someday you can settle down at some island and enjoying the domestics life.

Some days, you help Sanji with preparing foods or wash the dishes. Other times you watch Luffy antics. There's no days pass without fun on Sunny.

Until one day, Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Brook and Franky make a fuss with the sea king monster. In such a chaotic mess, Nami hit their head until two lumps appear at each heads. And she yell at them, they just lowered their head until a soft breeze blows and Luffy raises his head to hold his precious straw hat, "Oh! Y/N is laughing!" The others snaps their head to you, seeing you laugh for the first time. The real and genuine laugh.

Nami and Robin jumps at you and hug you. The others also laugh, Sanji's heart eyes appear at the sight, and there's a slight tinted blush at Zoro face, and he smile. Even though they can't hear your sweet voice, at least you're laughing now. They just hope you will turns to the old you.

They never thought of you as a guest at Sunny, they treat you like their nakama. When you're down, they will try to cheer you up. Zoro sometimes offer you to clean your katana, or even training together. The girls watching Zoro's behavior and it's so strange for him to interact with someone on his accord.

Nami pulls him and threaten him, "What're you doing? What's your intention, Zoro?"

He deadpanned on Nami, "Nothing, just offer her some companion?".

Nami point her finger, "If your intention is not clear, or you just need someone to warm your bed you better back off."

Zoro takes a step closer and gives Nami a stern look, "I'm. Not." Zoro growls. Maybe he just pitied you, or maybe he just want to take care of you, or maybe he just want to protect you. He doesn't know himself why.

As months goes by, you're getting a little bit cheerful like the old days. And you even gets closer to the crews.

When Luffy see an island holding a festival he decide to dock. Before Luffy and Chopper can scurry off to the town, Nami hold them and tell Luffy to bring one or two crews with him. To watch over him to not cause any ruckus.

Zoro voluntary says he will go with Luffy making the others screech. Nami turns to you "Y/N, can you please go with them? Me and Robin will go later and catch up with you guys." You nods and go to change your outfit. Wearing white shirt with a short and sandals. You run off to Luffy and the others whose been excited to enjoy the festival, “Let’s go!!” Nami shouts from the back, “Zoro!! Please don’t get lost! I’m counting on you, Y/N! Have fun!!” Zoro just rolls his eye at Nami and you giggle while wrapping your hand to his arm. Zoro jolt at your sudden touch and eyeing you, you mouthed “So you don’t get lost.” You grin and lead the way. Zoro just huff and shake his head, hiding the subtle smile.

Tagging along with Luffy that want to eats all of the foods on every stalls, and Chopper want to try all the attractions makes your heart full. “Look! That roller coaster is so cool! Let’s try it!” Chopper shouts and excitedly point at it. “I’m gonna pass on this one. To tired. I will wait for you guys down here.” Zoro already sits on the bench and cross his arms.

You feel bad leaving him behind and want to stay too, but Zoro just shoo you to go with them, “Just go, it’s okay. It won’t take that long.”

Then you go with Luffy and Chopper to enjoy the roller coaster. But when you guys come back down, all of you are drenched. You guys just laugh while Zoro dumbfounded looking at you guys. Zoro put his cloak on your shoulders, “Your shirt become a see-through.” As he looks away from your body. Your face flushed and mouthed “Thanks.”

As you guys walking back to Sunny with hands full with foods, there’s two people looking at you from afar with their jaws dropping. They can’t believe their own eyes. They exchange glances to make sure it is really you.

“Should we call Captain?” Sachi already takes out the mini den den mushi.

“Ugh.. Wait! But look at her! She’s laughing! She’s happy, Sachi!” Penguin grab Sachi hand.

“Guys! It’s-!” Bepo suddenly appears and shout but Sachi and Penguin quickly shuts his mouth.

“Sshh!!!” They gesture in unison.

“Should we call Captain??” Sachi press again.

Penguin is still in agony. “Peng! Captain needs her!” Sachi getting impatient now because he almost lost you on the crowds.

"Fine!! Fine! Call him." Penguin surrender, still unsure if this is the right things or not. Because he also knows you are suffering from Law.

When the news reach Law, he immediately teleport to the shore. He use his power to teleports here and there, to find the Sunny.

And he sees you, draped in Zoro's cloak, your hand grabs on his arm. And you laugh. You laugh with them. The smiles that he missed so much, the smiles that you used to gave to him. You looks... Beautiful. You looks... Happy... Are you with Zoro now? He can feels his heart clench. He will finds out himself.

This time, he will make it right.

Suddenly you see a blue orbs envelopes all of you. You freeze, gripping Zoro's arm. You know damn well this blue orbs. And he appears in front of you. The man that you loved with all of your heart. He looks like a mess. His eye bags getting more darker.

Law so relieve when he see you this close. Finally... He can take you back with him, he moves his hand to reach you but Zoro take a step in front of you and stand between you and Law.

"Move, Zoro-ya." Law stand tall against Zoro.

But Zoro doesn't move an inch, and you still clutching on Zoro hiding behind him. When Luffy and Chopper see Law, they excitedly shouts, "OOH! TORAOO!!" But Zoro prevent them to get close to Law.

"What do you want, Torao?" Zoro still in his defensive stance.

"I don't have any business with you. I'm here for Y/N." Law still looking at you. "Let's talk, Y/N. Please." He's pleading now, you never hear his voice this soft. You still consider should you talk to him? Part of you don't want to talk to him, you don't want to see his face. But maybe this is the time...

You come out from behind Zoro and you nod. You point to a big stone under the shade and you gesture to him to follow you there. You write to Luffy, "I'll be back."

You and Law walk to the shade, you lean on the stone and write, "What do you want?" You shove it to him, but you didn't look at him at all.

Law furrow his eyebrows. It hurts. "How you've been, Y/N?" He reach for your face but you avoid it. It hurts so bad. He clench his fist and take it back to his side. "Please, look at me, Y/N." His voice cracking.

You freeze and slowly turn your head to meet his gaze. There they are, the grey eyes that you used to loved is filled with tears now. But it makes you furious and without you realizing it you hit his chest with your both fist. Law lets you hit him, if it can makes you feel better then it doesn't matter. If it can makes you back to his side, then it's fine. He will take it all, your furious, your hits. Everything.

Your head hung low while you still hitting him for God knows for how long. But Law realize you've been crying. He grabs your wrists, "Look at me, Y/N. Please." You lift your head, still sobbing. Law's eyes quiver with the sight, he pulls you right to his chest. He hug your trembling body tightly, he will not let you go.

"Please come back, Y/N" Law whisper beside your ear.

You snap your eyes open realize this is not right. You shove Law then you wipe your tears with your sleeves and write in a quick pace, "I'm not coming back. You should go back."

"Y/N, don't do this. Please come back to me." Law reach out his hand for you to take it, he looks so sorrowful. You shakes your head furiously. Law take a step toward you still reaching out his hand, "Why are you doing this, Y/N? If you love me then just come back to me." He slowly walking to you.

"I'm not! I don't love you anymore!" You write then tear the sheet and you throw it to Law. Then you write another one and throw it again. He picks it up and read it “I hate you.” Law’s eyes widened and he clutch the sheet, “Lies. You’re lying.” He stands in front of you.

“I’m not lying.” You look straight into his eyes.

“I don’t love you. And I’m not going back. Leave. Go back, Captain. I’m just one of your crew-mate, you don’t have to waste your times for me.” You starts to walk away from him.

Law grabs your wrist and turns you to face him, “I love you. I love you, Y/N. Please come back to me.” He’s crying. Trafalgar Law is crying in front of you.

You try so hard to hold back your tears. You tell yourself, don’t cry, not now. You shakes your head and yank your wrist, “It’s too late. Goodbye, Law. Take care.” You leave Law standing there in silence.

You walks back to Sunny without looking back at the man you loved. You thought you’ll be strong to leave him again for the second times, but why these tears just won’t stop? As you reach Sunny you quickly wipe your tears.

“Can we sail out now, Luffy? Please?” You write to Luffy. Luffy just nods and tells Nami to set off.

You storms to your shared bedroom and lock the door. You throw yourself to your bed and cry your heart out, screaming to the pillow. The crews freeze when they heard your wailing. When they wish they can hear your voice again, they don’t mean it like this. Not your voice when you’re in pain. They just stand at the deck looking at each other, they can feel your pain. But they can't do anything to erase your pain.

Law walks back to Polar Tang in tears with your sketch sheets in his hand, it feels like he reminisces the old days. The days he cried when Cora-san died. You left him too. If only he could be more honest with you. If only he didn’t act like a jerk. If only he didn’t hurt you. None of these will happen. If only…

When the crews see Law coming back alone they don’t utters a single words to him. He just walks to his bedroom in silence, only the trio follows Law. Law slumps to his bed, covering his eyes with his arm, the other hand still holding on your sketch sheets tightly at his chest. Penguin being the brave one to break the silence, “Is she?” Law answers short, “No.”

Sachi continue, “Do you tell her everything?”

“It’s too late. She hates me. She doesn’t love me anymore. She left me.” Law curls up holding your sheets tightly.

Law can't get you return to his side again. He can't have your heart forever. He can't see you anymore. He can't hear your sweet voice anymore. At least he want to hear your voice before you go.

Law doesn't know you get your voice back again.

Law summon "ROOM", the blue orb surrounds him and he cast "SILENCE".

For the first time Sachi, Penguin and Bepo see their Captain crying in despair. They just hope their captain can get on his feet again.

It's too late now...

Is it too late now?

This is the end...

Is this the end?

Part 2

dividers by : @saradika-graphics

[animasolaoriginal]

I n f a t u a t e d ♦️TWO

CHAPTER ONE TWO THREE◾️FOUR◾️FIVE SIX◾️SEVEN◾️EIGHT◾️NINE TEN◾ELEVEN

She wakes up in his bed without any recollection of how she got there and what happened. But does it matter? She'd be stupid to deny a hot, rich guy like him, wouldn't she? No matter what he demands of her...

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Age gap. Size difference. Dom/sub dynamic. Praise kink. Dubcon elements. Fingering. Butt plug. Hand job/blow job. (For more tags, check it on AO3!) // WORDS: 5.8k

ONE 🟥 TWO 🟥 THREE

She wakes to a low thumping inside her head and a strange taste on her tongue. It's a known hurt, usually brings up memories of parties, too much to drink, dancing till her feet give up. But she can't remember anything. And it's painful to even try to remember. It gets worse when she opens her eyes and finds herself in an unknown room.

On a bed. A stranger's bed.

Her first instinct is a little flutter of her heart, panic, unease, frantically looking around while she sits up slowly and bunches the covers around her shivering body. A quick feel beneath them gives her a short-lived peace of mind. She's not naked, but some of her clothes are missing. She swallows thickly, clears her throat, tests her voice.

Only to suddenly meet the stare of a man sitting opposite the bed, on a couch between two large floor-to-ceiling windows showing a familiar cityscape. She freezes when he looks at her with dark eyes, a little glint in them, a smirk on his lips as he watches her. She wraps the blanket tighter around herself.

“Good morning,” he says, voice deep, a low thrum in the air.

“Hi,” she replies hoarsely, her rapid heartbeat echoing inside her hurting skull.

“How do you feel?”

“Head hurts,” she mumbles, not even wondering why he would ask that. Not wondering anything at that point, really.

“There are some painkillers on the nightstand, and water,” he replies with a nod to her left.

She follows the hint and sees a large glass of water and two small pills next to it. And her skirt, neatly folded on the edge of the table. Leaning over to grab the things she needs to hopefully feel better, she keeps her eyes on him, cautious, hesitant. Once the pills are down and the glass empty, she inhales deeply, that awful taste gone from her mouth. One less thing to worry about. Though it gives her the chance to feel other things.

Like the stickiness between her thighs.

Shifting on the bed, she looks around, dares to break eye contact, gets a lay of the land, or at least the room. Huge. Minimalist. Just the bed, two bedside tables with a tiny lamp each, no clutter, a large couch on the opposite wall with a pompous rug in front of it, two doors to her right, one on the left. A single large plant in one corner. Fancy wooden floorboards, white walls adorned with exquisite trim. A luxurious light fixture built for a museum above her.

She looks back at him, her mind racing. “Do you remember me?” he asks when she meets his gaze. She nods. Of course she does. She's been coming to his club for weeks, and he finally noticed her. She has no idea how she ended up in his bedroom though.

He stands up, a tall frame clad in a fancy black suit with a white shirt, handsome and intimidating. Somehow even wealthier than she expected. His steps are confident as he approaches the bed, his eyes never leaving hers. “Did we –” she starts quietly, scooting back a little as he sits down on the edge, facing her.

“Did we what?” he replies, his lips curling up slightly. “Use your words, darling.”

She shivers, a strange feeling coursing through her as his words sink in. “Did we have sex?” she then manages to say, feeling her cheeks warming up.

“No,” he says, braced on one arm as he watches her closely. “Do you want us to?”

Now her head is burning, and she looks away with a sharp inhale. His laugh is low and rough. She breathes loudly through her nose.

“Is that not why you came to me?”

Their eyes meet again, she bites the inside of her cheek. Has it been that obvious? It's been a stunt, a challenge from her friends, a silly little dream. She's had no idea it would actually work. Whatever it was that made it work. There hasn't been much planning, to be honest, with how drunk she's been, high on adrenaline and endorphins, too happy to care about possible consequences.

She flinches when he extends a hand and brushes his fingers against her side, curls them into the blanket. Her heart is racing as he slowly pulls it away, exposing her. She doesn't fight it, just freezes, hugs her knees to her chest, crosses her feet, when the covers fall away. Why doesn't she fight it? Why should she? He's hot, rich, gives her the attention she's been craving her whole life. She'd be stupid to push a man like that away.

But he doesn't touch her, just looks at her, eyes wandering over her body, while she sits on the bed, shivering, waiting, her mind spinning.

“Why are you here?” he asks, and she frowns at the question.

“Why did you bring me here?”

His eyes meet hers, his gaze intense, dark, somewhat hungry. There's a playful twitch to his lips, and he leans back, licking them. “Probably the same reason why you approached me,” he replies quietly, his voice low with an almost dangerous edge to it. “To fuck you absolutely senseless.”

His words make her gasp, eyes widening at the bluntness. Still she feels that throb between her legs, the warmth seeping into her panties. She shouldn't be this excited, and she forces herself to not make it too obvious.

Grinding her jaw, she looks away, towards the large windows. She has no idea what time of day it is, the sky is gray and the buildings she can see are only various shapes in a different shade of gray. She must be downtown, it's too high up to recognize anything. She's never been in any of the taller buildings of the city before.

His hand is on her foot, long fingers curling around it, and she whips her head back to him, inhaling sharply. “Is that not what you want?” he whispers, his thumb drawing circles on her ankle.

She breathes faster, no longer as sure as she's been last night. It's not helping that she cannot remember anything other than approaching him at the bar. There's the faint image of being pinned to a wall, making out in the darkness. But nothing more. She swallows, staring down at his hand.

“I... I don't know...” she mumbles. His thumb stops moving, he tilts his head at her.

“Are you a virgin, sweetheart?” he asks bluntly.

She clears her throat, ears burning under her hair. “Uh, yeah,” she admits, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. His touch feels too warm, too invasive all of a sudden.

“Do you want to leave here a virgin?”

She doesn't like the way he says that, it makes goosebumps ripple over her skin. He takes his hand away, and she looks at him. She's expected him to grin at her, look suggestive, leering and creepy, somehow, but his expression is full of genuine worry, lines on his forehead, a furrow between his brows. Dark eyes as intense as ever, but warmer. And so freaking handsome it's really distracting.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she can only shake her head. His face relaxes, the hint of a smile grazing his lips. “Good,” he says and stands up. She flinches at the sudden movement. “Go take a shower,” he then orders, pointing to one of the doors to her right. “There's some stuff you can use in there. Wait here when you're done.”

His tone is authoritative, not leaving any room for complaints or hesitation. “Yes, sir,” slips out of her almost automatically, and he smiles wider.

“Good girl,” he says, winking at her as he walks around the bed towards the door leading out of the room.

He leaves her sitting on the bed, shivering, a strange tension in her stomach. She doesn't even try to comprehend why his last two words to her felt like something she's never experienced before, like a warm shiver running down her spine, a caress deep within her. An itch she never knew she needed to scratch.

The bathroom is almost as huge as the bedroom, black and white tiles, warm wooden tones in the vanity and cabinets lining one wall to accent the lack of colors. There's a big bathtub in front of a large window, the lower half of it covered by expensive looking blinds, showing only the gray sky beyond. The shower is enormous, could easily fit five people. But she's alone in it, standing under the spray, still pondering what is happening. What she's agreed to.

Has she agreed to anything though? Well, denying to want to leave or to remain a virgin couldn't be more straight-forward.

What's gotten into her?

Sure, he's handsome, wealthy, owns a night club, lives in an apartment overlooking the city, quite a catch, but he is still a stranger. Just a man she's grown a little infatuated with over the last visits to his club. She's always seen him lounging at the bar, looking over the dance floor, dark eyes scanning the crowd. She's seen him hooking up with random girls, leading them into the back.

And she wanted to be one of them.

A silly wish, and now she stands naked in his shower. It's almost too good to be true. No, it's foolish, dangerous even. She doesn't know him. Did she really agree to be taken back to his place? She can't remember. Why can't she remember? The painkillers work, but the low thumping is still there, muffled and no longer as agonizing, but still there, in the back of her mind, like a mass of unanswered questions burning through her nerves.

Inhaling deeply, surrounded by the steam of the shower and the faint scent of him that clings to the room, she tilts her chin up and lets the water run down her head, over her warm face, through her hair down her back, little rivulets following the curves of her body. Gosh! She's never felt this nervous before.

But in the end it's just sex, isn't it? Better to lose her virginity to a rich guy in his fancy place than to a drunk guy in a dirty alleyway. It can't be that bad, right?

When she steps out of the shower and grabs a towel, her gaze falls onto the little pile on the vanity. Rubbing her hair, she inspects it – and freezes. It's underwear, white lace with the hint of shimmery satin, intricate, barely able to cover anything, bra and panties, but that's not what makes her insides churn. It's the little metal thing lying on top, the teardrop shape with a small handle like a knob, adorned with a big sparkling jewel. She may be inexperienced, but she knows exactly what it is. He left her a freaking butt plug.

Shivering at the thought of putting anything up her ass, she ignores it and focuses on the packaged toothbrush he's given her. Putting all her energy into brushing her teeth, drying her body, blowing hot air through her messy hair, she quickly forgets about the implication that special gift holds. When she puts on the white underwear, she leans towards the mirror and wipes at the steamed-up surface to look at herself. A gasp escapes her.

Not only does she look so different in the lace set (the white little embroidered flowers barely covering her nipples or her sex, the thong sitting deep between her butt cheeks, leaving nothing to the imagination), but she also notices the large bruise on the side of her neck.

Her finger traces the deep purple mark, and she shivers. The memory is faint, but she can feel it as she remembers last night (or what remains of it), how he's sucked on her skin, his warm mouth, even warmer tongue, licking over his work. She swallows thickly. The throbbing is back, low inside her, her stomach tense. It's either fear or anticipation, she can't be sure just yet.

When she exits the bathroom with her hair cascading down her shoulders, trying to cover more of her chest, she lets out a little yelp when she sees him sitting on the couch again, one leg over the other, lowering his phone when he notices her. His eyes are on her immediately, and she tries to cover herself with her hands as she walks backwards to the nightstand, trying to grab her skirt.

“No need,” he says, his voice firm, and she freezes, hand extended, fingers brushing over the fabric. She frowns at him, and he shakes his head. “You'll only wear what I tell you,” he adds, and the harsh tone lets her exposed skin pebble, his words barely registering inside her suddenly empty mind.

She inhales sharply, holding her breath. She's never felt this exposed and vulnerable, embarrassed that he can see her like this. Even though he'll probably see a lot more of her very soon. The thought scares her as much as it excites her. To say she's conflicted is an understatement.

When he stands up abruptly, she flinches, and even more so when he is with her in a few quick strides of his long legs. His hand closes around her wrist, pulling her towards him. She has to look up at him now, her chest rising and falling faster, heart thundering loudly, something hot gathering deep in her belly. He watches her closely, a stern look in his eyes, as his other hand slides down her side, over skin and lace, curves around her rear, and she shrieks when she feels his fingers dipping into the cleft between her ass cheeks.

He lets go of her, his eyebrows furrowed. She bites her lip as he scrutinizes her darkly, before he turns around and enters the bathroom. He comes back with the little metal thing between his fingers, and she feels her stomach tensing up even more.

“You didn't like my little gift, huh?” he says quietly, almost menacingly.

“I... I did–didn't know how to... use that...” she admits in a breathy whisper.

“Hmm,” he hums and steps closer to her, one hand cupping her face as he leans towards her, the other holding up the plug, dangerously close to her lips. She stares at him, stiffening, eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Open your mouth,” he tells her.

She hesitates, and he pushes his thumb and forefinger into her cheeks, forcing her jaw apart. A muffled whimper escapes her, and she grabs at his wrist instinctively. His gaze darkens.

“Tongue out,” he whispers, his voice that low thrum in the air, stern and strict, and she knows she shouldn't hesitate anymore. Slowly she extends her tongue, flat, mouth open, her eyes wide as she watches him when he lowers the metal object onto it. “Come on, lick it or it goes in dry.”

A cold shiver crashes through her, every muscle clenching in anticipation. Struggling to swallow hard (which isn't easy with her mouth open), she flicks her tongue around the cold object, holding his gaze. He pushes the plug deeper between her lips and forces her to close her mouth around it. She feels her eyes watering as he pushes it in and out, coating it in her saliva, warming it up. It's humiliating, to say the least. But she's afraid it's only the beginning...

He plops the plug back out of her mouth, then quickly pulls her against him as he sits down on the edge of the bed. She can barely react as he manhandles her onto his lap, draped over it, ass raised, stomach pressing into his hard thigh, hair falling over her head. She claws at the fabric of his pants, squirming on his lap, her head spinning as she tries to understand what's happening. “Hold still,” he tells her, but it's almost an instinct to writhe more, fight against what he has planned.

The sudden slap of his hand against her ass cheek is loud in her ears, and it takes a moment before the pain attacks her senses. A pathetic little cry escapes her, and she kicks her feet. Another slap to the other cheek makes her yelp again, the sting to her soft skin like nothing she's ever felt before.

“Hold still!” he repeats, and she whimpers, buries her head in his leg, and forces herself not to squirm, despite the throbbing pain. She feels tears in her eyes, her mind blank with shock. Her breaths are frantic, little wheezes of panic. “Shh,” he makes, his hand gently caressing the irritated skin now. She relaxes a bit, but only until he pulls her thong to the side and she feels something cold pressing against her sphincter.

“No!” she whines out, unable not to squirm, and he sighs deeply. Instead of spanking her again, he brushes his finger along her cleft, warm, a teasing tingle, a little rough, but better than that hard plug. Until she hears and feels him spitting on her, something warm and wet gathering on her skin, his finger spreading it around slowly, and then he dips his fingertip into her tight hole.

She gasps and tenses up immediately, only making it worse. He doesn't care, slowly works his finger deeper, wriggling it slightly, easing the tight muscles. She bites her lip hard enough to draw blood, quietly whimpering, frozen in place. Surrendering to the fate she seemingly called upon herself. By the time he forces the plug into her ass, she's sobbing, unsure how to feel about the object poking out of her – and what that says about his other plans for her.

He helps her stand then, big hands on her upper arms, looks down at her as she looks up at him through her tears. Sighing deeply, he wipes at her wet face, smoothing her hair, shaking his head. “You'll learn to love it,” he whispers before he leans in and presses his lips to hers for a soft kiss, a gesture she hasn't expected after whatever just happened. His words barely register, the underlying threat (or promise?) for more overpowered by her own shame and confusion.

Leaning back, one hand on her face, thumb on her bottom lip, he watches her, something dark glinting in his eyes. His other hand moves along the curve of her spine before he gives her another slap to her tense ass cheek. She cries out, flinching away, feeling her muscles clenching around the metal thing inside her. He only laughs and grabs her hand, pulling her after him.

She puts her bare feet into the ground, and he looks back at her, eyebrows raised. “C-can I... get something m-more to wear?” she asks quietly, voice hoarse from crying.

He tilts his head, chuckling. “No need,” he says again. “It's just us, baby, don't worry.” She doesn't know how to feel about that.

“Please?” she tries again. “I'm... cold...”

“Are you now?” he whispers, his hand moving up to her chest, his thumb pressing against her nipple through the thin fabric of her bra. “Doesn't look like it.”

She lowers her head, inhaling sharply, blinking away new tears.

“Little advice, darling,” he says, putting his finger under her chin and making her look at him. “Never lie to me.” His words are cold, his eyes dark as he stares at her. “Understood?”

She swallows, nods slowly. He grabs her chin, narrowing his eyes. “Y-yes,” she says, quickly adding: “Sir.”

He lets go of her and gives her a smile, his hand on her head, patting it softly. “Good girl,” he whispers. Her insides tense up, something cold trickles down her spine while something warm throbs inside her core.

He takes her through his vast apartment, but she's too focused on walking behind him to really look around, his hand big and tight around hers, her bare feet tapping over the wooden floor, and she feels practically naked in that sorry excuse for underwear he's forced her to wear.

Force, there's no way around it now. He's forcing her to do this, no matter what she might have agreed to. That plug in her ass that twitches with every step she takes? She didn't want that and yet it's there now, tightly gripped by her confused muscles, the shiny knob brushing against her thong, giving her shiver after shiver. But she's too stunned and overwhelmed by it all to even think about finding a way out of this.

Is this still what she wants? Has she ever truly wanted this, whatever this is? She has no idea, she just knows, somehow, that whatever he tells her to do, she'll do it if he keeps calling her good girl. It's a strange realization, two simple words, but they make her feel special, like she's never felt before. Just thinking about it makes her core ache, her muscles clench, her nipples perk up.

She's caught in her own mind when he stops in front of a set of couches, a u-shape in a large room, a plush rug beneath her feet, more of those big floor-to-ceiling windows, the gray city beyond the glass, so far away it seems. He watches her, she realizes when she looks up at him with a slight frown, amusement glinting in his dark eyes. Letting go of her hand, he sits down, leans deep into the cushions, both arms resting on the back of the couch.

“Straddle me,” he says quietly as she shifts nervously on her feet in front of him. Swallowing, she moves her gaze from his eyes to his crotch, to his wide spread legs. A confident sitting position, exuding dominance. And she knows she shouldn't hesitate, but it still takes her a moment to follow the order.

Slowly she moves closer, one leg on either side of his, cautiously pushing them together a bit to allow her to kneel on the couch and sit down on his strong thighs. Her hands find his shoulders for support, and she watches him as closely as he watches her. Her heart is racing when she settles on his lap, trying not to focus on the fact that her legs are spread wide enough to give him a good look at the scandalously thin fabric of her thong, barely hiding anything.

He tilts his head as she retrieves her hands and folds them in front of her sex, head lowered, shoulders stiff, still unsure what she is even doing here. Suddenly he grabs her waist, large hands splayed around her body, making her look back at him with a little gasp.

“Tell me you want this,” he whispers hoarsely, his eyes boring into hers. It's not a question of consent, it's another command, and she can't help but agree yet again.

“I... I want this,” she says under her breath.

“Yeah?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “You sure?”

She inhales deeply. “Yes.”

“Say it,” he urges, fingers digging into her soft flesh. “Tell me what you want.”

“I... I want...” she starts, chewing on her lip, her eyes wandering away from him, her cheeks burning up in embarrassment. “I...” Her mouth feels dry. “I want you to... to...” She swallows thickly. “...to sleep with me...”

His laugh sounds almost mocking. She looks up with her eyebrows furrowed, her lips pursed, discomfort written all over her face. “So fucking innocent,” he mutters, shaking his head, amusement or malice making his lips twitch. “Say you want me to fuck you. Come on, use big girl words, baby.”

She presses her lips together, shifting on his lap. “I... I want you to... f-fuck me...” she repeats quietly, clenching her jaw, trying to hide the shaking of her voice, embarrassment burning deep inside her belly.

His hands move up her sides until he grabs her face, pulling her closer towards him until his nose brushes against hers. “You want me to take your virginity?” he whispers darkly, his breath fanning over her face.

“Y-yes,” she whispers back, her heart beating harder.

“You want my cock in your cunt?”

She flinches at his words, but nods into his hands.

“Say it...”

She swallows, breathing loudly through her nose. “I... I want your... your cock... in my... my c-cunt,” she stammers, feeling the blush spreading all over her body, her eyes watering under the intensity of his gaze, his closeness, his grip on her face, the dominance in his voice.

He smiles, quickly pressing his lips to hers. “Good girl.”

She closes her eyes, a deep shudder rushing through her body like a wave of relief. He pulls her against him, wrapping both arms around her, just holding her while she rests her cheek on his shoulder, savoring his warmth, the unexpected intimacy of a simple hug. But simple doesn't seem to be something he likes, because his hands wander lower, cupping her rear, fingers kneading her soft flesh, teasing between her cheeks, rubbing along the thin strip of fabric, pressing against the base of the plug.

Forcing herself not to flinch, she just leans against him and lets him touch her, her hands squished between their bodies, dangerously close to the warm hardness between his legs. With how he handles her butt, she's forced closer against him, her fingers brushing along the bulge, and when he suddenly pulls on the plug, she jerks away and into him, pelvis slamming into his lower stomach, and she can feel him through the thin fabric of her thong. Hard and hot.

His hands move back to her hips, pulling her away again. He looks at her, curiously with a dark glint in his eyes. “Have you ever touched a cock, darling?” he asks quietly.

She licks her lips, shakes her head.

“Seen one?”

Another shake of her head. His amusement turns into surprise, while the shame of her confession makes her blush even more. He gives her a strangely sweet smile, one hand on her warm cheek, thumb tracing the outline of her lips.

“Do you want to?”

“Yes,” she replies, her heart racing. His eyebrows rise up, and she quickly adds: “Sir?” He just looks at her, pointedly, demanding. “I... I want to touch it...” she then whispers, biting her lip. “Your... your cock...”

He caresses her cheek, smiling. “Such a quick learner,” he praises. “Well, go on then, make your wish come true,” he continues, leaning into the cushions, pushing her backwards a little, his arms resting on the back of the couch as he watches her intently.

She stares at him for a moment before she understands the command. Shifting on his lap, her fingers move towards his belt, shaking uncontrollably, her mind reeling, heart beating out of her chest. Somehow she manages to unbuckle his belt and open the button and zipper of his pants. Without too much thought, her hand curls into the opening, fingertips brushing against warm skin.

Looking up for confirmation, she sees him nodding, and when she frees his hard erection (the sight more intimidating than she expected) by pulling the fabric down, his lips curl up into a smirk. “Don't be shy, just grab it.”

She does, two small hands around his girthy length, his flesh hot and hard, veins bulging against her palms. A little throbbing motion from deep within. Unsure what to do, she just squeezes her hands around him a little, until he puts his big hand on hers and starts moving it, showing her how he wants her to touch him. He's surprisingly patient with his teachings, guides one of her hands up and down his shaft while he places her other to cup around his testicles.

Her breaths are frantic little puffs of air, her cheeks are burning in embarrassment, but when she looks at his face instead of his angrily throbbing cock, she sees him smiling at her, a soft expression she hasn't expected, almost proud, and she inhales deeply and focuses on the task at hand – literally.

Eventually he takes his hands away and lets her do her thing, and she follows the movements he's shown her, moving her hand up and down, shifting the soft skin over his hardened core, closing her fist around his tip, smearing the precum leaking from it around his length, while the fingers of her other hand knead the soft flesh of his balls. It's almost relaxing, meditative.

He's breathing deeper, louder, and she can see his face tensing up, as if he's holding himself back. She continues stroking him, pumping him with all she has, until he grabs her wrist and stops her, his eyes almost black from how dilated his pupils are. She's too stunned to fight him when he suddenly manhandles her onto the couch next to him, on her knees, facing him, and he forces her head down with an iron grip to her hair. She yelps in surprise.

“Open your mouth,” he rasps, voice deep and rough. She swallows hard, stares down at his cock twitching inches away from her face. But she follows the order, her lips trembling as she parts them, tongue out flat, and before she can prepare herself, he's forced her head down on him. His tip slips into her mouth, warm and wet, a slightly bitter taste on her tongue. “Close your lips around it and suck,” he orders, his grip unrelenting.

She feels her eyes watering, her chest heaving in panic, her hands bracing around his thigh. He holds her in place, waits for her to do so, and when she hollows her cheeks, he inhales sharply. She breathes loudly through her nose, feeling his cock hard and heavy against her tongue, poking into her gums. It's just the tip, but it fills out her mouth to the point she's afraid to choke on it.

“Keep... pumping,” he breathes, hoarsely, on the verge of losing it. Her hand finds the rest of his dick, and she starts moving it up and down his length, still so much ground to cover, so big she's somehow glad he doesn't force it deeper, or even down her throat.

His body is shivering beneath her, the hand in her hair tightening its grip until it hurts. Muffled whimpers escape her, but she keeps sucking on his tip, precum and saliva filling her mouth, dripping past her lips and down her chin. She moves her tongue as best as she can, flicking it around his spongy crown, while stroking up and down his throbbing girth quick and hard.

A grunt escapes him, and she feels him twitching inside her mouth and against her palm. He grabs her head with both hands and holds it down, it's a sharp pain that makes tears roll over her cheeks, but it's nothing compared to the sudden jerk against the back of her throat that makes her flinch in panic.

She tastes it, hot and salty and thick, as he comes inside her mouth, spurt after spurt, filling her cheeks until she can't hold it anymore and has to swallow. It hurts to do so, and she opens her jaw a little wider, letting most of it drip down her chin as she gulps for air.

He relaxes beneath her, his grip easing on her head, releasing her. His hand pries her tight fingers off his cock and holds it himself while he pulls her back a little. She looks up at him from under her clumped lashes, vision blurry, mouth and chin covered in a thick layer of spit and cum. She feels too lightheaded to be embarrassed about how she may look, and when he gives her a weak smile, she cares even less.

His finger traces along her chin, gathers his cum and slowly pushes between her trembling lips. It's almost an instinct to lick around his fingertip, and his eyes darken at the sight in front of him. He keeps cleaning her and she keeps licking up his essence, the taste growing on her despite the initial bitterness. He wipes his palm over her mouth, smearing the last remnants over her lips, before he holds out his hand to her, soiled palm up, watching her closely.

She shifts on her knees, her body shivering, overwhelmed by all these new experiences, but she manages to cradle his big hand with her smaller ones and leans down to trace her tongue over his lifelines, lapping up the rest until his hand is clean. He nods approvingly and grabs her chin to guide her back to his crotch. “Clean,” he says quietly, and she only nods and bends down to bring her tongue to his cock once more.

His fingers dig into her hair, gentle caresses this time, light scalp massages, while she licks around his tip, sucks up the last drops of cum from his slit, moves up and down his shaft with her lips sucking lightly, while her lungs burn and her head throbs. It's as if it's the only thing that exists anymore, his cock, his pleasure, his contentment. Only to get the soft touches and gentle words, those two words he has yet to say to her for her service, her obedience.

He pulls her back once she's done, quickly putting himself away again while she leans on her knees, head bowed, licking her lips, swaying slightly as if drunk. It's a strange kind of serenity. Calm, head empty, his taste lingering on her tongue. Nothing more to worry about.

Shifting beside her, he pulls her onto his lap, strong arms caging her in, her head resting on his shoulder as he holds her, one hand rubbing up and down her back. “You did good,” he whispers, and she shivers, soaking up the praise like a sponge, saving it for later.

“Thank you,” she breathes against him, and the hand on her back pauses.

“What are you thanking me for?” he asks.

She swallows, inhaling deeply. “For... for saying that I did good, for... teaching me, for...” She feels her cheeks burning up, head clearing enough to feel embarrassed again. “For... letting me touch and... and taste you...” she adds in a low mumble, burying her face in his collarbone. For not forcing me to do more, she thinks.

He laughs softly, resuming the rubbing of her back. “It's nice to start the day like this, huh?”

She only hums in response, melting into his body as he holds her. They sit like this for a long moment, it feels strangely natural, intimate and warm. Something she could get used to. Something that scratches the itch deep within.

ONE 🟥 TWO 🟥 THREE

End notes: It's only going downhill from here...

By the way, you may or may not have noticed that these characters don't have names: and that's on purpose. I want to keep this as vague as possible, focusing solely on their connection. If you need to address them, I guess Sir and Darling would work? But really, it's just He and She now.

(And if you wanted to, you can imagine them being your favorite fictional characters also. I didn't describe their appearance either, despite it being an older, taller man and younger, shorter woman. Anything goes.)

And yes, our female character is very naive, very submissive, very innocent indeed. I hope it's not too much. She has a crush, okay? And we all know (hopefully) how that can turn brains into mush.

Thank you for reading! Next chapter on Monday!

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST

CHAPTER / / / ONE◾️TWO◾️THREE◾️FOUR◾️FIVE SIX◾️SEVEN◾️EIGHT◾️NINE◾️TEN◾ELEVEN

[shegatsby]

Love Thy Enemy

 Summary; Y/N Atreides had always been a stranger to the entire galaxy, her bed wasn’t her bed, her home wasn’t her home due to the fact that she was sent to accompany and be sisters with Irulan. She had limited access to her actual family and over the years they grew distant. She thought she would be like Reverend Mother, alone, yet powerful, and soon she would realize that there was no need of being alone when a wild creature had his eyes on her for a long time.

A/n; How i missed yu guys! Finally im free from family issues and i can continue this series. I hope you enjoy it. SMUT in the future chapters, i promise, don't forget to share your thoughts with me. xxx

TAG LIST IS OPEN! (let me know if i forgot to tag you)

Warnings; Baron being a weirdo.

Words; 3.584K

Chapter Five ''A Delicious Meal''

Feyd-Rautha Harkonenn didn’t know what to do, she was in his arms.. at least one of his long time wishes came true but he would’ve preferred a better scenario, he carried her to his king sized bed, covered in black silk, as soon as he laid her gently he called for his most trusted doctor. The man was tiny and bald, his eyes were jet black and had no whites, he had been serving Harkonnens for years. Feyd was standing a step away, watching carefully, he watched the doctor examine Y/N, Feyd’s eyes never leaving her body and to see if the doctor ever dared to touch her inappropriately. ‘’Due to change of climate and stress Lady Y/N’s body lost significant amount of vitamins, it is most likely she has been skipping meals. I’m going to give her some pills to boost her energy, she must also finish her meals.’’ He placed a container of pills on the side table and bowed to leave, when the family doctor left Feyd found himself pulling a chair to observe Y/N sleep. Their fight in his twisted mind, the thought he had was he was right till she fainted into his arms. Maybe she was… No.

He dismissed these strange thoughts. She was in his domain an she had to follow his rules and obey. ‘’Little dove..’’ he caressed her long Y/H/C hair, he had  always been enamored by her lush hair, so beautiful and vivid. Whenever he got a chance of seeing her he would observe her hair and how it bounced and rippled like the waves of Caladan, her home.. not anymore. As children, Feyd, Y/N, Irulan and sometimes Paul were left alone when adults were talking business, their nannies would be present of course but they were free to play together. Feyd-Rautha would chase her, pull her hair to annoy her. He loved to get reactions out of her whilst they grew up their interactions got limited. They had to be present at certain meetings such as balls, ceremonies etc.

His mind wandered to a distant memory…

At his 16th birthday it was Feyd’s first time at the arena, it was a Harkonnen tradition, so the important houses were invited. He had been training for years and it was his time to shine, bring fame and glory to his family and also prove a ‘’certain someone’’ that he had become a man, someone she could notice finally. When he entered the arena his animalistic lust for blood made his body electric, the black sun was at the top, making the arena look like a glowing white desert. He had his black uniform and combat boots which made him look much taller, he could hear the crowd’s cheer, they were ordered to cheer for him but still, he bathed in it.

He greeted the houses who were seated at the private chambers, he could see her

Time to impress.

He didn’t forget to activate his shield and the games began, prisoners were released from the doors to the arena, they were injected sedatives to make sure Feyd would be safe. He was there to butcher.

With every kill the white sand got covered in blood and stick to his boots, with every kill he was cheered, celebrated. At the end of the duel he was dipped in his enemies’ blood head to toe. He bowed and let the fame wash him away in ecstasy. He gained the popularity of his people and the houses that came to watch him. He was sure he was going to get marriage deals one after the other. When he lifted his head, he noticed that her seat was empty, she was gone. Why? Before the feast he was determined to find her and confront her.

He bathed very quickly, got dressed and left his chambers. He asked guards of her guest chambers and got no answers, he tried her maids and again, no answer. He was irritated, where could she be?

‘’My Lord, you’re asked by Reverend Mother.’’ A servant came to inform him, he had to put this pursuit aside for a while.

Reverend Mother was in her chambers, she travelled here with Emperor’s politicians. She was standing, her long black dress sweeping the clean floor. Her face was covered in laced veil, she waited for servants to leave them alone. ‘’Activate silence.’’ She ordered and a shield surrounded them, no one could hear them, ‘’You have fought well.’’ She began, ‘’Our order puts faith in you, young Harkonnen.’’ He didn’t interrupt her, unlike Rabban, he had wits about him. ‘’You would be a worthy match for one of our sisters We are watching you and her closely. You may be dismissed.’’ He left.

He had a feeling that sister is someone he had his eyes on her since they were children. With a smirk he roamed the halls of his fortress of black and white. He had an idea, his legs moved towards the chapel, almost no one prayed or believed in something other than violence on this planet.

The room was silent, there she was on her knees praying. Her long violet dress bunched up on her knees, he watched her pray. It made him curios, what was she praying for? He wanted to give her a reason to be on her knees but he kept his eccentric ideas to himself and keep his wide awake manhood in check. Ever since venom of being a teenager entered his body he had fun having these thoughts of her, of course he had his concubines to warm his bed and yet they weren’t enough, he had a thirst only she could quench.

Y/N rose to her feet as she finished praying, he cleared his throat to get her reaction, she turned to face him. He was standing tall, hands clasped behind his back, ‘’I have noticed your absence at my coming of age celebration Lady Y/N.’’ he began, his snake like eyes trapped her in, ‘’Is something to matter?’’ he was genuinely wondering. Her gaze was distant, he could see the work of Bene Gesserit on her, ‘’Maybe I didn’t want to see prisoners getting killed.’’ She replied coldly, ‘’But you promised to-‘’ she cut him short, ‘’I have seen eough. Good day, Na-Baron.’’ And she left the chapel, leaving him in shock… no one dared to stood up to him before and there she was with her lioness fire.

Y/N was gaining consciousness, opening her eyes slowly, the room was too quiet, her eyes travelled in the room to see him sitting on a chair, in reverse position and watching her, his hands resting on the back of the chair loosely, she was in his bed chambers. ‘’What happened?’’ she moved to rest her back on the headboard, pulling her legs towards her, ‘’Change of climate, stress and skipping meals.. you will be under surveillance. I’ve  ordered your maids to bring your belongings here, you’re going to stay with me from now on.” She could feel the heat on her face, ‘’But Harkonnen traditions say that-‘’ Feyd bolted to his feet, ‘’To hell with the traditions, your health comes first,’’ when he noticed the questioning look from her, he added ‘’you are to birth my heirs. End of discussion.’’ With the mention of heirs her blood ran cold in her veins, she had been specifically avoiding the concept ever since her fate was decided for her, it seemed Feyd was the opposite. She wondered if she could leave after birthing his heirs… her heart told her that she was  humane enough to stay and care for her offspring, she couldn’t abandon them, unlike Feyd she wasn’t a monster.

Y/N Atreides watched him take his leave, after the door closed she took advantage of being alone in his chambers, his bedroom consisted of a balcony, metal wardrobe, a skin of a bear on the floor, it made her sick. The fire place was empty since it was a warm day, her maids and servants started o carry her belongings one by one, she didn’t mind them and moved to the living room side, the room was more colorful than the bedroom, by color; black, white, dark blue and grey here and there. A long table which was made of Giedi Prime’s famous tree, Pilingitam, placed close to the large window overlooking the city, the tree’s color was lime-green and it gave a strange pop of color to the room. A basket of fresh fruit just placed by a servant girl, she looked shy, her head bowed, not making eye contact ‘’Our Na-Baron has ordered to keep fresh fruit for everyday my Lady Atreides.’’ Y/N could see the blush on the girls pale cheeks, ‘’I understand.’’ She also noticed how other servants’ behavior changed with this knowledge, Y/N deduced that they weren’t used to see their Na-Baron being ‘’thoughtful’’.

She was suspicious of the fruit basket, she picked a green grape and smelled it, it had no unusual smell, she bit the grape and it’s sweet juice immediately filled her mouth, Y/N was stunned, it was delicious, she assumed the fruit is exported from somewhere else hence Giedi Prime wasn’t known for its luscious fruit trees. She sat on the chair, turned to watch the scenery before her on the large window and ate.

‘’My Na-Baron!’’ Feyd-Rautha’s servant ran, out of breath, he was in the training grounds, sharpening his favorite blade, ‘’Lady Y/N settled perfectly and ate the fruit you sent you had sent.’’ He smiled wickedly, sowing teeth, he saw his reflection on the shiny blade which was about to be dipped in blood, he nodded to the servant and dismissed him. He focused on his training all day until his uncle Baron Vladimir Harkonnen marched in through the heavy doors, the doors smacked against the stone walls and made him turn to his uncle. ‘’What is the meaning of this?!’’ his uncle yelled, floating in the air thanks to his high tech machine, ‘’What do you mean uncle?’’ Feyd pretended like he had no idea, they were under the Giedi Prime’s black sun, the heat didn’t compare to the heat of Arrakis yet it was enough to finish his training and together they moved to a private room. ‘’I’ve heard that Atreides girl will be staying with you. Tell me,’’ he pressed to lean in, Feyd had to look up, he hated looking up at him all his life. ‘’Dear nephew, do you care for this girl?’’ he had to be careful, Feyd bought time by cleaning his sweat covered chest, his muscles attracted the Baron’s attention for a second, he had to be careful, if his uncle suspected anything she would be in danger, he loved to torment her and she was his to torment, not someone else’s. His uncle had no tolerance for ‘’caring’’ his only passion was to keep his house’s powerful stance and leave a might legacy behind.

‘’All my life I’ve fulfilled your orders uncle.’’ Feyd began, he throw the towel away, his blue eyes focused on his uncle with distaste and fire, ‘’You and witches of Bene Gesserit told me to marry the Atreides girl and that’s what I intend to do, you ask for heirs to leave our house one day and that is what I shall do.’’ He explained his voice cold and uninterested. ‘’She is only an object to use and cultivate and I, as her husband-to-be, have to keep her physical health at best, her mental health is not my interest.’’ He didn’t break his composure, looking up at his uncle and he bowed to him, to show loyalty. ‘’That’s my boy. You may rise.’’ Baron left him there, pleased.

Feyd sat on the stone bench, his sweat cooling down, he had to be extra careful when it came to his uncle, Baron Vladimir was known for his cunning mind and sinister plans. Feyd had to be able to protect his wife and children in the future and it seemed near… he thought he could manage his uncle’s plans…

Y/N Atreides didn’t do much that day, she was still tired and in shock. She didn’t want to remember his gruesome ‘’gift’’ or their fight, her main problem at the moment was Feyd’s decision of staying together… in his chambers… she found herself pacing in his bedroom, the sun was setting, leaving the landscape of industry in darkness, she could see the lamps in the city were being lit one by one, at a distance ships were landing or taking off, those were the spice ships, all over the galaxy every living being’s destiny was bound to spice… including her. The door was knocked and opened, she turned to face the servant, she assumed it was a servant because Na-Baron had no manners such as knocking on the door. The servant bowed, ‘’Dinner shall be served soon, our Lord Na-Baron is expecting her ladyship to join him.’’ She had no choice but to obey his request. ‘’Tell my maids to come and dress me.’’ Her plan was to be silent, eat and go to sleep… somewhere except his bed.

Her personal maids dressed her in black, they said she had to represent her husband-to-be’s house, she despised the color and yet when she looked at herself on the tall mirror, she looked powerful. The dress was long with long sleeves, had a nice cut on her chest, her hair was braided Atreides style, loose and fluffy, her maids left and she approached to the door of the living room.

The fire place was lit, he was standing by the window, his back turned to her, his hands clasped at his back, Y/N literally saw his ears prick up like a hellhound. He turned confidently, his posture straight and he is covered in black clothing just like her, ‘’Finally.’’ He greeted her with a victorious smile, eyes roaming over her body, she felt his blue orbits shooting at her, table was set, candles lit. Did he really made the servants light candles instead of glowglobes? She couldn’t ignore how the candles changed the mood in the room, more serene yet with a touch of expectation of something new.

He moved to the other side of the tale to move her chair for her to sit, without a word she walked and sat, as he was pushing the chair back to its place she could feel his breath on her neck, burning her, ‘’I have to admit, you look ravishing in that dress.’’ His breath lingered for few more seconds which felt eternity, she kept her silence, eyes forward, he chuckled to himself and moved to the other side of the table and sat. ‘’How is your health?’’ he casually asked, getting ready to eat the meat before him, her eyes moved to the table, she also had rare cooked meat on her plate, when she moved the meat eith her fork she could see the blood under it, it made her sick so she looked up to him, Feyd was waiting for an answer, he noticed her expression change, ‘’I feel much better.’’ She replied, Feyd began to eat like a man starved, ‘’I had my training all day,’’ she didn’t ask but he was explaining anyways, ‘’fighting makes me starve like wolves.’’ It seemed so, she was in utter shock how he can eat that rare meat… Feyd remembered his conversation earlier with his uncle and went silent.

‘’Start eating,’’ he noticed that she still didn’t touch her food, ‘’or,’’ he continued but Y/N cut him off, ‘’Or you will kill another servant to teach me a lesson?’’ she sarcastically said, still traumatized by that incident. His presence made her feel uneasy, he was the reason why she had to leave everything behind and it made her blood boil in despise. Y/N heard Feyd’s chuckle, ‘’Or I will feed you myself.’’ He finished.

A mental image flashed in her mind’s eye, thanks to Bene Gesserit mind work she could imagine more vividly than normal people, in the image Feyd was sitting next to her, very close, abnormally close and feeding her slowly, wiping her lips with his thumb and sucking it, there was a sexual undertone to this image, she pinched her skin to wake up.

‘’No, thank you.’’ Couldn’t help but wonder his idea, she began eating fruit, totally avoiding the bloody meat, her senses were high so she could smell the blood unfortunately, ‘’Is settling in over?’’ Feyd asked, he was leaning on his chair, holding a goblet of red wine, his eyes shining like diamonds under the candle lights, ‘’We are disobeying the traditions. We should unite when we get married. I do not wish to attract unwanted attention than it is.’’ Y/N was being honest, ‘’Unite,’’ he said with a wicked smile, ‘’We can unite right now on this very tableif you please, little dove.’’ He drank his wine watching her startled expression, her slightly opened pretty mouth but she recovered quickly, ‘’I am settling in just fine.’’ She ignored his comment. ‘’I wish to learn the fortress better, so that I won’t have to rely on my maids to take me to places.’’

‘’I can show you around, I am sure you will get used to your new home.’’ He finished his drink and poured another, ‘’This isn’t home.’’ Y/N said under her breath, a sudden sadness washed her body up and down like the waves of Caladan. ‘’Hm?’’ he pretended like he didn’t hear, he wanted her to say it but she surprised him, ‘’Nothing.’’

‘’You don’t like rare cooked meat I take it?’’ he was taking notes of her likes and dislikes, ‘’I like it well cooked.’’ Feyd pressed a button on the table and in seconds a servant man rushed in immediately, ‘’My wife prefers her meat well cooked. If a mistake like this ever happenes again I shall serve her the kitchen staffs’ heads instead.’’ He wasn’t even looking at the servant, he was focused on the dessert he was eating, Y/N apologized quietly to the servant man who was shaking, carrying her plate back to the kitchens to bring what Na-Baron requested.

‘’I am not your wife.’’ Y/N protested in annoyance,

‘’Not yet.’’ He replied and looked to see her intransigent eyes, so fiery it confused Feyd, did he want her to rebel against him and be dominant or did he just wanted to crush her soul to his feet?

The servant brought back her table, ‘’It looks delicious, thank you.’’ She noticed how the servant’s expression change into confusion, Y/N Atreides was slightly impacting them in a good way. The servant them alone.

‘’Do we have to have dinner together every night?’’

‘’Why?’’ he placed his fork on the metal plate, wiping his mouth with a black piece of cloth, ‘’You don’t find me pleasant to look at?’’ he teased, trying to get a reaction out of her, ‘’The table looks more pleasant.’’ She replied coldly, her hands on her lap, sitting tall and immobile, ‘’I have to make sure you finish your plate.’’ He got up from his seat coming to her, ‘’I want strong sons.’’ He added and pulled the chair next to hers. ‘’You forget, I am a Bene Gesserit witch, I choose the gender of the baby.’’ She was watching his movements, what was he doing? He got the fork and knife and cut her meat into cubes, ‘’What are you doing?’’ she looked puzzled, was her mental image becoming true?

‘’Like I have said, I want strong children and a strong mother to take care of them. Now,’’ he got a cube of meat to the fork, ‘’open wide.’’

Y/N could feel the heat rising to her face, ‘’I can eat-‘’

‘’I don’t trust you.’’ He was so forward it caught her off guard, his face held the truth, her Bene Gesserit training was yelling her in her mind, ‘’He doesn’t trust you that you can take care of yourself on your own here..’’

She was trying to find a correct path to manipulate him,

‘’Give in.’’ a voice in her head said,

And she opened wide. ‘’Little dove, see, some things are so easy when you let your guard down.’’ He was close to her, feeding her, the meat was delicious.

‘’Giedi Prime isn’t welcoming to outsiders. His voice was low and she can see he was telling the truth, he got another cube of meat when she swallowed, ‘’Good?’’ he asked as he fed her again, Y/N nodded, she realized how hungry she was, the juice of the meat running down at the corner of her mouth, Feyd wiped it with his thumb and licked it clean. Their eyes never leaving as if it is a contest, in silence she let him feed her.

‘’Good girl.’’ He praised, and watched the effect it had on her. Their eyes refused to part, she didn’t want him to think that she was afraid of him, she wanted to insert her presence to him but his aura was too strong to bare. ‘’What did you mean by Giedi Prime not being welcoming?’’ she noticed he was trying to say something without being obvious, he placed the fork on the plate, leaned back on the chair. ‘’It is easy to make enemies here, one wrong move and you lose. You’re a smart girl, you can figure it out.’’ And he stood up,

‘’Shall we sleep?’’

Tag List; @superchatnoir07 @mamawiggers1980 @landlockedmermaid77 @moonsoulk @crystalskiesandcherrywine @palomavz @beebeechaos @jeong-uwu @tian-monique @avidreader73 @aleemendoza2425-blog @taleah @oneandonlybbygrl @flower-frog @or-was-it-just-a-dream @howibecameabadassbitch @monstresshorn @keanuispunk @lunerose0 @purplepeach333 @torossosebs @austinbutlerslovers @darlingisntit @aoi-targaryen

[hanjisick]

yandere skz reaction… to a creepy coworker

warning. this is not how i portray the members of stray kids or how you should either. this is purely for entertainment purposes.

trigger for violence, murder, harassment

wc. 1.8k

bang chan.

chan’s phone would ring late at night, as he waited for you to arrive home. normally, he would be overjoyed with a call from you, but instead, his face contorted in worry.

it was unlike you to call him at such a time.

“y/n?” he answered, voice laced with concern.

“hello? chan? remember how you were going to pick me up to go to my parents house tonight? you’re on your way, right? i’ll be in the parking lot.”

chan was very intuitive. he could understand immediately from your shaky tone that you were in danger, and that he needed to get there. and quickly.

“yeah. i’m on my way.” he would respond, already tearing apart his room to find his shoes.

chan was thankful that the police were looking the other way that night, because he was speeding like a maniac, terrifying thoughts plaguing his mind.

“y/n?” he shouted out, slamming the car door behind him.

he saw you bolt towards him, leaving behind a person that he couldn’t quite make out through the dim streetlights.

“oh thank god, chan,” he welcomed your tight hug, “get in the car. we need to go.”

on the way home, you told him about your horrible coworker, about how gave you his number, invited you back to his place, and was insistent about it until you had lied and called chan.

you didn’t notice how his hands gripped the steering wheel so right that his knuckles were white, “do you mind sharing his number with me?”

he would have to do some digging that night.

lee minho

minho didn’t mind that you had a job. in fact, he encouraged it. part of him enjoyed stalking you, seeing exactly what would happen when you thought that you were out of his supervision.

the sadistic side of him wanted so badly to see you interact with others, to give him an excuse to take someone’s life, especially one that would cause tears to fall from your pretty little eyes.

so when he began to see another man hang around you, he thought that this would be his chance. that the other boy would promise a type of love that minho would never give to you— a healthy one.

but it wasn’t exactly like that, upon further investigation. instead, you were uncomfortable with his lingering touches and sly comments.

it didn’t take long for him to find his home and tear his body to shreds with his bare hands. a sinister grin would appear on his face. oddly, he looked more forward to the screams of this man than your own when you would find out.

he would take a souvenir, his favorite thing to do. it would be his arm, the same one that he used to touch your waist. the waist that was meant for him.

minho didn’t understand the side of him that itched so badly to hear the man’s screams. perhaps there was a part of him that wanted to protect you, rather than hurt you.

how strange.

seo changbin

unlike minho, changbin would be the least in favor of you having a job. which is why you would have to be in the beginning stages of your relationship to have one in the first place.

“can you call off work today, darling?” he would whine, holding onto you a little tighter than usual.

“you know that i can’t.”

unable to stand the idea of someone hurting you, touching you, yelling at you… the list goes on, he followed you to make sure that nothing would happen.

only ten minutes into your shift, and his worst nightmare happened.

“i have a boyfriend,” you told your coworker.

“that doesn’t matter, i’m sure that i could be better than him.”

“stop it. i’ll have to tell the manager.”

“you wouldn’t do that to me. you want me just like i want you.”

changbin would see red.

he would have to contain his anger for long enough to not get arrested. he couldn’t kill him in broad daylight. instead, he would allow himself to finally let you know of his presence, pulling you into his chest.

“changbin!”

“you’re quitting. i won’t ever let you leave my sight if this is what the world is going to try and do to you. you’re for my eyes only.”

hwang hyunjin

you trusted hyunjin enough to confide in him when you began to grow concerned about your coworker.

he would listen as you explained how he had been touching you more than usual, saying flirty lines, obviously trying to get together with you.

all of this was spilled out to him the night after he asked for your number, as you laid on top of him with your head on his chest.

“i just don’t know what to do, hyun. i told him no, but he kept insisting until i got off. and we have to work together again tomorrow.”

hyunjin would bite his lip as he listened to your obvious discomfort, contemplating all of the ways that he could end this persons life without you suspecting that it was him.

he did his best to comfort you, saying that he would come pick you up immediately if it escalated. but hyunjin wouldn’t let it go that far.

instead, while you thought he was scrolling through his phone to fall asleep, he was looking for the man’s address, ready to slip out the door once you had fallen asleep, and to make sure that he wouldn’t show up at work tomorrow. or to anything ever again, unless it was his own funeral.

“goodnight, my sweet y/n.”

han jisung

jisung would never miss a single shift of yours. no matter how long they were, he would always need to keep an eye on you. and every break that you had would be spent drowning in PDA with him.

jisung was already on edge, watching you train a new employee, sitting at a booth in the restaurant that you worked at.

“so, to cut the sandwich—“ you stood over the new boy, and jisung was leaning in his seat as if he were watching an intense scene in a movie. your coworker grabbed your hand, placing it on top of his.

“guide me,” he smirked as you hesitated, eyes meeting jisung’s, who’s own eyes were crazed, ready to pounce if you didn’t take your hand away in the next few seconds.

“i can’t do that.” you turned your attention back to him.

“that’s a shame, your hands were so gentle, i wouldn’t mind holding them.”

that was jisung’s last straw.

in an instant, your coworker was on the floor, a sandwich knife lodged into his throat.

“her hands are mine,” he screamed out, “mine! you can’t touch them!”

lee felix.

“felix, i don’t know what to do,” you cried into your boyfriends hoodie as he shushed you, hands rubbing your back soothingly.

“what happened, pretty girl? i promise i can help.”

you fished your phone out of your pocket, nudging it into his side. “go to my texts and read the most recent one.”

felix picked it up, unlocking it. you watched his expression carefully, not missing the way that he grit his teeth, jaw clenched tightly.

“you haven’t responded to any of them, but he’s still going,” he commented.

you nodded against his chest.

he kept scrolling, until he got to the most recent one. the one that caused you to come home bawling your eyes out. and in the blink of an eye, he was calling the number.

you didn’t have the strength or will to stop him, already knowing what your boyfriend was capable of.

“this is y/n’s boyfriend,” he almost growled into the phone, “you have less than ten minutes left to live until i’m at your door.”

just hearing his sickening voice was enough to make felix throw your phone against the wall, using the last bit of the sanity left in him to gently push you off of him.

“i’ll be back soon, my angel.”

kim seungmin

the past few days, seungmin had noticed that something was definitely off.

seungmin thought that he had done something wrong. perhaps the lunch that he had packed you wasn’t good recently. did you change your favorite kind of chips? or it could’ve been that he didn’t buy you a new phone recently.

whatever the case was, seungmin needed to figure it out, and fast, because he couldn’t stand to see you as unhappy as you were.

“did i do something wrong?” he asked, his puppy eyes hitting something deep in your soul as he followed your slumped shoulders around, looking for answers.

“no,” you sighed, allowing yourself to at least give him some explanation, “it’s something about work. i don’t think you can fix it.”

“i can fix anything. just tell me what’s bothering you.”

but you shrugged him off, so he did what any concerned boyfriend would do, and followed you to work.

it became evident that it was a coworker of yours that was harassing you.

instead, he would show up behind you on your break, “is he bothering you?”

“seungmin, why are you here?”

“is he bothering you? do you need me to take care of him?”

“what are you talking about?” you tried to play dumb.

“i’ll ask again. is your coworker bothering you?”

you sighed in defeat. “i don’t want to start anything, i’m hoping that he’ll just leave me alone if i don’t do anything.”

“i want a straight answer. he the reason that you’ve been upset lately?”

“yes.”

“then i’ll take care of it for you.”

yang jeongin

you would be at the mall with jeongin when you saw your horrible coworker across the same shop, mentally cursing to yourself as you tried to convince jeongin to go elsewhere with you.

“this shop is boring, baby, we could go look at that other one.”

“but you were so excited to come here?”

“y/n?” you whipped your head around to see the godforsaken man that you couldn’t stand.

“what’s a pretty little thing like you doing here?”

jeongin squeezed your hand tighter than before.

“and who’s this guy?”

“he’s the boyfriend that i’ve told you about thousands of times,” you grumbled.

“doesn’t seem like much,” he looked jeongin up and down, “i’m sure he wouldn’t stand a chance against me.”

“i didn’t think you’d be this bold in front of him.”

“anything to have a chance with your—“ jeongin’s fingers were wrapped around his throat, shoving him into a clothing rack with an animalistic look in his eyes.

“who the hell do you think you are?” he yelled out, his shoes landing right into the stomach of the guy who was already groaning in pain.

“you’re lucky i’m not going to kill you right here in front of her.”

requested. masterlist. /@hanjisick

[magicalbats]

Oh, Captain (Luffy x reader)

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 5222

Warnings: Afab!reader, gendered language, noncon, physical coercion, outdoor sex, inappropriate use of 5th Gear

A/N: My second ever commission and the lovely donor was kind enough to give me permission to post it for everyone else to read. Thank you for a great experience, @avidbroswer!! 🩷🩷🩷

⭐

Let’s help Luffy, they’d said.  

We’re a crew, they’d said. Family. 

You don’t feel very much like family when you’re running for your life from the very captain you’d sworn loyalty to. Or at least, you’re pretty sure that the strange figure with white nimbus cloud hair is your captain. You’d watched it happen from a (questionably) safe distance, when he suddenly transformed in a surge of sparking static electricity that made your skin crawl like it was trying to escape from your bones but it’s still hard to believe that it was really him. Even having seen the reality of it with your own two eyes doesn’t make it any easier to accept. 

Luffy was supposed to be a dark haired, dark eyed youth in the prime of his life. Not this uncanny version of him that giddily laughs with boisterous amusement while he ping pongs about so violently within the craggy mess of scorched earth in the wake of his battle with Kaido that you can feel the massive chunks of rock slamming into the ground as much as you can hear it. One after another, from the left and then the right, they just keep falling in an almost continuous rain of rubble and ruin. The resulting shockwaves very nearly take you off your feet more than once but you force yourself to keep running even when your sore legs scream in protest, aching from the exertion. It was the only choice you really had at this point. 

And it’s not lost on you that this is technically your own fault for getting so close to the fight but you’d wanted to help. All that talk of family and crew, and unwavering allegiance to the Straw Hats had clearly infected your brain because you’d rushed straight into the danger zone despite knowing good and well that you were the only one close enough to make it in time. Now you were the one who needed help and it wasn’t going to arrive soon enough to do you any good. 

What an idyllic fool you’d been. 

“Ah!” You suddenly get tripped up in all the rocky debris laying across the ground and fall to your knees with a seething hiss. Your palms come back scraped where they’d shot out to catch you but you’ve managed to avoid taking the brunt of it to the face. Thank the stars for life’s smallest miracles. 

Panting heavily, you just sit there amongst the broken wreckage and detritus for a harrowingly long beat, trying to catch your breath. You can still hear the chaotic destruction of Luffy — or the man who had once been Luffy — bouncing around like a rubber ball behind you, completely unimpeded by the laws of gravity or common sense. It sounded like he was having a blast. 

Maybe that was good. Maybe he hadn’t even noticed you yet, so lost within the mess of demolished land and too tiny a speck to even draw his attention. You had a chance to escape then, if that was the case. 

Any such hopes quickly fizzle out when his uproarious hooting and hollering abruptly rushes towards you, getting louder and louder until your eardrums start to vibrate. You suck in a sharp, nauseated gasp and slap your hands over your ears as you twist around to look behind you. Just in time to watch Luffy sail overhead like a shooting white comet. The kickback from his high velocity speed hits you seconds later, tearing a shriek from your mouth when the wind hits you full force and as solid as any wall. 

Too busy ducking down with your head between your knees to protect yourself from the sting of flying rocks, you don’t get to see how he manages to pivot his momentum mid air and land a couple hundred yards away. You hear it though. You feel the shock of impact too, when it races through the ground to make the rubble underneath you tremble. It goes quiet then, and unnaturally still. Suddenly all you can hear are your own labored gasps. 

You hesitate to do it but, realizing you have no other option, you slowly lift your face to peer out over all the fallen debris. Standing at a distance, Luffy just looks at you with a fiercely manic edge in his now golden-yellow eyes that makes your veins ice up. You’re more certain than ever that this cannot be your captain. He should have been giving you the usual bright faced, happy go lucky grin he always did when he inexplicably came out on top against all the odds that were stacked against him. Not this — viscous leer of victory. 

But if this wasn’t Luffy then who in the seven seas was it? 

“Have you come to celebrate with me?” 

His voice isn’t quite the same either. More raspy, like the weight of immense power flowing through him was putting strain even on his vocal cords. You don’t think you like that any more than you like the way he’s eyeing you up as if you were a stuffed pig on a roasting spit. Even for his bottomless pit of an appetite, you’d never seen him look at another person quite like that. 

Cautiously slow, you straighten up out of your defensive huddle. Work to get your feet under you without taking your attention off him for even a moment and then stand so you can prepare to … what, run again? A lot of good that had clearly done you. 

“I don’t think it’s time to celebrate just yet.” You tell him softly. “We need to find the other Straw Hats. Make sure they’re all okay. You still remember them … don’t you, Luffy?” 

Your emotional plea only succeeds in giving him a momentary pause. “But I have so much energy left. I just want to dance and shout, and jump into the air! You’ll join me, won’t you?” 

He takes a step towards you, a rather aggressive one at that, and you quickly back up. Something told you if you didn’t agree to go along with this he was going to try and force you into joining in on whatever constituted his idea of merrymaking. Unfortunately you weren’t sure if you’d survive that, given the state of all the crumbled boulders littering the ground on this now desolate stretch of land. 

“No, Luffy. Not right now. We have to - -“ 

With an abrupt jerk, he lurches forward as if to launch himself at you. His rubbery legs momentarily struggle for traction on the ground, as if they couldn’t quite decide what consistency they wanted to be, but you don’t plan on sticking around long enough to find out. Feeling like you’ve forgotten how to breathe, you spin around and make a mad dash for it, barreling straight into a dead sprint. 

It’s a resounding effort in futility. 

You don’t even make it three whole steps before he slams into your back hard enough to take you right off your feet. 

There’s a split second moment of shock at how fast he’d managed to close the distance, and then the ground is rushing up at your face again. 

That dizzying blur of vertigo inducing free fall coupled with the way your vision tilts on its axis very nearly has you spewing your guts right then and there. But if Luffy picks up on the dire, sickened tinge coloring your wounded grunt he certainly doesn’t act it. He just flings his arms around your middle, alarming in their fleshy elasticity and yet still familiar to you, then hauls you up against his front before you can slam into the rocks. 

Everything happens much too fast for you to keep up with any of it. Your brain is reeling, still trying to recover from the impact of his body colliding with yours and the subsequent head rush that followed. So stunned you can’t even find the wherewithal to protest his treatment of you let alone try to fight your way free. Unable to do anything else, you simply allow your limbs to bonelessly flail when he takes a handful of eager steps forward with you in his arms. 

In the next moment Luffy spins you out away from him, snagging your wrist to stop your momentum and make you jerk to another abrupt standstill. The yank on your shoulder causes it to pop, splintering pain racing up your arm as you cry out. He doesn’t care though. He either doesn’t care or he doesn’t notice, because he just pulls you right back into him again, hard enough to make you collapse with a teeth rattling jolt against his chest. 

“Come on!” He laughs, loud and frenzied, his hold on you much too tight where it’s shackled around your wrist. “Dance with me! Aren’t you having fun?” 

Teeth gnashing to fight back the nausea, you bring your uncaptured hand up and brace it against his shuddering frame. You’re more than just a little surprised to find his heartbeat hammering out a sharp, almost violent staccato against his ribcage, so powerful you can feel it thrumming through his skin. It reminds you of an endless procession of war drums. Too many to count and impossibly loud, their ferocity equally intimidating and awe inspiring. 

What in the world had happened to him? 

You don’t have the privilege of lingering on that question for very long. Couldn’t afford to, as you try to get your tired legs situated under you again so you can stand on your own. “You’re hurting me, Luffy. We don’t have time for this right now. Just let me go. Please.” 

But he doesn’t even seem to register what you’re saying as a plea at all. 

A snickering, raspy laugh rattles up out of him, and you vehemently push at his narrow chest with your uncaptured hand. Shove him as hard as you can. He still doesn't budge though, simply reaching up to snag that wrist too so he can forcefully spin you around in his arms. You feel sick with the rush of motion coupled with the fatigue and throbbing pain in your body but there’s nothing you can do to stop it. He’s too strong, too wild, too lost in whatever manic high he’s slipped into after his fight with Kaido. 

Tightening his grip to lock you against his front, Luffy moulds himself to the line of your back with such an unnatural, rubbery motion that you find yourself fighting not to wretch even as his mouth finds your neck. He nuzzles at you for a brief moment, just brushing his lips over your jackhammering pulse before angling his nose towards the spot just behind your ear. The breath he draws is slow and savory, and he seems to hold it in his lungs for an unnecessarily long time. 

When he at last sighs out, displacing some of the loose flyaways in your hair, an unmistakable rumble low in his chest accompanies it. “Mmm, you smell good. Like victory.” 

What the hell was that supposed to mean? “Luffy, just listen to me … don’t do this. I - I don’t really understand what's happened to you but we can figure it out together. We’ll fix it. I promise. But you need to let me go or - -“

“Let you go? But we’re having so much fun. I want to have even more fun with you but you’re not a fighter, not like he was. And you don’t want to dance with me either.”

He sounds dangerously close to pouting when he says that last bit and you give a halfhearted twist in his hold, testing for any slack. It’s no good though. For as little effort as he seemed to be putting into it, his arms were like iron shackles where they’re criss crossed over your body. Dammit. 

“Why?” You seethe in frustration and fast mounting panic. “Why won’t you just go back to normal, Luffy? This isn’t like you!” 

His frame shakes behind you with the giggles that rise within him, making his whole body vibrate like a mercilessly shaken soda bottle. It quickly grows, rapidly multiplying and expanding until he at last throws his head back with a cackling peel of laughter aimed up at the sky. It’s much too close to your ear and deafeningly loud, reigniting your desperation to get away from him, but your wild thrashing just causes him to laugh even harder. Like he found it hilarious that you were scared and trapped against him. 

“I can’t!” He howls, belly laughing so ferociously it makes you jerk in his hold. “I can’t go back until I’ve used up all of this energy! It feels like I’m going crazy but it feels good too! Amazing even! I’ve never experienced anything like it before! I want to keep going but you can’t fight and you won’t dance with me … but there’s something else we can do together, isn’t there?” 

“What are you ta - -“

He releases you so suddenly you don’t even realize you’re crumpling to the ground until your butt has already hit the rocks, surprising a yelp out of you. Fresh pain immediately races up from your backside in a blinding starburst and you outright hiss as you gingerly start to angle yourself onto your hip in hopes of taking some of the pressure off of where it hurts the most. You don’t quite make it that far though. 

Luffy’s hands are suddenly on your shoulders, shoving you forward to sprawl out rather inelegantly on your front. He follows you down, pinning you to the destroyed ground with his body weight, and you immediately start to panic in earnest. Your captain didn’t look like much more than a lanky beanpole at first glance but he was so densely packed with muscle that he felt like a sack of bricks on top of you. It makes it hard to breathe and the quickened, gasping lungfuls of air you suck in don’t exactly help. Your chest constricts painfully tight as you struggle against him, forgetting all logic and reason in your blind desperation to get away from him. 

He doesn’t even seem to notice though, still just as unbudging sprawled out over top of you as he’d been when the two of you were standing. No amount of kicking your legs or bucking up underneath him even gives him pause, and his greedy hands fumble down to your waist where they squeeze tight enough to rip a hurt shriek from your throat. This doesn’t cut through the manic haze spurring him on either. He doesn’t even waver. 

“What are you — stop that! Have you lost your mind!” 

“I’m sorry.” He snickers, not sounding very sorry at all as he shoves his face into the crook of your neck again. Another deep, savory inhale. Another rumbling exhale right against your pulse. The faintest growl that trails afterward is new though and you go painfully still under him, hardly even daring the blink despite all the grimy dust kicked up in your desperate fight for freedom. 

You’d never, ever heard such a sound come out of him before. It scares you perhaps most of all, and you’d seen many a frightening and unsettling thing since stepping foot into Onigashima. Somehow this just really took the cake though. 

“I’m sorry,” He says it again. Contradicting this, his callous worn fingers dip into the hem of your pants and start to tug at them, jostling you with each insistent pull. “I’m sorry, heheee. I just can’t help myself. If I can’t have you I don’t know what I’ll do. You’ll help me calm down, won’t you?” 

Your mind struggles to process that. He was asking you to help him? Not with words or medicine, or even the endless supply of food he would have otherwise asked for had he been in his right mind. He wanted your body. 

So that’s what it was then. What it all boiled down to. 

If he couldn’t fight you and you refused to dance with him then that left only one other option. He was going to fuck it out of his system. Anything to get rid of all the excess energy running through his body, making him vibrate like a lit fuse on top of you. It made a certain amount of sense, you supposed, but that didn’t mean you had to like it. 

Curling your hands into tight fists against the rocks, numb to the abrasive sting, you draw a rattling breath to center yourself. It doesn’t do much in the way of good. “Please don’t do this.” 

It’s like he doesn’t even hear you, a grunt of victory puffing out of him when he finally manages to get your pants tugged down over the curve of your ass. 

“Please.” You gasp, the sound wet and faltering. 

Completely ignoring you now, Luffy reaches further down to fumble with something lower while his opposite hand possessively curls around your hip to keep you in place. You hiccup rather sadly at the distant sound of rustling clothes, almost completely lost under the violent pounding of blood in your ears, but there’s no missing the fleshy nudge against the back of your thigh that soon follows. It leaves a sticky smear where it touches you, inspiring an eruption of horrified goosebumps in its wake. 

You don’t have to look to know what’s touching you. The innate knowledge of what’s happening and who is responsible for this paralyzing fear that grips your aching heart in a chokehold is horrible and suffocating all at once. Stinging tears spring up and well in the backs of your eyes but you clench your teeth to try and stifle the terrified wail threatening to claw its way up your throat, knowing it would only sound hysterical. 

On one hand you almost couldn’t believe this was really happening, even though the reality of the situation was staring you right in the face. It just seemed almost too implausibly awful to be real. 

But on the other, Luffy wasn’t exactly known for his self control or restraint. You knew this. Had even found it charming at one point or another, so you brace yourself for the worst. It just might be the only thing that ends up saving you. 

“Captain - -“

“I’m sorry.” 

He’s suddenly between your legs, pressing up into you from behind. You go ramrod stiff against him, your whole body clenching in genuine distress, but it does very little to stop him. Like he’s done it a million times before, or perhaps thanks to the instinctive muscle memory bestowed upon every man with a working cock, he pushes right in on your entrance until cunt slips start to part under the pressure. A thin, tremulous groan escapes him at the first kiss of your hot guts against the tip and then he just keeps pushing. Even when your muscles tense up and try to keep him out. Even when he meets a great deal of resistance as your body tries its best to reject him. If anything he almost seems to take it as a challenge the same way he would another combatant or a roadblock standing between him and his goals. 

In this case his goal is clearly to sink himself in you right down to the hilt, and he just puts more effort into his cause the more you try to fight it. Leans his weight into you until it feels like your poor cunt is taking the full brunt of his mass. The resulting stretch of your inner sleeve is painful and drawn out, taking much longer than it otherwise would have had you been even slightly prepped for this. 

Your mouth hinges open but nothing comes out for a prolonged moment as the tears break loose to streak down your face. It feels like he’s tearing you in half! Either he was much bigger than you’d assumed he’d be or by virtue of how tightly your interior walls were squeezing him — or even some terrible combination of the two —  it was like you were being split down the middle. You couldn’t even breathe through the choking discomfort of it and a threadbare, sobbing little mewl dislodges from your throat when he at last manages to shove himself past that first barrier. 

Full penetration is much easier for him to achieve after that but it’s no less painful, and you cry out when he snaps his hips forward once, twice, and finally lodges his length the rest of the way in on the third. A pleased huff slips out of him as he settles on top of you, a fresh wave of giggles quickly following suit. It was like he’d gone mad. So wrapped up in the raving power that had turned his hair white that he can only laugh about it even while he’s buried balls deep in your body. 

That short lived pause is all the respite you get though and Luffy is soon moving, rutting into you with quick, sharp little jabs up into your guts. You shriek at the top of your lungs, clawing at the ground while you kick out behind you, but he ignores this the same as everything else. Lying prone and trapped under him, all you can do is take it. 

“Waah — why are you doing this, Luffy? It hurts! If … if the others find out about this - -“ 

“I know, hahaaa. I know. I’m sorry, but I can’t stop. You feel … this feels amazing! Almost as good as fighting Kaido did!” 

You seethe at that, trying your damndest not to get caught up on it right now but that proves to be more than a little difficult. He really didn’t see any difference between fucking and fighting? Somehow that seemed so typically him, and you think you would have probably joined him in laughing about it under better circumstances. 

But better circumstances wouldn’t have found you being roughly jostled back and forth on the ground by his eager, jack rabbit thrusts. The motion of his hips lacks any and all refinement with no technique to speak of, and yet that doesn’t stop you from seeing stars every time his cock blindly rams into your upper wall. It punches the air from your lungs and materializes out of your mouth in the form of heaving, strained bleats of distress that quickly climb to a higher and higher pitch with each second that goes by. Not for the first time today, you feel like you really might throw up. 

“Ooh, that’s …” He suddenly gasps, lets out a half strangled groan, and drives himself into you even harder. Faster. The force of his pelvis slapping against your upturned ass rapidly grows to a steady, almost constant blur of stinging swats — plap, plap, plap, plap — and you shriek at the rapidly swelling pressure on your gut. “Ooh, that’s good. That’s good! It feels so good! I - I can’t - -“ 

Without warning, your pussy abruptly floods with wet, sticky warmth. He hadn’t even given you a chance to beg for him to pull out. 

Your eyes widen to the approximate size of dinner plates but he just keeps pistoning his hips even as the rest of his shuddering frame gives a series of little jerks to thoroughly empty his balls into you. He shows no signs of slowing down or tiring any time soon though, his limitless energy evidently far outpacing his obvious lack of experience. 

It’s a hard thing to wrap your reeling head around just how quickly everything has happened and yet there’s no mistaking it for what it is. The sensation is completely foreign to you but you innately understood it for what it represented, what it could potentially mean for your future. You’re not half as relieved to have it done and over with as you are terrified of what it meant. 

Even more confounding, however, is that it doesn’t so much as make Luffy slow down let alone stop now that he’s painted your inner sleeve a thick, creamy white. Not the orgasm itself which, considering how much he fills you up, should have thoroughly drained him for the time being, nor the possible repercussions of allowing himself to shoot off inside of you like that. He just keeps going without a care in the world, like it wasn’t his problem and he still had more than enough stamina to keep up the harried pace he’d settled into for the foreseeable future. The only sign of it burning up any of his energy at all is the slightly labored quality his breathing takes on, but that’s it. 

Realizing that this ordeal is still far from over, you give your body a twist and try to angle your cunt away from the constant attack of his cock. “H - hold on a minute, what … aagghhh, what are you doing, Luffy? You - - you can’t just cum inside like that, you idiot!” 

“Can’t stop! Heheehe, I can’t, I can’t, not when you keep squeezing me like that!” 

All but wheezing at the intense pleasure of thrusting into the sticky mess he’s made of you, Luffy presses himself flush against your sweaty back and circles his arms around your middle. You brace to shove him off, or at least try to, but you don’t quite make it that far. 

Catching you completely off guard, he yanks you up against him and practically throws himself back onto the ground. The sudden lurch lodges your stomach in your throat, and you let out a frazzled scream as you land on top of him. That he cushions the impact with his rubbery body only comes as a slight relief when you were struggling just to get your bearings straight, disoriented and stunned in the aftermath of his impulsive decision when you unexpectedly find yourself blinking up at the sky. 

You start to pull yourself upright, wincing, only to quickly realize he’s still got one arm looped around your waist to keep you held in place on top of him. The other is — you gasp when you glance down to see him already fisting his cock in hand, guiding it back to your entrance where it had slipped out in that rush of movement. It’s still achingly stiff and unrelenting, like he hadn’t already spilled his seed in you only moments ago, and your heart painfully wrenches with the fresh wave of dread that comes over you. 

“W - wait, please don’t - -“

The head of him finds your cunt, pressing back up into you again, and you outright sob when he mercilessly snaps his hips to impale you on that stiff length once more. You sway unsteadily at the fresh stretch, trying to decide if it’s better or worse in this position, but gravity soon proves itself your enemy when the weight of you on top of him firmly sinks his cock even further into you than before. It feels like he’s tickling at your ribcage like this, but all you can do is give a wounded little mewl and try to steady yourself. Undaunted, he reaches up to tug your pants the rest of the way off. 

“Luffy,” Sniffling sadly, you fight him as much as you can in your physically exhausted state but it’s no use. Your bottoms come off to leave you bare and exposed from the waist down, sitting upon his cock like a whore on her rightful throne. 

The tears quickly start up again, streaking hot tracks down your flushed, sweaty face while he gets himself situated underneath you. His hips lift, nudging you just a pinch higher so he can brace his feet underneath him while his hands come around to anchor around your love handles. Then, he’s moving again. 

Completely unconcerned by your crying, Luffy flexes his legs to thrust up into you and the same fleshy slap as before quickly rises loud in the air again. Plap, plap, plap, plap. The wet squelch of your seeded cunt sucking him in deep on every upward plunge joins in, adding to the obscene cacophony of noises even as you toss your head back to sob at the sky. You can hear him grunting underneath you, clearly enjoying himself quite a bit, but you couldn’t say the same. Your body was already a sore, achy mess of bruises and scrapes, and this certainly wasn’t helping. You were just getting more and more tired by the minute. 

“Nnghhnnn, please, captain. Please don’t cum inside again, I … I’m begging you!” 

The only response he gives is a low, rumbling groan that seems to bleed into you and reverberate endlessly inside your belly, making you squeeze your thighs together as if to block him out. But of course it doesn’t work. Given the way he stutters over a raspy hiss of your name he actually seems to like the way it makes your walls tighten around him, unintentionally though it may have been. There was really nothing you could have done to dissuade or stop him once he’d set his mind to something, and it seemed he very adamantly had his sights set on using your cunt until his energy reserves finally wore out. 

Distantly, you wonder how long that will actually take. 

“You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine,” He chants underneath you, again and again, even when his hands tighten around your hips to guide you into bouncing right along with him. Having no other choice, you snifflingly spread your legs wide and brace your feet on the ground, moving with him despite the throbbing ache in your muscles. “Mine, mine, mine. My prize. My treasure. My woman!” 

He viciously slams his pelvis up at the end, further punctuating his claim on you, and the sharp stab of his cock rips a wild shriek from your mouth. “N - no, captain, please! I can’t — I don’t want it! Not like this! You’re not … aaghnn, you’re not Luffy! You’re not!” 

The only response he gives is a deranged little laugh that makes his cock jump where it’s wedged inside you. That push on your upper wall makes the tension running through you double and then triple, your heaving gasps coming a little quicker now even as his hands travel up your body. You can’t stop him like this when your own were propped behind you along his flexing stomach to help you maintain your balance in this precarious position. It’s not hard to figure out what his intentions are though, and you screw your eyes shut so you don’t have to watch him grab hold of your top. 

A deafening riiiip tears through the air when he shreds it, the poor cotton helpless before his far greater strength. He leaves it hanging from your shoulders in tattered pieces as your tits bounce free, the stiffened tips already aching and strained long before he greedily palms at them like a starved man clutching at a lifeline. The blinding friction of his calloused palms and fingers on your teats makes your cunt spasm around him and you wail, screaming for someone, anyone to save you from your captain. 

Unfortunately for you, help was still a long ways off and Luffy wasn’t even close to running out of steam.

⭐

Crossposted: here

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just One Reason: New at This

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

masterlist - to be added

Summary: A chance encounter at the sandwich shop doesn’t end how you expect.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Lloyd tugs in his ear lobe as you get up to take your empty bowl to the counter. The lone cashier smiles and gives a nervous look past you to the corner. You return to the table and wonder if he has a reputation here. You wouldn't be surprised with his behaviour. 

"Is your ear alright?" You ask as you take the cup of iced tea. 

"Huh?" He turns to you and drops his hand. "Yeah, hearing's f-- off. Just got back from a job and... the machinery was loud." 

"Hm, it could be a busted ear drum. I know someone who had that. He never could hear me but that coulda been the TV too," you shrug. 

"It's fine," he taps his fingers on the table as you stay standing. "So, you headed out?" 

"Yeah, I guess I should. Getting dark." 

"Right," he nods. "Well," he stands and tugs at the bottom of his shirt, shaking off the crumbs. "You need a ride?" 

He zips up his jacket, the collar ending just below his chin. You button up your blue houndstooth coat. "No, I can make it." 

"Wait, you're not walking are you?" He asks as he gathers up the wrapper and napkins. 

"Not too far if I cut behind the barbershop--" 

"Cut behind-- are you serious? You can't be walking down alleys in the dark. Trust me." 

"Oh?" You give him a curious look, "you hang out in dark alleyways a lot?" 

His brow tweaks and his lips twitch, "is that a joke?" 

"Not a very good one," you smile. "I always make it." 

"And this might be the time you don't. Least I can do. You bought me dinner, I feel like I owe you a ride." 

"You don't owe me anything," you assure him. 

"Huh, you're too nice, you know that? You could give a guy the wrong idea." l

"No, I don't think so," you sigh. "Being nice isn't anything but. I hope your enjoyed your dinner." 

"You know what? The chipotle wasn't bad," he says. "So now that's two things. I owe you for paying and for the good advice. What's that you said about paying it forward?" 

Checkmate. Using your own words against you. As it is, you're starting to feel rude for saying no so many times. It would be nice not to have to walk home with your phone light on. 

"Is taking a ride from a strange man better than walking home alone?" You ask, "since you're the expert?" 

"Wow, you can be mean," he snorts. "Reading me like a book." 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m kidding.” 

“I know, tootsie roll,” he says, “sweet like candy, aren’t ya?” 

You smile again, “well, you can be too. I’ll take the ride. Thank you.” 

He dumps the garbage in the bin and heads for the door. He lets you out ahead of him. It’s colder than when you got there. 

“It’s cold as... hell out here,” he says follows you out. He points you ahead, “the white one.” 

He blows into his hands and rubs them together. You’re no fan of the cold either but you can see his nose already turning red. You approach the white car; it’s sleek and shiny. You’re not sure what make it is but it must be expensive. 

The doors click loudly, “should be unlocked.” 

You nod and open the passenger door. You sit daintily, wary of the luxury interior. You shut the door just as carefully as he gets in the other side. He grumbles as he starts the engine and flicks switches. 

“Get those seat warmers on,” he says. “Ah, better.” He puts his palms to the blast of warmth from the vent before he grips the wheel. “Help me out, tootsie roll, where am I going?” 

“Right down to Harbour. East.” 

“Harbour East... you kidding me? You were really going to walk there alone?” He scoffs. 

“It’s not so bad once you get to know the area,” you say.  

“How’d you end up there?” He pulls into a three point turn as he reroutes. 

“I guess it’s just where I am right now. Thing’s changed fast and I had to make it work,” you lean into the seat. You’ve never been in a car with seat warmers. 

“Huh, that’s too bad,” he clucks. “You still looking for a place? I know a guy, owns a few properties...” 

“Oh no, it’s okay,” you hum lightly. “Really. It’s nice. I got my own space, I got food, I’m happy as can be.” 

“Simple things, so I’ve heard,” he mutters. 

You let a lull wash over you. Judging by his car, simple isn’t exactly to his taste. 

“So...” you brush your fingertips over your palm, “what do you do for work? You travel? When you mentioned your ear...” 

“Ah, yeah, er,” he squeezes the wheel tighter and coughs, “you know, I’m on the road when I need to be. Work can be sporadic but pays well enough. Specialty type of work.” 

“With loud machinery...” 

“Military engineer. You know, artillery, tanks... whatever,” he peeks over at you as blows through a four-way. 

“Hey, you missed the stop sign,” you crane to see behind you. 

“It’s fine, no one was crossing,” he says. 

“Yeah but... it’s not safe.” You turn forward again and frown. 

He’s quiet again. He sucks his teeth, “fine, you’re right. Not fair of me to offer you a ride then drive like a maniac. I’ll do better.” 

You let out a breath and subtly grab onto the door. Despite his promises, he doesn’t let off the gas. With how quiet the car is, it must be easy to go over the limit.  

He pulls onto Harbour and finally slows, “so, uh, why don’t you give me a call next time you head down to the shop? We could do it again. I’ll be nice this time.” 

“I don’t go too often but sure, I could use a friend,” you perk up and direct him to your building. 

“You telling me you don’t got friends, tootsie roll?” He stops in front of your apartment. 

“I... did. They’re gone now,” you look away. You try not to get to wistful about it. “Anyway, thanks--” 

“Holy f—moley,” he corrects himself as he leans forward to see around you, “this place can’t be up to code--” 

“Lloyd,” you blurt out. “I’m fine. Really. Home safe. Thanks to you.” 

“Mhm, well, friends are supposed to worry about each other, right?” 

“And as your friend, I’m telling you not to worry,” you smile and pull the handle, “have a good night.” 

He huffs as you undo your seat belt, “yeah, good night.” 

[queenshelby]

Sweet Possession (Part 3)

Pairing: Very Dark! Thomas Shelby (32) x Innocent! Reader (19)

Warning: Age Gap, Smut

Later that day, just as you were waiting for your husband to return home, you couldn't help but feel a pang of anxiety  in your stomach as you thought back to your strange encounter at the Italian grocer earlier that day.

The way the man's eyes had flickered down to the gun hidden beneath Isiah's jacket, before quickly averting his gaze. The memory sent a shiver down your spine and you couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right.

Despite that, you quickly put those thoughts aside as you heard Tommy’s footsteps carrying through the door of Arrow House.

You glanced at the clock hanging in the hallway, realizing that it was already shortly after eight o’clock in the evening.

Thomas walked into the reading room where you were sitting, nursing a glass of wine, the dinner you prepared waiting in the oven to stay warm. He was, still wearing his coat and looked somewhat tired. 

"I am sorry I am late , Love," he greeted you, dropping a quick kiss on your forehead.

"Is everything alright?" you asked your husband, concern etched in your voice as you gazed into his tired eyes. You noticed that there were faint lines around his eyes that you hadn't seen before.

"Yes , everything's fine," Thomas assured you, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, trying not to let your suspicions get the better of you.

"Good. I'll go and serve dinner then," you said, standing up from the sofa and making your way into the kitchen but, just as you stood up, you noticed some red blood stains on the collar of his shirt which he was clearly trying to hide by leaving on his coat.

Nonetheless, you decided not to address it, giving Thomas a reassuring smile before you walked off.

"I should have a shower first, Love. It has been a long day," Thomas told you truthfully in passing, his voice still low but there was a lilt to it, like he was keeping something from you.

"That's fine. Just come down when you are ready," you called after him from the hallway and he gave you a quick nod and a smile before disappearing upstairs.

Minutes later...

The dinner that you had prepared was delicious. The meat had cooked to tender perfection and the rich, earthy flavor of the mushrooms you had picked from the forest earlier that week complemented the dish beautifully. The aroma alone was enough to make your mouth water.

Carefully, you removed the dish from the oven and set it on the table in the nearby dining room, lighting the candles that you had arranged in its center. You had always loved setting a nice table, believing that food always tasted better when it was presented beautifully.

You had spent many hours as a young girl watching your mother, a talented cook, prepare meals for your family. Now, you were proud to use the skills she had taught you.

You had just finished setting the table when Thomas walked into the dining room, his dark hair still damp from his shower. He was wearing a clean white shirt and dark trousers, looking both comfortable and sophisticated. His face was free of stubble and his eyes sparkled with warmth as he looked at you.

"Something smells good," he commented, walking over to where you stood by the table and giving you a kiss.

You blushed, always feeling a little shy when Thomas praised you. 

"Thank you," you responded, making a small curtsy before taking your seat at the table. Thomas chuckled, sitting down across from you and reaching for the glass of whiskey you had already placed in front of him, knowing how much he enjoyed a drink as he dug into the food. 

"I enjoy cooking. In fact, I was thinking about doing some work at the local orphanage. The children there could really do with some decent meals , and it would give me a chance to feel useful," you told Tommy as you served yourself up some food as well, never enjoying the maids doing it for you. 

Thomas raised an eyebrow at this, studying you closely. "You want to work at the orphanage?"

You nodded, taking a sip of your wine. "Yes. I know how much you support local charities and causes. You're always helping people in need, and I want to do my part too."

Thomas smiled at this, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "That's very thoughtful of you, Love. I'm sure the children will appreciate it," Thomas replied, gazing at you with a softness that made your heart flutter. "But remember, Love, the world can be a dangerous place for a young woman and you, of all people, should know that, eh." 

"It's an orphanage, Tommy. It's not the Garrison," you chuckled, recalling the night he had saved you from a less than favorable situation.  Thomas cocked an eyebrow, his face growing serious.

"I know that, Love. But even so," he began to say, before trailing off, collecting his thoughts. "I will send Isiah with you," he then said, shaking his head and you stared at Thomas for a moment, surprised at the intensity of his words. It was clear that he was deeply concerned for your safety, and you couldn't help but feel touched by his protective nature.

"You are always so worried about me ," you told him with a soft smile, reaching across the table to take his hand in yours. He met your gaze with a steady one of his own and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

"It's my job to worry about you, Love," Thomas replied, his voice low and earnest. "You're my wife, and I want to keep you safe."

The two of you finished the rest of the meal in relative silence, the only sounds being the soft clinking of silverware against china and the occasional sip of whiskey or wine.

Thomas watched you closely, his gaze warm and affectionate. He had always been a protective man, although sometimes his methods could be a little unconventional. But you knew that in his heart, he always had your best interests at heart.

As you finished your meal and pushed your plate away, Thomas leaned back in his chair and gave you a small smile. "I have something I want to show you," he said, his voice low and mysterious.

You raised an eyebrow at him, intrigued. "What is it?" you asked and Thomas smiled, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

"It's a surprise, Love," he said, standing up from his chair and offering you his hand. "Come on, I'll show you."

You took his hand and let him lead you out of the dining room and down the hallway to his study. The room was dimly lit, with only a single lamp casting a soft glow over the large wooden desk that dominated the space. Thomas closed the door behind you and crossed over to the desk, reaching for something behind it.

It was then that you noticed a large painting leaning against the wall, wrapped in thick brown paper.

"Are you going to tell me what it is?" You asked, unable to hide the excitement in your voice. Thomas chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Patience, Love," he murmured, carefully unwrapping the painting to reveal an exquisite work of art. It was a portrait of you , a stunningly accurate depiction of your likeness, down to the last detail. Your eyes were wide with surprise as you took in the image of yourself, feeling a little self-conscious under Thomas' intense gaze.

"It's beautiful," you breathed, reaching out to touch the canvas. The brushstrokes were delicate and precise, capturing the softness of your skin and the warmth of your smile. You had never seen anything quite like it before.

"I had it commissioned as a wedding present," Thomas explained, his eyes never leaving your face.

"I wanted something to celebrate the woman you are, and the woman you're becoming."

His words sent a rush of warmth through you, filling your heart with a sense of love and pride. You had never felt so cherished, so adored. It was an incredible feeling, one that left you breathless and overwhelmed.

You stood there, hand still resting on the painting, heart pounding in your chest as you looked into Thomas' eyes. You could see the raw desire burning in his gaze, the hunger that told you he wanted you as badly as you wanted him.

"This is the most beautiful gift anyone has ever given me," you whispered, your breath hitching as Thomas stepped closer to you.

His hand reached out, gently grasping a tendril of your hair, and he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

"And you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," Thomas growled, his breath hot against your skin.

Your heart raced as he pulled you towards him, his lips crashing down onto yours in a passionate kiss that left you breathless.

"Tommy ," you gasped, your voice barely audible as his hands roamed over your body, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist before cupping your breasts over your dress.

"Yes, Love?" Thomas murmured against your lips, his thumb teasing your nipples through the fabric until they hardened beneath his touch.

You moaned softly, arching your back into his touch as he deepened the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours in a dance that was both familiar and thrilling.

Your hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer as the hunger inside of you grew stronger.

"I want you, Tommy," you whispered hoarsely, your breath hot against his ear.

Thomas responded with a growl, his hands tugging at your dress until it slid down to your feet, leaving you standing there in nothing but your lacy underwear.

"Fuck, you are so beautiful," Thomas groaned, taking a step back to drink in the sight of you. "And you are mine," he added possessively, reaching out to trace the curve of your hip with his fingertips.

You shivered at his touch, feeling a pulse of desire low in your belly. You had never felt so desired, so wanted before. It was intoxicating.

"Yes, I'm yours," you whispered, reaching out to touch him in turn. Your hands found their way to his belt, the metal buckle cool against your skin as you undid it and slid it free from its loops.

Thomas groaned as you began to undo the buttons of his trousers, revealing the hard length of his cock beneath.

"Fuck, Love," Thomas gasped, his voice barely above a whisper as you wrapped your hand around him, feeling the velvety softness of his skin beneath your fingertips.

You pulled him forward, pressing your lips to his collarbone and trailing kisses down his chest as you unbuttoned his shirt and sank to your knees before him all at the same time.

The scent of him was musky and intoxicating, and you couldn't resist the urge to take him into your mouth.

"I have never done this before," you confessed, looking up at him with shy, yet eager eyes.

Thomas' expression softened at the admission, his hand reaching out to gently caress your cheek. "I know , Love," he murmured. "I'll guide you." And with those words, you opened your mouth eagerly, waiting for him to make the first move.

Your tongue darted out, teasing his tip and tasting his pre-cum as it leaked out. Thomas moaned deeply, his fingers tangling in your hair as he guided you to take him deeper, urging you to taste more of him.

You complied eagerly, exploring every inch of him with your mouth as Thomas thrust gently into your throat. Your hands wandered up to his toned ass, pulling him closer as you sucked and licked with abandon.

Thomas' breath hitched as you drew back, gasping for air before sliding back down on him once more.

"Good girl ," Thomas grunted, guiding your head back down onto him.

You could feel the trembling in his legs as you worked him with your mouth, the intensity of his pleasure building to a peak.

"I'm going to cum, Love," Thomas warned, his voice low and strained. "Do you think you can swallow it?" Thomas asked, his voice tight with anticipation. You looked up at him, eyes wide, and nodded eagerly.

"Good girl," he praised you before grabbing a fistful of your hair and pumping his hips faster.

You worked your mouth up and down his shaft, feeling the throbbing of his cock intensify until finally, Thomas thrust deep into your throat and held it there as he came hard. You tried to swallow as much of him as you could, feeling the hot streams of cum coat your tongue before spilling out of the corners of your mouth.

You felt a sense of pride wash over you as you took it all in, Thomas's hips still thrusting as he emptied himself into your willing mouth.

Finally, with one last gasp, Thomas pulled out, his cock sliding free from your mouth with a wet, sucking sound. You looked up at him with a sense of accomplishment and longing, unable to tear your eyes away from the sight of him.

Thomas reached down and gently brushed a stray lock of hair out of your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek for a moment.

His eyes were soft, filled with love and admiration. You blushed under his gaze, feeling both proud and self-conscious at the same time.

"God, you're beautiful," Thomas murmured, his voice raw with emotion. "And so fucking sexy."

Your blush deepened at the compliment, but you didn't look away. Instead, you reached up and took his hand in yours, bringing it to your lips for a gentle kiss. Thomas smiled at the gesture, his thumb tracing idle patterns on your skin as he looked down at you with a hunger that made your heart race.

"Come here," he growled, his voice low and commanding. "I want to feel you."

You stood up, stepping closer to Thomas as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against him. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the evidence of your earlier efforts still slick against your thighs. The combined scent of him and of yourself left you heady, intoxicated by the smell of raw, unbridled sexuality.

His mouth found yours again, his lips claiming yours in a bruising kiss that left you breathless and trembling in his arms.

"I always wanted you to do things to me, on this big desk of yours," you giggled nervously  , your eyes sparkling with mischief.

Thomas's grin deepened, his hands roaming your body with a possessiveness that made you shiver.

"Then what are you waiting for, Love?" He murmured, his voice low and seductive.

You didn't need any more encouragement than that. Within seconds, you had pulled your underwear down your legs and climbed up onto the desk, positioning yourself so that your ass was right at the edge.

"So fucking perfect ," Thomas growled, his eyes burning with desire as he took in the sight of you spread out before him, ready and willing.

You felt a rush of heat flood your body, the thought of being so exposed heightening your arousal to new heights.

Thomas reached out, his hands tracing the curve of your waist before moving up to cup your breasts. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, sending pulses of pleasure straight to your core.

You moaned softly, arching your back and pressing yourself into his touch.

Thomas' mouth found yours again, his lips silencing your cries as his fingers continued to tease your nipples.

"You like that, Love?" Thomas asked, his voice low and sultry.

"Yes," you gasped, your breath hitching as he rolled your nipples between his fingers. "Please, Thomas."

Thomas grinned at the plea, his fingers leaving your breasts to trace a path down your stomach and towards the apex of your thighs.

"God, you're so fucking wet for me," Thomas groaned against your mouth, his fingers brushing through your folds before delving deep within you.

You gasped, your back arching off the desk as Thomas began to thrust his fingers in and out of you. Each stroke hit a spot deep within you, driving you wild with pleasure.

"Please Love, let me cum inside you ," Thomas groaned, his breath hot against your ear.

"No , I- I can't," you gasped, feeling the familiar fluttering deep within your belly.

"Please ," Thomas begged as, finally, he aligned himself with your wetness and thrust into you with one swift push, but you knew that if you let Thomas cum inside of you, there was a chance you could end up pregnant. And with your life the way it was, the last thing you needed right now was a child.

You shook your head, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as your husband bottomed out inside of you.

God, he felt amazing. But you knew that this was as far as you could go.\

"I am sorry," you whispered, your breath hitching as Thomas began to thrust his hips against yours, driving himself in deep and hard. "I-I can't. I'm sorry."

But Thomas seemed to understand.

"It's alright, Love," he murmured, brushing a stray curl from your face with a tender hand. "I'll just make a mess instead," he chuckled in between groans as he continued to thrust in and out of you.

Your nails dug into the desk, your breath coming in ragged gasps as Thomas's hips snapped against yours, his cock hitting that delicious spot inside of you.

"Fuck, yes," you gasped, your pelvis bucking to meet his thrusts. "Harder."

Thomas growled at the demand and obliged, his cock pounding into you with bruising force. You cried out, throwing your head back and bracing yourself against the onslaught of pleasure.

Thomas's thrusts became erratic, his breaths coming in short panting gasps.

"Fuck, I'm close Love," he groaned, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips.

You nodded frantically, feeling your own pleasure coiling deep within you. "Yes, yes," you gasped, your body trembling with anticipation as your own orgasm built within you.

Your nails dug into the surface of the desk even harder now as Thomas continued to drive into you with an almost brutal force. Each thrust sent a shockwave of pleasure coursing through your body, your breasts bouncing in time with each stroke.

"Yes, Tommy! Oh god , I'm gonna cum!" You screamed as your orgasm tore through your body like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless and trembling beneath him.

Thomas's thrusts became erratic as he too, found his release, his hot seed filling the air around you as he pulled out and used his hand to finish the job.

You collapsed back onto the desk, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Thomas leaned over you, his arms braced on either side of your head as he caught his own breath.

"Fuck, Love," he groaned before, suddenly, you were being interrupted by one of the maids.

The sound of a knock on the door broke through your haze of pleasure, and Thomas quickly pulled away from you with an annoyed expression on his face. You each gathered your clothes and Thomas barked, not bothering to conceal his irritation at being interrupted in the middle of such an intimate moment.

The maid, a young girl with mousy brown hair and a pinched expression on her face, looked at the ground as she spoke, knowing exactly what you had been doing, 

"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but there's a matter that needs your immediate attention."

Thomas sighed heavily and rubbed his temples with his fingers. he asked, his voice clipped and impatient.

"It's the new shipment of whiskey, sir," the maid replied nervously. "The delivery driver says it was damaged during transport, and he refuses to hand it over until you inspect it yourself."

The maid's statement caught Tommy by surprise. "Y/N, go upstairs!" he ordered you in a way he had not spoken to you before.

"Excuse me?" you asked, annoyed with the way Thomas had spoken to you. You were still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm and, frankly, the last thing you wanted was him to snap at you like this. It was unlike him. 

Thomas let out a long-suffering sigh. "I am sorry Y/N. I shouldn't have spoken to you like this, but I need you to go upstairs and stay there. Please," he added as an afterthought, his voice softening.

"Fine ," you muttered, annoyance tingeing your voice as you slid off the desk and started to pull your panties back on, pulling them up beneath your dress. 

You couldn't help but feel irritated at the interruption, even more so at the tone Thomas had used with you. 

But you shook it off, reminding yourself that Thomas wasn't like that. He cared for you deeply, and you cared for him just as much. Maybe he was just having a stressful day.

When you arrived in the bedroom you shared with Tommy now however, you couldn't help but wonder what was really going on. A whiskey delivery at 10 o'clock seemed absurd and, with that in mind, you pulled aside the curtains and peaked out of the window .

Tommy was already standing outside, talking to a somewhat scary looking truck driver. But something was off. Tommy looked tense, his shoulders rigid and his expression stern.

The driver seemed to be making wild gestures, his hands waving around erratically as he spoke. And then, you saw it when the stranger opened one of the boxes on the back of his truck.

Inside there was no whiskey however, but instead, you saw something black, something that looked like rifles. A lot of rifles.  Your mind raced as you tried to make sense of what you were seeing. Was this some kind of arms deal? And if so, why would Thomas be involved in something like that?

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