#KICKED THE BALL OUT THE MANS HAND FOR A FUMBLE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scorpioriesling · 1 month

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Enchanted

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Rhysand x reader

Warnings: fluff

Summary: Every birthday girl makes a wish... yours has been the same for years. One you began to doubt would ever come true; but what happens when it does?

SR’s Note: I am honestly giggling and kicking my feet over this one, and lately Rhys hasn't even been my favorite... I don't care. I like how this turned out. Based on Enchanted by Taylor Swift, of course. Enjoy (:

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Everything about the final day of Autumn was as it usually was; the cool sun bathing the Velaris cobblestone in light, the crisp breeze ruffling your hair, causing you to pull your cloak tighter around your shoulders. Even the townsfolk presented the same familiar faces you’d seen nearly every day now on your way to the public library.

Today was a treat; the day before your birthday, of course. The first day of the Winter season would mark the day of your birth, and usually you’d spend the day before spoiling yourself as you’d usually end up having to work on said birthday. This year, it was no different.

That is, before two large Illyrian warriors donning seven gleaming siphons each landed right in the middle of the square, their enormous bat wings spread wide. The townspeople, as well as yourself, whirled in shock at the sight. After straightening, the taller one (Cassian? You thought?) cleared his throat.

“Greetings, Velaris,” he said, voice echoing down every corridor and alleyway around you. Every wide-eyed fae stared back in awe as he looked from person to person.

“As you know, the High Lord will be having his annual Winter Ball tomorrow evening,” he continued. You’d known; it was an annual tradition. One you’d always ended up working as the bakery your parents owned supplied the delicacies for the event.

“…andddd this year, the High Lord has made it very clear that the celebration is to be extended.” He coughs. Gasps and murmurs begin around you, and you glance side to side as chatter begins.

“The ballroom cannot accommodate all of Velaris; so only a select few will be receiving invitations.” The spymaster calmly cuts in, and the chattering crowd around you stops. All eyes return to the pair in the middle of the street.

“The festivities are to be celebrated here in the city, though, should you not attend the ball,” Cassian fumbles. His brother raises his eyebrows, releasing a breath and gazing at the crowd once more.

“If you’re to be invited; you should expect to receive an invitation in your mailbox by this afternoon.”

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You practically jumped on the mail man when he approached your drive, scaring him half to death as his letters tumbled from his hands.

“I’m so sorry! I’m, um… just, really hoping something came for me today.” You laugh sheepishly as he thrusts a pile of letters into your hands.

“Yeah, you and every other female in Velaris.” He continues on his route with a hmmph, and you begin anxiously thumbing through the letters.

You almost trip when you finally make it back into your small flat, sitting at the kitchen table. Your hand shakes as you get to the last envelope in the pile, only one elegant word written across the front of it.

Y/N.

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“I don’t know if that’s the right… I don’t know, color?” Your best friend eyes you in the mirror, and you twist to one side, meeting her eyes in the mirror.

“Maybe not. I don’t know, it’s just not quite… right.” She says, the statement only a repetition of how your morning’s been going. You’ve spent the entire morning trying to find a gown for the ball tonight, but every single one you’ve tried just isn’t quite… the one.

You let out a frustrated sigh, and your friend / shop owner flits toward a wall of dresses, brushing through them once more.

“I feel like I’ve tried on a million,” you say. She returns just a moment later, a lovely steel silver gown in hand. You raise your brows at her.

“Yes, but, it’d be dress one million and one that might catch the High Lord’s attention.” You can’t help but blush, turning from her. It was no secret you found the High Lord of the Night Court quite intriguing; Gods, half of Prythian did.

She tsked at you and shooed you towards the dressing chamber, only for you to reappear a moment later in the gown. She didn’t hide back the gasp, or stunned expression on her face as you approached the mirror to look yourself.

“Oh come now, it can’t be…” But, it was. Seeing it in the reflection, you understood her reaction a little more. You were breathtaking; this one. It had to be this one.

You spend a good few minutes twirling, admiring the gown hugging you in all the right places. You finally glance down at the price tag, and your heart sinks. It was way too expensive.

“I don’t think I can…” You say. Your friend shakes her head, leading you back to the dressing room to change.

“Nonsense.” She says. You stare at her, a blank expression on your face.

“I can’t afford it.” You say. She only winks at you before shutting the chamber curtain, allowing you privacy.

“Consider it a birthday gift!”

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You'd never been to one of these before; not coming from a wealthy family, or even being High Fae yourself, there was never any reason to attend such an event held by Night Court royalty.

Yet, here you stood. In front of the polished black gate, separating you from the awaiting festivities inside.

"Uhh.. miss?" You turn, to see another guest had silently approached at your side. "Are you going in?"

You nod. "Yes! Yes, I'm sorry if I held you up-" He shakes his head, a small smile offerred to you as the gates open and he steps beyond. He looks over his shoulder to you.

"No worries... but, I think it's beginning soon?" You hear the groaning of the iron bars and quickly step inside, keeping in step with this new aquiantence. You politely converse until you've reached the main building, and females in lovely gowns pass by you. You nervously look around; maybe you should've prepared better for this.

"I'll see you around," with a small wave, your company stalks off toward a group of males he seems to know. You sigh, taking in the beauty around you. The gleaming faelights, all of the attendees meandering around you, the scent of jasmine in the air-

"I personally want to thank you all for your attendance tonight," you hear, and the room is instantly filled with silence. All eyes are peering toward the front of the room, and the crowd shuffles together to hear the speaker more clearly. You try and get a good look, but you can't really see over everyone's heads.

"I haven't had one of these events in a while where I get to invite our court's friends to join us, and as this marks the first night of Winter," the voice drawls. It sounds lovely, as though it was coming from a cello - deep and smooth. Not like the sounds from Azriel or Cassian, but this one was much different.

"...we are very happy you're all here. So, let the dancing commence!" And with that, the crowd is in a frenzy, chattering and partnering off for the first dance of the evening. Your cheeks heat in embarassment as you realize you have no one to dance with, and you recede towards the stone wall to hide in the shadows for this one. You feel a light hand on your elbow, and you whirl around to come face-to-face with the kind male from earlier.

"I don't have a partner either..." He says, his cheeks flushing rosey-pink. You give him a soft smile, your embarassment fading with every passing second.

"I'd love to dance with you." You slide your hand into his and pull him to the middle of the crowd, just as the music begins. His hand rests on your lower back, the cold metal ring on his finger sending a chill up your spine. You suck in a breath as he pulls you closer to his chest.

"Is this... alright?" He asks. You nod, resting your free hand on his shoulder. Now that you're close to him, you get a better view of his face; his sharp jaw, auburn freckles dusting over his nose. His sultry amber eyes that match the flaming locks upon his head; he truly is beautiful.

But not the reason you came tonight.

He engages in polite conversation as you continue the waltz, asking you about yourself, laughing and making light jokes with you inbetween the spinning and dipping as the music intensifies. You laugh with him, appreciating him more and more by the minute. When he's turned you around, his back to the dias at the head of the room, you swear you meet those violet eyes, staring right back at you. Maybe you're just thinking wishfully, maybe... maybe he is just looking at everyone, but he looked irritated, besides the sweet sentiment he'd made before.

You have to look away, your partner realizing you're staring.

"Is, everything okay?" He politely asks you. You nod, reassuring him everything was. But it wasn't. You were living in this moment; the music, the liveliness of the room, the way you were pushed so close with this male's hand on your waist-

But it still wasn't who you wanted.

You wanted him.

His hands on you. Your body against him. His eyes looking into yours.

You felt like a fool for thinking that coming here would change anything for you.

"I, uhm," your partner fumbles for words to distract you. "I didn't catch your name?" He asks. You meet his gaze, smiling again at him. You knew the High Lord wouldn't need or want you, so you may as well make the most of your night while it lasts.

"Y/N," you reply. He grins.

"What a lovely name," he tucks a flyaway tendril of hair behind your ear, eyes catching when it is exposed. He immediately sees it is rounded; and shame courses through you again as you know he is High Fae.

He clears his throat. "What a beautiful name," he reiterates. "...for a beautiful girl." You can't help but blush at his words, this male is laying the flirting on you thick. Doing quite well at that, too.

"Why thank you," you say, voice feeling small. You didn't register that the song had already changed, your bodies abseltmindedly falling into rhythm as you continue to sway with the music.

"I should probably relieve you from me," he says, dipping his head and huffing a small smirk. "Had I known who you were, I would have let you dance with someone else. I'm sure Rhys will have my ass for this anyway," he concludes. You furrow a brow, as the song engages in the final chorus.

"Whatever do you mean?" You ask. He opens his mouth to answer, but clapping erupts and conversations get too loud around you. What was he even talking about? You'd never met the High Lord, not officially, anyway. Maybe in passing, but there was nothing there.

Suddenly the room feels too small, too warm, his hand on your back feels like fire and you feel like you are sweating. You could pass out, you just needed a minute to breathe and get out of this crowded room.

"I have to um," you shout, over the loud conversing around you. "I need a breath of air!" You say. He nods, and pulls you close, hands still holding yours.

"Do you want me to come with you?" He politely asks. You lean back, meeting his eyes and shake your head.

"I'll be fine!" You say loudly. He nods, and you lean up and kiss his cheek. "I'll find you later?" You say, and he grins at you. What a cutie.

You search for an exit, clammy hands brushing the sides of your skirts. You find an open doorway, and travel down a side hall that leads to an unmarked door. Chest tight, you open it -- revealing the most wonderful sight you've ever seen.

You step out onto the stone terrace, walking all the way to the railed edge to get the best view. You let out a gasp; you can see all of Velaris from here. Soft music echoes from beyond, and you watch as a single shooting star stretches across the sky.

"This is, my favorite place to see the whole city too." You turn abruptly, not realizing someone had followed you. You stare in shock as Rhysand leans against the open doorway, arms folded, and one ankle crossed over the other. You immediately get embarassed again, remembering this is his building and his terrace and you were out here without permission-

"No need to worry, darling." He strides over to you, and you feel a tiny tickling inside your head. Your fingers brush your temple on instinct, and you remember that he could in fact see what you were thinking.

"Enjoying the ball?" He asks, his silky tenor causing your attempt to clear your mind to fail. You huff, turning back to the city beyond. He puts his hands on the balcony railing next to you, one hand nearly brushing yours.

"Oh! Um... yes. Yes I have been." Your mind flashes to the dances you'd shared with the readhead, how he held you, and how you'd wished it was Rhys the whole time...

Clear your mind, Cauldron! He could easily see what you were thinking.

"That's... great." His sudden clipped tone had you side-eyeing him. The night seemed to radiate off of him, the onyx crown atop his head gleaming in the moonlight. He was definately intimidating, but you remembered what your new friend said. Did you even catch his name? No. You were too focused on the High Lord, though this other man was nothing but nice to you.

Cauldron, boil you.

"Can I ask you something?" You say. He angles his head to you, a small smirk pulling the corner of his lips up.

"You'd like to know why I asked you here tonight?" He answers. You gape at him, and he chuckles, the sound like soft rain outside an open window.

"How did you-" You begin, and he turns to you, a hand tracing his knucles down the side of your face. You flush at the contact, as this was something you'd only ever hope for in a dream.

"This... is something we can work on later." He looks at the top of your head, the idea of mind shielding grazing your brain.

Has he been inside your head this whole time?

You almost feel violated; if it was anyone but him, you'd tell them to leave you be. But... you couldn't. He was finally here, with you -- but, you can't help from a little bit of your attitude peeking through.

"If you wanted me here so damn bad, whatever the reason may be," you start, pulling back an inch from his touch. His brows raise in amusement. "Why were you pouting about in there? I didn't even see you dance once." You finish. His gaze softens, and his free hand brushes yours on the railing. The hand that once grazed your cheek is now gliding down your arm, tracing over every inch of exposed skin.

"The partner I wanted was already taken." He answers lowly. You don't miss the way his eyes darken a bit, and you bite the inside of your cheek hard to try and stop from freaking out and dissolving into a puddle right then and there.

"Well..." You begin, taking one step closer to him. The soft scent of sea salt and nectarines graces your nose -- of course, one of your favorites. His gaze stays locked on you, drinking in every inch of you with his eyes.

"I'm not now." You say, as confidently as you can muster. His lips twist, trying to supress the huge smile he eventually allows to take over his face. You can't help but smile back; his gorgeous features only more enticing up close. His hand slips around the curve of your waist, pulling you in closer. Your breath catches, as his other hand guides your idle ones to his neck.

"I've waited much too long for this," he says. You are sure you look like a tomato; there was no way he was fawning over you like this. The way you'd done, every night in your room; every day in Velaris, constant reminders of him all over the city; every year when you'd use your bithday wish just to see him, just once -- and there he would be, waltzing into your parents shop before the ball as if he wasn't reducing you to mush each time.

"I'm not very good," he admits with a small laugh. You don't know what the hell comes over you, but you don't allow him enough time to read your mind before the words are spilling out-

"I don't need good. I need you." You take the lead, swaying to the distant music from the walls beyond and streets below, and he only follows. Its his turn to feel flattered, as his hands gently trail up and down your waist. You try your best to keep from shaking in excitement; but it isn't long before you see another star flying across the sky. He glances in your line of sight, grinning and letting one hand go of you. He takes the gleaming onyx crown off his head, replacing it atop yours, tucked behind the brained crown near the top.

You stare at him wide eyed as he pulls your body flush with his, leaning in to whisper, "I'm enchanted to finally meet you," as his soft lips lightly graze the shell of your ear. You can't help but let out a small chuckle, not knowing if you are going to cry or not. You could; you'd only wished for this very thing for years and years.

"You truly are a princess," he drawls on, fingers tracing your jaw lightly. His gaze flicks to the star trailing across the sky, and back to you once more. "One that still needs to make her birthday wish."

Your hands play with the soft hair near the nape of his neck, eyes loving the way he practically wills your mouth to his. It's like there is a thread, a rope connecting the two of you, and he is using his end to pull you closer, closer...

He finally kisses you, softly cupping your jaw as your hands slide down his chest. Pressed against him like this, that rope feels more like a threat tied so tight, golden aura coming from deep within you at the scene around you. He slowly pulls back, eyes searching yours for reassurance. You only reach up and swipe a tear away from his cheek, the new feeling connecting the two of you reassurance enough.

"I don't have one this year; it has already come true."

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#a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #acofas #acosf #acotar #lucien acotar #lucien vanserra #lucien x reader #a court of frost and starlight #acotar smut #rhys acotar #rhysand #rhys x reader #night court #nesta archeron #night court 2023 #high lord rhysand

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allzelemonz · 3 months

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Settle: Merle Dixon X Male Reader

Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘man’ and ‘boy’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut, language Warnings: Slurs (homophobic), Merle Dixon is his own warning, mention of Merle’s SS symbol, typical southern prejudice/homophobia, neck kissing, anal fingering, anal sex, cockwarming, hand job, cuddling, top Merle and bottom Reader Summary: After striking out with every woman in camp, Merle turns to you and ignores the gay aspect of sleeping with another man in favor of getting laid. A/N: Imagine my lack of surprise but utter disappointment in finding no male reader shit for Merle. Written out of spite. Enjoy.

After a third pill and a third strikeout, Merle is almost certain he’ll have to handle himself tonight. No woman in the whole damn camp wants any action, even with a touch of good ol’ Southern charm Merle attempted. Not a bite from anyone. So Merle stumbled through the cluster of tents, only half as high as he’d like to be and blue balls stiff between his legs. Just as he’s about to turn a corner towards his tent on the outskirts with his brother’s, he catches a pretty sight.

Not that Merle is gay. Of course not. But the man is asleep with his tent partly unzipped, shirt off and back arched like a damn whore. How could Merle not stare just a little. His eyes trail over your back, bare and just fuzzied by the drugs in his system that he may mistake things enough to ignore the dick between your legs.

So he kicks your foot, waking you up.

Your hand goes to your knife first, then you turn to see it’s not something dead behind you. “What, Merle?”

“Ya a queer?”

You squint at him, off put by the way he says it. “Why’re you asking?”

He shrugs. “Fella can’t be curious.”

“Not with that Nazi symbol on your bike you can’t.” You close your hand around your knife. “Go away.”

Merle chuckles, raising his hand in mock surrender. “Woah, woah, there… I was just askin’.”

You stare at him for a moment. “Fine. Yeah, I like men. I’m a queer. Are we done here?”

Merle bites at the inside of his cheek, trying to come up with the right words. “Ya let me fuck ya?”

“What?” You ask, sitting up to look at him properly.

Merle scoffs. “Ya heard me. Would ya?”

“Why would you-“

“Ladies ‘round here bein’ stingy.” Merle shrugs. “Hole’s a hole.”

“You’re joking.” You say in disbelief.

“Ain’t like I never fucked an ass before. It’s the same shit.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s really not.”

“Aw, come on, I’ll be quick.” Merle attempts a pout. “Ain’t no trouble.”

You sigh, shaking your head because you know it’s a dumb idea somewhere deep down. “Fine.”

Merle grins. “Atta boy.”

“Get on with it then.” You sigh, watching Merle step inside. “Zipper.”

Merle turns and zips the tent closed behind him, fumbling with it for longer than any regular person would. When he turns his hands go straight to his belt.

You watch his fingers move for a second. “You ever fucked another man before.”

Merle snorts. “Course not. I ain’t a queer.”

“It’s a little different, you know.”

“What?” Merle sneers. “I gotta play with yer pecker er somethin’?”

You shake your head. “Not necessarily. But you have to stick your fingers in for a while and stretch things out.”

“Yer just picky.”

“Maybe. Just do it, asshole, or I’m not gonna let you fuck anything.”

Merle pulls his belt free. “Fine. Pants off then, sweetheart.”

You huff, annoyed at Merle already, but it’s been far too long since you’ve had this chance. You pull your pants off, ignoring Merle’s eyes on your legs and turn around to lay on your stomach.

“Alright.” Merle grins, shuffling up behind you and nudging your legs apart. “What am I doin’ here, sweetheart?”

You turn your head back, half wanting to see the sight. “Put your fingers in your mouth.”

“Why?”

“Spit’s the only lube we have.” You mutter. “Just do it.”

Merle glares slightly, but does as he’s told and presses three fingers past his lips. He sucks on them, his other hand already going to your hip. It’s clear he’s never been the type to do this with any of the women he’s been with either. Without prompting, he drops the hand down and traces until he finds your rim.

“Ya ready for Merle’s magic fingers, boy?”

“Shut up.”

Merle chuckles, circling his finger around before slowly pushing inside. “Whew…” Merle exclaims. “Tight little thing, ain’t ya?”

You open your mouth to speak but Merle’s finger drags against your prostate and all you can manage is a groan as you bury your face down into your pillow.

He leans over you, his hand moving up to grip at the bare skin of your chest. “I find somethin’ good?”

You nod, mindlessly pushing back into him. “Fuck, Merle…”

He repeats the drag, his fingers moving quickly to fuck whatever sounds he can get out of you. You don’t expect much more, but he leans down and presses his lips to your neck. He trails sloppy kisses over your skin, his fingers fully thrusting into you at a quick pace.

“You want me?” Merle murmurs next to your ear. “Want Merle to fuck ya better than some fairy ever could, don’t ya?”

“Yeah…” You answer, spreading your legs as much as you can. “Why you’re here, isn’t it?”

Merle grins against your skin. “You just be a good boy. You’re good at that.”

He sits back up, removing his fingers and positioning himself properly behind you. His hands fix on your waist, pulling you back and propping you up on your widespread knees. You feel his tip press against you for just a second before he presses inside. There certainly isn’t enough lubrication or preparation, so the stretch of being entered hurts just enough to make a few whines form in your throat. Merle pushes all the same, stretching you open and filling you up with everything he has.

He groans as he bottoms out, running a hand over your spine. “You feel so damn good, sweetheart.” He squeezes your hip slightly. “Might turn me gay…”

Before you can think much about that, Merle begins to piston his hips at a quick pace. Both of his hands grip tightly at your hips and the force of his thrusts presses you forward into your pillow, only held up at the waist for Merle to fuck into you properly. You let him, relaxing into the hold and letting him use you because the slide of his dick hitting your prostate feels better than anything else. Merle pushes you down to lay flat, leaning over you and rocking into you as his head dips against your shoulder. The sleeping bag below you rubs at your dick with every thrust Merle gives you.

“Knew I liked you.” Merle mutters, half to himself. “Better than any damn woman… shit, sweetheart.”

Merle’s hips stutter and he groans as he releases, burying himself as deep as he can into you. You take heavy breaths as Merle relaxes on top of you, trying to ignore the squirming feeling of not having finished. Then Merle’s hand snakes under you, pumping furiously fast and gripping hard until you mutter his name and your vision blurs for a moment as you spurt cum onto your sleeping bag.

His hand slows to a massaging tempo and you can hear him inhaling strongly. “Ya gotta let me do that again sometime, boy.” He murmurs. “God, yer making me inta a queer.”

“Happy to help.” You mutter, still catching your breath.

Merle chuckles, letting both arms encircle you as he fully lets himself relax on top of you. “So ya liked my dick in ya?”

You bury your head into your pillow, avoiding his annoying question.

Merle chuckles. “Lemme sleep here?”

“Whatever.”

“Can I fuck ya in the mornin’?”

“If you want.”

He grins, settling his lips right next to your ear. “Ya gonna help keep little Merle warm all night too?”

You groan as he pushes against you, his soft dick still filling you and linking the both of you together. “Just sleep, jackass.”

He chuckles again. “Whatever you say, queer.”

#merle dixon #merle dixon x reader #merle dixon x male reader #twd #twd x reader #twd x male reader #the walking dead x male reader #the walking dead x reader #x reader #x male reader #fanfic

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months

Text

Three for One 4

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you’re used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what’s on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: How are these getting longer lol

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 💞

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You wriggle helplessly as the man straddles you. You kick your feet into the carpeted floor and grunt into his palm. He’s strong and heavy but you can’t give up. And if you can’t win, you won’t make this easy.

He plants his hand between your shoulders, pinning your chest as he leans his weight on you. He grunts as you shift under him, pushing your knees into the ground as you try to bounce him off. You only manage to awkwardly press your ass into his crotch.

“Hey, stay fucking still,” he squeezes your jaw, glove still flush to your mouth, “and shut the fuck up.” You open and close your teeth, trying to find a catch. He snarls and squeezes you between his legs, “are you trying to bite me again? What the fuck?”

“She’s fucking feral,” the driver tosses over his shoulder.

“Shut up,” the man on you barks back, readjusting to one knee as he brings his other over your back, replacing his hand with his leg.

He fumbles around as you try to see anything in the dim of the van’s compartment. His hand slips as his other comes around, a piece of rough fabric rubbing on your cheek. He pokes it into your mouth with two fingers and you nearly gag on the dry wool.

“Shhhh,” he hushes you, “balls, she’s hard to put down.”

“Wasn’t my first choice, trust me.”

“Who let that jackass have final say?” The man over you grumbles.

He drags you with him and reaches above you. You see the edge of the roll of tape as he keeps you trapped under his knee. He swiftly sticks the tape over your mouth so you can’t spit out your gag. Next he grabs your wrists and pulls his knee away.

You tug on your arms, resisting as you keep up your fruitless flailing. No, no, no. You’re not going to just roll over and give in. Get off!

He forces your arms together, winding the end of the tape around your wrists, again and again, until they’re bound taut behind you. He’s panting almost as hard as you are as he plants his feet, standing half bent over you beneath the low ceiling of the fan.

“Damn, well, I didn’t expect her to be so fucking stubborn,” he snickers.

You flip over and shoot your foot up, straight into his crotch. He chokes on his laughter and drops the tape. He cradles between his legs and falls to his knees. He croaks as he catches himself on one hand.

“Goddamn it, you bitch, I was half-cocked,” he contracts as if he’s about to vomit.

You puff through your nose and bend your legs, curling back on your shoulders and using your weight to throw yourself forward. You roll onto your feet, the momentum lifting your ass up but not getting you all the way up. You try again and get one foot and one knee under you.

“What the fuck’s going on back there?” The driver asks as the van rocks with your movement.

“Nothing,” the other man groans and sits up, “nothing at fucking all.”

He swipes his leg across yours and has you slamming back to the floor, this time landing on your shoulder. You grunt and twitch at the jarring pain on your joint. He grabs your arm and hauls you closer. You’re both breathless as he retrieves the tape and fights to bring your ankles together.

He secures your ankles and lets you go. You lean on your hands and watch him as he sits back and swipes his hair away from his forehead. In the small cloud of light from the front of the vane, you see the angle of his jaw and the shaved side of his head.

“God,” he puts his hand over his pants, “I feel that in my throat.” He shakes his head, “don’t worry, pussy cat, you will too. I’m gonna be so fucking deep–”

“Ugh, dude,” the driver mutters.

“Don’t be a fucking prude,” the man stretches his leg out and nudges you with the toe of his boot, “we all know what the hell this is.”

You close your eyes, holding back the hot glaze of tears. You inhale deeply, trying to calm your nerves as they cluster in your chest. A million questions race through your mind but you can’t bring yourself to even imagine the answers.

🎀

The van idles in one spot. You temper your breaths as you listen. The driver gets out as the man in the back with you picks his nails with a knife. He started brandishing a while back. Does he really think you aren’t already scared out of your mind?

There’s some sort of grinding nose and footsteps in the gravel coming back to the van. You move, trying to see the front as the driver gets back in, slamming the door and jolting the entire vehicle. The other man pokes you with his toe, his way of warning you.

“Fucking gate,” the driver mutters as he shifts back into gear and leans on the gas.

You garble around the fabric in your mouth, not making much noise as you wiggle and turn to look at the other man. He yawns and examines the long blade, only a shadow as the darkness invades the van. There’s not much light around to colour the world.

“Almost there, pussy cat,” the man teases, "Merry fucking Christmas… well, I think we still got a few hours before the clock tolls.”

You let your head loll. He’s so annoying. Maybe it’s just the situation or that he’s obviously a very bad person, but he irks you so much. Years of working with the general public and you don’t think you’ve ever felt this much detest for one person. Usually you could just shrug it off and go onto the next. Right now, you’re quite literally trapped.

The van follows what feels to be a curving road, bumpy as it jostles you against the rough carpet. Your adrenaline ebbs and flows as your eyes flutter one moment only to flick open wide the next. The tire treads mulch the snow, slowing, and stops again. It’s almost pitch black as the van shuts off.

The man in the back stands, you feel it in how the axle bounces. He comes close, boots edging along your side as you sense him close. The door slides open behind him and lets in the moonlight. He bends and grabs your feet, turning your body and dragging you towards the door.

You kick but can’t free yourself from his grasp. He shoves your legs down harshly and pulls you up by the front of your coat. In a second, he has you slung over his shoulder as he turns to the other man.

“Where is he?” The man holding you asks as you squirm. He has his arm hooked around you as his other hand comes up to pinch you, “pussy cat, you don’t start wagging that ass unless you want me to punish it.”

You still, stunned by the suggestion. He’s so gross. You whimper as his shoulder presses uncomfortably into your stomach.

“He’ll be here soon. We should get her inside.”

“We should throw her in the snow and see how long she lasts,” the man sneers, “she’s not as nice as he said.”

“We can deal with that,” the other assures.

A flashlight clicks on. You can’t see anything past the man’s jacket. You bounce on his shoulder as he carries you across the uneven ground. He trails the second man as you hear several electronic beeps and the whir of gears.

A door opens on cold hinges. You’re taken through a doorway as the night air follows you inside. The flashlight’s glare flicks around, illuminating the edges of your vision but offering little more. You hear a click and an overhead light suddenly casts brightly all around you. Still, you can’t see around the man who has you in his grasp.

“Put her in the room,” the other man orders.

“I got it. Don’t act like you’re the boss.”

“Take your own advice. My fucking house.”

“Yeah, and I got the van. Oh, I also came up with the plan, so I’ll say we’re even.”

“You talk a lot.”

The man holding you scoffs, “rich, coming from you.”

“Just like everything else about me. Go on. We gotta wait for him. Figure this shit out.”

“I got it figured out. Strip her down and show her what’s what.”

“We agreed to wait,” the other man insists.

“Oh, so he’s in charge?”

“No, you know he isn’t. I just think… what he said made sense. Go fucking put her in the room so we can talk real shit. I can’t focus with her ass in my face.”

“Tell me about it,” the man slaps your ass and kneads, “it’s like two inches from my mouth–”

You writhe and let out a hollow whine through your nose. He chuckles and falls into step. You lift your head up stiffly as he passes the other man and you meet his eye. You’re not sure if you know him but your gaze falls to the autumnal hued scarf around his neck. You know that scarf.

It can’t be. First Alan and now this guy. This is a conspiracy. It has to be.

You watch the floor change from slated hardwood to patterned carpet and again to dark teak. Down a hall and into another room. Only the light from outside limns your vision as you’re flung from over the man’s shoulder onto an unseen bed. You gasp at the soft mattress, expecting much worse.

“Pussy cat, you stop your hissing and pissing,” he warns as he backs up to the doorway, the light giving a better look at his features, “I’m gonna get to you. Count on it.”

You groan at how the tap chafes your wrists and the smell of the adhesive below your nose. You blink and focus on the man’s silhouette. You think you know him too but you’re not sure. That tuft of hair on his lip seems familiar. Before you can find the memory, his image is blocked out by the door and you’re plunged into sheer darkness.

This can’t be happening. You can’t be here. You have to get home. Who’s going to feed Ernie?

🎀

Your eyes slowly adjust to the dark but you can’t see much. There is not hint of a window to let in any light or even a slat to leak in under the door. More eerie than the deep blackness is the dearth of sound. You can only hear your own breath and the soft squeaks that slip out at your most fraught.

The walls block out anything beyond. That alone is oppressive. If you weren’t tied up, if you weren’t gagged, could anyone even hear your screams?

You wiggle, roll and writhing across the breadth of the mattress. You reach the edge and rock yourself until you can sit up. You inch over the side of the bed until your feet meet the floor. You lean your weight on them and brace yourself.

You’re already out of breath with the effort. You stand, swaying as you struggle to balance on your bound feet. Your knees buckle as you lean this away and that until you can straighten yourself. You hop forward, once, twice, and again. You turn yourself towards where the door shut.

You stagger as you land a bit too hard and you twist, hitting your shoulder on the wall. You huff and puff as the tap grows slick around your lips, the cloth make you gaggle. You sidle, arm again the wall and the handle hits just above your wrist. The metal leaves a thrumming pang in your flesh.

You pivot and lean your back on the door frame, grasp the handle between your hands, sweaty palms struggling to get a grip. You turn this way and that, each time meeting resistance. You squeeze tight and sake yourself and the handle as a croak escape your nose. You didn’t expect it to open but it’s still a defeat.

You slide down to your ass, bending your knees before you as your hands rest behind you on the floor. You hang your head and measure your breaths. You’re not just scared for you, you think of your poor puppy waiting for you. Of you never going home to Ernie. That sparks the fuse to full panic.

You ball your hands to fist and slide down onto your arm. You wriggle down to your back, lifting your legs to the door, setting your boots on it. You pull back and kick, the bang jarring you. You do it again. Harder. You won’t stop. They can’t just leave you here. They can’t ignore you.

A thump comes from the other side. A warning. You kick back, even louder. No response.

You’re exhausted, but you keep going. You kick until your damp with sweat and your legs ache. You bring your feet down over over and until you can’t any more. Then you lay in the blind silence, a sob trapped behind the gag.

Ernie…

You’re almost delirious. Disbelief, fatigue, adrenaline, you’re not sure which. There’s a beeping and a metallic grind. The door shifts, hitting your bent legs as it tries to open. A grunt comes from the other side as the push until you’re forced a few inches up. A light radiates over your suddenly.

You stare up at the white glass shade on the ceiling. The door shoves you further and further. A figure enters and looks down at you. A heavy sigh that tickles your brain. You know it. You look up at that man, Alan or Anthony, as he shuts the door.

He bends to pick you up. He takes you to the bed and puts you on your side. You let him. You can’t do anything else. He puts his hands on his hips as he looks you over. He sits cautiously on the edge of the bed.

“I’m sorry, honey, I hope they didn’t hurt you,” he caresses your cheek and you wince, “I told them to be nice. Wish I could’ve come with you but… I had to sort some things out.”

You bat your lashes, eyes widening. He cooes as pets your hair. “It’s okay, don’t be scared.”

His fingertips brush along the edge of the tape and he slowly peels it away. You groan as he tugs at the corner of the cloth and frees it from your mouth. You cough, your throat raw and dry.

“I can untie you but you have to promise to be good. You don’t want to hurt yourself, do you?”

You close your eyes and nod. He crumple the tape and you hear him place it down. You suck in a deep lungful of air and let out a scream, “HELP!!!!!!!!”

“Hey,” he hisses and quickly smothers your mouth with his large hand, “honey, don’t do that.” He squeezes until you’re quiet, until your jaw aches, “no one can hear you.” He leans over you as your eyes flick open and meet his, “not even the others. Right outside that door and they can’t hear you.”

You search his face. Stern and somber. He looks honest but you would’ve said the same back at the store when he lied to your face. You nod and go limp. Despite his deceit, you believe that.

He reluctantly drags his hand away, “I want to untie you, okay? I don’t want you to be stuck like this all night but if you’re bad, the others… they won’t let me.”

You don’t say anything. You stare past him, to the crux of wall and ceiling. You don’t care about the others or about this man. You only care about one thing.

“I know you’re confused and probably angry. This isn’t a bad thing, okay? We’re not doing this to hurt you, honey,” he rubs your shoulder, “we want to help you. To give you everything you want. Do you really want to spend Christmas alone?”

You rasp as you breath deeply. You wet the roof of your mouth with your tongue then your lips. You keep your eyes averted as you muster your voice.

“You’re married,” you accuse, "you have a family."

He clicks his tongue, “and? You have no one.”

That stings. A deep cut you feel deep in your gut. Your eyes meet his sharply and you pull your shoulder away from his hand. You push your chin out defiantly as a heat rises behind your eyes. You might be alone but it doesn’t mean you’re unhappy. Still, the way he said it…

“That’s not true, I have someone.”

“Honey, don’t lie. I know you don’t. I know you live on Fort Street in that square yellow building. Apartment 325. Just you. It’s a bachelor at the corner–”

“Stop, stop,” you beg him. “How do you know that?”

“Does it matter how?” He says lowly, “Honey, i’ve been nice, haven’t I? If you’re nice, I’ll stay that way and I’ll make sure the others don’t hurt you.”

You crinkle your nose and give a fearsome snarl you know must look ridiculous. You don’t care about these men or what they want. You don’t even care about yourself.

“I do have someone,” you insist, “Ernie.”

“Ernie?” He echoes.

“My puppy,” you hiss, “and I’m not going to be nice–” You grit the last word through clenched teeth, “unless you take me to him right now.”

“The dog?” He wonders.

“He needs to be fed and walked. I’m his mama and I need to see him,” you demand, your emotion finally bubbling up to the surface, “and until you take me home, I’m gonna… I’m gonna…” You dig your nails into your palms and let out a shrill shriek. The blood curdling type you hear in horror movies.

The man covers his ears and stands. You do it again as you bounce on the bed. You must look crazy but you don’t care. Maybe if you’re crazy enough, they’ll let you go. You suck in a third breath and scream even louder.

He grimace but doesn’t stop you. He backs up and stomps to the door. You keep going until it locks behind him.

They think you’re weak because you’re alone. You’ve worked retail, you can handle a couple of psychos.

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perpetuelledaydreaming · 2 years

Text

How did you get so good?

summary: you've never had a one-night stand and honestly, it shows.

prompt: when they just finished hooking up and he says "I just had my tongue inside you, you can start calling me by my first name," she *forgot* his name.

words: 2.8 k

playlist: I mean for this fic, is this one.

warnings: smut. like pure dirty smut, smut like i've never written before. i mean it. I've been obsessing over Rooster and I just like I wanted to write something and I have a couple of things but this was just self-indulgent, also I need practice for what's coming with 18.

bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw masterlist

You usually weren’t the type to do a one-night stand.

In fact, you were the opposite of doing such a thing. Nonetheless, when you were summoned back to Top Gun after years for a high-level mission after you’d just broken up with your fiance, you realized that you needed to live a little more, especially since if you were chosen and for some strange reason you didn’t make it, you didn’t want to regret it.

Therefore, you weren't too close off when you were presented with the tall and tanned handful of handsome pilots that boisterously moved toward you. Instead, you chose to give them a little smile, play pool with the tiny white summer dress that you decided to wear and glance at them through your lashes, sipping on your drink slowly as you wondered who the best candidate could be. They all introduced themselves to you, always chuckling a bit as they heard your call sign, which was the usual reaction when they heard “y/n ‘Brat’ y/l/n”

But then, the first four chords rang out of the piano, and your knees when weak.

“You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain. Too much love drives a man insane. You broke my will but what a thrill, goodness gracious great balls of fire!” he sang, his voice deep and deliciously raspy, you felt your heart jumping as you turned to where the voice came from.

He was taller than anyone in there, you could see it just by the way he was moving with the piano. Sun-kissed skin, sandy-brown hair that turned gold with the certain light of the room, broad shoulders, and a pornstache that would look awful on anyone except him. That’s how you’d first seen him and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him after that, and when they introduced you two, he couldn’t look away either, instead, he looked at you unashamedly.

“...‘Rooster’ Bradshaw,” he announced as his palm slid into yours but you could only focus on his honey-burnt eyes and his smile.

“y/n ‘Brat’ y/l/n,” you muttered as your cheeks burned, his lips quirked up when he heard your call sign.

After that, the night turned into a blur and you weren’t sure exactly how you ended up on the side of the blue bronco as gentle moans that were muffled with his palm left your lips while your eyelashes flutter as he rocked his hips forward against your core, his large hands gripping your hipbones so harsh that you knew bruises would appear tomorrow.

“y/n,” he breathed out and you whimpered. “Get in the car,” He warned, his voice husky as he pressed his forehead to yours while his eyes remained shut, almost as if he opened them, he would fuck you open right there and then, in front of everyone.

You also weren’t aware of how quickly he’d manage to reach his place since you were too busy being a moaning- whimpering mess as his hand climbed through your thigh and into your core. But you didn’t miss how he met your gaze, the look on his face said it all. “You are soaked, darling,” he whispered and you felt like crying as his thumb started to stroke a delicate pattern against your clit.

It all turned into a mess once he opened the door for you, as you stumbled through his porch, already pulling down the annoying Hawaiian shirt he’d worn that night and you were sure you’d left it outside once he’d managed to open the door to the small cottage he called home while you were already kicking your shoes off and fumbling with his belt. You continued to kiss as you enter the house and he let you down, your hands moving up and down, finding fabric and occasionally skin, moving, finding, touching, discarding clothes, more touching.

It was a miracle you’d manage to reach his bed, honestly.

But against all odds, there you were. In bed with the most handsome man you’d ever met, a man you’d met barely hours before, whimpering for him, moaning for him as you felt how hard he was in his boxers when he moved his hips against you.

“Rooster, don’t tease” you breathed out as he struggled to undo the zipper of your dress, too distracted by the way you were bucking your hips forward to his while placing your hands on the small of his back, hurrying him up to fuck you already without saying it but you knew, he knew.

You were impatient for him.

“You really are a brat, you know?” he murmured as his hands traveled from the zipper of your dress to the cotton panties that you were wearing. He hooked the fingers and pulled your panties down slowly before colliding his lips against yours, it was a bruising kiss, so fucking needy that it made you dizzy.

Without warning, he’d pressed a hard thumb into your slit and you jolted, quickly your nails dug into his back and you were sure that there would be a pattern of crescent moons on his back tomorrow. As one of his hands stroked you, rubbing and flicking, his free arm fell into the side of your head while his nose pressed right under your chin, giving him access to your neck as you let out a silent moan. His knuckles pressed themselves into your clit and you felt your knees shaking, your walls clenching at nothing. You feel like crying.

“Does that feel good, darling?” he muttered as he licked your neck and you couldn’t answer because he soon pushed two fingers into you and you screamed at the stretch while he watched you carefully. “I bet that feels good,” he whispered against the shell of your ear and you could swear you hear his smug smirk.

His fingers speed up, forcing your entire lower half to vibrate and your knees began to shake. If you were doing this against his car and if he wasn’t holding you, completely supporting you with his body weight, you knew you’d have fallen over by the way he was touching you.

“Fuck,” you moan as you roll your hips against his hand, chasing your high, feeling yourself growing closer but then, Rooster withdrew his fingers altogether, you furrowed your eyebrows and you sighed in frustration as you pushed yourself onto your elbows, wondering where he went.

“What the fu-FUCK,”

That was the only thing you managed to say because Rooster’s face was already buried between your thighs. He pressed his tongue against your core, making you shudder. One of your hands quickly slid up into his golden curls as your head fell back against the bed. His nose pressed into your clit and his tongue teased your entrance and you couldn’t help but curled your fingers in his hair, tugging harshly at his roots, eliciting a groan from him.

And you screamed.

You fucking screamed because there’s no way that he could be that good. His tongue expertly moved against you and you didn’t know if you were just hypersensitive from the earlier assault with his fingers but it felt like heaven as you felt his tongue working you open. You raised your head for a second and even in the dizziness, you watched as his shoulders muscles flexed as he used his strength to push your hips down, preventing you from squirming which only caused you to moan louder, and soon he noticed because those beautiful honey eyes met with yours and you realize how pretty he looks there.

The sight alone made your vision go blurry as you aggressively fucked his face. And he complies, he growled against you and the vibration made you snap, as you fall into the bed. He then guided two fingers inside of you, giving you something to clench around and you began to see white spots on your vision. He continued to hold you down, as he gently sucked on your clit and worked on you with his fingers, your walls clenching around them and you just knew it was right there.

But then he stopped.

“Who said you could stop,” you grumbled, throat sore and raw because of your screams, and Rooster chuckled while he shook his head before he kissed you softly, you could taste yourself on his tongue and you moaned at the taste.

“Honey, I want the first time you come to be on my cock,” he muttered against your lips. Your eyes fell on him and you saw how he got rid of every one of the items of clothing he had, he was simply pumping his cock, preparing it for you.

You whimpered at the sight as you struggle to say anything. “Just fuck me,” you breathed, you pleaded. His lips quirked again and soon his cock pushed at your entrance. You gasped against his mouth, digging your fingernails into his back as he stretched you. He was big, he was the biggest you’d ever had and you winced a bit as he fully sank into you.

“You are doing so good, darling,” his voice was gruffer as he kissed your face while you adjusted to his size. You moan loudly, mouth wide open as you gasp for air. Your body adjusts to the feeling of being full; stuffed beyond capacity, beyond everything you thought that it was possible. “You look so pretty like this,”

You were sure that he’d just ruined men for you. He was so good and you just couldn’t understand how tender he could be, he was a true gentleman.

You whimpered under him as he began to move slowly and in one second, when his pelvis rolled forward, your clit managed to rub against the base of his shaft, and your nails dug into him. He growled and you were gone. You began to kiss his neck eagerly as he drove his hips forward, drawing sweet moans from your lips as you arched your chest up against his while your walls clench at the movement, soon he found a steady pace and your skin felt like it was on fire, burning up as if you just entered hell.

But this? This was your heaven.

“Faster,” you cried. “Faster, Rooster,”

He complies with an incoherent noise of vague agreement as he lifted you from the bed and placed you on a desk nearby, things fall over and you were pretty sure something broke but you don’t care because of the way his hips snapped against yours and how he fucked impossibly deeper into you against the mahogany desk.

A growl escaped his throat as he ducked forward to kiss you, fucking you faster and harder, using all his strength to drive himself into you. He was unrelenting in his pace, rapid calculated thrust as he continued piercing you on his cock and you couldn’t help the tears of pleasure than came from your eyes by the way he moved.

You screamed, you moaned, you whimpered.

You even cried out his name again and didn’t realize it until he kissed your jaw and muttered “I got you darling, cum for me,” he groaned as he pepper your throat with feverishly kisses and you simply pushed your legs apart from him.

Then, the tip of his cock brushed impossibly deeper into you, making you cry and you just knew you were there. You quickly began to kiss him, tongue moving against yours as his hand worked skillfully against your clit, he groaned loudly against your lips as your pussy contracted around his cock, squeezing him for all that he was worth.

Your entire body tensed up. The coil on your stomach snapped and you screamed and Rooster continued to fuck you through your orgasms, before he came undone, pulling you impossibly close against him and continued to drive himself as deep as he could go. Your walls continue to squeeze him, fluttering around his throbbing cock as he stuffed himself into you. You were sure that you heard your name but you were too dizzy to even think about it.

You both stayed there for a moment, panting before he left soft kisses on your neck and chest, holding you until you stopped trembling and he also stopped shaking. It takes you a couple of minutes to actually say anything or even move, the room doesn’t stop spinning immediately but soon Rooster carried you to his bed, still inside of you, and you feel comforted by it, he pushed the hair out of your face, his thumb tender against the side of your cheek.

You closed your eyes and he kisses you until you fall asleep.

You were woken by the sunlight on your face and a buzzing from your phone, it was 6:00 am and you needed to be on the base at 6:30 am.

You stretched your arms and found nothing, the sheets were wrinkled and you could hear Rooster in the other room. You sighed, you realized that you’d broken one of the rules about one-night stands, you slept over. Cursing yourself, you tried to stand up as best as you could but honestly, you weren’t even able to walk completely straight. You brush your hair while looking at yourself in the mirror of the room, hoping that you didn’t look too fucked but it as a lost battle. You did what you could before you focus on retrieving your panties from somewhere in the room, between the discarded clothes that he had left on the room also the items that had fallen from the desk hours before indeed you had broken a glass of water but neither of you seemed too interest in cleaning up.

It took you a few minutes to find your panties but thankfully, you hadn’t removed the dress, so you weren’t completely naked. Nonetheless, you know your purse and your shoes were somewhere in between the entrance of his house and the room, therefore you counted to fifty before you walked out of the room, as nonchalant as you could.

He was in the kitchen, in all of his tanned and ripped glory, only wearing a pair of grey shorts that hang low on his hips. You couldn’t help but smile at the smell of the coffee and even smirk a bit once you see the red marks on his back, neck, and arms. It takes a few minutes for him to notice you but once he does, god, his eyes were practically beaming.

“Morning, y/n,” he said, bringing the cup of coffee to his lips, his eyes looking at you unashamedly.

“Morning, Rooster,” you say as you try your best to walk as straight as possible as you reached for your shoes that were indeed left on the floor, but you notice how his lips are turning up when he realizes that you really can’t walk as usual. “I really have to go for my uniform,” you said sweetly, as you also picked up your purse from the floor.

“I can take you,” he offered with a bright smile and you rolled your eyes, he was indeed a gentleman. “You know, I just had my tongue inside you, you can start calling me by my first name,” he said softly before he winked at you.

And your heart stopped because to the best of your abilities, your mind couldn’t seem to remember his name. You curse mentally as you try to recall the moment that he introduced himself but you can only remember his call sign and his last name. Soon, your cheeks heat up and you were sure that your whole face turned into a splotchy red, not a cute light blush. Under normal circumstances -at least that’s what you’d assumed- since it was a one-night stand you shouldn’t have needed to remember his name, instead you should’ve left in the early hours of the morning without so much as a goodbye.

But now you were here and you could feel his gaze burning you while you tried to avoid his eyes by leaning into the counter.

“Oh my god,” he muttered as he let his coffee mug down.“You don’t remember my name?” he asked, and a hand goes to his uncovered chest with a dramatic gasp.

You couldn’t help yourself, opting for covering your face with your hands. “I’m sorry,” you whispered as you felt him walking around the counter, soon his hands rested on the edge of the counter beside your hip, he was pinning you down and you felt shivers as you let your hands fall down. Your breath caught in your throat as you realize how close he was and the way he was looking at you.

You swallowed hard.

“No, don’t worry,” he whispered nonchalantly as he leaned down to your ear after giving you a peck on the corner of your mouth. “It’s Bradley,” he whispered before he started to kneel down in front of you, one of his hands going up your skirt and touching you again. “And after this, I don’t think you’ll be able to forget it,”

And you never did.

***

feedback is always welcomed!!!

donate: help me pls with a glass of wine after such hard core smut?

***

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maehemthemisfit · 2 years

Text

Parenting Fails

synopsis: tr men (mikey, sanzu, rindou) and chaotic events of raising children. (pt 1?)

warnings: underage drinking, child endangerment, just tiny people in bad situations and traumatized fathers.

masterlist - requests are open!

— MIKEY

Loves to throw his child up in the air as a form of entertainment which also seems to calm them down and make them giggle. It was all fun and games until he threw them up again.

It was a whooosh! followed by a BUMP! and his life flashed before his eyes.

The way this man's jaw dropped is beyond me. He caught his kid who looked dazed and baffled while he stood there, hand covering his open mouth out of shock and pure fear as tears welled in his eyes upon hearing your hurried footsteps and worried voice.

You were gonna kill him.

— SANZU

He had a really bad headache and could barely focus on anything, still you left him in charge of taking care of the little toddler. He had a meeting with Bonten so he had no choice but to take the little devil with him, leaving them with a secretary that looked stressed out of her mind.

He still made an effort to take a peek every now and then and give the kid some food- which Kakucho probably reminded him to do. Things were going well until it wasn't, shit hitting the fan when his kid staggered into the room abruptly.

"W-wad! I... want mo j..juice?" His kid nearly crawled towards him, their request coming off more as a question. It only took two seconds to realize what the fuck was going on, judging from the glass in his kid's hand that held remnants of the alcohol the other members were previously drinking.

"Shit!" He hissed, scooping his child up into his arms and coddling them. "No, no, no, you were fine like a minuet ago, why??" Sanzu cried, eyes blown wide and shaking his kid as his world came crashing down on him.

"I hope you made a will," Kokonoi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as Kakucho searched for a bottle of water. Everyone's faces immediately paled once they realized they dire of the situation.

"Yeah, no shit, she's gonna kill me for being irresponsible, then she's gonna kill all of you for not stopping me from being irresponsible!" His kid continued to slur and babble incoherent words which didn't help the panicking pinkette. "I'm too pretty to die..."

Ran deadpaned as Mikey's eyes widened when he caught a glimpse of Sanzu's phone, noticing a notification that was soon to end everyone's career. "Uh, Sanzu...?"

Bonten's number two sent a shaky look to his boss, eye twitching on the edge of a breakdown as he held his child to his chest, praying to the higher Gods that Mikey was gonna tell him something good.

"y/n's coming back in 20 minuets."

His heart practically fell out of his ass.

"Fuck."

— RINDOU

You know when you lose something that you can't find for shit so you just start looking in places you know damn well it couldn't be in? Yeah that was Rin.

"Get up." "Dude, you're kid isn't under this couch."

You know he's gone mad when he starts flinging cabinets open and close and mumbling how this was it, this was gonna be your 13th reason, it's all over for him.

Deadass lost his kid for a good two hours.

That was until he found the little gremlin walk in with a tired Ran and an annoyed Sanzu. Apparently, they found them wondering outside on their way back from a mission.

Yeah that could've gone way worse. Especially if you found out...

"Look daddy! I made a new friend!" His child smiled, bouncing up and down as they fumbled to retrieve something from their pocket.

"What is it sweeth-" Rindou choked when his kid pulled their friend out of their pocket, not even having time to react as this big ass fucking roach flew straight into his face, nearly getting into his mouth.

The WAY this man SCREAMED had Sanzu thinking his balls were kicked back in as the older haitani was left wheezing on the floor, watching his brother fight for his life against a bug.

Tears. This man was in tears. Out of all the humans on this earth and his kid 'made friends' with a roach.

He was gonna be sick

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daechwitatamic · 1 year

Text

Shut Up! || A KNJ Drabble

(banner by @itaeewon - thank you jen, especially for the super fast turn-around!!)

Title: Shut Up!

Summary: Once Namjoon’s on a roll about something, there’s really only one sure-fire way to shut him up. Ironically, it isn’t his mouth that needs to be full.

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (no gender mentioned) Genre: NSFW - minors begone!!!!, pwp (who tf am i omg), married!au WC: 1.4k Warnings: language, kissing, oral (m. receiving), maybe a lil dumbification im not actually sure, bodily fluids very present, i guess reader is a bit dom?

A/N: I DON’T KNOW WHO WROTE THIS, I WAS POSSESSED, THERE IS NO JO HERE. 🙈

Also, this is ENTIRELY @here2bbtstrash’s fault, or at least this anon’s fault!!!!

Thank you @kookstempo for the beta job!!!!! 🦃 💕💕💕💕

“Oh my god,” you lament, throwing your head back into the plush couch behind it, eyes rolling back, breath escaping you in one short huff. And not even for the good reasons.

Though… there’s an idea.

“What?” Your husband looks at you innocently, eyes a little wide at your uncharacteristic outburst. “What’s wrong?”

“I love you,” you say, fighting back a smile. His eyebrows raise a little; you’ve been together long enough that he knows this must be coming first to soften a blow. “I love hearing your thoughts. I love that we can share our thoughts with each other.”

“But?” he chimes in intuitively, chin starting to jut, anticipating defensiveness.

You gesture at the tv a little wildly. “But we paused the episode because you had something to say about it forty-two minutes ago. I timed it!”

He blinks at you, like this cannot possibly be true.

“Okay,” he says slowly, “but the thing is–”

“No!” you cry, tossing the remote onto the coffee table and sitting up to look at him. You have officially hit your breaking point. “Namjoon, no! Please - let me put the show back on.”

“Okay,” he repeats, “but -”

“No!” you shriek, and then you scramble up his tree of a body and press your nose to his, bumping his glasses so they’re slightly askew. Against his lips, you whisper, “Shut up, shut up, for the love of God, shut up.”

His hands come and rest low on your hips, practically on your ass, and he gives your nose a little nudge with his own, his lips pressing to yours - not so much a kiss as a fumble.

“It’s just that -” he mumbles against your mouth, and you know - you know - he’s fucking with you on purpose, now. He’s hard beneath you already; he knows as well as you do what you’re planning.

“Shut up,” you tell him again, kissing him in earnest this time, your fingers going for the hem of his t-shirt. He takes off his glasses and tosses them blindly towards the coffee table, then lifts his arms so you can pull the fabric around his head.

You go for his joggers next, and he lifts up eagerly as you slide them and his boxers down in one go. He kicks the black material free from his ankles and spreads his legs a little without you even telling him to, knowing exactly what’s coming.

Five years of marriage will do that; he knows the steps of this dance well, just like you know that the second your mouth is around him, you’re only getting one syllable words out of him until it’s done. It’s the only truly effective way to shut this man up.

You slide your hands up the insides of his thighs, pressing your nails in just a bit as you do. Namjoon hisses, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. You reach for the base of him, purposely brushing your fingertips along his balls on their way by, just lightly enough to leave a tingle, to make him shiver.

You pump him once, twice, as you settle on your stomach between his legs, and glance up to see how he’s doing. He’s looking down at you, those eyes dark and glinting sharply, and he brushes one hand over the top of your head as he exhales, waiting.

He doesn’t say a word. What a good boy.

You lick thick stripes from the base, stopping before the head each time - just to tease him. Just to build it up. He grunts each time you stop short, but when you pump him again - now slicked with spit - he sighs in relief, letting out a wispy, “God, yeah,” on a breath.

You reward him by wrapping your lips around his tip, tonguing his slit for the barest second before sliding further down his shaft, your hand working the part you haven’t reached just yet.

In all honesty, sloppy blowjobs aren’t usually your thing. You love to go down on Namjoon, love to hear what sounds you can pull from him, love to watch his eyebrows furrow and his adam’s apple bob. But messy, not usually. Special occasions only.

Tonight feels special. Tonight you have a goal. You want to render this genius man absolutely stupid. You want him to be devoid of any words that aren’t your own name.

You work both hand and mouth over him, the glide smooth as you let spit past your lips on each pass.

“Fuck,” Namjoon gasps as you tongue the underside of his cock on a downward pass.

You hum happily, setting a steady rhythm, hollowing your cheeks and swallowing him down just a bit more each time. When your lips’ seal around him breaks, releasing a wet, sloppy slurping noise through the otherwise quiet room, Namjoon groans above you.

“God,” he utters again, his voice so low you feel it in your toes, and you lift your eyes to take him in. His chest is flushed dark, heaving. The fingers of one hand twist in the throw blanket on the arm of the couch behind him, the other hovers near you, like he wants to touch but doesn’t want to break the spell.

You relax your jaw and take him down as far as you can, using both hands to hold his trembling thighs in place as you bring your nose closer and closer to his stomach. Once you’ve taken him as far as you’re able, you hold him there, your throat spasming around him. He whines, which almost makes you laugh, so you release him with a messy pop, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Shit, shit,” he gasps, the muscles in his stomach rippling beautifully. You take him in your hand again as you catch your breath, let your throat recover for a second.

You smile deviously, and purr, “Not so much to say now, hmm?”

His eyes fly open, disbelieving, his mouth falling open to gasp his next breath. His eyes flutter closed again as you continue to glide your hand from base to tip and back, and he shakes his head weakly, voice broken as he manages, “N-no. Fuck.”

You take him in your mouth again, hand keeping a steady but lazy rhythm at the base, reveling in the noises that drip from his mouth - desperate pants punctuated sharply by deep grunts as he fights to control himself, the curses he mumbles, barely audible, sharp consonants tripping out of his mouth as his abs flex in time with your movements.

You know he’s close when he starts bucking minutely into the heat of your mouth, staccato grunts morphing into long, legato groans. This is one of your favorite iterations of your husband - fucked out, eyes squeezed shut, sweat rolling from his brow into his dampened hairline, his brain finally silenced as he chases the feeling, chases his high.

His hand comes to your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he moans wordlessly. You take the warning seriously, popping off his tip and speeding up your hand as his feet press into the couch desperately, hips bucking just a little. You’re sure he’d rather come in your mouth, but you’re feeling selfish tonight. You want to see what he gives you.

His moan warbles, volume increasing as his hand tightens in your hair, and then he’s releasing rope after rope of cum; most of it lands on the flat of his stomach, but the last bit dribbles down the side of his softening cock, running over your fingers. Your slow your hand, watching his face carefully, until you can tell he’s spent.

You give a self-satisfied hum, sitting back on your haunches to admire your handiwork. He opens one eye blearily, a smile coming over his face.

“Okay,” he breathes, laughing a little. “I’m done talking now.”

eeeeeeep!!!! hope you enjoyed thank you for reading!!!!!

#trashlibrary #bts fanfic #bts x reader #namjoon fanfic #namjoon fic #namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon x you #bts fic #Namjoon fanfic #rm fanfic #kim namjoon fanfic #rm smut #rm x reader #rm fic #bts pwp #established relationship #daechwitatamic drabbles #fic: shut up!

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mqverick · 4 months

Text

diet mountain dew || ꕤ

“Baby, stoppin' at 7-Eleven

There in his white Pontiac heaven.”

───────── ˚｡⋆ ( ၴႅၴ ⟡ ─────────

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

Daniel was looking at you with the smuggest smirk you’d ever seen on a man’s face before. His eyes were burning into yours, glistening under the light as he stared at you, his mouth slightly agape. You tried not to gulp as the question echoed in your ears, face hot and flustered.

You never thought you’d find yourself outside of Daniel Kaffee’s door, contemplating whether to knock on his door or not. You’d always had the first word with him, ever since the moment he burst in your office with that stupid apple of his.

He’s looked like an idiot then and he looked like an idiot now, all proud of himself, looking at you — forcing you to use the actual words you’d been practicing and itching to say to him for God knows how long. It was deeply humiliating.

“No,” you simply and coldly replied, but your voice weakened by the end of the two-lettered word.

“It sounded like you were asking me out on a date,” he argued, crossing his arms as he took a few steps closer to you, ignoring the baseball game on the television that played uninterrupted in the background. He slyly raised his eyebrows as if he was questioning your previous ‘no’.

You stood there robotically, fumbling with the end of your thin jacket as you avoided eye contact with Daniel, knowing very well that your knees would buckle under just one look from him.

“I wasn’t,” you continued firmly.

“Mm,” Daniel hummed, his face so close to yours that you swore he was asking to get roughly hit in the balls. You were a woman with dignity and respect, though, you had to be stronger than that. God, you were aware of the fact that he had one of the most self-absorbed, cocky personalities, but when had he gotten like that? “I’ve been asked out on dates before, and that’s what it sounded like.”

Regretting your life’s choices should’ve been a paid occupation for you at that point. You wondered what came over you, thought hard about the nerve in your burnt brain that screamed and cried for you to get up from the bed, have a good day and then ruin it all by finally gathering the courage to go alone to Daniel’s place and talk to him about something that wasn’t related to the case. Ask him out on a fucking date like the desperate, little, touch starved loser you were.

Men had been going after you, begging for a chance since forever… yet, there was Daniel.

Daniel Kaffee, who had graduated from law school a year ago, had gotten in the Navy freshly — around nine months ago — who was so admirably impressive and intelligent and a whole person of his own. Daniel, who couldn’t come to a realisation without his thinking bat.

How had you fallen so hard in love with him?

“Do you like seafood? I know a good seafood place,” you blurted out, mentally kicking and cursing yourself for how stupid you’d sounded.

“I’ll tell you if you admit you’re asking me out.”

You weren’t going to, not even if he held a gun to your forehead and threatened your life. He did not need that kind of boost for his ego, nor did you care for getting embarrassingly paralysed in front of him after the smile he’d give you in case you actually did convince yourself to admit that this was your horrible aspect of asking him on a date.

“N-Not a date,” you stuttered, hating yourself.

“The sweat forming on your forehead says otherwise.” He snickered when you hurriedly snatched your hand from your jean’s pocket to wipe the non existent sweat off your face. “Relax, I’m just messing with you. You know, I really wouldn’t say no to going out with you.”

“Well, you’re not. I just want to grab some dinner with my colleague is all. Will you come or should I get going? It’s late, they’ll close soon.”

You eventually gathered the courage to breathe, backing away from him as you headed towards the door, placing your hand on the handle. Daniel snatched you back by the arm, catching you off guard as you silently cried, mind short-circuiting after noticing how much closer he’d pulled you to him. His grip was strong on your elbow, fingers tightly pressing into your warm, reddening skin.

“Are you dismissing me?”

You cocked your head to the side.

“What?”

“I want to go on a date with you. Do you want to go on a date with me?” Fuck, he was killing you. You were an exceptional lawyer, distinguished, had even won service medals. And all of that just vanished, the words dying in your throat, just because Kaffee was holding you so painfully close to him that part of your mind subconsciously dared you to move your head just an inch further into him, invade completely his personal space.

“I…” you began, but trailed off, seeing as you were truly incapable of understanding what was going through your blinded head in that moment. Had his eyes always been so dazzlingly green and big? Had Daniel always looked so unbelievably pretty?

“I didn’t even know you liked me. I mean, if you like me. I won’t make you say it — I just want to know if you’re asking me out on a date. Which is sort of like asking you if you like me, so that automatically cancels out what I just said.”

Daniel was getting nervous as well. Both of you were so utterly fucked with each other, but none ever spoke about it out loud without jokingly throwing flirtatious innuendos. He was done with just guessing how you felt about him, though, decided to take the matter into his own hands if you didn’t have the guts to make a move first.

He didn’t know what he’d do if he lost you to another man just because his stupidity was too much of an obstacle to overcome. Died in silence every time he had to say goodbye or goodnight to you wherever you had to leave his apartment after judging that you’d all conversated enough about the case. Daniel knew that you had to be feeling something for him — even if that was a tiny spark.

All the secret glances, the way you commanded and spoke to him, the contained smiles; they had to mean something right? But why weren’t you trying anything with him? He thought he made it pretty obvious that he felt the same way about you, had been feeling like that for a long time.

He knew you knew.

“Danny, can you let — fuck, I can’t breathe when you hold me so close to you,” you accidentally confessed, eyes bulging the moment your words played loudly rent free in your brain right after they so easily and boldly left out of your mouth.

“You can’t?” he repeated softly, in awe as he tried to comprehend what you’d just said. “You can’t — you can’t say stuff like that to me and then tell me that you don’t want to ask me on a date. You can’t do that — you can’t fuck like that with my mind.”

You jerked away from him, brows furrowing.

“Me? I can’t say stuff like that to you? You’d known me only 12 hours when you told me you were sexually aroused. You’ve been looking at me as if I’m some sort of grand lawyer, like I amaze you or something — you know how hard it is for me to keep a fucking professional stance around you?” you were shouting for no reason now, practically admitting your feelings for him due to the anger that had fogged your brain.

Daniel closed his eyes in wonder, then looked at you dumbfounded. “What?” Fuck. “What did you just say?” he repeated hesitantly.

“Nothing.”

“No, don’t give me that bullshit. I thought you hated me. I always try so hard to impress you and I’m so afraid that I’ll do something wrong or offend you in some way I won’t even realize and you… You feel the same way about me?”

The question fell off his lips like he was terrified of the answer you’d give him. And it was true; he was, beat himself up for how little confidence he had around you even though his actions showed the opposite. He’d been melting for you.

Was captivated by your determination, the way you could make him feel so worthless just by giving him a weird look. Scary?

To Daniel, you were divine.

“I—I don’t feel a certain way about you, Danny.”

“You kill me,” he rushed to comment, cutting you off the second his nickname was mentioned. “Every single time you call me that, a small part of me dies. That sounds horrible, I didn’t mean it that way. You know how it feels to walk in a courtroom for the first time?”

You nodded with a slight chuckle. “Yeah, I do. I could never forget. Do you?”

“Because of you, I do. If you weren’t so damn stubborn and annoying, I couldn’t even dream of it. When I walked inside, my legs were trembling. It was a confusing, but beautiful feeling.”

Your knees were bucking — what was he doing?

“Fuck you, Kaffee,” you muttered under your breath, running a hand through your hair.

“That’s exactly what I’ve been saying. Fuck me. Fuck me, Commander, I’m already yours. I have been ever since you listed my entire life in front of my very own eyes, then proceeded to threaten my position in the case. How can you not know that? How can you act so surprised when the only reason why I keep calling both you and Sam at my place repeatedly every day is because I believe that there couldn’t possibly be any way I’d ever see you in my little, humble apartment under any other circumstances? Don’t you think we could’ve perfectly arranged another meeting spot?”

You’d lost touch with the environment. Daniel’s eyes looked as though he was about to burst into tears; all glassy and red, holding back a million words and emotions that he’d so successfully held back for such a long time, that they almost didn’t even feel real. He had to be kidding you.

“Is it too late to ask you on a date, then?”

Daniel let out a sigh of relief, a gorgeous smile cracking on his lips as he finally shut the game on the television off, moving dangerously toward you. He cupped his hands over your cheeks and pulled you tightly into him, capturing your lips with his own after what felt like ages. His eyes were forcefully closed, afraid of opening them and waking up to what could be just another dream. But no, this was reality, he decided after he discreetly opened them just an inch to make sure that the person he was smushing was real.

You weren’t kissing him back, though, and it made him pull away, feeling like a complete fool. Had he misread anything again, had he done something wrong? Had his hurried intrusive thought to kiss you been too much?

“I’m really sorry, I—”

Embarrassment welled up inside of him as he stared down at your feet, his mind still unable to process the taste of your lips as it barely even functioned for any other reason; talking like a normal person, for example. Harvard lawyer, they said. Lawyer his ass. What kind of lawyer was ever known to get so tongue tied in a situation?

“Your lack of response to my question makes me believe that you haven’t truly been asked out on any dates before,” you eventually spoke, opting to break the silence with sarcasm, just like it had always been between the two of you.

You pressed your mouth against his this time, smirking nobly as you heard him take a sharp inhale. You walked backwards, forcing him to do the same, then pushed him against the outside arm of his pathetic couch, causing him to fall.

You wasted no time with getting on top of him, straddling his lap firmly as your back arched on top of him, making the kiss get profoundly deeper and wetter as tongues got involved. You’d never been French-kissed like that (or in general, ) — your head felt like it would explode.

Daniel wasn’t skilled just as a lawyer. He was awfully good at kissing, sending you over the edge just by adding a little extra saliva in the kiss and letting his hands roam freely in your back, pulling you closer and closer to his scorching body. His soft brunet hair softly brushed against your forehead as he titled his head for a better angle and you could almost feel yourself die.

He winced when his bat dug into his back and the miserable sound he made caused you to moan.

“Are — Are you going to ask me out?”

You ignored him, grasping on his shoulders as you accidentally ground against his crotch, losing your mind and grip over yourself when you felt his semi-erection rub just the right away over your jeans and panties, your wet core clenching around absolutely nothing disappointedly.

“Let’s go to the seafood place, yeah?” you exclaimed against his mouth.

“As a date?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

You untangled yourself from him, still neatly seated on his legs as if you couldn’t feel him flush and hard, aching to be freed from his trousers.

“You know I’m very intimidated by you, right?”

Daniel gave you a peck on the before getting up to sit normally on the couch. “I do not, Ma’am.”

“Shut up.”

“Pretty impressive, huh?” he mocked, just like he’d said to you the first time you met. God, you really, deeply hated his self-absorbed guts. But you loved him. Loved him like crazy.

“I changed my mind.”

“About what?”

“I don’t want to go out to eat.”

Daniel’s face dropped when you got up from the couch and began putting your jacket back on. He’d messed up, he’d messed up, he’d messed up… Fuck him and how he never thought before doing. You were going to leave him, of course you were. You were scared of how fast he’d moved.

Except you really weren’t, you just really found joy into toying with his lowered remaining patience.

“What?” he asked, nearly like a whisper.

“I’ll see you at court tomorrow at 10. Don’t be fucking late, Lieutenant, or I’ll just might have to cancel the dinner reservations I’m planning. Up until then, you’ll do well with your very manly and grown up Yoo-Hoos,” you walked up to his door, feeling your heart beat rapidly in your chest as the corner of your eye caught him almost stumbling into the coffee table in his hurry to get to you.

“Is it going to be a—”

“And before you ask, yes, it’s a date.”

FIN.

@honeymvnt 𝜗𝜚

#daniel kaffee #daniel kaffee oneshot #a few good men #a few good men fanfic #daniel kaffee fanfic #tom cruise oneshot #tom cruise #daniel kaffee fluff #so much tension #enemies to lovers #tension #daniel kaffee smut #light smut #not to be taken seriously #scrap #tom cruise x reader #daniel kaffee x reader #tom cruise imagine #daniel kaffee imagine

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immajustvibehere · 1 year

Text

Spark (5/8)

Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader - Enemies to Lovers

Chapter 5 summary: You get injured in a bar fight and quickly need someone's help. Arthur seems to be the only one available.

warnings: scars, wounds, needles, talk about abuse

link to my masterlist

first chapter, second chapter, third chapter, fourth chapter

3300 words, 17 minutes reading time

To say that Arthur and you had become best friends was a bit of a stretch, but your bickering had become teasing banter by now.

It didn't take long until the gang had settled in at Clemens’s Point. Two weeks after the move, a handful of you decided to head for the saloon. Since the initial phase of setting up camp and finding a new role to play in this part of the country had ended, most of you just wanted to unwind for the night. Sean and Lenny had gone ahead and most of you joked that you'd find them shit-faced by the time you'd arrive. And sure enough, as soon as Arthur, Micah, Bill, Karen and you entered the saloon, you saw the two boys giggling at a table with some women.

All of you were having a good time. Time passed quickly and the group split up after drinking a couple of rounds together. Arthur had gone upstairs to ‘waste some money’ (as Micah had mocked him) playing Blackjack, Karen left with some fella, and you were stuck with Sean, who was talking nonsense. After a couple more shots, the smell of sweat and strong whiskey stopped to bother you, you were in for a fun night. The later the hour, the fuller the saloon. The floor was covered with the red dust from the street and the mood improved tremendously when someone started to play the piano.

Arthur had downed a couple of bottles of beer, filling him with reckless courage. It was just enough to feel tipsy and be braver when it came to betting on the Blackjack table, not enough to be a complete fool but make somewhat decent decisions. The last time he had seen you and the rest of the company, you were at the bar, drinking and laughing. He didn't know that by now, you were there alone, fighting off man by man that dared to make crude advances towards you.

"Care for a dance, Miss?", the man was suddenly so close, you almost jumped. He reeked of alcohol and his shirt was stained with bits of food and drink.

"I'm good thanks", you replied briefly, an annoyed tone in your voice. He would run off as quickly as the others, you thought, but you were wrong.

"C'mon I ain't asking for much", suddenly his sweaty hand was on your arm and as he attempted to pull you closer to some free dancing floor in the middle of the saloon. You kicked him strong enough to loosen the grip. The heat had become stifling and though your judgement was clouded, you felt the tension in the air. The movements in the saloon, the coughs, the cigarette smoke... You were drunk, a bit too drunk for that sort of confrontation.

"Get your crusty hands off of me!", you yelled. And already, you had a small group forming around you. They knew that this was going to become a fight.

"Why-", the man started with a grin, ready to drop a snarky remark.

"'cause I'll cut your damn balls off if you touch me again!", and because you let your hand hover over your knife, out of habit and sense of protection, your opponent saw it as an invitation and pulled out his hunting knife before you even had a chance to calm the situation. Not that you would have wanted to. You were boiling with rage by now.

Someone shoved you closer to your opponent and in the blink of an eye, the brawl was on. You were still fumbling for your knife when you had to dodge the first attack. As if being drunk didn't make it hard enough, the other bystanders weren’t content with just watching and cheering. You were constantly pushed by mostly drunk men in boots and sweaty shirts, who found it exhilarating to see two people fight for their lives. Hell - seeing a woman fight.

After he had landed a punch in your face, your focus was shattered and replaced by white-hot rage. It was only a matter of pure instinct, of fighting to survive. You stumbled backwards, still lashing out with your fist and knife as if for some reason you were hoping to do any damage that way. Your vision kept going black and you slipped on the dirty floor. Flashes of colour and movement intermingled with the cheering crowd and your screaming.

You couldn't tell how long it kept going, but you knew it was over when you felt something slice through your abdomen. Then, all of a sudden, you crouched on the floor face down and had to work hard to sit up. Not much time could have passed because...? You weren't sure. Nobody pretended like there was a fight anymore, but when your hand felt for the wet fabric of your shirt that was bothering you, it only felt slick blood.

"Shit...", as your eyes roamed the saloon, you found no familiar faces. You heaved yourself up the stairs in the hope of finding the only man who you knew was somewhat capable of helping you. You released a shaky breath as you saw Arthur's hat. He had his back turned towards you as he still sat at the Blackjack table. With all the strength you could muster, you stood up and stumbled closer.

"Morgan?", you tried to sound firm, but at this point you were fighting against losing consciousness.

"Not now. I got a good hand", Arthur stared down at his Blackjack in front of him, impatiently waiting for the rest of the players to make their moves, betting on the chance that he would be the only one with a blackjack in this round.

"Arthur-", you tried again, but he ignored you. It was only when the dealer halted to look at you that Arthur turned around, pissed for the intrusion.

"I said: Not now god damnit!", Arthur had barely finished scolding you when his eyes got big at the blood soaking your shirt at your side. Then he scrambled to his feet, as if someone had poked him with a hot iron.

"What happened?", he asked, approaching you quickly.

"I lost a fight", you grunted.

Arthur carefully peeled your hand away from the wound to assess the damage: "We gotta get ya to a doctor."

"No! No doctor."

"That wasn't a suggestion, y/n", Arthur stated firmly.

"Please", you whined, "You can manage that, can't you?"

Arthur looked you up and down before he offered an arm for support and led you down the stairs: "Where are the others? Where's Karen?"

"Went off a while ago."

"Micah?"

"I have no fucking clue."

"Len-", Arthur started but you interrupted him by yelling, "I don't fucking know!"

"Christ, calm down woman", Arthur demanded in a harsh tone. He was stressed. He would have much preferred to have Miss Grimshaw here to look after you. Suddenly, your vision went black and you missed the last step of the flight of stairs. Arthur was there to catch you and quickly picked you up into his arms. At this point, you were too weak to protest.

Arthur hurried to the bar.

"Got a free room?"

He felt his blood pressure rise as he watched the bartender lazily scanning his book for a free register.

"2b", he finally said, and Arthur released his breath, "But if you get it dirty you pay the cleaning fee!"

"Sure", Arthur mumbled with his back already turned towards the bartender and hurrying off to the room.

"Have you got something on you to stitch you up? Some first aid kit?", Arthur asked while he struggled to open the door to the room with you in his arms.

You only shook your head.

"What? Not even on your horse?!", Arthur seemed perplexed at you confession. He lowered you onto the bed, surprisingly carefully.

"No", you grunted. You rested on your side with the deep cut on top to give Arthur better access. Your hands were still clutching the wound through the shirt.

"Why?!", Arthur asked befuddled. If he asked stupid questions to annoy or play with you - you weren't having it. You fought for your dear life to not pass out. The truth was, Arthur was just damn apprehensive. Helplessly and distressed he looked around in the room before he took a breath and squatted next to the bed.

"'mkay let me have a proper look at it", he mumbled with a sigh. You felt like you couldn't move at all, but the man seemed to understand and carefully peeled your hands off, squeezing them lightly as he placed them where they wouldn't be in the way. Then he lifted your shirt, rolling it up high enough to have a good look at the wound.

You watched him in the corner of your eye, trying hard to make sense of his expression.

"I'll get the med kit from my horse", Arthur explained calmly, a concentrated and cold expression on his face. A whimper made him halt in the process of standing up.

Arthur wasn't sure if you had said something, but he thought he had seen your lips move.

"What?", he asked, looking down at you.

"Don't leave", you whispered in a shaky voice.

There was nobody in the world that could have convinced you that Arthur was going to come back. No, getting the med kit from his horse surely was an excuse to leave, to leave you here to slowly bleed out. Because if you were being honest, why should he help you? Nobody had ever helped you just for the sake of it.

Arthur thought that he had never seen you so pathetic. He had never dreamed about seeing you this desperate,...this dependent.

"You want me to stitch you up or not?", Arthur asked.

"You aren't coming back", you complained, totally sure of it.

"You might deserve to be left bleeding out, but that doesn't mean I'll let that happen", Arthur teased. When he saw you were in no constitution to take a joke, he went on: "I'm jus' joking...I'll be back before you count to twenty."

And with that said, he hurried out of the room. You closed your eyes, still not convinced that he'd be back...but you weren't sure if you had passed out for a minute or if you had just blinked real slowly, but when you opened your eyes again, Arthur was right there in front of you, moving and shoving your body to get you into a good position.

"Ya can't read, can't count. Hell, I'm wondering if ya have something in that brain of yours worth savin’", Arthur smirked when he finally had you the position he needed you.

Though his words were harsh and teasing, he didn't handle you like that at all. When he cut open the shirt that was covering parts of your wound, he was nothing but gentle, careful to not have his cold blade touch your skin or yank on your shirt. With half-lidded eyes you watched as he went to wash his hands in the little water bowl on the table and then soaked a towel fresh in alcohol.

"This gonna hurt a little. Won't be the worst part, though", Arthur warned before he started to clean your wound. You answered with some painful huffs. When you groaned as he poured some alcohol on it, staining the already red coloured bed sheet he mumbled a: "Don't start enjoyin' this too much."

You grinded your teeth, hissing: "Like I want your dirty hands on me!"

"I can always stop if ya'd prefer that, Missy", he said, briefly stopping his actions, though the burn of the alcohol still lingered.

"Fuck you, Morgan", you groaned.

"Besides, my hands are now cleaner than I've ever seen yours so why don't ya shut up", Arthur stated, concentrating on getting the needle and thread out.

He had a point. Your hands were dirty most of the time, but not because you didn't wash them. Because you were hard working. As soon as you had gutted an animal for Pearson, you'd be called to search for herbs around camp. Then you played with Jack in the mud and later cared for your horse’s coat. Admittedly, your hands were in a particularly rough state at the moment. Bloody from holding your stomach and bruised from hitting your opponent. For a brief second you wondered how he had ended up and if you had caused some damage.

Arthur's hands were...warm, you noticed. One of his hands rested on your hip to keep you steady, though you hadn't moved in a while, the other one held the needle. There was no reason for his hand resting there, it just did. It grounded you. It made your breathing calm down. And besides the pain and anxiety being overwhelming, you still felt it.

"Listen, I'm gonna start now. Uhm- you got a bandana on you?", he asked as he scanned your clothes, finding none. You managed to shake your head weakly.

Arthur put down the needle. Then you felt his hand leave your body, what remained was a warm spot on your skin that quickly cooled down. You watched as Arthur took the bandana off which had been around your neck.

"Ya need something to bite on", Arthur explained and makes a little ball of the fabric.

"As if I'm not suffering enough, now I gotta choke on your sweat too", you whispered complainingly.

"Trust me, it's better than biting your lip...", Arthur considered for a second. Your lip was already fucked up, apparently the gentleman you were fighting with had landed a good blow, but he chose to ignore that: "Don't ya worry, I'm not thrilled about you drooling all over it too."

And with that you opened your mouth willingly for him to place the bandana in, still lying on your hands.

"This gonna hurt but ya keep still", Arthur stated matter-of factly. If Arthur had felt the effects of the alcohol while he was spending money gambling, he felt more than sober now. All of his skill and concentration was required, and he was relived his body was doing its part to make that happen when he finally poked the needle through your skin.

The pain was excruciating, a white-hot agony that seemed to spread from the wound to every nerve in your body. As the needle pierced your skin, you were glad you had some fabric between your teeth or you would have surely gritted them hard enough to make them shatter.

You were only half-conscious, the whiskey you'd been drinking earlier seemed to have left you completely, doing little to dull the pain. You felt the blood trickling down your skin, your sweat that poured off your forehead blurring your vision even more than the pain already did.

All you heard was Arthur. You couldn't make out a single word he was saying. Your mind blurred everything around you. But you understood his gentle tone. His hands moved swiftly and carefully. When you dared to look down, you saw them working with precision, as if he had done it a hundred times before. And he probably had.

"Ya know yer damn stupid for not having at least some bandages on you", suddenly his voice wasn't that gentle anymore, and suddenly your mind decided to let you understand him again.

"Why would ya do that? You know in this line of work...", Arthur went on and looked at you for a moment while you were glaring back at him. His eyes were telling a whole god damn story, a story you were to knocked out to decipher.

"You look like shit", he said friendly. He knew you couldn't talk back, you couldn't fight back, hell, you wouldn't even complain because he was in the process of saving your life. You threw your head back in protest, rolling your eyes as another piercing pain spread through your body.

It was a slow and painstaking process, each stitch feeling like an eternity of agony. You could feel yourself slipping away, the edges of your vision turning black as your body tried to escape the pain. And then you felt a hand lightly slapping your cheek.

"I'd like that back", Arthur murmured as he waited for you to open your mouth more so he could pull the bandana out. When he held it between two fingers, you smiled tiredly. Him complaining about your saliva while his hands were covered in your blood was somewhat ironic, enough to make your lips curl into a smile. Then suddenly, your face dropped.

"I don't want to die", you whispered hoarsely.

"I'm afraid you'll make it", Arthur answered. He takes a wet but clean end of the towel to gently wipe your face, cleaning it from sweat and blood.

"Yer an idiot for going around and starting fights you can't win", Arthur said as he stood up to wash his hands.

"Well I thought I'd win", you answered weakly. Breathing out and feeling the pain it caused in your abdomen.

"I always knew you had a terrible sense of judgement", he chuckled.

It was surprising that after he had cleaned his hands he came back. He slowly sat on the bed next to you and his hand rested on your back. You felt him drawing small circles with his fingers. It was quiet in the room, besides your heavy breathing and the bustling saloon behind the door.

Arthur halted when his fingers felt a scar on your back. You couldn't stop him from leaning back and looking.

"Jesus...y/n", he commented. You sighed.

Your back was full of scars and old wounds, you knew that. Arthur hadn't known, obviously, only a few people really knew about this.

"What are those?", he asked. His hands intriguingly wandered all over your back which was scattered with small burn marks and scars. They weren't particularly huge or nasty, but they were there.

"You try growing up as a girl in the Bell family", you murmured with half-closed eyes staring into the nothingness of the room.

"Ya tellin' me that Micah-"

"Some of them. But they are old. Doesn't matter", you stated briefly, "besides, I now got a new one to worry about."

It came in waves, the pain. Just after you had said your last sentence, you thought you’d finally drift off to sleep, but then it shoots through your body and almost makes you scream in agony. Arthur’s hand took your smaller, beaten up ones, held it tightly and mumbled: “It’s gonna be okay.”

You knew you didn’t deserve this. Arthur sat there like the babysitter you had always mocked him not to be, and yet he wiped your face ever so often to get rid of the sweat and tears which you couldn’t stop from forming in the corner of your eyes and rolling over your cheek.

“Why are you still here?”, you managed to ask after a while of fighting another wave of pain off.

“Jus’ checking if ya make it through the next hour”, Arthur answered sarcastically. He knew he’d never see the end of it if you caught on to the fact that Arthur had felt an unusual strong fear of losing you. A couple of weeks ago, when the two of you had fought, he had felt guilty for sending you away and was glad to find out you hadn't wandered off, but this was different. You had almost died…in his care.

The man swallowed as he observed you. Your eyes were now closed and your chest barely moved with your weak breathing. He had never thought when he first met you, that you could be this fragile and vulnerable. You would slap him for even thinking that, Arthur thought and smiled at the thought. He wanted to be there for you, to protect you.

"'Course...why the one who'd draw on me for feelin' like that...", he mumbled to himself.

So he’d sit there for a while and hold your hand, check your breathing ever so often and hope that some of the colour would return to your face.

The next morning you would wake up alone in the blood-stained bed. And someone would knock and come in to collect you – Miss Grimshaw and Charles. And you’ll find that all the expenses have been paid and that Miss Grimshaw was perfectly filled in on the happenings of last night, so she kept scolding you while you had not enough stregth to fight Charles carrying you to the wagon they had brought. But your thoughts were somewhere else entirely.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

taglist: @xclovers @photo1030 @cowboydisaster @stilinskiwitch @globetrotter28 @unbotheredbeeeee @eyelovie @ashjbu @lovrgirlsstuff @how-the-heck-would-i-know @urfavjanalein

next chapter: here

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption community #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfiction #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr #rdr fanfiction

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themunsonmurders · 2 years

Text

Wayne looks at Eddie and sees alot of himself.

He sees the snarky attitude. The sarcasm. The anger, the resentment. Sees the slight crookedness to his nose from a school fight years ago, crooked just like his from when he fought back in a drunken rage against his own father. He sees the smile and crinkle of his eyes and has to stop himself from pulling out the photos of him when he was younger, when he and his brother were in school, where he would smile wide for picture day, eye-smiles wide enough to block his vision.

He sees it all, and thinks, that's my boy. No one knows him like I do. No one knows just how fucking important he is. But by god, he will try to make them see. Would hold his hand when walking him into school, chat to his teachers, and say 'He really likes reading', and list all the books he had on the coffee table Eddie would scrounge through (a total of five, if they didn't count the magazines, newspaper, and pamphlets).

He'd twirl him around in the air out in the park when he was still in his single digits and not yet living with Wayne fulltime. Would throw him up and help him fly like he asked, would zoom him around the manmade construct and listen to the story his boy would tell, hanging on every word.

He sees alot of himself in Eddie, but he's surprised when he sees a bit more.

It all starts when he comes home from his shift, which have been shortened and his pay raised in apology for witch-hunting his nephew just months before.

He gets to their new little home, a two bedroom bungalow with enough space in all the rooms to have a family Christmas dinner, and sees a shiny BMW in the driveway. It's familiar. He knows who's home.

He walks inside, kicks off his boots, and when he turns to grab a drink from the kitchen, he sees it.

Eddie and Steve rolling out dough, cookie cutters strewn over their kitchen island.

There's flour over their cheeks, just a slight dusting, but it's all so sweet and domestic that he needs a moment.

He sees it all, and just like he does all the time with Eddie, sees himself.

Sees himself and someone he thought he was over long ago.

But here he is, just outside his kitchen, watching his boy and his friend make biscuits, laughing and throwing rolled balls of dough at eachother, and it reminds him of when it had all changed for him.

Reminds him of tough, but gentle, hands. Reminds him of deep blue eyes and blonde locks. Reminds him of whispered promises and hugs that lasted a second too long.

He sees his boy and his friend making biscuits in the kitchen, and Wayne knows.

He sees it.

Eddie and him, they are so alike.

Because his boy has the same look in his eye that he did himself when he left his family, left his brother and his father, and held tightly onto a pair of hands that carried his heart.

He looks at Eddie who looks at Steve with such compassion, so carefree as the sun's light streams though the windows, dough under his fingernails, and he sees himself.

"You better pick all that up," They turn to him, shock on their faces, a wide eyed look on the Harrington boy, and he nods his head. "Don't want dough all over this new kitchen, boys," Is all he says before forgoing his drink, and marching upstairs to his room.

He finds the old shoebox of photographs, picks a few out, and looks. Memorises them, burns them into memory.

The first one is of him and a man he once knew, an arm over his shoulders as they look at one another. He looks at the soul he once knew and sighs. Those eyes, he thinks, those eyes sparkled with life. He looks at himself and blinks. So much alike, him and Eddie.

The second one is blurry, hazy. A picture taken quickly and unsteady, fingers fumbling with the object and unsure of what to press.

It's of his lips on the man's cheek, and he can see the smile that once rocketed his heart into space, beating a million miles a minute.

The third one is simple. Two men stand at a welcome sign, each having an arm strewn over the other. They smile into the camera.

It's of him and someone he knew. Someone who knew him.

He tucks the second photo in his pocket, puts the others back in the shoebox and puts it back into safekeeping.

Eddie and him are alot alike.

He knows that.

And later tonight, when it's just them, he'll show the photo and let Eddie know just how alike they are.

He'll let Eddie know, and will tell him how proud of him he is. How safe he is.

They are both alike, in so many ways.

He thinks of the camera he has hidden away, and wonders if Eddie would like photographing his own sun, too.

#pls the munsons mean so much to me #this was too short to post on ao3 so u get queer wayne reminiscing on tumbr ONLY !#idk i like to think wayne is queer n went mostly non contact with his family when he first left with his partner #wayne n eddie do things to me no other parent n child duo can do #wayne munson #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #ficlet #.writing

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hoejosatoru · 1 year

Text

In The Shadows

Pairing: Fem!reader x Vigilante!Draken

Summary: When a masked man saves y/n’s life, she insisted on patching up his wounds. Despite the danger, she finds herself drawn to him.

Word count: 11.6k I’m so sorry I got carried away

Warnings: threats of violence/assault (from side characters not drakes), guns, being slapped not for pleasure, probably inaccurate medical stuff, needles, stitches, lots of blood, tasting blood is mentions, kidnapping, oral fem and male receiving, fingering, cream pie, pet names, not proof read sorry

The only sound that filled your ears as you walked home were your footsteps and water droplets hitting the pavement. It passed through your mind that it must have rained while you were at work. Not that you had a second to notice. You barely had time to go to the bathroom, let alone play weather-watcher. You loved being a nurse, loved the fast-paced environment, how the hospital was like a living, breathing being and you a part of its lifeblood.

It invigorated you and exhausted you. Some days more so the former and some more the latter. Today was absolutely a latter day. The ER was jam-packed, a never ending stream of complaints, pains, blood, injury, and fear. That was typical, as was losing patients. However, the loss of a patient today was weighing heavily on you. He was a young man, about your age, which you reckoned was fueling your obsessive thoughts. It was always strange to treat someone your age; it was like looking death in the face.

There was nothing you could have done, your coworkers told you and deep down you knew they were right. Still, you couldn’t help but turn over every step you took in your head, trying to figure out what you could have done differently to keep the patient alive. Had you not been so consumed by these thoughts, maybe you would have heard a second set of footsteps joining yours.

“If you scream, I’ll kill you,” a rough voice hissed in your ear, gloved hand covering your mouth from behind. You felt some sharp and cool press against your back and you knew immediately he had a knife pointed at you. You tried to wriggle away instinctually, but your assailant only gripped you tighter. “If you run, I’ll kill you too, bitch.”

Suddenly you were falling, shoved to the ground by two heavy hands. You flipped over frantically, finding a ragged looking man standing over you. He had an evil sneer and eyes that promised violence. Adrenaline flamed through your body, putting you into survival mode. You looked around desperately, hoping to see someone who could help or something you could use for a weapon. You instantly regretted taking a shortcut through an industrial area; it was devoid of anyone at this hour. There was a metal pipe about a half block away, but it might as well have been on the other side of the world. You were trapped.

“What do you want,” you croaked, hoping the 20s in your wallet would appease him.

The man crept over you, like a spider approaching his prey. You were caged in by his limbs, suffocating on the stale odor of his body. “You. And your money,” he replied.

“Please,” you begged, “Just take the money and let me go. I won’t call the police, please.” The second the words left your mouth you knew it was useless. This man was not driven by monetary gain, you could see, but by violence. He was getting off on your fear.

“Shut the fuck up,” he spat, pressed the blade to your neck, “Shut up and listen and I’ll let you live.” Your body went still; you knew more than anyone that a nick to your jugular could be game over. As the assailant started to fumble with his jeans, a sense of rage washed over you. This was not going to happen to you, not without a fight at least.

Your brain was working overtime, concocting a plan to wait until he pulled his dick out, when you assumed he would be most vulnerable, and kick him in the balls as hard as you could. Then run for your life. It was stupid and could very well get you killed. Somewhere in the back of your mind you wondered if this was some sick karmic justice for the patient that died. A life for a life. You couldn’t focus on that, though. Your full attention was on the man in front of you. You were bracing yourself as his pants unzipped, getting ready for the right moment.

Suddenly, the man was off of you. You couldn’t process what had happened, just that there was a weight, a darkness over you one second and now there was not. When your brain caught up to your eyes, you saw a second figure dressed all black with plain black cloth covering his face from the nose up. He had ripped the attacker off of and was now looming over him as he had you.

You scrambled to your feet, pressing yourself against the cool, damp brick wall. You watched the scene play out, hoping that if you flattened yourself enough they would forget you were there.

“The fuck is your pr-” your attacked was cut off by a swift kick from the man in black. He went reeling, crumbling with moans of pain.

The man in black turned his attention to you, “Are you okay?” No, but yes. You nodded, unable to push words through the veil of shock over you. Then, the attacker was up again, rushing towards the masked man. You pointed, possibly even said, “Watch out,” but it was too late. The attacker slashed the masked man across the bicep. He grumbled, a sound of annoyance, like when you found a mosquito on you, rather than one of pain.

He grabbed the assailant’s wrist, twisting it until a sickening snap filled the air. The assailant wailed, dropping the knife. The masked man kicked it far away, before giving the assailant a few kicks of his own. He begged for him to stop.

“Would you have stopped if she begged you to?” the masked man questioned venomously. You knew the answer to that. “If I ever see your fucking face again, I’ll do worse than this.” With a final punch, your attacker was out cold. The masked man picked him up with ease, tossing him into one of those green industrial garbage bins and slamming the top shut.

The man turned and looked at you, well you think he looked at you. His mask was a continuous piece of cloth with no eye holes. You weren’t sure how he saw at all, but clearly it wasn’t an issue. He approached you and you knew you ought to be scared of this man who was clearly very strong and not afraid of violence, but none of you felt afraid. He was nothing like the man currently taking a forced nap in the garbage.

“Are you alright?” he checked again. You nodded and he turned to leave.

“Wait!” you found your voice, “Your arm.”

The man shrugged, seemingly unaffected by the wound. Even though it was dark and he was wearing a black long sleeve, you could see it was bleeding a fair amount. “It’s nothing.”

“You need a hospital and stitches, most likely,” you replied.

“I can’t go to hospitals, they ask too many questions,” he dismissed you gruffly, “It’s a scratch, it will heal on its own.” He turned again, but you stepped in his path.

“Even if it was just a scratch, which it definitely is not, that knife is probably filthy,” you replied, “If you get an infection in your bloodstream, it’s game over. You really want that guy to be the reason you die?”

He let out a frustrated sigh. “I just can’t, okay?”

“Let me help you,” you insisted, “As a thank you. I’m a nurse.” You fished your hospital badge out from under your shirt, flashing at him as proof. “We don’t have to go to the hospital, just my apartment. I won’t ask any questions.” You’re not sure why you felt so compelled to help this man, but it felt like an absolute necessity. He may have saved your life, this was the least you could do. Plus, a selfish part of you knew if you went back to your apartment all alone after this incident you would probably have a full on panic attack. You desperately needed the distraction.

The man was silent, considering your offer. “It is dangerous.”

“No more dangerous than bloodborne pathogens.”

He sighed, caving to your demand. “Fine.” His one stipulation was that you could not walk there together, which you didn’t argue. You gave him instructions to your place and told him which window he should look for. You didn’t realize until you walked away that he meant to come up through the fire escape.

You hurried back to your place, wanting the safety of your four walls. As you walked, the adrenaline wore off and you felt the full impact of having a near death - or at least near assault - experience. Your body was buzzing and felt heavy. You couldn’t quite catch your breath. Finally, though, you arrived, giving you some relief.

You dropped your bag by the door and kicked off your shoes. You went down the hall, collecting some towels and your first aid kit. You knew it would be best to do something like this in a bathroom, however your crappy little apartment had an even smaller, crappier bathroom. There would not be enough room for this man - who was rather large, over 6 feet you reckoned - yourself and your supplies. So, you spread out a big towel on the kitchen table (it doesn’t get used much anyways) and set out all the supplies you would need. It dawned on you then that he could just have used this to give you the slip and never intended to come.

That fear was quelled by a knock at your window. The man was crouched on your fire escape, mask still on. You told him he could come in. “You should really keep that locked,” he said as he slid inside.

“You can lecture me later,” you replied, patting the towel on your table, “Sit.” Wordlessly, he followed your command. He was a big, solid man, your table groaning under his weight. The black shirt he wore strained over his muscles. Who is this guy, you wondered.

You slipped on a pair of gloves. “Mind if I roll up your sleeve?”

“Go for it.” You carefully slide the sleeve up the length of his arm, as to not disturb the wound. Blood has dripped down his bicep, a very muscular bicep you noted, down to his elbow. Thankfully, though, the blood seemed to have stopped. You used a damp washcloth to gently remove the blood from his skin. This close to him, you could breathe in his scent. It was woody and smokey with a hint of motor oil and the metallic tang of blood. Oddly enough, it was not unpleasant.

“I have to thank you again for saving me,” you said as you washed away the blood, “If you didn’t get there when you did…” your voice trailed off thinking how badly it could have ended.

“You’re welcome,” he replied. You wanted to talk to him, learn about him, but he seemed guarded. You dropped the bloodied towel onto the floor, switched to some gauze soaked in saline. You worked your way closer to the wound area, gently cleansing it.

“Is this, like, a thing you do often?”

“No questions, remember?” his tone was a bit lighter. That was progress.

“Not a chatty guy?”

At that he smiled slightly. “Not really.” You prepped the medical needle, thread, and forceps. “Have you been a nurse for long?”

“Are you worried about my skills?” you mused.

“I thought you wanted to chat,” he replied. Touché.

“About 4 years. But don’t worry I could do stitches in my sleep,” you replied, “Might hurt a little, though.”

He just about laughed. “I think I’ll survive.” His voice was deep and strong, like a rich cup of black coffee. The more he spoke, you found yourself drinking it in. His jaw strong and square, his lips full. There was something alluring about this man. A stupid thought. You didn’t even know what he looked like and yet your heart was skipping a beat. Focus idiot, you told yourself.

“By the way, how do you even see? Your mask looks like a blind fold,” talking took your mind off how he made you feel.

“You’re not good at the whole no questions thing,” he huffed, “but it’s a special fabric that functions like a one way mirror. I can see out but no one can see in.”

You got to work on the repetitive process of suturing. Needle in, needle out, knot, snip, repeat. If it hurt him at all, he didn’t show it. He didn’t so much as flinch. “You’re a good patient.”

“Not my first rodeo,” he replied.

“So you have been doing this awhile,” you caught.

He sighed, a deep, sweet sound, “Yeah I guess you could say that.”

“For fun?”

“For safety. Too many shitty people in this city and not enough people doing anything about it,” he replied.

“You could say that again,” you replied. The crime rates have been going up recently. It was unnerving.

“It’s not much, but it’s something. If I can help a few people it’s worth it.”

You finished up the final suture, almost sad knowing he would leave. “Well, as one of those people you saved, I really appreciate it. And you’re all done. I’m all out of lollipops, though.”

At that he laughed, “Worst news I’ve gotten in a while. But thank you, I appreciate it.” He paused, rolling his sleeve back down carefully. “Can I ask one more thing of you?”

“Of course,” you replied as you cleaned up.

“Please don’t tell anyone about this. I’m trying to… stay off the radar. The less people that know about me the better. Also,” he hesitated, “I don’t want you to be in any more danger. There are people who don’t exactly like me.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” you replied, “And if you ever have any other medical stuff you can come here. I’ll help you, limited questions asked.” He smiled softly in a way that told you he would most likely not take you up on that offer. It made your heart sink a little, but it was probably for the best. Inviting a strange man into your home probably wasn’t smart, even if he did seem nice.

“I imagine your name is off limits,” you said as he slid the window back open.

“I’m sorry, it’s for the best,” he replied, stepping back out into the cool night air. “Take care of yourself.” With that, the window shut and the masked man was gone.

***

You kept your promise, not telling a soul about the masked man. You started calling him Shadow in your head, for his fully black outfit and lack of distinguishing features showing. It was silly, but easier than ‘the masked man.’ In any event, you kept it to yourself. It was hard because the near assault rattled you, but you couldn’t tell anyone that it almost happened without telling them why it didn't happen.

Work was the perfect amount of busy following the ordeal. It was as if it knew you needed to keep your mind off things, though not so much that you would be overwhelmed. After about 2 weeks, you were certain you were not going to see Shadow again.

So you were very surprised when he appeared on your fire escape again. “I told you to keep this thing locked, any weirdo could get in,” he said by way of greeting as he slid through the window.

“Are you one of the weirdos in question?” you replied, hoping your voice didn’t give way how excited you were to see him. You were acutely aware, though, that you were in ratty old pjs. He couldn’t have picked a night where you wore the cute matching set you bought yourself last Christmas?

“Probably, given the circumstances,” he answered, groaning a little and he pushed the window back down.

“You’re hurt,” you stated the obvious. He wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t, but it was odd for him to show it.

“I’m alright,” he waved away your concern, “I just got hit in the ribs pretty bad. I’m afraid I might have broken one. I wanted to know if you could tell.”

You pulled a chair out for him. “Well the only way to know for sure is to get an x-ray, but I’m guessing your no hospital policy hasn’t changed.”

“Correct.” You left him to sit while you dug out a stethoscope from your first aid bag. You slung it around your neck, going back to him.

“Can you lift your shirt for me, please?” He did as he was asked, revealing his torso to you. He was as muscular as he looked, almost annoyingly perfect. You ignored the little line of hair disappearing into his pants, focusing his side. His skin was an angry red, with the deep indigo of a bruise beginning to form. “Did you get kicked by a horse?”

Shadow shook his head, “Just an idiot with steel toe boots.”

You gently ran your hand over the area, pressing lightly at different spots. “Does any of this hurt?”

“I mean, it doesn’t feel great, but nothing too bad,” he replied.

You continued to prod, “Any trouble breathing? Or pain when you take deep breaths? Like a sharp, stabbing pain?”

“No and no. It feels sore, but I wouldn't say it’s a stabbing pain.” All good signs. You wanted to check with the stethoscope just to be as sure as you could. You pressed the cool medal to his ribs, instructing him to take deep breaths. You moved the stethoscope around, listening for the telltale sound of bone grating against bone, which would indicate a fracture. You never heard it.

“Well I can’t say for certain without an x-ray, but all signs point to not fractured,” you told him, “Some ice would probably be good, though.”

“I wouldn’t say no to that.” You fetched him a pack, gently pressing it to his side. His hands slid over yours to take over, making you blush. As you stepped back, a scar on his lower abdomen caught your eye.

“What happened there?” you asked.

A whisper of a smirk crossed his face, knowing the response he usually got to this. “I got stabbed when I was 15.”

“15? Jesus. You really have been at this awhile,” you replied.

“Yeah, I was sorta… in a gang when I was younger,” he stated, shifting in his seat. That shocked you more than the fact he got stabbed.

“You don’t seem like the gang type,” you replied.

He shook his head, “I know what you’re thinking, but we weren’t bad. Just a bunch of kids that like motorcycles really,” he paused, smiling fondly at a memory you couldn’t see, “We looked out for each other and the people we cared about. We weren’t into drugs or weapons or hurting innocent people. I actually got this scar going after the gang that hurt a friend’s girlfriend.”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have judged,” you said, “You’re a good person.”

He let out a deep sigh, “I wouldn’t go that far. And I should get going, I’ve taken up enough of your time already.”

“Shadow, wait,” you called, not ready to let him go.

He turned to you with a teasing smile, “Shadow?”

Your face burned red and you huffed, “Well you wouldn’t tell me your name, I had to improvise. Don’t laugh!” But it was too late, he was already fully laughing.

“I like it, maybe I should make that hero name. Get myself a cape or something,” he teased you. You threw a towel at him, which only made him laugh harder. Even though it was at you, it was the sweetest sound you’ve heard in awhile. “You know,” he said, “you never even told me your name.” You actually hadn’t realized that.

“Y/n,” you told him.

“Y/n,” he repeated. Your heart caught in your chest. “You can call me Draken. It’s a nickname, but it’s what all my friends call me.” Friends.

“Does that mean we are friends, Draken?” His name was sweet in your mouth.

“We shouldn’t be,” he replied, “If you knew what was good for you, you’d stop letting me come here. If they were to ever find out, they’d go after you. They’d do anything to get information on me.” The concern in his voice unnerved you; Draken didn’t seem like a man who feared much.

“Who are they?”

“I really shouldn’t I- fuck, I don’t want you to be in the middle of all this shit. It’s dangerous,” Draken replied, “Now would be a good time to tell me you never wanna see me again.” It was supposed to be a joke but there was a pleading edge to it.

“Sorry, you’re not getting off that easy,” you told him firmly, “Shouldn’t I know about what could be a danger to me?” Draken conceded, telling you about an organization called Bonten. They were a front for drugs, weapons, and anything else unsavory you could imagine. Draken explained that he was on a mission to take them down, which, naturally, they didn’t like. They had a hit out on him. Mostly, he said, he goes after their streetmen, trying to get information on where their HQ is, or anything that would help him stop them. However, there are times where he steps in to stop unrelated crimes, like when he saved you.

“Shit, how come you’ve never gone to the police?” you asked. You never liked the idea of Draken going after bad guys, but knowing they were specifically going after made your stomach twist.

“They’ve got half the cops in this city on their payroll. If I walked in there with information on them, it’s likely I wouldn’t walk back out,” he explained, then added with a sly smile, “Plus the other half of cops don't like it when someone can do their job better than them.”

“That’s a lot for one person to worry about,” you replied. You wished you could touch him, squeeze his hand, but he was finally opening up. You were too scared to do something that would scare him away.

“Now you see why I don’t want to involve you in this,” he said.

“I think it is all the more reason for you to have someone to take care of your injuries. Promise me that you’ll continue to come if you need it.”

He hesitated, but finally stated, “I promise. But we have to be careful. Don’t tell anyone about this. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if you got hurt.” You agreed, saying you wouldn’t tell a soul. Draken asked for your phone, which you gave over. “I’m putting in the number to my burner phone. If something happens or you’re in trouble, please call me.” He cracked a smile handing the phone back to you, “I made the contact name Shadow.”

You swipe the phone out of his hand, “I hate you.”

A sad smile flitted across his face. “I wish you did, it would be easier. Goodbye, y/n.”

“Goodbye, Draken.” The taste of his name made the goodbye less bitter.

Over the next few months, Draken would come in when needed. It was bittersweet, you loved being able to see him, but hated that if he showed up it meant he was hurt. The longer you went without seeing him, the more anxious you got. Once three weeks had passed without him coming by and you feared the worst. You kept conjuring up images of him bleeding out in an alleyway somewhere until he showed up at your fire escape. Luckily, none of his injuries were too serious. Mostly cleaning out and bandaging cuts, checking to make sure bruises were just bruises and broken bones. By some miracle, they never were. You only had to give him stitches one or two other times, but they were pretty small. From what you could tell, Draken was very good at what he did.

As he came, you were able to talk more and more. He was still very guarded, never lifting his mask, telling you his real name or any information that was too personal. Still, you got tidbits here and there and felt like you were getting to know him better. You cherished every scrap you were given, weaving them together to try to get a full picture of him. It frustrated you terribly that you didn’t know what he looked like, but you let your imagination run wild.

You had just gotten home from a friend’s dinner party when Draken was knocking on your window. It had been a little over a week since you last saw him, so it was hard to hide your excitement. You didn’t like to show how you felt around Draken, scared that he would run if he saw how invested you were in him.

“Hope I’m not disturbing you,” he said, looking you up and down. Well you think he did by the way his head moved, but you couldn’t be sure. You were glad you picked your favorite silky dress to go out in . Finally, you thought, he was seeing you in something other than sweats and scrubs. You were so vindicated you almost didn’t notice the blood dripping from his nose.

“Never,” you said, grabbing some tissues from the kitchen.

“You go on a date or something?” Draken asked. He tried to sound casual, but something was off in his voice.

You smirked, teasing him, “Yeah, with this guy who said he works for a company called Bonten. Ever heard of them?”

“Ha ha,” Draken replied dryly. “Guess it’s obvious why I’m here today.” He gestured to his nose. You gently dabbed at the blood, which had dripped down to his lips.

“Your split lip healed nicely,” you noted when you wiped all the blood off. There was only the faintest scar from where it had busted open a few weeks ago. You lost yourself for a moment, running your thumb along the plush of his lip. You blushed, feeling like you got caught doing something bad. You went to lower your hand, but Draken grabbed your wrist, putting your thumb against his lips and kissing it softly. “Draken…” you breathed.

“I’m not sure if my nose is broken,” he whispered in a way that said he wanted to say something else, but was scared to. Like he was silently urging you to understand a hidden meaning. He had stepped closer to you, his smokey, cedar scent making you dizzy.

“I-I can’t really see it with your mask on,” you replied softly. Your heart thudded in your ears as Draken wordlessly brought his hands to the back of his head, untying the fabric and letting it fall to the floor. You gasped, finally taking in the man before you. You were most surprised by the tattoo on the side of his head, but it suited him perfectly. His black hair was braided back, but two strands framed his strong, handsome face. The soft lavender bruise across his nose couldn’t even marr his beauty. His eyes were so dark you felt yourself getting lost in them already. “You’re so beautiful.”

Draken chuckled softly. “I’ve been wanting to say those exact words to you for a while now.” Then your face was cupped in his hands, his lips pressed to yours. Your head was spinning, feeling his lips against yours. He tasted good, even with a slight aftertaste of blood.

You pulled back breathless, “Wait your nose.” Draken pulled you back in, “Fuck my nose.” Well who were you to argue?

Draken’s hands slid up and down your body, rough and warm. You let your hands explore as well, loving being able to touch him for pleasure, not to patch him up. Draken backed you up so you were pressed against the wall. You loved how he towered over you. He put a thigh between your legs, pressing upwards. You let out a soft moan feeling his thigh come in contact with your clothed pussy.

“Gonna make pretty noises for me?” Draken cooed. He kissed down to your neck; you tilted back allowing him full access. The strap of your dress slipped off your shoulder as you ground against him. Draken took the opportunity to place a kiss on your shoulder. He pulled your dress down until your boobs were exposed, licking and sucking at your nipples, making you whine.

“Need you,” you gasped. You raked your fingers down his chest.

“Fuck, I don’t have a rubber,” Draken cursed, “But I got an idea that will test if my nose is broken too.” You gave him a confused look, which he returned with a sly smile. He dropped to his knees, the sight of him looking up at you making you flush. He kissed your ankle, your knee, all up your thigh, then ghosted over your underwear before repeating on the other side. You squirmed, aching for him.

“Don’t tease,” you pleaded breathlessly. Draken couldn’t deny you; he wanted you just as badly. He slid your underwear down your legs, a groan escaping his lips at the strings of arousal that went with it. Draken pulled your knee over his shoulder, looking up at you as he licked a striped up your pussy.

“So fucking sweet,” he murmured before fully diving in. Draken was not shy about eating you out at all. He pressed his face deep into the apex of your thighs, his nose nudging your clit. If it caused him any pain, he didn’t show it. He sucked at your clit, then let his tongue wriggle up inside you. You gaspeds, hands tangling in his hair. The braid had long since fallen, his raven locks flowing freely. Draken smirked to himself, feeling you roll your hips against him, greedy for more. “Go ahead baby, fuck my face.”

“Fuck, Draken,” you whined. His filthy words make your pussy clench. Draken - quite literally - ate it up. He loved how you responded to his words, his touch, his tongue. Within moments, your orgasm was upon you, pumping a rich bliss through your veins. You shuddered and moaned Drakens name as he gripped your thighs to keep you from toppling over. He let you ride out your high, savoring your taste on his tongue.

When you finished you sunk to your knees next to him. You gripped his face in your hands, pulling him in for a deep, sloppy kiss. You slid your hand down, running it along the bulge in his pants. Draken’s breath caught in his throat as you gave him a squeeze. You fumbled with the button on his pants until you were able to yank them down enough to slip his cock out from his boxers. Draken laid back, propped up on his forearms looking at you.

“You don’t - shit - you don’t have to, fuck-” he trailed off when you licked up the underside of him. He was long and thick, heavy in your hand. You wanted to taste him so bad.

“You were saying?” you teased. Draken didn’t protest, allowing you to wrap your lips around his head. You sucked at it, swirling your tongue over the slit, making Draken hiss. You let some spit drip down his length, giving some lubricant for your hand to slide up and down him. You bobbed your head up and down, allowing your hands to squeeze the parts you couldn’t. He was so big it made your jaw ache, but you didn’t mind.

“Fuck, baby, just like that,” Draken moaned. You focused your mouth on the tip, which made his breath quicken. You loved the way his stomach clenched as you sucked at his tip. His hips twitched and a breathless moan filled the room as he came, filling your mouth. You swallowed the slick salty release eagerly.

You collapsed on his chest, both of you catching your breath. A silence settled over you that started comfortably, then stretched out a little too long. Draken, you noticed, was oddly stiff. A pit formed in your stomach.

“Draken do you… do you want to stay over?” you tried, hoping he’d enthusiastically agree and that you were being over sensitive for no reason.

“I… probably shouldn’t,” he replied uncomfortably.

“I wouldn’t make you sleep on the floor,” you tried to joke, but it died on your lips when you saw his face. Something was wrong. “What’s the matter?”

“This… I shouldn’t have,” he replied, voice strained. He saw your face fall and continued quickly, “It’s not you it’s - fuck I don’t wanna say that. I just -I don’t have a normal life. All this time we spend together, the closer we get, it all puts you more in danger.”

“I don’t care, I feel safe with you. We could make it work,” you pleaded. You felt desperate, like you were gripping onto sand that would inevitably slip through your fingers.

“You deserve better than what I can give you. I can’t even take you out on a date. If my identity got out to Bonten they would go after everyone I cared about to get to me. I can’t put you in that kind of danger.” You were both sitting up and Draken was pulling his pants back up. He was leaving, you realized, he hooked up with you and now he’s leaving you. A wave of anger burned through you.

“You couldn’t have fucking figured that out before we… did that?” you snapped, “Were you just trying to get in my pants this whole time?”

Draken looked at you, hurt. “I would have hoped you’d know I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“But how could I?” you fired back, “You keep me in the dark about everything. Only ever come here when you need something. Then we have sex and suddenly it's too much?” Deep down you knew it wasn’t like that; you knew Draken was not using you. Yet your anger was in full control now.

“I’m sorry y/n. I fucked up, I know how bad it looks,” Draken replied. He sounded broken up. “I shouldn’t have let myself get carried away, it wasn’t right. I… I’m going to stop coming here. I think it’s for the best.”

Everything was crashing around you. You didn’t want him to see you cry, swallowing your tears as best you could. All you could say was, “Go, then.” And then he was gone.

***

It had been a little over 2 months since you last saw Draken. You flipped between sad and angry. Mostly just sad, though. You missed him so bad it ached. You wanted to tell him how mad you were. You wanted to kiss him. Most of all, you wanted to know he was okay. Night time was always the hardest; you spent far too much time staring at your fire escape hoping he would appear. You wondered who, if anyone, was taking care of him now.

You never thought you would see him again, which was why him showing up covered in blood was so shocking. He opened the window, falling through with a heavy thump before you could even get up off the couch. You’ve never seen him look so bad.

“Fuck Draken what happened?” you rushed over to him. You saw that he was bleeding heavily from a wound in his leg, as well as one from the head. His mask was soaked, excess blood dripping down the side of his face.

“I’m sorry, y/n, I’m so sorry,” Draken mumbled, “Didn’t know where else to go.” The words came through huffed breaths.

Tears welled in your eyes. “Shh, it's okay Draken. You’re going to be okay. Just hold on for me.” You pushed your tears away and went into nurse-mode. You gathered up all the supplies you thought you would need. Draken was fading in and out of consciousness when you returned, mumbling sorry again when he saw you. “You can apologize later, just hold on for me.”

You cut through his pants, finding a gash that was the source of the bleeding. The blood was a deep maroon, not the bright red of an artery injury. You let out the tiniest sigh of relief. If his femoral artery had been nicked, he would be a dead man. Still, the wound did not look good. For a brief second you considered breaking the rules and calling the hospital, however you didn’t know how you would explain this without outing Draken. But if he died, that would be a big problem too. You decided then and there that come hell or high water, he is not dying.

You yanked the belt off his pants, using it as a make-shift tourniquet. You figured it would be too hard to get the wound above his heart, what with it being on his thigh. Instead, you jumped right into applying pressure. You used your left hand to reach up and peel off his mask, which was sticky with his blood. It revealed a cut above his eyebrow. It would need stitches, you assessed, but it wasn’t life threatening. Head wounds bleed like crazy; they’re almost never as bad as they look.

You used your need to hold pressure on his wound. Draken groaned, a welcome sound. It meant he was still conscious. Though you could tell he was fading. He was pale from the blood loss. You used your free hands to cut open his shirt and rip it away. Thankfully you were met with no other wounds. Well, visible ones anyways. He was scraped and bruised, but nothing that required immediate attention.

“Didn’t know you wanted my clothes off so bad,” Draken tried to joke. His breath was ragged, making your heart pinch.

“You did know that,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light. His eyes fluttered. “Don’t you dare Draken.” But his lids didn’t open. He was still breathing and still had a pulse, so he was just passed out from the blood loss. You needed to work fast or this could be bad. You checked his wound and, thankfully, the bleeding had slowed.

You, being the neurotic planner you were, had a feeling something like this would happen when you started treating Draken. So, you filled an IV bag with your own blood. You won the genetic lottery and are the universal donor. It was a morbid thing to do, but right now you were glad you had. You fetched the bad from your fridge (hidden behind your favorite juice. Definitely morbid) and worked to hook Draken up. His veins were a little hard to find from the blood loss, but you got it soon enough.

You returned to his thigh wound, which had stopped bleeding. You nearly cried out with relief. You pulled on gloves, carefully inspecting it. It was a long gash, but not deep enough to cause permanent damage. You cleansed it until you were satisfied, checked to make sure it wasn’t still bleeding, then started stitching like a mad woman. You lost count of how many it took, but finally it was done. You moved to the cut on his face and repeated the process.

Draken was still knocked out, but his breath never faltered, which was the only thing that gave you comfort. You then began cleaning the blood off of his skin as gently and quickly as you could. You cleansed and bandaged some of the smaller cuts and scrapes. Then, you shifted your futon into a bed. You laid out an old bed sheet and then very carefully pulled Draken over. It was not easy, given his stature, but your experience handling patients larger than yourself helped. You put a pillow under his head and a few under his leg to prop it up. You’ve done all you could for him, now you just had to hope it was enough.

You worked on cleaning his blood up off your floor. It took a bit of work, but finally it didn’t look like someone nearly bled out in your living room. You bagged up his clothes and most of the towels you used. You weren’t even going to bother trying to get the blood out. You took the last clean towel you had and took the quickest shower possible to get all his blood off you.

When you came back out, he was still resting peacefully. You carefully crawled into the bed next to him, finally letting a few tears flow. You kissed his forehead gently and whispered to him, “Please be okay, Draken. Please.” You slept next to him - though it was less sleeping and more you carefully watching his chest to ensure it was still rising and falling.

At some point you must have dozed off, because the next time you opened your eyes there was sunlight streaming through your window. The soft, golden kind that told you it couldn’t be much past sunrise. You were between sleep and wake when Draken started shifting beside you. You practically sprung up, all traces of sleep gone.

“Y/n?” his voice was hoarse, but so welcomed.

You were nearly in tears. “I’m here Draken.” You looked over his body. It was beaten and bruised, but all the stitches held overnight. His color came back and his eyes had a spark to them. The vice of anxiety eased off your chest.

“What happened? What time is it?” his brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. He saw the IV hooked up to him and shot you a confused look. “How the…?”

“You were in really bad shape last night. I don’t know what happened before you came here, but I-I thought I was going to lose you for a few seconds,” your voice shook as you thought about his eyes fluttering shut. “It’s ab0ut 8am right now. And well… I gave you my blood.”

You expected Draken to be horrified, but to your surprise, he laughed. “And I haven’t even taken you out to dinner.” You laughed, brushing away the few tears that had welled in your eyes. You were so relieved to see him in good spirits. “Am I gonna live? With all appendages intact?”

“Yes, but only because you have the best nurse in the world,” you replied.

He smiled. “That I do.” He tried to sit up, groaning.

“But you should take it easy,” you said, trying to get him to lie back down. You compromised for being propped up on his elbows. You gave him a glass of water, which he downed quickly.

“Fuck that was good.” Draken looked down at himself, just in his boxers. “Wow you really want to get my close off, huh?”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up. They were covered in blood. I didn’t wanna stain my couch.”

He looked over at you, taking in the pillow and blankets beside him. “Did you sleep with me all night?”

Blush dusted your cheeks. “Yeah I-I didn’t wanna leave you. I was scared something was going to happen.”

Draken’s eyes darkened. “I’m so sorry y/n.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“No, I have a lot to be sorry for,” he replied, “Not just for showing up here and scaring the shit out of you. Though that was definitely not right of me after… everything.”

You shook your head. “I’m glad you did. Well, I mean I’m not glad that you were so hurt, but I am glad you thought to come here. I would never want anything bad to happen to you.”

“Still,” Draken sighed, “What I did that last time we were together was wrong. I never should have left you like that. It was so fucked up of me. I… I just care so much about you. I realized in that moment that I like you far more than I ever should have let myself and that scared me. Because if Bonten ever found out… I couldn’t forgive myself if you were hurt.”

Your heart pinched at Draken’s words. Though it stung for him to leave when he did, knowing he was so scared made you sad. You hated that he had to live like that. “I forgive you,” you replied, and meant it fully. “I know what you do must be really hard on you. You don’t deserve to feel that way.” You paused, debating if you should say what you were thinking. You decided to go for it. “For what it is worth, you are worth taking a risk for, Draken.”

Draken’s eyes softened in a way that made your heart skip a beat. “Does that mean I can take you out on a date?”

You smiled widely. “Yes, you absolutely can. After you’re healed though.”

“Suddenly I feel a lot better.”

You giggled. “You need at least a full day's rest. I won’t go out with you any sooner.”

“You drive a hard bargain, but deal,” Draken replied. “And I want you to know my real name is Ken.”

You groaned. “You’re telling me your real name was right in front of me this whole time? Disguised in a nickname?”

Draken - Ken - laughed at your indignation. “Guilty. But if it makes you feel better, the people closest to me call me Draken.” It did make you feel better; you liked the thought of being someone who was close to him.

You were able to convince Draken to spend another whole day resting at your place so you could monitor him (it really didn’t take more convincing). You made him breakfast, which he devoured. A good sign. He also took a shower and came out in a particularly low towel that made you squirm. You ran into a problem when you realized you trashed all his bloody, cut up clothes, meaning he had nothing to wear. Even your largest sweats looked so ridiculously small on him you both busted out laughing.

“You really don’t have to go get me clothes,” Draken said, who was now just standing in his boxers. You were trying, and failing, not to stare. You couldn’t believe someone could just… look like that.

“Well considering your only other option is walking home in your underwear, I think I do. Besides it’s just a few blocks away, it’s not a problem at all.” You could tell Draken felt bad but he didn’t argue. And it really wasn’t a big deal, you were back with proper fitting sweats in less than 30 minutes.

The two of you just hung out for the rest of the day. You enjoyed getting to know the real Draken, the man behind the mask. He was intelligent, funny, and really sweet, despite his hard exterior. As the hours passed, his color came back fully and his pain was diminishing. He was still a little achy, but all things considered, he was doing well. He ended up in your bed at night, you insisted even though he tried to say the couch was fine. He only agreed to sleep there if you slept there too, refusing to put you out of a bed in your own home.

Nothing happened between the two of you, though you felt like your bodies were alive with a current. You were so aware of him next to you, the weight of him on the mattress, his scent, the sound of his breath, it was like a magnetic force pulling you to him. You didn’t act on those impulses, though. It wasn;t just that you knew his body needed more rest, you were scared of pushing things too far again. Even though he said he wanted to take you on a date, you were still afraid he might change his mind.

Those fears, however, did not stop your unconscious mind from cuddling up to him in your sleep. You were thoroughly embarrassed when you woke up wrapped around him, apologizing profusely. Draken did not seem to mind one bit.

“Do I have medical clearance to take you on a date tomorrow?” Draken asked as he slipped his shoes back on. Your heart fluttered with excitement that he wanted to see you so soon.

“Hmm, I think that can be approved,” you replied. Blood volume usually is back to normal in about 48 hours, so he should be okay by then. You explained that it did take a few weeks for red blood cells to regenerate, so he should take it easy and stay hydrated. “Let me know if you feel dizzy or weak. You should be okay since you haven’t experienced that, but still call me right away if you do. And no strenuous… activities for a few more days.” You gave him a pointed look.

Draken put his hands up innocently. “I can leave the mask off for a few nights. I’ve got more important plans, anyways.” You couldn’t help but smile stupidly as you said goodbye.

The next night you were in your room trying to find an outfit to wear for tomorrow, when you heard a noise in your living room. Draken, you thought, hurrying out to see him.

You stopped dead in your tracks. The person standing in front of your open window was not Draken. Behind the fear that surged through your body you heard Draken scolding you for not locking the damn thing.

“You’re a pretty thing, aren’t you?” the pink-haired man said.

“What are you doing?” you asked stupidly. You body told you to run but you felt frozen in place.

“I think we have a mutual friend I’d like to discuss,” he replied nonchalantly. His cheeks were scarred, making his fake smile look more like a sneer.

“What do you-” Your eyes widened when you realized. This was a member of Bonten, you knew it your bones. Fuck. Finally, your body caught up to your mind. You sprinted back to your room, locking the door behind you. You heard this man sigh behind you, as if you had the nerve to run from someone who broke into your place.

You scrambled for your phone as he banged on the door. The whole frame shook and you knew the shitty old wood was not going to hold up. Your hands were shaking, making it difficult to click through to Draken’s number, but finally you did.

“Please pick up, please pick up,” you frantically whispered. You yelped as the door started to splinter.

You nearly wept tears of relief when you heard Draken’s voice. “Y/n? What’s up?”

“Please help me!” you cried. The door clattered to the ground, making you scream.

“Y/n? What’s going on? Are you okay?”

The man grabbed your ankles, pulling you away from the phone. “They have me! Please, help!” You were screaming and crying, unable to fight the fear. You could hear Draken replying, but the man stomped on your phone, cutting him off. Before you could even react, a sharp pain radiated through the back of your skull and the world went black.

***

The world came back to you in fuzzy blinks. The first thing you noticed was the dull ache in the back of your head, the second was that you were bound to something cold and hard.

“Sleeping beauty’s awake,” a voice announced. You looked up, funding three men staring at you, one was your capture and the other two were purple-haired strangers. They were dressed expensively, though you were in what looked like a run-down old warehouse. They were not exactly how you would picture gang members, but there was an air of menace about them despite their colorful dress. Especially the pink one.

“Finally, been sick of waiting around,” the pink one huffed. “You’re going to cooperate and answer our questions, y/n.” It unnerved you that he knew your name.

The one with short purple hair tsked. “Jesus, Sanzu, you’re scaring the poor girl.” He turned to you, a slick smile on his face. “Sorry for my friend, he’s not good with people. Especially not pretty girls.” Sanzu grumbled something under his breath, while the longer haired guy with glasses rolled his eyes. “I’m Ran, it’s nice to meet you.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. He spoke like you were meeting a new friend, not like you were being held hostage.

“Not very talkative, huh?” he asked with faux sincerity. “Going to need you to speak for me, angel. Got some questions for you.” Ran went to push hair out of your eyes, making your jerk back.

“Don’t touch me,” you spat.

He chuckled, unperturbed by your tone. “She speaks! Think she likes me better, Sanzu.”

“Oh fuck off.”

“Would the two of you stop fucking playing around?” the longer-haired man interjected. “We don’t have all fucking day. The boss is waiting.”

Ran rolled his eyes. “My brother’s such a party pooper. But it’s true, we are kinda in a hurry. So I’ll get to the point: you know someone we are… very interested in meeting.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, keeping your voice as steady as possible.

“No?” He reached into his suit jacket, pulling out a photo of your apartment building. It was fuzzy, but you could see yourself in the window as Draken climbed in from the fire escape. Your pulse spiked. “See, I think I'm a nice guy, y/n. But I really hate being lied to. And so does my friend Sanzu, only his methods of interrogation are a little more… ruthless.” He paused, letting his words sink in. Your throat felt tight and your palms itched with anxious sweat. These men were not afraid to hurt you. “Now with that in mind, I want you to tell me how you know this man.”

You debated trying to lie, but it was clearly pointless. They had photo proof you knew him. You felt violated and sick that you have been watched for that long, but you couldn’t focus on that now. You formulated a response to get them off your back without revealing too much. “H-he… helped me one day. I was getting robbed and he stopped them.”

“Go on.”

Fuck you knew that wouldn’t be enough. “He got hurt and I offered to stitch him up for helping me. I’m a nurse. It was just a favor I-I don’t know him.”

“Hmm,” Ran considered your words, “And yet he went to your apartment on multiple occasions?”

Your stomach clenched with fear. They’ve been watching you for so long. “I-I offered to help if he needed. But I don’t know anything about him. He never showed me his face or told me his name,” the words tumbled out of you in a breathless mess.

“Am I supposed to believe that? All those late night stops at your place and never once told you his name? Showed you his face?” Ran questioned, his hand ran up and down your leg in a casual manner. “Don’t know how he could resist a pretty girl like you. I’m finding it hard myself, and we just met.”

You felt nauseous. “He never did, I swear,” you lied, “He was very secretive. He only ever stayed long enough to receive medical attention and that was it.”

“Oh for fucks sake,” Sanzu jumped it, “Your methods are shit, Ran.” He shoved the purple-haired man aside. He crouched down to look in your face. “You’re fucking lying to us, I can tell.”

“I’m not I sw-” The crack of a hand across your face silenced you. You were stunned, cheek stinging and mouth filling with the metallic taste of blood. Ran gave you a ‘I told you so’ shrug.

“Do we look stupid or something?” Sanzu demanded. “You must know something about his identity.”

You would never give Draken up. Not just because it was wrong, but because you knew these men were going to kill you either way. You’d rather take his secret to the grave. “I don’t. I told you everything.”

Sanzu pulled a gun out and pointed it at you. You nearly screamed as you struggled useless against the rope that tied you. “Please don’t,” you cried. It was one thing to know these men wanted to harm you, but looking death in the face was something else entirely.

Ran and the third man didn’t even blink as Sanzu cocked the gun. He placed his finger on the trigger. He fucking smiled. “Last chance.”

Your eyes squeezed shut as tears streamed down your cheeks. You didn’t bother begging; you knew your words didn’t matter. You heard a loud bang, your body tensing as you braced for the pain… wait, why weren’t you in pain? You dared to open your eyes, finding Sanzu knocked out on the floor in front of you, a metal rod on the floor next to him. There was a flutter of movement around you, but you saw a familiar shape running towards you.

Draken.

He had another rod in his hand, which he was currently using to fight off the purple-haired men. Another gun was pulled out, followed by a loud BANG, but Draken dodged it. He lunged at Ran, the wielder of the gun, twisting it out of his hand with a loud snap.

“Fuck,” Ran groaned in pain. Draken snatched the gun off the ground and aimed it at Ran’s brother. He lifted his hands to indicate his surrender.

“Get the fuck out of here,” Draken yelled. When they didn’t move he fired the gun in the space between them, which set them off running. Draken was at your side in a blink of an eye. He kicked the gun out of Sanzu’s limp hand. He gave him a kick to the ribs for good measure, but he was out cold. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m okay,” you hiccupped. Tears still fell, these were one of relief. The second he untied your wrists, your arms flew around him, squeezing him tightly. He held you back, gripping you for dear life.

“It’s okay, I got you,” Draken soothed, “You’re safe with me.” Draken took you in his arms and ran. You tucked your face into his chest, breathing in his scent, absorbing his warmth. Your nerves were still a wreck, but you knew at that moment you were safe.

You weren’t sure how long Draken had been carrying you for when he came to a stop. When you looked up, you were at the back of a bike shop. “Are you okay to walk up the stairs?” Draken asked.

“I’m not hurt,” you confirmed. Draken set you down, but kept an arm around you as he led you up the stairs.

“This is my place,” Draken explained, “I want you here with me tonight if that’s okay.”

You nodded, not wanting to be anywhere else. “Thank you.”

Draken scowled. “You’re bleeding.”

Your hand went up to your mouth, feeling the wet blood from your lip. “It’s just a little cut, I’m okay.” Draken stepped to you, his hands replacing yours. He gently ran his finger along your lip, making you shiver. Anger burned in his eyes.

“Those fucking bastards hit you. I’m going to kill them.” You leaned into his gentle touch. You knew you should tell him not to, and eventually you probably would, but right now you could object to the thought of revenge on Sanzu.

“I just wanna be with you now,” you replied.

Draken kissed your forehead. “I’m not going anywhere now, I promise. Why don’t I get a shower going for you?” You nodded and followed him to the bathroom. He set the shower up, letting it get steamy. He placed a fresh towel on the rack. “I’ll be out in the living room if you need anything.”

“Wait!” The thought of Draken not being there, even for a second flooded your body with anxiety. “I… I don’t wanna be alone,” you admitted, not being able to look at him. If Draken thought the request was strange he didn’t show it.

You both stripped down and stepped inside the shower. You didn’t really look at Draken, not that you hadn’t seen him naked before, but you still felt like you were in a daze. Besides, it didn’t really feel sexual, even though you were both completely naked. It was a different kind of intimacy as you turned towards Draken and hugged him.

“I got you, y/n, you’re okay,” he cooed, rubbing your back. Between the heat of the water at your back and the warmth of his body pressed against your front, you slowly felt your body relax. You felt Draken’s hands in your hair and it wasn’t until your nose filled with the scent of spice that you realized he was washing your hair.

You were both silent as Draken cared for you. After your hair, he cleaned your body with a washcloth and soap. You loved that it was making you smell like him. Normally you feel a little embarrassed to be so bare in front of someone, but Draken puts you at ease. He did your face last, gingerly washing the blood off your lip.

“Never thought you’d be playing nurse,” you commented.

Draken gave you a soft smile. “Good thing I learned from the best.”

You stayed in the shower until the water got cold. Draken helped you out and you giggled as he tried to fit the one towel around the both of you. Eventually he gave up, wrapping it only around you and then scooping you up.

“Thank you, Ken,” you said softly, as he sent you down in his bed.

“You don't have to thank me. I should be apologizing.” You hated the hurt look in his eyes.

“Please, don’t. Can we just rest?” you pleaded.

Draken didn’t argue, letting you rest on your head on his chest. Under the security of his arms, your body succumbed to a deep sleep.

***

You stayed with Draken over the next few days, feeling at home almost immediately. You cooked and Draken cleaned the dishes. You showed Draken some of your favorite movies and he let you wear his sweats (but he laughed at how comically big they looked on you). You called out of work, citing a family emergency, which bought you some time to figure things out. Draken took one trip to your apartment to gather some stuff you needed, but besides that you stayed together the whole time. You didn’t speak much about what happened until 3 days later, when you were settling into bed for the night.

“Y/n, we need to talk about what happened,” Draken said sitting next to you. His weight dipped the bed, causing you to slide closer to him.

Anxiety fluttered in your stomach, fearing he was going to ask you to leave or tell you he couldn’t be with you. There was no point in pushing it off any longer. “Okay.”

“You didn’t let me apologize that night, but I have to. I am so incredibly sorry for putting you in danger,” Draken said.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. You saved me,” you replied.

“But if it wasn’t for me you’d never be in that situation,” Draken responded, “You… you could have been killed. Because of me. I could never forgive myself if you were hurt because of me.” The pain in his voice made your heart ache. “I feel like you would have been better off if you never met me. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, Ken, don’t talk like that,” you replied, taking his face in your hand. “You have done nothing but save me. Do I need to remind you why we met? I don;t even want to think about what could have happened if you didn’t step in then.” You shivered at the memory. “And you saved me today. I know that being with you has… complications, but I don’t care.”

“You should,” he sighed.

“You’re right, I should, but I don’t,” you replied, “I already told you, you’re worth it. And I still believe that even after what I’ve been through. I am going to choose you, Ken. Every time I am going to choose you… But if you don’t want me, I won’t force myself on you.”

“Never,” Draken replied quickly, “I want you more than anything. I just want you to be safe. I’m going to do everything I can to keep you safe, I promise.”

“I know you will, Ken. And that’s why I’m not afraid to be with you, whatever the risk is.” A soft smile spread on his lips. “What?”

“I like when you call me Ken.” He pulled you into his lap. “We do this on one condition. You move in with me.”

“Are you holding me hostage now?” you teased.

He kissed your neck. “It’s not hostage if you want to be here.” He was right about that and there was nothing you wanted more.

“Consider me your new roommate then.” He kissed your jaw, making your pulse spike.

“I was hoping you’d be more than that,” he murmured against your skin.

Your body instinctively rolled into his as he gripped your hips. “And what were you hoping for, Ken?”

You didn’t miss the soft groan that escaped his lips. “That you’d be my girl.” My girl. You felt his words in your heart and your pussy.

“I’m yours.” His lips were on yours the second the words left your mouth. You were tangled up in each other instantly. You ran your fingers through his hair; it was out of the braid, which you loved. His hands trailed up and down your sides, before slipping under your shirt (well his shirt) and tossing it to the floor.

“So pretty,” he said before taking your nippled in his mouth. He palmed your other breast while he sucked on the other, making arousal pool between your thighs. You rocked against him, seeking relief.

Him playing with your tits was sending little jolts of pleasure down between your thighs, making you extra sensitive. “Ken,” you moaned, surprised that you felt on the edge already.

Suddenly you were flipped on your back, Draken over you. He reached behind himself and yanked his shirt off in one go. “Want you so bad angel,” he said, hooking his fingers into your underwear. “But I gotta prep you first.”

His fingers ran through your slick heat, making him groan. He pressed his finger into you, giving a few experimental curls. You wriggled beneath him, desperate for me. Draken obliged, pumping in and out of you. “So tight,” he noted, “Gonna need you to cum on my fingers before I can fuck you.”

“Please, wanna cum so bad,” you whined. Draken slipped another finger in you, watching how your pussy sucked his fingers in. The lewd sight made his cock ache. He pressed his thumb to your clit, needing you to cum so he could be inside you.

“Gonna make you cum, baby,” Draken replied, “Wanna hear you say my name.” His fingers pressed so deep inside you, farther than you’ve ever been able to reach. You could feel your arousal dripping out of you and coating his fingers. Draken leaned in, letting his tongue flick at your swollen clit.

“Fuck, Ken!” Your back arched off the bed and you came. The warm, wet feeling of his tongue on your pussy making your orgasm feel like fire in your veins. Draken smiled proudly at his work, then sucked your release off his fingers.

“Still so fucking sweet.” He stripped off his pants, allowing you to take in his naked form. You still couldn’t believe how good he looked. Not to mention how thick and hard and leaking he was and… fuck you were alreadying aching for him again.

“God you’re so fucking beautiful, Ken.”

He laughed. “No one’s ever called me beautiful. Are you just trying to get laid or something?” His arms were on either side of your head as he positioned himself above you. You felt caged in by him in the best way possible.

“I am definitely trying to get laid,” you kissed him, “But you’re definitely beautiful.” He let out another soft laugh and kissed you back.

“Tell me if I hurt you okay?” You nodded. Draken slowly pressed himself inside you, the size of him taking your breath away. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” His voice was gruff from the effort of not letting himself get lost in your tight, wet walls. He wanted to fuck you so bad, but knew he had to go slow with it.

His hips moved slowly, each stroke feeling sweeter. He was certainly the biggest man you’ve ever been with, but he knew what he was doing. “Feels so good Ken, loving having you inside me,” you assured him.

“Love being inside you,” he replied, pace quickening, “You feel like fucking heaven.” You gasped as his lower torso brushed against your sensitive clit. “Fuck, keep squeezing me like that and I’m not gonna last.” Despite his words, he showed no signs of slowing. The sound of his hips hitting yours and your slick wetness filled the room. It made you blush, but also filled you with an aching need.

“So close,” you gasped. Draken laced his fingers between yours, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

“Let yourself go, angel, wanna feel your pussy cumming all over my cock.” His words worked magic over your body, sending you over the edge. Your mouth fell open as you cried his name in breathless ecstasy. “Fuck, so good. So fucking good.”

Seconds later you felt Draken’s cock twitching inside you, filling you with his release. You loved how warm and full it made you feel. You kissed up his neck as he slowed, letting you enjoy every last bit of it.

Finally he stopped, kissing you sweetly. “I think I might be in love with you,” Draken admitted. The vulnerability surprised you, but made you smile.

“I think I might love you, too.”

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