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handspunyarns · 1 year

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You Were Marked: Day Four.

pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C

word count: 2.1K

summary: Din cannot stop laughing, Marathel ends up in a tree, and eggs are thrown with extreme prejudice

warnings: Mando'a and English cursing, violence to unborn ovoids

You Were Marked: Masterlist

<- You Were Marked: Previous Chapter

Din was still somewhere between dreaming and waking. He could only see soft, fading images in his mind: a gentle curve of a jawline, a slope of a pale-skinned shoulder. He heard a soft voice, quietly saying, “No . . . we can’t . . .” This denial made him furrow his brow even as he dozed, still gently supported in the herbal-scented clouds of sleep. Whyever not? He thought in his sleep. “No . . . don’t . . .” the soft voice pleaded again. No, don’t say ‘no’, he dreamed, but his dream was cut off like hitting a brick wall when he heard Marathel say, “Grogu! No, don’t!”, and Din felt the pounce of the little green goblin on his lower abdomen, not quite his area but close enough to make him grunt loudly with an “URGH,” and struggle to a sitting position with a babbling Grogu in his lap.

Marathel, outside the dark curtained cubicle, stammered, “I’m so sorry, Bounty Hunter! I told him not to wake you . . .”

“’s all right,” Din muttered as he pushed himself to a standing position, Grogu in the crook of his arm. “Time I was up. What the shab is so important, huh, buddy?” He stepped through his curtains and looked up to see Marathel standing primly in the center of the room, her hands clasped over her stomach. His first thought was that she was doing her best to look anywhere but at his face – well, helmet -- and his second thought was that she looked quite pretty today. Instead of her usual tunics and pants of dull tans, greens, and greys, she was wearing a gown of sunset yellow that fell into a swirl of fabric just above her ankles. Over this she wore a smock of deep charcoal grey, embroidered with yellow flowers around the neckline. Her silver hair was pulled back in a matching yellow scarf that was twisted around her shock of hair and tied off at the end.

Marathel looked dismayed that Din was awakened in such a startling manner. “I told Grogu that I needed his help this morning, but we couldn’t leave until you had awakened. I did not want you to find him missing. But . . . he is impatient.”

“Where are you going?”

“To collect eggs.”

“Eggs? Already?”

She looked at his helmet for the first time, confused. “What? Oh . . . no. Not Dahl eggs. It is not quite time for those. Chook eggs.” Din tilted his helmet at her in his quiet way that she already knew meant that he needed more information. “Chooks are, uh . . . fluttery, rather stupid ground birds. They lay lots of eggs that are good for eating. I thought it may be fun for him.” She gestured to the table, where a covered plate waited. “I made you some breakfast. Grogu has already eaten. We will just be past the vegetable garden, if it is acceptable to you?”

She had returned to her nervous formality of a couple days previous, Din noticed, as she dropped her head, and her hands began to go up her sleeves. Din stepped over and placed Grogu in her arms before her hands disappeared. “That is fine with me. That is within shouting distance, I think."

Marathel turned a light shade of a very becoming pink having Din so close to her. She nodded, and said, “We will not be long. You will have privacy, and I will shout as we get near.” She turned towards this kitchen, cooing to Grogu, “Yes, we can finally go now, little one.” The two stepped off the platform and disappeared around the rock ridge. Din waited a few more moments, and sure he was alone, removed his helmet and gloves. He lifted the cover off the plate: toasted slabs of bread with soft cheese and fruit, with some pan-fried meat. A fresh mug of her herbal tea. He had been eating better these past few days than he had the past few months – not that he was complaining – but food was not a high priority for him. He could get too used to this kind of treatment. And the bread. Osik, she made good bread. He shoved a slab into his mouth before he even sat down. What a good wife she would make, he thought idly, before he quashed that idea. He was not in the market for such an arrangement. He had all he could do to keep the child safe from the Imps, as well as keeping his Creed without entangling with a woman or any partner on a long-term basis. He had told Omera essentially that, and he hoped that she had found the person she needed.

And what – or whom – did Marathel need? He scoffed, and muttered, “She got what she needed last night,” under his breath with a smirk, and then silently chided himself for such an unkind thought. He finished eating, and then took the opportunity of being alone to clean himself up, washing his hair, cleaning the bite wound again with a fresh layer of salve – this brought a small grin to his face -- and changing out his thermals and flight suit for a fresh set he had brought with him from the ship. He was in the process of reattaching his cuisses when he heard a distant shriek. Certain that it came from the direction of where Marathel and Grogu had gone, Din leapt into action and was already running that way, strapping on his jetpack and two of his most favorite blasters as he went. He heard Marathel scream, “Bounty Hunter! Bounty Hunter!” making him panic. He was already thinking the worst: Grogu was hurt in some way, a chook had pecked him in the eye, a rabid Dahl was making off with the both of them – as Din tore past the vegetable garden and leapt over the fencing that enclosed the chooks, noticing that the chooks she spoke of were indeed some sort of chicken. Skidding to a halt in the middle of the enclosure, sending chooks fluttering and clucking in all directions, Din saw that Grogu was fine. Grogu, in fact, looked perfectly pleased with himself, sitting on the ground, the basket beside him, as he held an egg in each hand. He looked quizzically up at Din and then ate one of the eggs whole. But Marathel was nowhere to be seen. Din spun around, shouting, “Marathel? Marathel! Where are you?”

“I am . . . oof . . . up here!”

He followed the sound of her voice, looking about 10 meters up the large tree that shadowed the chook pen. There was a distinct rustle of branches and some leaves fell, as he finally saw her perched up in the tree, balanced on her belly on a branch, reaching down to the next branch with her swinging feet. “What . . . what are you doing up there?”

Marathel struggled a bit with a grunt, but finally made it down to the next branch. “He put me up here!” she yelled, pointing at Grogu.

Din was finding it impossible to hide his amusement. “Why?”

“Because you have taught him no manners!” She began to try to climb down to the next branch and was not succeeding at all. “Oof . . . I told him to stop eating all the eggs . . . I scolded him . . .” Marathel scraped her bare foot on sharp piece of bark. “Ow, ow, damnych! I scolded him, and the next thing I knew, I was up this tree!”

Din gaped at her, then looked down at Grogu, who grinned cheekily at him, and then back up at Marathel, who was glaring back at him in fury. The laughter burbled up from deep in his gut, from a place that had not been so tickled in such a long time, and he could not help it, he burst into peals of laughter that made his sides hurt. He held his sides, bent over, trying to get control of himself, but he looked back up at Marathel standing so haughtily in that tree, and then she stamped her foot, shouting, “It is NOT funny!” The sight of her stamping her foot set him off again, and tears were rolling down his face at how ridiculous she looked. She clumsily scrambled down to the next branch, and then yelled down to him, “Are you going to help me down or not?”

Din could barely catch his breath. “You . . . look like you’re doing just fine on your own!”

Marathel struggled down from branch to branch, cursing at Din in her old language and muttering. “Just as bad as Grogu, you are . . . just like a child! You aren’t doing that boy any favors . . . putting me up a tree . . .” and then her gown caught on a twig and tore a large rip in the back of the skirt, effectively shutting Din up instantly. Marathel gasped in horror, twisting to see the back of her dress, crying out “Oh, damnych and double damnych!” She was close to the bottom of the tree now, so she set herself hanging from the lowest branch she could by her hands. Din went to her, putting up his hands to catch her as she came down. Unfortunately, his hands were on her smock over her waist, and the smock slid up against her dress as she slid down, and his hands ended up bracketing her breasts and holding them high against her chest, accidentally -- mostly. Marathel gasped in outrage and shoved Din as hard as she could. “Why, you . . .” She stomped away from him, spitting over her shoulder, “Y mallawer perlys, on chydich mown dynion!”

Din chuckled quietly. “What does that mean?”

Marathel grabbed the basket. “It means, ‘there is much virtue in herbs, but little in men!’” You’re not wrong there, thought Din. She swept a chook out of the way with her foot, sending it fluttering away, Grogu giving chase. She grabbed two eggs out of a nest with too much force, smashing the shells. Disgusted, she threw the broken eggs on the ground, snapping, “Now look what you made me do!”

Din tilted his helmet. “Why are you so mad?”

“I am NOT mad!” This, of course, was a lie, and Marathel grabbed another egg, this time throwing it into her basket with enough force to annihilate both it and two more eggs in the basket. She grunted in rage and picked up some more eggs.

Din shifted his weight to one hip, crossing his arms over his cuirass. “You know, for someone who’s not mad, you’re sure making one hell of a mess out of those eggshells.”

Marathel glared at him, and chucked an egg right at his head, where it exploded on his visor. Din fell about laughing again, wiping the egg mess off his helmet. “Whoo! Look out, Empire, we have a Stormtrooper who can actually hit something!”

“Oh, shut up!” Marathel stomped off through the gate of the pen, slammed it shut behind her, and began marching down the lane back to her hut.

“Seriously, they could use someone like you!” Din shouted at her back. She whirled around, throwing another egg, which he tried to catch against his hip in his hands as it smashed into mush. “That’s what I’m talking about, lady!” he said, laughing even harder.

“RHAFF CODIEH!” Marathel screeched over her shoulder.

“And what does that mean?”

“It means PISS UP A ROPE!”

Marathel continued to march away so fast she was kicking up clouds of dirt at her ankles, her torn skirt swaying with each step, arms pumping at her sides. Din continued to laugh until he was certain she was out of earshot. He stood there, hands on hips, chuckling. “Ahhhh . . . Haar’chak.” He looked down at Grogu, who was covered in feathers and holding another egg, completely nonplussed by all the activity around him. Grogu looked back at Din, grinning. Then he ate the egg. With a sigh, Din picked up the little green morsel, brushing the feathers from his tiny robes. “I think we’re in trouble, kiddo.”

You Were Marked: Next Chapter

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thenationaltreasuregazette · 10 months

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Hey you feel like an expert and I've been looking for years.

Dr Chase's dress in the first film at the anniversary gala for the archives is absolutely gorgeous and I can't find anything about it anywhere. Do you know anything about the costuming of the film?

Also love the blog omg keep up the good work!!!

RE: Abigail's Dress

Hi Anon,

I am flattered that I seem like an expert, and that you've been enjoying the blog!

Unfortunately, I am the opposite of an expert when it comes to clothes, costuming, and fashion. Don't get me wrong, I love seeing other people analyze the costuming choices in film and tv, I just don't have much to add to the conversation.

That said, let's see if we can do some digging!

Digging ↓ (ft. answers!)

The first place I started was the thank yous at the end of the credits.

Right before the music credits is usually where the filmmakers thank significant contributors. For National Treasure we see a lot of places where they shot on location--the D.C., NYC, and Philadephia film offices, the National Archives and Washington D.C. public transit.

Also Knott's Berry Farm, which seems out of place until you learn that it features an exact replica of Independence Hall. This was used for some of the exterior shots of Ben carving the brick out of the wall in place of the real thing.

You'll also see Ferrari mentioned. This is for the promotional consideration of allowing one of their cars to appear in the film.

My thinking was that if the dress was designer, said designer might be thanked here as well.

But alas, no luck.

Clothes-from-film Sites

I turned to google, though from your question it seems like you've searched for this before, so I my expectations were not high.

There are plenty of sites where you can look up clothes worn in film and television, though National Treasure is old enough and, um... underrated enough that I didn't have any luck here. (Edge of History is another story. If anyone's looking for clothes featured there, you'll see plenty of results!)

Into the wilds of the web we go then.

The Miscellaneous Internet

On Anwers.com, I found this post that states the dress was made by the film's costume designer, Judianna Makovsky. (And is actually blue, not black!!????!)

The answer provides an address to an article titled "National Treasure: Diane Kruger A Dress For Action" on clothesonfilm.com.

Unfortunately, that link leads to no-no bad spam places, as clothesonfilm.com no longer exists.

However, I found that same article referenced on film clothes sourcing website spoturn.com.

A search for the article title turned up what appears to be the entire text of the article posted on a forum.

(Make sure to scroll down past the no-longer-hosted photos! The article stretches over several posts from user Lynn866)

I'll grab the bit that discusses the gala dress, but whole article is fantastic and definitely worth a read!

National Treasure: Diane Kruger, a Dress for Action by Lord Christopher Laverty 27 Nov 2009 ... Abigail on the other hand has probably spent an entire month’s salary on her outfit. The results of which are stunning: [Missing image, presumably of Abigail at the gala] Midnight blue silk gazar evening dress with matching lace overlay, fitted bodice with chiffon bow to waist, deep v-neck to front and back, full skirt with under-netting; short blue velvet jacket with flared sleeves, black high heel shoes, open toe with ankle straps; vintage ruby stone earrings. Although the dress looks black on screen it is actually midnight blue (slightly visible when Abigail leaves the Archives and backlight shines through the chiffon). This colour variation is possibly due to the demands of motion picture lighting. The former Prince of Wales, Edward VII, reputedly had two types of dinner suit on standby, a black for outdoor functions and a midnight blue for indoor. Under artificial light, dark blue can appear as black; a better black than black in fact. The dress’ luxury organza fabric is a crisp, heavy silk gazar from Paris with dyed lace to match; the jacket is blue silk velvet and chiffon. Based on an original design by Judianna Makovsky, the finished article was made by her long-time collaborator John David Ridge.

The earrings are:

Genuine 19th century Russian, they were supplied by L.A. based jewellery merchant Vicki Lynn. These earrings coolly offset the demureness of the dress, enlivening it with just a hint of glitz. That they date from the 1800s nods to Abigail’s love of history.

So. It appears the dress was custom made for the film by the costume designer.

However, if you absolutely have to have one, lizdress.com will apparently custom-make a number of film & tv outfits, including Abigail's dress.

Blue or Black?

Lord Christopher Laverty definitely knows better than I would, but just to corroborate the blue-for-black thing:

• "Rich Black" appears, well richly black, in print, but is not true black in a color theory sense.

• The Addams' Family house for the 1964 tv show was pink, because pink lended the right tone of eerie gray on black and white film.

• The Parthenon contains no straight lines to compensate for the eye's natural distortion so as to appear straight.

I'd argue that the dress was always intended to appear black, mostly based on how Abigail is framed to parallel Ben at so many points during the party/heist sequence.

This is a black tie event, and she's meant to appear as a natural part of the party's black and beige color palette. At no point is she staged as an Elle Woods type who is visually sticking out.

Conclusion

This article is a gold mine, and I'd definitely like to return to it from a character analysis point of view at some point! Thanks so much for helping me come across it.

Thanks so much for you question! Feel free to send another any time!

#national treasure #abigail chase #diane kruger #judianna markovsky #clothes on film #clothes from film #costume design #lord christopher laverty #articles

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blacksupremacy86 · 2 years

Text

Clark Kent is at home alone back at The Kent Family Farm burying his parents who he saw a day ago.

Clark’s hands cover his face as he cries with heavy layers of tears overcoming him.

He sighs wiping the last of his tears as he settles looking up he caught his reflection.

The mirror is crystal clear but that’s not what broke concentration.

Someone calls out to him screaming for help Clark jumps up.

He spins out of control shedding his clothes into his costume and assumes position.

The glass of the mirror erupts with blinding white light leaving him without sight.

The light fades leaving him to bought with his own confusion.

He has been transported to a entirely new realm of existence.

“Where am I? “

“Am I still on earth?”

“Who are you?”

“Answer me now”

“Silence “

“Honestly Kryptonians”

“You are in a realm of my choosing”

“I created it out of thin air”

“Also you have no power here.”

It took a mere second before Clark can even confirm any of this story.

He can no longer sense the air around him or feel it gather under his feet.

His ability to fly has been removed left null and void.

His eyes remain cool no longer able to blast anyone.

Like a ton of bricks he tumbles over himself onto the ground.

He can sense it now the entire chamber or dimension is made from kryptonite.

The man vanishes leaving Clark to die as he struggles to regain power:

Clark screams in pain attempting to crawl our of this space.

It is for not though with the energy level risen over then.

“Oh Clark Kent”

“Yeah, I know”

“We all do”

“Who’s we ?”

“Your collective mind”

“I am here to right a wrong”

“Let me go”

“You-you-fiend”

“Mwahahahahaha, you wish”

Clarke finally rose to his feet again only to find them firmly planted on the floor.

Clark using what little strength he manages to yank his feet up.

Every step he takes felt like some pit 100 lbs ankle chains on him.

His feet give him eventually firmly stuck to the ground.

He is now a open wide field day for him as the power of The Green rock drains him.

Clark does double fake closing his eyes to make sure he saw right.

A huge mirror appears on the north wall that seems a million miles away.

Clark grimaces at my voice his expression is very adamant.

As to say I have no one yet this is merely a inconvenience.

“Giving in are we?”

“Fuck you!”

“Is this what a hero does?”

“Curse really?”

“Shameful “

“Is that what you present to your loyal fans?”

“What do you want?”

“What do I want?”

“Hhhmmmm! This “

The mirror fades me out as a large laser like

beam hits him head on.

Clark head bobbles unable to move out of the lasers camera.

The screen fades showing off me in front of a unconscious body.

The camera pans down to show Clark he is he victim .

I turn to look at the camera kneeling next to to and wave.

Clark is in disbelief at everything unfolding before his eyes.

Leaning in I lick his ear as Clark shutters in ecstasy.

Laying my hand on his chest I let it roam freely causing Clark to moan.

His cock grows hard at my every touch stirs some deep dark side of him.

“No, you can’t…”

“I won’t….”

“Impossible “

“Nnnnooooo”

“I can’t think”

“My mind…my”

“What’s a mind?”

“This so hot”

“No stop! I will bring you to justice “

I knew he is at his wits end so I go in for the kill literally flipping him over.

“Nnnnnnoooo”

“Let’s see what you are backing”

“‘Mmmmmmm feels good”

“Time to pay the piper”

“In minute this will be over”

“It will cease to have happen”

“1….2….3”

“Uuuuuugggggghhhhhh! Yes Master”

“Who am I?l

“You are Super boi”

“Super boi”

“My Slave”

“You will obey me”

“Made for me”

“Born to love, worship and obey me”

“Sir Yes Sir”

The end

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in-ky · 3 years

Note

Hi! I’d love a story about Negan being a serial killer who only kills “bad people” (like in Dexter) and maybe he saves the reader from her ex who’s about to kill her and Negan can save her and takes her in because she’s a mess but she’s actually a killer herself (who kills rapists etc/ only the bad ones) and Negan and the reader start fighting and then get caught up in steamy hot sex 🥵 thank you!

Savior - Negan Killer AU

Warnings: Warnings: GORE + violence, smut, domestic abuse, swearing, dirty talk ig? idk how to tag this lol

A/N: hey! i struggled over this one for a while lol. ive only seen like. 3? episodes of dexter so. i really hope this meets your expectations! also forgive any mistakes its late, im tired, and i wanna get this up lol. also, is negan batman? maybe. 3.7k words

"Will, stop you're hurting me!" I hissed, grabbing at his wrist. He tugged me out of the bustling restaurant and into the dark street.

"I don't really give a shit," He snarled, throwing me into a secluded alleyway a few buildings down from the restaurant. Will had taken me out to a business dinner with his boss in hopes of showing me off and making a good impression. But things didn't quite go according to plan. "You embarrassed me in front of everyone!" He pushed me against the brick wall of the closed department store.

"What was I supposed to do?" I sneered, trying to wiggle away from him "He kept commenting on my body, saying how he wished he could take me home at the end of the night and do all kinds of 'unspeakable things to me'."

"You were just supposed to shut up and take it!" Will said, voice filled with rage "But no, you and your untamable fucking complex just couldn't handle a compliment. You threw your drink in his face! You're lucky he didn't fire me right then and there. You made me look like some pussy who can't control his whore."

"You're an asshole." I shouted, tears welling at the edges of my eyes. Will's face contorted further into a look of pure, unadulterated hatred.

"What the fuck did you just call me?" He seethed, clasping his hand tightly around my throat and constricting his fingers around my airway.

"I said you're an asshole who cares more about his dead-end career than his fucking girlfriend." I croaked. I hated him. I hated him so much. My vision clouded with the combination of disgust, loathing, and lack of oxygen, so I hit him where I knew it hurt. "There's a reason you needed me for arm candy tonight. It's 'cause you're a boring, piece-of-shit, lowlife who has no skill whatsoever. How does it feel knowing you need me to make something of yourself?" With that, he threw me to the ground by my throat. He wasted no time and pinned me to the cold concrete. His knees dug into my shoulders and his hand flew to his back pocket, whipping out the switchblade he carried as a precaution against mugging. My eyes widened as they caught a glint of the moonlight off the sharp knife. He brought the blade up to my throat and slapped me over the cheek harshly with his free hand.

"You better take back those words, bitch," He hissed, pressing the blade into the soft skin of my jugular "or they might just be your last." A dribble of blood ran down my neck with the pressure. Realization flashed through my mind. I could die right then. That could have been my last moment. Was I scared? No. Why wasn't I scared? Maybe it had to do with the shadowy figure that was slowly approaching us from the ally entrance.

There was plenty of time for me to warn Will that someone was coming. But I didn't. Instead, I stayed quiet and watched as the shadow figure pulled Will from my body with ease and tossed him to the side. Everything was kind of a blur. I was still oxygen starved and filled with a whirl-wind of emotion. I heard Will cry out in surprise and indignance. The shadow figure said nothing. It saw the switchblade with a steady line of my blood. It kicked Will in the chest, knocking him to the ground. Then it lifted up a baseball bat over its head and cracked it down over Will's skull. He continued to beat Will until he stopped squirming. The shadow figure paused and swung the bat over his shoulder. I had regained my breath and pushed myself to my elbows. The shadow noticed me moving and took a few heavy steps in my direction. I squirmed away slightly, instincts telling me to get away from the thing that had just pulverized my boyfriend. The shadow entered a stream of moonlight. It was a man. He had peppered hair and a blood-speckled face. He had dark brown eyes and a small smile perched on his lips.

"You okay, sweetheart?" He said. His voice was deep. I was partially surprised. He wasn't a bulky man. He was tall and had a broad frame, but his limbs were long and his body was lithe. He wore a leather jacket and his boots were slick with what I could only assume were Will's brains. I didn't want to look at his bat.

"W-Why did you do that?" I whispered. It was all I could muster.

"He was going to kill you." The man sounded confused, like I was supposed to know who he was and why he saved me.

"You don't know that." My voice was quiet. My eyes were glued to a spot behind the man, unblinking. He let out a throaty chuckle and dropped to a squat, leveling with me.

"Doll, he had a knife pressed to your throat," His words were gentle "Looked like he was gonna fuckin' kill you." He hesitantly reached out two fingers in the direction of my face. I didn't move. He was wearing leather gloves. The ridged fabric ran along my injuries. "Seems like he did some damage before I could step in. Damn. Sorry about that. Listen, I live a few streets down. If you want, I can get you cleaned up."

"Okay," I said softly. I let him help me up to my feet. He guided me along with one arm while holding his bat with the other. As we walked out of the alley I couldn't help but look down at Will, or what remained of him at least. His forehead was split in half, a pool of chunky blood bubbling on the ground. I clenched my jaw and forced myself to swallow the bile that had risen in my throat. And yet, I didn't feel sad. I didn't mourn him. Maybe it was shock, maybe it wasn't. "Thank you?" I murmured, though it was more of a question. The man and I stepped out onto the street and I was grateful there was no one around to see us leaving the scene of a very heinous-looking crime.

"No problem, doll," The man hummed, setting a brisk pace down the sidewalk. "The name's Negan, by the way." Cool. Negan: my Savior.

~~~

"So you're like Batman?" I asked Negan as he dabbed the blood away from my neck. He gave a short chuckle and tore away the sticky part of the band-aid.

"I guess you can say that," he mused, splaying the bandage over the cut the knife had left "but I specifically go for people that I know have hurt others. The baddies, if you will."

"Is that legal?" I tilted my head, crossing my ankles as they dangled over the bathroom counter. My palms were flat on the surface of Negan's marble sink top, fiddling with the wrappers of the medical supplies he had used to clean and bandage my small cuts and bruises.

"I haven't been caught," Negan shrugged "besides, it's less work for the police. They don't have to do any interrogation bullshit or anything. I usually catch people in the act, like tonight. Then I do my thing."

"Do you kill everyone?"

"Only the bad people," He reminded, tossing away a bloody tissue "only people who have hurt others. But, yes, usually the offender ends up on the business end of Lucille over there." He pointed out the door into the living room, where the still-bloody bat rested against a chair. I furrowed my brow.

"Well, doesn't that make you a bad guy?" I pressed. He tapped my knee and I dropped down to the tile floor, tucking my hair behind my ear and gathering some of the scraps.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you still kill people, right? Even if they're bad? So doesn't that still make you a killer?" Negan was quiet for a minute. "Let's put it this way," I continued "What would you do if you came across someone who was like you; someone who hurt the bad people. Would you still kill them. They're hurting people." Negan took a deep breath and let it out with a contemplative sigh, itching his bearded chin.

"I'm not sure," He mused "I've never really thought about it before. See, I don't consider myself a bad person per say. Yea, what I'm doing might be considered fucked up. But I'm doing it for the right reason. I'm protecting people by attacking their attackers. In the end, someone's saved." He brushed off his hands and led me out of the bathroom, flicking the light off. "Would you rather me not have saved you tonight?"

"No," I said immediately "thank you. Really, thank you. You saved my life. Will is...was...always a dick, but I never thought he'd actually hurt me. I guess that proves people can have a whole bunch of layers." Negan nodded and moved to the kitchen. He raised a bottle of whiskey as an offering. I shook my head but he poured himself a glass.

"I was just doing my job," Negan grinned sympathetically "I'm sorry your boyfriend was an asshole who tried to murder you." I shrugged, amusement in my eyes.

"Eh, it happens to everyone." I smiled as he let out another laugh. I felt as if I shouldn't be laughing, but at the same time, everyone has their own responses to almost getting stabbed to death in an alley. So I let myself have this moment. Besides, Negan was a good guy to be around. He made me feel safe, comfortable, secure. Everything I needed right now. "So, Negan, what do you do? Surely vigilante-ing can't pay well, and this apartment is really nice."

"I'm a retired baseball player," Negan said, sipping his whiskey and settling into one of the armchairs in the living room "Hence the bat."

"Were you any good?" I asked. He let out a loud scoff.

"Was I any good?" He mocked "Sweetheart, I have a whole damn trophy room. I was fucking amazing. I just got old."

"So you're rich with no real job, you kill bad guys, and you have a massive ego," I listed "You really are like Batman, aren't you?"

~~~

Negan let me stay on his couch that night. It was leather, like everything else that man seemed to own, but it was comfortable. I woke up to the smell of bacon filling the air. I groaned and rubbed my fists against my eyes, clearing them of sleep. I stretched my arms above my head in a yawn and rolled off the couch, stumbling into the kitchen. Negan was hunched over the bubbling pan, dodging pellets of grease as they shot up at him.

"Smells good!" I purred, closing my eyes and taking a deep inhale.

"Good," He grumbled "You better fucking enjoy it because I've gotten burned at least three times." I laughed and walked up to him examining the small red patches that dotted his arms.

"You didn't have to make me breakfast you know."

"Yea, but I wanted to make sure you were comfortable," He sighed, turning off the stove and scooping the cooked bacon onto a paper towel. "Besides, I was craving some bacon when I woke up. I haven't had someone to share a meal with in a while."

"Well, if you want, you can come by my house for dinner." I offered, crunching down on a piece of bacon "I've been meaning to whip out the family alfredo recipe for a while, maybe a hot date would give me that incentive." I gave him a playful wink and he chuckled.

"Sure thing, doll," He hummed, putting the pan in the sink "I love me some fucking spaghetti. I'll see you around seven?"

"Sounds good."

~~~

I ran down the sidewalk, chest heaving. There was enough darkness to cover me, but I still kept my head down to prevent recognition. I held my hands close to my stomach, praying that the blood on my fingers wouldn't drip on the pavement and leave a trail. I had been on my way home from the store when I heard some commotion coming from an alley. My first instinct was to run, but then I heard the girl crying for help. Negan came to mind, what he did, how he helped people. I couldn't turn away. I marched down the alley and saw a greasy man pinning a woman to the wall of a building. Flashbacks of the night before hit me like a train. I looked on top of the alley dumpster and saw a crowbar perched on one of the lids. I grabbed it and stormed up to the man, whacking him upside the head with the weapon. I kicked him to the side and brought the crowbar over my head before swinging it down. It connected with his face in a sickening 'thwack.' I thought of Will. I thought of what might of happened if Negan had never stopped him. I thought of all the times that bastard had gotten drunk and told me I was nothing. I let the rage bubble up and fuel my beating. By the time I was pulled back into the moment, my muscles were screaming, the woman was gone, and the man's face was unrecognizable. I tossed the crowbar into the dumpster and ran back home.

Dried blood is extremely hard to wash off. It sticks to your skin in flakes, creating a pattern of red veins crawling over your hands. Fuck. I scrubbed as hard as I could under the rushing water of the sink, pumping more and more soap into my hand. It was under my fingernails. It was stuck in my palm prints. Shit, did I leave fingerprints at the scene? Would they be coming for me? With a hiss, I rubbed even harder at my skin, small flecks of blood turning the sink water red.

Suddenly, my door opened.

"I'm ready for my s'getties!" Negan boomed with a wide smile. My head whipped around, looking at him with wide eyes. His grin faded and he crossed the room in record time, grabbing my wrists and turning the sink off. "Is this fucking blood?" He snarled, bringing my hands up to my face. I clenched my jaw and dropped my eyes to my feet. "Jesus, who's is it? Answer me!"

"I-I heard someone screaming on the way home," I said quietly, eyes still downcast "I thought I would help..." His jaw went slack and he let go of my hands, running his fingers through his hair.

"Jesus fuck, you can't just go around killing people!"

"Why not?" I snapped, eyes meeting his "You do it all the time? What's the difference? Why can't I help people?"

"Because it...Because you just can't!" Negan growled, shaking his head.

"Why are you so special?" I hissed back, drying my hands off on a towel before tossing it at him "It's not like you can get a permit for fucking murder. Why do you do it, anyways? Is it some perverted thing? Do you get off on saving people from attackers?"

"Watch yourself." Negan warned, eyes darkening.

"Pfft, or what?" I laughed, tossing my head back "What are you gonna do, kill me? I'm not afraid of you, Negan." As soon as the words left my mouth, he charged me. His hand flew to my throat, squeezing my airway lightly. His hips pressed me against the counter. I let out a small gasp when he shoved his face next to mine.

"Oh, but doll, you really fucking should be." He spat, curling his lip "I could snap your neck right here, right now." He gave a small squeeze to emphasize his words. I let out a strangled moan. We both froze. "Are you turned on right now?" He muttered, furrowing his brow. I licked my lips and squirmed in his grip, pressing my thighs together slightly in an effort to alleviate the warm pressure growing in my belly.

"No," I lied, voice weak. A sinister grin curled over the bottom half of his face and he licked his tongue over his teeth.

"And I'm the perv, huh?" He sucked on my earlobe and peppered kisses down my jawline "Sweetheart, tell me, do you want me to fuck that pretty little pussy of yours? Do you want me to make you cum harder than you ever have?" I whimpered at his dirty mouth. "Use your words, doll, or I'll leave right fucking now."

"Y-Yes!" I breathed as Negan's lips sucked on the sweet spot right beneath my ear.

"Yes, what, princess?"

"Yes, I want you to fuck me, please!" I groaned, clawing at his shirt. He let out a short chuckle, muttering something about how needy I was, but I didn't care. Right now, the only thought running through my head was that I needed Negan. I needed all of him. And damn me if I wasn't going to get it.

We clawed at each other's clothes like rabid animals. Once we were completely bare, Negan moved his kisses down my body. His large, calloused hands kneaded my breasts, twisting my nipples between his thumbs. My arms flew around his neck and I dragged my fingernails up his back. He shivered against my touch and slid his hands further down my body. They settled firmly on my hips as he captured my lips in a fervent kiss.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he grunted, pulling back for air. I looked at him. His tawny eyes were now black, pupils far beyond dilated with lust. Both of our lips were swollen and red from the intensity of our kisses. Negan's chest inflated and deflated quickly as his eyes roamed over my body. "You're so damn perfect." I smiled sheepishly and pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, looking up at him through lidded eyes.

"You're not so bad yourself," I reached out my hand and used my pointer finger to draw a line from his collar bone down the center of his chest and through his navel, finally ending right over his pulsing cock. He sucked in a breath as my fingers closed around him. My thumb swept over the hot tip, gathering precum on the pad of my finger and rubbing it around.

"Shit," He hissed as I slowly pumped him "I'm not gonna fucking last if you keep doing that." He gently pried my hand away and took a step closer to me. I could feel his hardened length resting against the inside of my thigh. The thought of him being so close made a burst of heat rush down between my thighs. Negan took a long finger and ran it through my folds, collecting my wetness. I moaned as he teasingly dipped the first knuckle into me. He pulled back and let out a low whistle. "Damn, girl," he chuckled, raising his finger to my face "You're fucking dripping. Who's that for?" His slick-coated fingers glistened in the light of my apartment. I let out a deep groan as he slid them between his lips and sucked.

"You, Negan!" I whimpered, wrapping my legs around his waist "It's all for you." A wolfish grin spread over his features as he tugged me off him and pulled me down off the counter. He spun me around and pressed gently between my shoulder blades until my chest was flat against the cold surface.

"Then if you don't mind," Negan cooed, lining himself up with my entrance "I'm going to take what belongs to me." With that, he slowly pushed into me. I gasped at the stretch, balling my hands into fists as he continued to split me open.

"Fucking shit," he groaned once he bottomed out "you're tight as hell. I bet you've never had a dick as big as mine." He pulled out slightly and I let out a moan at the growing emptiness inside. The moan soon turned to a yelp when he brought down his hand against my ass. The smack was loud and he rubbed the red spot tenderly. "Have you?"

"N-No!" I gasped when he thrusted into me for the first time "Never. Fuck, you feel so good." Negan's thrusts sped up, his hips snapping against my ass in an obscene rhythm. Grunts and moans of pleasure slipped from both of our lips as he plowed unapologetically into me. I could feel every inch of him. He was hitting every spot, dragging against my walls in a sinfully perfect way.

"You're doing so good," He purred, kissing and biting my shoulder "So good for me. You're so perfect." I tossed my head back and he grabbed my chin, tilting my face towards him so he could give me another bruising kiss. I could only keep up for so long, though, and the white bliss of pleasure he was giving me soon became overwhelming. My jaw went slack and my head dropped against the cool tile of the counter in an attempt to ground myself in the moment. "I want you to cum, doll, cum around me. Wanna feel those walls squeeze me." His thrusts were starting to become sloppy and I could tell he was getting to his end. One of his fingers danced down my spine and found its way to my clit. He circled it with just enough pressure to get me to the edge that I was so willing to jump off. "Now." Negan growled. I obeyed, feeling the band in my lower abdomen snapping violently. We reached our releases simultaneously. My walls clenched around him, milking him of every drop. I screwed my eyes shut and screamed his name, holding in a large breath as the world around me spun. Negan eventually pulled himself out and collapsed on top of me. We both were breathing heavily, sweaty bodies entangled as well as we could over a counter. I swallowed, my throat dry from panting through my orgasm. When my eyes fluttered open, I could see Negan's thumb tracing circles over the love bites that were starting to darken on my shoulders.

"Are you going to kill me?" I rasped, running a hand through my wild hair "I guess I'm a bad person now." Negan chuckled, still out of breath.

"I think I'll make an exception," He mused, pressing a sweet kiss to the shell of my ear "I don't think I'm ready to let you go just yet."

#negan x reader #negan x y/n #negan smut #negan x you #negan smith #au!negan #the walking dead #twd smut #twd negan

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thedelusionreaderbitch · 3 years

Text

Kaz Brekker x fem! Reader - The Saints Of Freedom

(Gif not mine)

A/n: So this just came up into my head... There's going to be so much Shadow and bone content I'm just saying in advance - I'm so sorry! Also Matthias is alive!

Warnings: Sexual abuse, abuse, harassment, angst, fluff, terrible men, death, blood, language I think that's it? You have been warned!

Summary: Some man from the Crow Club wants a good time with you

I take a sip of my water, sighing. Inej and Kaz are in the corner talking to each other, like they never broke up. Wylan and Jesper are in a couple seats over from me joking with each other like their lives depend on it. And Nina and Matthias are in a both in back, Nina trying to get Matthias to kiss her while he's trying to be decent. Apparently.

Why did I have to fall for the Bastard of the Barrel?

I shift around on my bar stool a bit so I can listen in on a conversation.

"Let's play a round of strip poker boys!" I flinch, nope not happening.

I guess I never really fell in love with Kaz, I drowned for him. Him and all his terrible ways and his broken mindset, I drown in that. I yearn for that death in an ocean of Kaz Brekker. Wanting that kills me, slowly although.

"James! Go get some Chicks!" I stiffen up and start to get out of my seat. I gracefully like a snake avoid anyone in the crowd slipping into the darkness acting as just another man looking for it's prey.

That way you go unnoticed.

A hand grabs me and forcefully drags me away from the entrance. Damn it, I was so close. I am harshly turned towards the person who dragged me away from my freedom. A shiver runs up my spine as a man with yellow teeth grins down on me. His left hand goes up and down my arm, while his right has a bruising grip on me.

"Your gonna come play some poker with us aren't you little- Umm let me think." The man pretends to think for a second

"Ah! Your a fawn!"

I freeze.

That's what my father called me when he use to rap-

Don't think about that you need to try and make up a plan to get out of here!

I realize that I'm dragged all the way to the back where a table is, too late.

"Come on girly, we want some." The monster says.

"Now." He growls.

I shake my head trying to get the thoughts out of my head from my home life. I can't kill them because their good pigeons to the Crow Club. But I can injury them if necessary.

"Your not even going to tell your name?" I look up to the man who dragged me over here, knowing that he's going to get me and will be the only one to get me. He got his prey now the others get to watch.

"It's James pretty girl, and take your pants and panties off now, if I win you'll get to keep em." The men around the table chuckle in delight knowing what will happen - he will try to loose.

"And if you don't?" I cheer myself on internally for not loosing it and keeping my voice strong. Stall, it's the best thing you get do.

"We really start playing poker than."

Lies. I hiss in my head, once my pussy is out he will do what ever he wants with me.

I place a hand on his arm, stall Y/n, stall.

"When does the game end?" I lean in and whisper into his ear like I'm trying to seduce him. Bile rise's up from my throat but I shallow it back down but then I realize it makes me seem like I'm nervous. Shit. He seems to have picked up on that though and he likes it. It means he has control.

His hand goes to my thigh.

"As long as I want." He pulls me onto to him and I struggle out of his grip. Five other men come and hold me down on the table. I attempt to wrestle them all and I almost get out, but two other monsters come up and hold me down.

"Let's give them a show boys!"

Tears gather up in my eyes.

"Monsters." I hiss at the men. One with blond hair punches my arm with the bed of his fist and a small scream is with drawled from my throat as I hear it... Crack! Fuck, it's definitely broken.

"You can't break a girl that's already been broken, you'll only get cut." I rasp my voice quiet but very, very angry.

"You litt-" He gets cut off from the other man who brought me to this torture.

"Gather round! People, gather round! Let's see what we can do to this pretty little fawn here?" The man - James says as he places a hand on my stomach. Mostly horrid men gather around the table but the odd woman is here too, probably the dumb ones. As soon as the predator got it's prey you run.

So your not it's next meal.

Struggling to try and get out of the men's grip on me, but it's hopeless. They have two on each limb of my body holding me down.

"Come on little fawn, it's time to play." The man whispers into my ear.

Memories flood into my sense's of my father. Doing terrible, terrible things to me. Marking me. Tainting me, as I learned not to scream anymore so mother wouldn't beat the crap out of me because if he couldn't get me - he got her.

The barbaric beast crawls onto me surely leaving bruise's and his hand goes to lift up my shirt and-

BANG! He's on the floor bloodied from where something hit his face. Hard.

The other men don't try and stop whoever hit the other vile man to the floor. I almost don't open my eyes to see who might be my savoir in fear that they just might want some.

I open my eyes.

Kaz! I think and I nearly sigh in relief.

"Let her go." Kaz says dangerously low and calm and the men practically drop me on the table.

Kaz's cane is still on the table as I sit up. Hi cane is pointed towards the men in question and at this point the other man starts to get up. Kaz nods to Jesper and Inej and she smiles a bit, always a pleasure to hurt some nasty men. Matthias seems to be guarding to doorway so now one can get out and Nina seems to go help Inej and Jesper as Wylan goes help Matthias with the door. Demo at the entrance, nice.

Kaz holds out a gloved hand, I take it and stand up next to him and at the angle we're at I'm pressed up against him.

"Come on little fawn." My father opens the door to my room slowly with a sadistic smile on his face.

"But fath-"

He lifts me up by hair and the cry of pain that would come from a normal child did not come, for they had not been train to be solider at seven.

"We don't call me that when it's play time. You know that." He growls as his hands start pulling off my shirt.

"Yes master." He takes my shirt off and h-

"Y/n." I voice says and I open my eyes and they lock onto some dark brown eyes. "Would you like to do the honours?" A voice rasps. I realize that Kaz is referring to the seven men lined up, held up my Nina, Inej, and Jesper and with some help from Wylan who has a grenade out to scare them.

I feel myself fade away like a I'm ghost.

Come on Y/n, be a good little fawn.

No. I think and push the memories back.

I go to the first three and I simply cut their throats with my double sided daggers. A man laughs and I swiftly turn. I then stab one in the stomach, the one who laughed while I killed the others. He howls in pain, I then simply kill him and the others till it's just the last one left. The monster. The one who dragged me away like a sack of kruge. Like I was a prize for him.

A ballistic smile creeps up on his face like he was paper and someone was drawing my nightmares.

It's my brother.

My brother who has the same smile as my dad, the brother who made fun of me at school, the brother who helped mom and beat me on his own accords as well. The brother who toke after our father in every way.

"You won't kill me." James smiles.

"You won't kill me." My brother says as I pull out a knife with serpent around it's handle.

"You still love me, I'm your brother." I drop the knife and he see's it as his chance and strikes.

The knives shake in my hands but I put them away.

"See." He chuckles like he knew what would happen. Imbecile.

"Your doing it wrong." Kaz limps up to me, the familiar pace of his cane hitting the floor. "You need to have a reason."

"I thought you didn't need one?" I sigh in disappointment of doing it the wrong way. Again. Kaz stares at me for a couple of seconds then shakes his head slightly like he's trying to clear his mind.

"No. You need a reason behind why we're here."

My brows frown in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Limping closer to me he places a hand on my shoulder.

"Why are you here?"

He walks back a bit giving me space to do my work. I suck in a deep breath, why am I here?

I release my weapon, an extension of myself and it doesn't hit the traget.

A man hits the ground with a thud, the man who tried to get a night with me yesterday is dead right on the ground. The blade embedded inside his chest and the snake sticking out.

Checkmate.

Kaz flash's me a smile but I barley catch it and it's gone in a blink.

"Good, not what do you want to be called?"

"Serpent." I whisper as I look up into his eyes.

"The Serpent."

I take out my knife with a snake around it's hilt always looking like it's moving and ready to strike.

Why are you here.

I close my eyes and it's done in a flash.

His ankles and hands are severed off and they drop to the floor like their separate bodies.

I lean in and whisper into his ear.

"The Serpent as struck and it seems." I grin a little.

"She has not granted you the mercy of death."

I lean in closer so only he can hear as he howls out in pain.

"Eight years." I breath. I come back up and turn swiftly out of the Crow Club shoving past Matthias who looks to be horrified but I don't know beause he did survive hellgate.

I stumble into an alleyway and I grip onto the brick wall.

The wolf is no more.

Streaming down my face tears flood my vision as I weep for all the pain, for all the years of torture finally the last one of them is dead.

Thump. Thump.

I hear the rhythmic of the crow cane but it seems to stop.

I lift my head up.

Kaz.

"Breath Y/n." I gasp in a breath and I stumble forward into his arms. I tense up and-

"Come on sister time to be a..."

"I'm not him." He whispers and it pulls me back into reality like an anchor.

He goes to try and touch my face but he stops midway and takes his gloves off. He touches his ungloved hand to my face and I can feel myself losing him to the past.

Think, Y/n! Think! He helped you, he saved you from everything! From your retched family, from the men today! He made it so you could defend yourself! He-

"Sankta Kaz." I blurt.

His eyes snap open and goes to back away.

"No, no, no! You can't possibly think of me as a saint!"

Normally I would be discomposed and would already be running out from embarrassment but a weird calmness wash's over me and a strange sort of serenity makes me want to go swimming.

"You may not be a saint to them." I point out behind him even though there's no people.

"But to me..." I pause trying to find the right words.

"You are my savoir. You saved me from my family." I walk up to him. "You killed my father and mother." I keep on walking closer. "You saved me from myself, you saved me today, and..." I trail off realizing how close we are.

I look into those dark eyes and I barely breath out,

"You gave me freedom."

I hesitantly warp my arms around him and he stiffens up but he relax's in my embrace. Our face's get closer and closer then-

"Why are you here?" It's the question he asked when I first learned how to throw a knife: What do you want?

"I am here because..." I trail off trying to find the words.

"I am here because of the kids." A new found confidence builds up in my chest.

"I am here to help the children safe from their abusive homes. I will help the children of Ketterdam." A fire of passion ignites in me making me bold.

"Will you help me?" The words hang in the air and Kaz looks into my eyes with a calculating gaze.

"I run a gang Y/n." I go to look away my face burning with embarrassment.

"But..." He takes my face into his hands.

"This Bastard can do both I guess." I grin in happiness and our faces finally get closer and we kiss.

Lightning crash's through me but I think of Kaz and our friends. Our lips shift together and I realize now that...

I'm drowning.

I'm drowning in Kaz, I'm absolutely deep into the ocean, falling but never rising. I just keep on going deeper and deeper till I pull away.

We pull away and I feel like a wave just crashed into me Kaz smiled and I whisper;

"Sankta Kaz."

Sankta Kaz the saint of greed. Sankta Y/n the saint of suffering. Together they are the saints of freedom.

Words 2383

-thedelusionreaderbitch

All rights go to Leigh Bardugo, Netflix and you! I just own the plot!

#six of crows #kaz brekker x reader #kaz rietveld #kaz brekker #x reader #wylan van eck #jesper fahey #inej ghafa #nina zenik #matthias hevlar #shadow and bone #fanfiction #oneshot

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the-iceni-bitch · 3 years

Text

Killing Floor

Pairing: dark!Mr. Freezy x dark!fem!Reader

Words: 4389

Summary: You run into Robert Pronge one night and end up tangled in a scheme together.

Warnings: DARK so, so dark, please do not read if these type of fics upset you! non-con (erring on the safe side), dub-con (for sure), very graphic violence (m to f and f to m), death, gore, explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex, hate-fucking, cavalier use of a handgun), SMUT, 18+ ONLY!!!!

A/N: My first dark fic! It got away from me for sure but I enjoyed it. Please, please be mindful of the content you are consuming though, this could very easily be upsetting! Because of this, I’m only gonna tag my fellow Freezy hoes here, as I haven’t updated my taglist doc to include dark!Fics.

Check out my masterlist and join my taglist if you want!

You eyed the Mr. Freezy truck warily as you carried your garbage to the dumpster behind your apartment building. This was the third time this week you had seen it outside your place, and it was setting you on edge. There were hardly any kids in your neighborhood, so you didn’t know why it was hanging out here.

You cursed under your breath as the truck moved to the mouth of the alley, blocking your exit. You pressed your back to the wall behind the dumpster, right as a man exited into the alleyway from the bar underneath your place to smoke a cigarette.

A massive man in a white uniform stepped out of the back of the ice cream truck and walked towards the smoker, pulling on a pair of black leather gloves as he made his approach. He asked him for a cigarette before pulling a silenced pistol out of his jacket and shooting his target three times in the chest.

You schooled your breathing as you watched him drag the body to the back of his truck, trying to remain as still as possible. He stormed back into the alley to search for the shell casings, turning his back to you as he collected them.

Your legs were starting to cramp from your crouched position, and as hard as you were trying to stay still, it was getting difficult. You tried shifting your foot, but your ankle rolled in your heels and you let out a hiss. The killer straightened up suddenly at the sound, cocking his head as he turned toward you with a sneer on his face.

“Is that a little kitty I hear?” He jeered as he walked toward you, his voice thick with a Boston accent.

You stood up from your hiding place, preparing to make a run for it. He saw you tense up and lunged at you, wrapping a massive hand around your throat and pinning you against the wall, knocking the air from your lungs and cracking your skull against the bricks.

“Nice try, sweetheart, but I can’t let you go just yet.” He pressed his body against yours to pin you, his other hand brushing his stringy hair from in front of his glasses. “You have got horrible timing. To think I almost got out of here without getting a look at you, kitten.”

You just glared him as he moved his hand down from your throat to dip inside your blouse, grinning as he pawed at you as he buried his face in your shoulder, grinding his crotch into you.

“Think I’m gonna have a little fun with you before I let you go. You’re being so good and quiet.” He panted against your neck. Suddenly he stilled and drew his face up to look you in the eyes. “Why haven’t you called for help?”

He had relaxed just enough to allow you to move and you drove your knee between his legs at the same time you shoved your hand into his jacket and drew out his pistol, whipping it across his face and sending him sprawling.

“You cunt!” He spat, bloody spittle flying from the corners of his mouth as he moved to charge you again, stopping short when you pressed his gun to his temple. “Oh, you stupid little bitch.”

“I’m the stupid bitch?” You growled at him. “You wanna tell me what the fuck a Gambino hitman is doing so far outside of their territory?”

“Shit.” He hissed between his teeth as he eyed you warily. “You’re with the Genoveses?”

“That’s right.” You said, drawing back the hammer on the pistol. “Now answer my question.”

“Alright, alright!” He raised his hands in supplication, showing you his palms. “Fella in my truck has a father who owes Marks a good chunk of change, and y’know, he needed a little incentive to pay off his debt.”

“Marks gave you the ok to take out this hit? The mans getting bold.” You snorted, releasing the hammer as you pulled the gun back. “Lucky for you, I feel like leaving this to the bosses to figure out. Get the fuck out of here.” He stood up warily and reached for his gun, which you pulled back with a tut. “No, I’m gonna hold onto this for now. Maybe I’ll give it back later.”

Mr. Freezy growled as he brushed off his uniform and stalked back to his truck, grumbling under his breath the whole time. You just winked at him as he drove away, heading back up to your apartment to call this in.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

You saw him again 2 weeks later at a sit-down. Marks came to make amends to your boss for overstepping, hoping to find someway show his remorse for sending his man into the Family’s territory without permission. You were perched on a stool in the back of the room when the two men entered, and a small smirk teased your lips.

Lombardo liked bringing you to meetings as a distraction. Most of his comrades assumed you were there for eye candy, just the latest piece of tail the boss was wetting his dick in, too stupid to care about. But the real reason he kept you around was for protection. He loved the look of surprise that came over his enemies’ faces when you pulled out your garrot.

“Great to see you Leo!” Lombardo said warmly, moving to give the man a kiss on each cheek before sinking into his chair, gesturing for Marks to join him. “Y/N, grab us some wine sweetheart. Does your man want any?”

“No, I don’t like my men drinking while they work.”

You moved to open the wine when a massive palm wrapped around your upper arm.

“This is the bitch I told you about, boss.” The killer seethed as he wrenched you around viciously.

“The fuck are you doing, Pronge?” Marks hissed, giving you a chance to grab the corkscrew and press it to Robert’s throat. “Benny, I apologize for my man’s behavior, he’s been foaming at the mouth about some broad getting the best of him and it’s made him a little erratic.”

Lombardo just laughed as Pronge released you with a duck of his head. You kept the corkscrew where it was, watching a thin trickle of blood run down his neck.

“Let him go, Y/N.” He said with a wave of his hand, and you moved to open the wine, pouring two glasses and bringing them over to the seated men. “My girl has a tendency to elicit that type of reaction. It’s one of the reasons I keep her around!” He gave you a pat on the ass as you headed back to your stool, your eyes trained on Robert Pronge.

He was glowering at you maliciously as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest and his forearms flexing as he clenched his fists. You heard him growl from deep in his chest when you gave him a conspiratorial wink.

“You see my problem Leo, we can’t have Gambinos moving through our territory with impunity, as much as we can sympathize with the need to collect a debt. Fortunately for you, the boss is still soft on you fellas, so we’ve come up with a solution I think will work for everyone.”

“Ah, Benny, I can’t tell you how happy that makes me! Of course, whatever you need.”

“Excellent! We’ve got a little problem with one of Big Mike’s nephews. The kids an idiot and has been making some waves that are making it increasingly difficult to manage our operations, I’m sure you know the type.”

“There’s one in every family.” Marks said with a shake of his head.

“That there is. Anyways, Funzi wants us to deal with the kid under the radar. I’d normally send in Y/N on her own to take care of it, but as great as she is, the kid is surrounded by morons all the time. We also have a disposal problem. Funzi wants to make it seem like the kid ran off with some bitch, hopefully avoid a war, and we’ve heard that your man Pronge here is a disposal expert.”

“Oh, fuck no!” Pronge exclaimed. “I’m not working with this cunt!”

“You’ll do what I order you to do, or I’ll fucking end you, now shut the fuck up!” Marks roared at Robert, making him wince as he leaned back against the wall. “He’ll do it.”

“Glad to hear it.” Benny murmured, his nostrils flaring in anger as he gave you the signal to relax. “Let’s drink to our friendship while we let these two hash out the details.”

You stood up from your stool with a deep sigh as you moved towards your new partner. The man looked like he wanted to murder you, and you just gave him a wicked grin. He seemed to relax as you went over the plan with him, not really offering any notes, just grunting in acknowledgement as his eyes roamed over your body. You managed to come to a grudging agreement and made plans to meet in two days to carry everything out.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

You had been waiting outside the club for 10 minutes when Pronge finally parked his sedan across the street. He leered as he walked towards you, eyes drinking you in. You looked extremely different than the last time he saw you, relaxed in a flowing dress that stopped mid-thigh and plunged almost all the way down to your navel.

“You always dress like a whore on the job?” He grumbled as the two of you headed to the entrance.

“Sure. You always dress like a clown?” You asked, wincing at the painful pattern on his shirt.

“Fucking bitch.” He muttered under his breath, not quite low enough that you couldn’t hear him.

“That’s right.” You said, your eyes roaming around the club as you looked for your man. “There he is.”

There was a group of young men in a booth at the back. The leader bent to snort a line of coke off the table before screaming for more drinks.

“What a fucking moron.” Pronge said from directly behind you. You could feel the suffocating heat of his body against your back as you stretched your neck. You sensed his eyes boring into you, searing over your bare flesh.

“Wait for my signal.” You muttered as you moved towards the dance floor, winding your way through the crowd smoothly until you positioned yourself in front of the mark’s table.

Pronge moved around the edge of the dancefloor as he kept an eye on you, you even danced like a slut. Your eyes were fixed on the mark as you gyrated to the music. It didn’t take long for the idiot to notice you. Your hands wandered all over your body as you swayed drunkenly, tracing the curves of your breasts and running over your neck languidly before dropping to your hips and teasing the hem of your skirt higher on your thighs.

He felt his dick starting to get hard as he watched you move, fighting the urge to pull you into an alley and fuck you until you couldn’t talk. His bitch wife had been refusing to put out for months, but ever since he first saw you in that alley, you’re all he could think about. He just wanted to shove his cock in that smart mouth of yours and shut you up for good. He had dreams about wrapping his hands around your throat as he ruined your pussy, marking your tits with his teeth as he split you open.

Fuck, he was so hard it hurt. He did his best to school his thoughts as he watched the mark move to join you. He felt himself tense as he watched the moron slot himself behind you and grind against your ass. His hands roamed over your torso until he was cupping your breasts, squeezing them softly as you dropped your head back against his shoulder with a moan, arching into his grasp.

Robert lost his patience and stormed towards the bathroom, slamming the door open as he strode inside. His did his best to control his breathing as he checked the stalls for occupants. He heard your laugh coming from the corridor and he scrambled to conceal himself, perching on top of a toilet and closing the stall door as you entered the bathroom.

You were giggling breathlessly as the idiot mouthed at your neck. He ripped the sleeves of your dress down your arms until your tits were exposed, and you sighed as your nipples pebbled in the air. Your mark bent to run his mouth over your chest sloppily as he fumbled with his belt.

Pronge lowered himself to the floor gingerly, splaying his palm on the stall door and pushing it open slowly. Your eyes shot open and did your best to swallow a hiss. Something must have tipped off the mark, because he straightened suddenly and turned around.

You growled at Robert and wrapped your arms around the mark’s neck before he had a chance to raise the alarm, squeezing hard enough that his oxygen was cut off. Your eyes bored into his as you choked the man, bringing him to his knees as you crouched behind him, your body curled tightly around his. Pronge’s cock was pressing painfully against the front of his pants as he watched you work. Your dress gathered around your waist and your makeup smeared all over your face as the muscles in your arms strained with the effort of strangling the man.

He finally stopped fighting you, and you moved to grip his head at crown and chin before wrenching your arms in two different directions, snapping his neck. You dropped the body to the floor and stood slowly to glare at Pronge, your nostrils flaring.

“You’re supposed to be in the alley.” You seethed as you pulled your dress back over your shoulders, moving to check the hall for any alarm.

“You moved faster than I was expecting.” He hissed, climbing one of the toilets to open the small window to the alley. He gripped a pipe running over the ceiling and lifted himself up enough to shove his legs through. He moved his hands to brace against the sill as he slid through the narrow opening, his broad shoulders just barely able to fit through the frame. He dropped into the alley and looked around, ensuring there were no witnesses.

It was only a few seconds before you were shoving the body through the window for Pronge to catch. He couldn’t deny he was impressed. You were stronger than you looked to be able to lift all that dead weight through a window 8 feet off the ground. He caught it easily and hauled it to the Mr. Freezy truck, shoving it in the back before moving back to the window.

He came back to find you with your legs dangling from the window as you slid through. You dropped softly on the balls of your feet, being careful not to roll your ankles as you landed in your stilettos.

Robert was leering as you strutted past him, your hips swaying suggestively as you made your way to the truck, wrenching open the doors and stepping inside. He climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine, pulling out slowly as you worked to wrap the body in plastic sheeting.

The two of you reached the warehouse in a little under an hour. Robert backed the truck into the loading bay and threw it in park before moving around to open the dock doors. He opened the back doors of the truck and tossed the body over his shoulder as you stepped out.

“Just head straight through.” He instructed you. You gave him a nod over your shoulder as you headed in. He grinned wickedly to himself as he watched your ass swinging back and forth in those heels, moving to follow you.

You found the old slaughterhouse easily and lowered a hook over the drain in the floor as he came to stand behind you, close enough that he had you on edge.

Once the hook was low enough, you moved forward in tandem. You ripped the plastic sheeting off the body as Pronge moved to wrap the hook and chain around the ankles. Once everything was secure, you stepped back to raise the chain.

Robert was still watching like a hawk. You did your best to ignore his eyes on you as you stood with one hip cocked, one heel tapping impatiently on the slanted floor.

Once it was at the required height, you stepped forward to drain the body without an ounce of hesitation, pulling a hunting knife out of your bag.

He growled from deep in his chest as he watched you work, leaned against the railing surrounding the killing floor, his cock starting to harden again as you stepped back, wiping your blade on a handkerchief.

“Almost forgot, Pronge.” You said, digging your hand in your purse and pulling out a pistol. You grinned at the panic on his face before flipping the gun in your hand so the grip was pointed at him. “This is yours.”

He took it from you warily and shoved it into the waist of his slacks, eyes still boring into you as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip.

“We’ve got some time to kill sweetheart.” He murmured as you moved to walk past him, heading back towards the loading bay.

Just like that he was on you, one giant hand wrapping around your throat as he slammed you against the wall, your head cracking against the concrete and your teeth snapping together painfully. You brought your knife up whip fast and pressed it to his throat at the same time he drew the gun from his waistband and pressed it to your abdomen.

“You’re just turning me on even more, kitten.” He leered at you, slipping the gun down the curve of your hip and drawing the hem of your skirt up your thigh with the barrel. He brushed the edge of his hand against your panties, groaning at how soaked you were.

He brought his other hand down and shredded the thin fabric easily, tucking the ruins in his back pocket before digging his fingers into your hip, gripping you hard enough to draw bruises. He sneered at you as he slipped the gun between your legs, running the barrel between your folds and teasing it against your clit, making you arch into him with a hiss.

“God, what a fucking slut you are.” He chuckled as he slipped the cool metal over your sex, your arousal soaking the steel as you writhed against it. “Acting so stuck up, and here this cunt is begging for me. Maybe I should fuck you with my gun, would you like that?”

He pressed the tip of the barrel against your entrance and you spat in his face, pressing the knife further into his neck and giving a mock sound of sympathy as a drop of blood welled at the tip.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing, fucker.” You ordered him, grinding yourself into the steel as another round of arousal seeped from your pussy as it clenched around nothing.

“Oho, you bitch. I’m gonna fucking ruin you.” He growled menacingly at you as you slipped your hand under the buttons of his shirt, popping them open one at a time at an agonizing pace as you kept your blade trained on his jugular.

“Promises, promises.” You tutted, the coil in your abdomen growing tighter and tighter as you dug your nails into Robert’s chest, drawing a moan from deep in his throat.

He pressed the gun against your clit violently and grinned as you fell apart. Your legs trembled as you release gushed over the now-warm steel. You bit your lip as you gave a low moan, your cunt fluttering as came down from your high.

“That’s right, whore.” He withdrew the gun from between your legs and brought it up to his face, running his tongue over the barrel and moaning at the taste of you. He tossed the weapon aside carelessly before bringing his hands up to wrench the sleeves of your dress over your shoulders, until it was pooled around your ankles.

“Just fucking look at that.” He murmured as his eyes raked over you. “No wonder the Genoveses keep you a secret.”

He brought one hand to dig painfully into your breast as his other slipped between your thighs. You removed the knife from his neck before slashing it across his chest in a quick motion, making him hiss as you ducked your head to drag your tongue over the wound, moaning as the metallic taste of his blood hit your tongue.

His backhand sent your sprawling, your teeth cutting the inside of your cheek as the knife flew out of your hand. You laughed darkly as you straightened back up, spitting the blood out of your mouth as you watched him strip off his clothes.

“I’m gonna split you open and break you apart, cunt.” He spat as he stalked towards you. His body had an air of menace about it, thick corded muscles stretched over his frame that was covered in scars. “And you’re gonna fucking thank me.”

You groaned as he pounced on you, his mouth moving to trace your breasts hungrily as his fingers dug into the small of your back. You sucked in a harsh breath and wrapped your fingers in his hair painfully as you felt him sink his teeth into you and he moaned into your soft flesh. He moved his teeth over your tits in a vicious trail, marking you with them.

“Fuck.” You hissed as a particularly deep bite had him drawing blood.

He wrenched himself up to glare at you and wrapped his hand around your throat tight enough that it was cutting off your oxygen.

“I don’t wanna hear another word out of that mouth of yours.” He growled, pressing you against the wall again. “I’d shut you up with my cock, but I wanna wreck that hole between your legs first.”

He slapped his swollen tip against your pussy once before spearing into you. He grinned wolfishly as he felt your throat vibrating under his hand and he bent to scrape his teeth over your jaw.

“God, this whore pussy is so fucking tight.” He growled into your ear. “You’re squeezing me so hard, you gonna cum already?”

He felt you stiffen for a beat and then you were quivering around him, a thin whine escaping from your tightened throat as you raked your fingers down the muscles of his back, drawing deep gauges with your nails.

He slammed your head against the wall hard enough to draw blood as your release seeped over his cock, leaking down the inside of your thighs as you fought the urge to pass out.

Robert released you suddenly, his hand leaving your throat as he pulled out. You only had a second to suck in a breath as he spun you around, tilting your hips just a bit before slamming into you again. You pressed your cheek against the wall as he plunged into you brutally.

You let out a series of small whimpers as he pinched your nipples harshly, tugging at them and pulling your tits away from your body. You fought the urge to yelp when he slapped them, making your pussy clamp down on his cock as he fucked into you.

“What a good little slut you are.” He hissed in against your hair, smearing his face through the blood seeping from your head wound. “Yeah, you love the feel of my big fucking cock inside you?”

The only answer you could give was a low moan, followed by a gasp as he wrapped a hand around to pinch your clit.

“That’s right bitch, cream all over me. God you’re fucking cock drunk, aren’t you?”

You just whined as he tweaked your clit one more time and you came apart, your legs giving out. Robert wrapped a hand around your thigh and drew it up to pin against your waist as your body quivered against him, your pussy milking his cock as your eyes rolled back in your head.

“Fuck.” He whispered as his cock twitched inside you and he sank his teeth into your shoulder as he came, blood welling into his mouth as you cried wordlessly and he shot his seed into you, coating your canal in thick hot ropes that seeped out over your thighs.

He kept fucking you through it until he started to soften, then shoved you against the wall violently, pulling away and spitting your blood out of his mouth.

He watched you closely as you turned around, doing his best to keep from hardening again as he looked at you. Your hips and thighs were covered in bruises that were sure to darken even more over the next few days. There was the trace of his hand over your neck that you were absentmindedly running your fingers over. The side of your face where he had slapped you was starting to swell, a shallow cut running along your cheekbone. Blood was leaking from the corner of your mouth and your chest was covered in angry bite marks, some of them bleeding.

You wiped your hand across your face as you stared back at him, wincing. He didn’t look any better. His chest was covered in deep scratches and claw marks, smeared with blood from the cut on his chest. A thin red trail was running down his neck from the shallow prick you had made under his chin. His face was smeared with your blood from where he had buried himself in your hair, and when he turned to collect his clothes, you admired the deep gauges you’d made in his back.

“That was something.” You murmured, catching your dress in mid-air as he tossed it at you. You flicked your head towards where the body was suspended and gave a deep sigh. “Where’s your bonesaw?”

A/N: Welp, I’m going to hell, but at least I’m taking you hoes with me!

Tags!

@stargazingfangirl18 @starlightcrystalline @ozarkthedog @drabblewithfrannybarnes @slothspaghettiwrites @sultrygoblin

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undertaker1827 · 3 years

Note

Could you do 15 20 and 23 for Undertaker and their s/o finding out he is a grim reaper not being afraid of him bec she knew from the very moment they met, he was different and accepted that from the very start. [sorry for my english]

Of course! And your English is great! Also I kinda got carried away (there’s around 2k words) I just loved the prompt. Enjoy!

Prompts in bold

❗️Warnings; Canon-typical violence, reader gets attacked/minorly injured (UT saves the day, tis all good), said attacker gets knocked unconscious and doubting & hurt/comfort-ing ensues, but there’s a fluffy end I promise

Masterlist

Your steps echoed through the dark, empty city streets, not a soul about apart from you. It was to be expected, you supposed; after all, it was midnight. You had been out with a few friends and the time had just slipped away from you all until you remembered that you had work in the morning and you needed to get home quickly. Having not intended to be so long, the only mode of transport was either walking or getting a taxi, and the latter seemed a little ridiculous to you given that your apartment was only just around the corner. That led to where you were now, taking a shortcut through a less than advisable area of town so you would get home quickly.

There was a sudden scuffle behind you and your whole body tensed, heart jumping and mind racing with possibilities. You risked taking a glance behind you, doing your best to slow your breathing when you realised nothing was there. Unnerved but determined, you carried on at a slightly faster pace and focused on getting to the door of your building, which was now only a few minutes away, less if you were to walk any more quickly. The second noise you heard behind you was closer than the first and enough to set your every nerve on edge.

Nausea crawled up the back of your throat when you distinctly sensed someone following you, heard their footfalls as they broke into a run and felt each limb start to tremble with the ensuing rush o adrenalin. You broke into a full sprint hardly daring to turn for long enough to make out any more than a figure dressed in black, face covered by fabric and holding something that glinted in the halo of light coming from the back window of someone’s workshop - - was that a knife? The thought spurred you on even more heart pounding and preparing to scream for help, but you just weren’t fast enough.

You let out a muffled yell as you were tripped up and landed unceremoniously on the concrete pavement, chin scraped and lip split as your face collided with it. You couldn’t care less about that now though, immediately twisting over and trying to haul yourself to your feet, ignoring the pain blossoming from the ankle you landed on. Again though, you were too slow; a hand pressed to your mouth and a steel blade to your throat prevented any escape attempts you were going to make. Your eyes widened in fear and you desperately tried to press yourself further back into the concrete, but it was no good.

“Stay still,” your attacker hissed out at you, digging the knife a little further into your neck, “and be quiet.”

You hands gripped his wrist automatically, fingers trembling, but both your attentions were drawn by the arrival of a second person. You looked over your shoulder to find a man silhouetted at the near end of the backstreet you were in, a large, familiar coat flaring out around him and one arm out to the side, holding a… stick? Whatever your attacker was going to say, be it a warning to leave or a lie that this wasn’t what it looked like, the other spoke before he had the chance.

“I will say this once, and once only,” he said in a cold, hard voice, so different from his normal joking tone and one you hadn’t ever heard him use before. “Let them go.” Each word was pronounced individually, as if being made clear to a child who was likely to misunderstand. He took a step forward to punctuate each one, now close enough that you could see the grey hair that draped over his shoulders and hung down his back. The stick was a sotoba, you realised, you had seen a few of them scattered around his parlour. You always thought they were there for the aesthetic.

Fear still coursed through you, but now it was for your long term partner as well as yourself. What did he hope to accomplish against a man who held a knife to your throat?

“Look, I don’t know who you are, but I suggest you go before you cause anymore bloodshed.” This was accompanied by a poignant press of the knife to your neck, a single, hot drop of blood trailing don your skin. And there was something else you never expected to see displayed by your beloved Undertaker. Pure, barely restrained rage.

You hardly managed to keep track of the events that unfolded, but one minute he was standing there a few paces away and the next he was right next to you. The knife dropped to the floor with a clatter and your attacker let out a cry of pain. If the angle of it was anything to go by, his wrist was both dislocated and broken. You couldn’t help the way your eyes widened as the mortician grabbed the man by his collar and held him as high into the air as possible, then threw him back against the brick wall of the building he had been holding you against just moments earlier. You floundered for a second or two before realising there was a massive blade held to the man’s throat, a polished silver that curved gracefully into a human skull and ribcage, the spine of which had been whittled down to a handle that was easily as long as you were tall. The sotoba was gone.

As your gaze trailed back up Undertaker’s form, you came to a second realisation. His bangs were shoved back away from his face and you could see his eyes. And they were glowing. He seemed utterly detached from the man’s frightened whimpering, as if his begging made no sound at all.

“You thought it would be fun, I believe,” he stated in confident mockery, “to pick on someone weaker than yourself. How does it feel now, hm?” The mortician let him drop down a few inches as his hand found purchase on his throat, grip tightening until you could see it was a physical struggle to breath. “How dare you.” The last had fallen to a threatening whisper, Undertaker’s face far too close to the other’s. You could see the man’s struggle was weakening, the lack of air starting to have its effect. “I won’t kill you,” Undertaker muttered at length, “you aren’t worth my time.”

With that, he let go entirely, disinterested gaze watching as the man crumpled to the floor. His eyes then flicked over to you, taking in the hand you were holding to your throat and the fear practically radiating off of you in waves. He fancied he could hear your heartbeat even as you stood several steps away. The mortician languidly held out a hand as he said your name, waiting until you moved towards him to pull you into his chest.

You thought you had only blinked once, but in that fraction of a second, all of your surroundings had changed. It was Undertaker’s parlour that you were standing in now, not some dingy side street with a man who had tried to kill you now laying unconscious against a wall. The mortician stepped away from you quickly, a little too quickly really, and moved to lay the scythe against a coffin. You stood still, unsure what to do after everything that had just taken place and unprepared with the intensity that would come from your partner’s gaze when he turned back around on his heel to face you.

“Are you alright?” It was still the same, serious voice from before, though now instead of being laced with anger, all you could hear was concern. Your fingertips drifted back to your throat as you contemplated whether you actually were alright or not, though you frowned when Undertaker went to reach towards you then stopped, almost as if catching himself from doing something he knew he shouldn’t. Your frown only deepened when he stayed an arm’s length away. Physical contact was always something he had loved, craved even, so why he was acting so strangely now when you could really do with the contact you didn’t know. You made the executive decision then that his bizarre reasoning didn’t matter, opting to close the distance between you and wrap your arms securely around his body, head tucked into his shoulder and eyes closed. You were still shaking and Undertaker ached with a deep, broken sadness so strong that he didn’t realise he was once again raising his arms to hold you. He dropped them immediately, but you were still just standing there and now it seemed like you were holding back tears as well and everything he did was just making things worse -

“Fox?” You whimpered out the name you had adopted for him past the obvious lump in your throat and he could have sworn that he had never felt so guilty for anything before.

“Yes?” His voice was hoarse too.

“I don’t know why you’re doing this, but please just hold me.” Your words were so small and frightened, something in the reaper just snapped. A hand on your side brought you impossibly closer to his and he hauled you up into his arms, one hand supporting your back and the other carding back through your hair as you wrapped your legs around his waist. He pressed his nose against your neck, avoiding the injured part, and left a series of gentle kisses there as sobs started to wrack your frame. You had no idea how long you stayed like that but over time, you became aware of the reaper murmuring the same set of words against your skin, over and over again.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”

He was holding you so tightly that something in him was afraid he might hurt you, but you were holding him in return and he couldn’t bring himself to let go. Your tears having finally subsided, you tilted your head to leave a kiss on his jaw, halting his flow of words.

“Stop apologising, you have nothing to be sorry for.” The chartreuse eyes that met yours were full of so many different emotions that it was almost overwhelming. He moved a hand to cup your face, thumb carefully brushing over your lower lip.

“You’re not afraid of me?” Your stomach dropped at the fact that he thought you would be.

“You’ve given me no reason to be.” He looked for a moment like he didn’t want to believe you, so you took his face in your hands and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, relief flooding you when he kissed you back. “I knew you were different,” you continued, not breaking eye contact, “I’ve always known. I just didn’t know how.” The mortician gave a small nod.

“I’m a reaper,” he told you, “retired. It was my job among many others to collect the souls of the dead.” You just nodded, smiling a little. He let out a sigh as his eyes caught the crimson staining on your neck. “Let me do something with that.” Another smile.

“Thank you.”

Undertaker cleaned and covered your wound efficiently but with gentle hands, making sure he didn’t hurt you. From the angle your head was at to give him best access to your injury, you could just see the top of his grey hair, feel its weight over your legs as he leaned close to you. You started running your hands through it and playing with the ends almost subconsciously, missing the small glance he gave you out of the corner of his eye.

The mortician only moved back a fraction when he finished seeing to your neck, close enough that you could still play with his hair. Close enough that he could see you rather than sense you and do so without the need for corrective lenses. You looked straight back at him though, and stole the words he was going to speak before he had the chance.

“You’re so beautiful.” He tilted his head affectionately, a few strands of hair crossing his eyes and leading you to push them out of the way. The reaper leaned into your touch immediately and you buried your hand in his hair, fingertips trailing over the roots. His eyes were soft when he opened them again.

“You’re the beautiful one, love.”

#undertaker x reader #black butler undertaker x reader #kuroshitsuji undertaker x reader #adrian crevan x reader #undertaker #adrian crevan #undertaker black butler #kuroshitsuji undertaker #black butler #black butler x reader #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji x reader #black butler reader inserts

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raynnawrites · 3 years

Text

Mine Only {pt.6}

Dark!Erik Killmonger x Black!Reader

Warnings: +18

You woke up in another bed with a pounding headache. You groaned and looked at the ceiling squinting, getting used to having your eyes open and dealing with the headache. Once you focused your eyes, you noticed you were clearly in a different house. The ceiling was no longer brick, rather a modern, dark wood with a fan. Unlike the others, you didn’t recognize this one. This one was new.

“Darlin’? How do you feel…?” Erik asked as you huffed.

“Are you fucking kidding me? What did you do?” you growled as you groaned again, feeling your headache throb. Erik offered his usual sad eyes and got on the bed with you. You huffed and tried to stand, only to feel your ankle throb.

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Fuck you! You hurt me!” you spat as Erik only held your hand.

“I didn’t mean to do this to you, but I knew that if I kept you awake, you would’ve gotten angry at me. I knew how much you liked the other place but-”

His words were interrupted by your scoff.

Your tactic

“And here I thought you trusted me… you don’t even trust me for a damn car ride” you whispered, making him believe you were hurt and sad. He held you and helped you sit back down on the bed.

“Baby, I do trust you I just… I didn’t want you to be stressed! I know that moving from place to place is kinda hard for you. I’m sorry, Y/N.” Erik apologized. You pretended to believe him and nodded.

You knew why he made you sleep. He didn’t want you to see any route or even get a slight clue of where you were being taken. He was playing dirty.

“Come on, let’s watch a movie…” Erik told you, grabbing your hand and standing, “Erik I- ah!”

You felt Erik move, grab your wrist and start to squeeze. You whimpered, but Erik didn’t budge. He yanked you forward and made you meet his intense gaze.

“We’re gon’ be in the living room and we gonna watch a movie. Do you understand me?” Erik snarled, crying, you gasped and groaned when Erik squeezed even harder. You heard and felt a crack on your wrist, followed by a stinging pain. “Yes! Yes! Please, let me g-go!” You cried. Erik huffed and slammed you against the wooden floor. Hitting your head, you groaned again and clutched your now bruised and most likely broken wrist.

Already a deep, dark purple color bruised your wrist. Suddenly, you felt yet another stinging pain, this time, from your head. Erik had grabbed a fistful of your curls and pulled upward, forcing you to look up. “C’mon, sweetheart, let’s go.”

Nodding, Erik let you go. You stood with whimpers and groans. Your head was pounding, your wrist’s initial pain had subsided now leaving you with discomfort and ache, your ankle throbbed and how your side was hurting. You teared up and wished this would end.

Following him to the living area, you sat down next to him and continued to clutch your wrist on your chest.

Erik’s hand snaked its way to your waist and brought you closer to him. You whimpered, but nevertheless moved his direction. Whilst watching the movie Erik put on, you began to think and question everything. Including your hopes of T’Challa or anyone finding you. You missed your home, you missed T’Challa, you missed your freedom.

“What’s on your mind, babe?” Erik asked you, making you drop your head and shake.

“I-I’m okay. I’m just… y’know, a lil’ t-tired.”

Erik chuckled and kissed your temple.

“I’mma go and get some ice. Move and I’ll break the other one.” Erik threatened, making you gulp but nod. Would it be possible to try and soften him again? Was it worth it?

He came back as quickly as he stood with an ice bag. Erik grabbed your arm and carefully placed your wrist on his lap, softly and gently pressing the ice bag on your wrist. Hissing and groaning, you felt the ice come in contact with your skin. A new fear ignited. What if he was playing with you? What if he hurt your wrist even more?

Looking at him, you saw his blank expression, as if nothing happened. The silence lasted the whole movie until he sighed and allowed you to move your wrist back on to your chest.

“You’re mine, right?” Erik asked you, his voice low, gone of any growls, snarls or dark intentions. “Like… you’re my girl, right? My Y/N…?” He asked you again. Sighing, you looked at his lap.

“I don’t know anymore.” You began, “am I? Was I ever? I can’t remember anymore.”.

Erik looked at you with crying eyes again. He noticed your wrist, red eyes and ankle.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I-I… I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s goin’ on. I love you. You’ve always been the best thing in my piece of shit life. I promise, after this shit’s done, I’mma take you back to Hawaii.” Erik cried, moving over to you, making you nod and allow him to lay his head on your lap.

He became vulnerable yet again. Your chance of relief.

“They tryna take you from me and I can’t let that happen…” he sniffled.

“Don’t cry, Erik. It’s okay. Just stay calm.”

The day went by, now being midday. The sun was out in all its glory. You couldn’t help but to remember days like these in Wakanda. Wakanda was always sunny, making rain almost a rare phenomenon. You would go to T’Challa’s private pool and sit on the chairs to sunbathe. How relaxing it always was. The very thought brought tears to your eyes.

“Sweetheart, gimme your wrist I can-” Erik began, making you move away from him. He knitted his brows and focused his eyes to the door. Sniffing and standing, he growled. Reaching the coffee table’s drawers he pulled out a loaded gun. You gasped.

Erik grabbed you abruptly and moved you to the back of the couch. He grabbed your chain and wrapped it around your chest and neck. You whimpered and yelped at the sudden move and the ache in your body. The door burst open and you gasped when you saw the Black Panther with his General and squadron of elites.

Tears of joy stung your eyes and a smile grazed your features for the first time in ages.

Taglist:

@chaneajoyyy

@amorestevens

@cecereads209

@raysunshine78

@woahitslucyylu

@idont-know-shit

@kkrown

@msreshel

@ladymac82

@luvwitoutlimit1

@jessiebean00

@richonne4life

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@btitannaaa

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A/N: Please let me know what you thought! Criticism is welcomed.

#black panther #erik killmonger x oc #erik killmonger x poc #erik killmonger x reader #raynnawrites #erik killmonger #dark!erik killmonger

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nessinborderland · 3 years

Text

Be Mine (05)

Pairing: Niragi x Reader / Chishiya x Reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Omegaverse

Word Count: 4.4k

Summary: You were able to stay unbounded throughout your life. You didn’t want an Alpha; you didn’t need one. You would rather die than to give yourself to some random male. But the man that saved your life thinks differently.

Warnings: Alpha/Omega, Dubious Consent, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Finger fucking, Rough Sex, Rough Kissing, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Breeding, Pregnancy Kink, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Drama, Developing Relationship, Past Abuse, Scars, Death, Blood and Gore, Animal Death, Trauma, Bath Sex, Blood and Injury

Notes: Here is the so awaited chapter nº5! It’s pretty much just Niragi’s funeral, but I think you’re gonna enjoy it either way :) I’m kidding lol, there’s no funeral. Also if ya'll want some music recs, I had Kai's first mini-album on repeat as I was writing this chapter. Is just so damn good. Enjoy <3

AO3 Link Masterlist

“He’s dead,” Chishiya says like he’s announcing the weather. It’s so cold and impersonal that you feel yourself getting angry at him. It doesn’t last more than a second though; his words hit you like a ton of bricks. He can’t be dead; you would feel it. You don’t know how or why, but you would know. Your legs go weak again under you, but this time you lean against a stone pillar. That’s where you absently notice you’re on the front steps of a big red house.

“N- no,” you gulp, trying to control the tears that threaten to fall. No, he can’t be dead. “You’re lying…” you whisper that last part.

He just looks at you for a moment, without saying a word, before walking to an information board you haven’t noticed before. A card is stuck to the board by a pin. The Ten of Spades. He takes it and approaches you before putting the card in your hoodie’s pocket. Then he speaks.

“Why would I be lying, Y/N?” his tone is so condescending. Anger rises inside you again. “And why do you care so much?”

“Why do I care?...” you repeat his question to yourself. Why do you care? You don’t know. You barely know Niragi. But he saved you and was weirdly sweet to you on your first night together and he...you...you just care. You’re like eighty-five percent sure that this is your wolf talking, but you don’t care either way, “I’m going to find him,” you say as you practically drag yourself down the stone steps, cursing your injured foot.

“No, you’re not. Stop,” the order makes you stop on instinct, and your mind fogs for a moment. Your eyes go wide as you realize what he’s trying to do.

“Fuck you,” you hiss in his direction, “Go manipulate someone else.” You turn and continue limping down the path. You hear a growl, and he’s suddenly in front of you, now back in his wolf form. His teeth are bare, but you ignore him and walk right past him. “If you’re not going to help, just go away,” you say over your shoulder. “I will find him and bring him back by myself.”

You can’t hear him behind you anymore, but you can smell him close by. You ignore his scent to focus on Niragi’s, trying to find your way back to where you last saw him. You groan in pain at your ankle; it hurts more at every step. The blood seeping through your makeshift bandage doesn't make walking any easier.

You finally catch his scent and try walking faster. Part of you is thankful for the park lights that are now on, almost giving the impression of daylight; it makes the path so much easier to walk through. The con is that you can also undoubtedly see the bodies and blood. You see them everywhere in the open field you were just moments ago; animal and human. It's a bloodbath. You ignore the blood, and the ripped limbs, and the open wounds.

“Niragi!” you can’t help but scream when you see him.

He’s face down on the ground, still in his human form, like he had tried to crawl before passing out. You ignore the possibility that he might be dead. You finally get to him, falling on your knees to assess his condition. He’s covered head to toe in blood, and you hesitate to touch him. You’re afraid to hurt him more if you try to move him.

“Niragi?” you call in a trembling voice, “Niragi, can you hear me?”

No answer.

“I told you he was dead,” Chishiya says, right behind you. You ignore him and finally touch Niragi’s skin. He’s warm to the touch; way too warm to be considered dead. A grunt coming from him startles you.

“Oh my God! ” you exclaim, maybe a little too loudly, “Niragi, can you hear me? Can you move?”

“That’s just gas leaving the body,” Chishiya again, “C’mon, let’s go.” You roll your eyes and keep ignoring him, focusing on what matters.

Niragi’s hand moves as he grunts again, this time louder, and you realize he’s trying to talk.

“What-”

“Stop saying I’m dead-” he turns his head to the side, and you can finally see his face as he mumbles. “You fucking dog-... I hope you get leishmaniasis-... and die.”

You can’t help the sudden laugh that leaves your lips before you can stop it; people dying don’t talk like that. He opens one eye at hearing you, and you see his brow furrow even with all the blood on his face.

“Me dying is funny to you?” he asks in a croaky voice.

You shake your head and quickly wipe the tears that had started to fall. “No, I- I’m just glad you’re alive.” You turn to face Chishiya, a stern expression on your face “Will you help me, or I will have to do it by myself?”

The man rolls his eyes and grunts, before turning back into a wolf without a word. You help Niragi onto Chishiya’s back, ignoring the wolf’s snarl and the man’s constant complaints. You think most of the bleeding has stopped, but you still fear the open wounds, especially the arrow that made one on his chest. Thankfully, it had hit far from the heart and lungs. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t cause for concern.

You finally got to the front gates without much difficulty; Chishiya had dropped Niragi only once, and you considered that a win. Your own injured leg shot pain through you every step, but Niragis' condition put that out of your mind. You noticed the bundle of clothes both of them had left on the ground before turning, so you limped to grab them before joining them by the car. You also get Niragi’s rifle as you pass by the entrance. You put it in the trunk before helping Niragi inside. Chishiya turns back and puts on his clothes before getting in the car without a word.

“My shirt?” Niragi asks as you’re about to close the car door.

“Oh- Oh right,” you forgot he was naked. You didn’t think you could possibly get him dressed in his state, but it’s obvious he wants to cover up. You pass him the shirt and stare in confusion as he puts it on instead of covering himself. “Niragi, you shouldn’t-”

“I don’t give a fuck if anyone sees my dick,” he says with a grunt as he tries to pass his injured arm through the armhole. You’re about to say something when it hits you; his back. Of course, he doesn’t want anyone to see it. You nod and take off your jacket, now in only your swimsuit top, and cover him with it. He looks at you but says nothing. Lucky for you, you’re able to cover your own back with a scarf before Chishiya notices.

You drive back to the Beach in silence. Chishiya drives as you sit next to him, absently biting the nail of your thumb. Finally seated, you addressed your own injury. The holes the trap made were deep and still bleeding. You can hardly move your ankle now the pain has set. You hear Niragi moan in pain in the backseat as the car runs over bumps that Chishiya purposefully ignores. Besides that and the occasional sigh, the air is filled with awkward silence. Now that the game and fear and adrenaline has passed, you know that is only a matter of time before they’re at each other’s throats again.

You let out a sigh of relief when you get into the Beache’s parking lot. Chishiya is out of the car and gone before you can even say a word to him. Well, it seems like his generosity has come to an end. You sigh and get out of the car, helping Niragi get out as best as you can. He tries to stand by himself, but his mangled foot quickly gives up on him. You both almost fall before three militants nearby see you and decide to help. He looks on the brink of passing out, and his skin burns like it’s on fire.

“Take me to my room,” he says to the men in a faint voice. You’re about to say something against it; he needs special medical care. He stops you like he knows what’s going through your mind. “I don’t-... I don’t need no nursing student-... putting his hands on me. Room.”

You limp behind them in silence, wondering if he will want you in his room. Probably not, but you’ll at least leave his gun there before passing out in your bedroom. You fear a fight, but you’re honestly too tired for that. You do feel guilty for sleeping with Chishiya, but Niragi is at fault here too. He left you alone and purposely ignored you for a damn week. Besides, it’s not like you can control any of it; not anymore. Whatever self-control you had over your wolf seemed to have evaporated the moment Niragi’s hands were on you that first time.

You stand by the door as the men lay him on the bed before he orders them to leave. You lean his gun against a corner and stand there for a moment, considering what to do next. It doesn’t take you long before you decide. You leave the room and walk around the hotel until you find what you need, returning to his room with arms full of medical supplies, a basin, and some clean rags. His eyes are on you as soon as you open the door, a surprised expression on his face. It’s quickly replaced by a scowl.

“What’re you doing here?” he asks. You ignore his tone and focus on organizing the stuff you brought on the bedside table.

“You say you don’t want a specialist looking after you, so you’ll have to settle for me,” you answer as you limp towards the bathroom to fill the basin with warm water. You can feel his eyes on your back as you wait for the bowl to fill. Going back to his side, you start cleaning his skin, starting with his face. You don’t even try cleaning and detangling the mess that is his hair. You keep your gaze on specific points of his face, avoiding his eyes. You’re actually surprised he hasn’t tried to stop you. You clean his face until the water is pink, the gash on his forehead now clearly visible. It has stopped bleeding, the fast Alpha healing clear in the way the wound has started to scab. You stand up to change the water, and again his eyes are following you as you walk to the bathroom.

“How’s your ankle?” you hear him faintly ask over the sound of running water.

“It’s going to heal,” you answer as you go back to his side. You move to unbutton his shirt, but his hand lightly grabs your wrist. Your eyes lock. His eyes have a strange shine to them, and you wonder if he has a fever. By his body temperature, you wouldn’t doubt it. “Can I open it?”

He stares at you for a moment before nodding. You resume unbuttoning his shirt, opening it to reveal his chest. You keep doing the methodical task of rubbing his skin clean, barely noticing when he falls asleep. There are several lacerations and bite marks all over his chest and sides, but those seem to be healing properly too.

You also notice, to little surprise, that he has several tattoos adorning his pale skin; a tangle of thorns rise from his hip to his ribs, a single black rose in the middle of the artwork; an open winged raven stares at you from his pectorals, the kanji for power in the eyes of the animal; a smaller tattoo of a howling wolf marks his hip. They’re beautiful, and you wonder what their exact meaning is. It’s a shame that they will be covered in scars when he’s finished healing. You wonder if he has more tattoos on his body.

An hour goes by before you finish cleaning and bandaging his front. His foot is by far the worst injury, and you wonder for a moment if he will be able to use it again at its full capacity. You haven’t tried to take off his shirt or turn him around; you know he probably wouldn’t want that. Your eyes are heavy, and you almost doze off several times. You cover him with a blanket and stand up to clean things up. Your now swollen ankle reminds you you have yet to care for it, so that’s what you do, after making sure that Niragi hasn’t stopped breathing in his sleep.

You crash beside him with a tired sigh, eyes closing as soon as your head hits the mattress.

You wake up hours later, startled by the sound of hushed voices right next to you. You stay still, hoping they won’t catch on the fact that you’re now wide awake.

“I know it was you,” Niragi’s voice, faint and rough, “You pushed me into that fucking trap.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chishiya. “All I did was play the game.”

“So now what, you’re here to wish me a fast recovery or to finish the job?”

“Just came to check on her.” You can feel both of their gazes on you. You know they know that you’re awake, but neither of them says anything about it. You hear Niragi exclaim a rushed ‘hey’ and some rustling. “And to get this,” Chishiya adds. You know he’s talking about the card, still in your jacket pocket.

“She’s never going to be yours,” Niragi says in such a low tone you can barely hear him. You can feel the growl in his chest vibrating the mattress. “So fuck off my room.”

“Hmm, guess we’ll see about that,” Chishiya says in his usual unbothered tone. You hear him as he walks away and gently closes the door behind him. Niragi shifts next to you with a grunt of pain. You can feel the heat radiating from him in waves.

You stay still for a few more moments, trying to understand their conversation. Had Chishiya really tried to kill Niragi? You wouldn’t doubt it, but still, the idea scared you; he had been so close to succeeding.

You realize something. These are dangerous men; of that, you have no doubt. You’re sure that if it wasn’t for you being an Omega, they wouldn’t think twice about hurting you badly or even kill you. In what mess did you get yourself into? Why these two, of all the Alphas in the world?

“Why did you fuck him?” Niragi’s question breaks you out of your thoughts. You say nothing for a beat or two, before shrugging.

“For the same reason I fucked you, I guess,” you say with a sigh, “I couldn’t control my wolf from getting what she wanted,” he says nothing for several moments, so you decide to just say what else is on your mind. “He also was there when I needed. These guys were messing with me and he just...he was there. I- I did try talking to you several times but you just kept avoiding me so… when Chishiya appeared I… I didn’t even think twice, to be honest.”

“Would you bond with him?” he asks in a hesitant tone. This makes you turn to him. His eyes are focused on the ceiling, and you notice how heavy his breathing is.

“No,” you say without a second thought, “If I’m going to be bonded with someone, it’s not going to be with him,” it’s true. You really don’t want to be bonded with that man; not after how he acted with you. “Not if I have any say in it.” Which you fear you may not have. But you don’t want to put that into words.

Niragi takes a deep breath and nods, before closing his eyes again. His fists are closed by his side, and you know he’s trying to control his emotions, whatever they may be. He opens his eyes after some time and locks his eyes on you. They still have that weird shine to them.

“Would you bond with me?” he asks before you can ask how he’s feeling.

“I- I don’t know,” you really don’t. You don’t know anything about him, and you have the feeling that you wouldn’t like him even if you knew him better. “We don’t know each other. The last thing I want is to be bonded to someone I’m incapable of loving. I know everyone thinks I must be insane for refusing to accept my own biology but I- I would rather die than make my future children go through the same shit I went through.”

Niragi just hums in response, processing your words.

“Love is a myth.” he finally says, “The faster you accept your nature and that little fact, the easier life will be for you.” He moves to sit up, before making a sound of pain and falling back down on the mattress, “Fuck-”

“Don’t move!” you order, afraid he will just hurt himself further, “What do you need?”

“I’ll be damned if I need your help to take a piss,” he tries to sit up again, grunting as he successfully rests his back against the wall, “I’m not a fucking invalid.” You ignore his words and stand up to support him as he slowly makes his way to the bathroom.

You’re waiting on the other side of the door when you hear a sudden ‘thud’ from inside. You open the door to see Niragi on the floor, curses streaming from his lips as he tries to stand up. You run to his side, but his hand swats at you.

“I can stand up by myself, goddammit,” he mumbles to you. He suddenly drops against you with a groan. You start to panic; his skin is damp and hot as a furnace.

“Niragi, you have a fever,” you try to think of what to do, and your eyes fall on the jacuzzi bathtub in a corner of the large bathroom. “C’mon, I’m going to give you a cold bath.”

“No- Don’t you try to bathe me...damn woman,” he says, still trying to stand up by himself. You sigh and half-drag him half-support him to the bathtub. You lean him against the wall as you turn on the faucets, trying to get the perfect water temperature. You move to take off the bandages you had put on him just hours before, leaving only the one on his foot. He’s still naked except for his black and white shirt, just like the one he had given to you. You try to take it off of him, but he vehemently shakes his head no.

“Don’t- don’t you fucking try to take this off me,” he manages to say, eyes closed as he takes labored breaths. You don’t even think twice as you take the scarf off your shoulders and pull down your swimsuit, turning so your naked back is in full view to him.

“My father did this to me when I was eleven years old,” you talk fast, and your voice trembles, but you still force yourself to say the words. “He was drunk all the time, and I did something that made him mad, and he snapped.” you pull your swimsuit back up and turn around to face him. “I’m not asking to see your back or for you to tell me how you got them, I just want to put you in that goddamn bath! I couldn’t care less about your scars!” you’re not being completely honest, but your words apparently work. Niragi’s scowl lightens a bit, and he gives you a small consenting nod. You brush off the knot in your throat, focusing on getting him undressed of that crusty bloody shirt before helping him get in the tub.

He gasps as his trembling body hits the water, teeth chattering as he grips the side of the tub which so much force that his knuckles turn white. You take that time to focus on cleaning the rest of his body, including his matted hair, the water immediately turning pink. He visibly flinches when the rag touches his back, before leaning forward to give you better access.

You can’t help but look; of course you can’t. While your scars are just a slash of claws that go from shoulder to hip, his are...messy. They cover his whole back from shoulder to tailbone, some fine and silver, others wide and red. You have a sudden urge to cry, but hold it in; you know he wouldn’t react well to pity. Not that you pity him; not exactly. It’s more like it triggers your memories of the happening, and you remember how much it had hurt; how much that had been a turning point in your life. How much it still hurts, even though they’re no longer open wounds. You fear it’s the same for him.

You can’t resist passing a light finger over one of the deeper scars. You hear him gasp before fully accepting your touch. The sensation of your skin against his never loses that spark of electricity, doesn’t matter how many times you touch him.

“You smell like him,” he snaps. You can’t place his tone, but his sudden reaction makes you freeze and widen your eyes. His hand grabs your wrist, and he pulls you slightly against him. You have to brace yourself not to fall inside the large tub. “Get in here,” he orders. Your surprised expression is replaced by a raised brow; he sure sounds good enough to order you around now.

“I’m not getting in there,” you say as you try to release yourself from his grip.

“Oh yes you are, you fucking stink,” he retorts, pulling you even closer.

“How dare- “

You’re falling in the cold water bath before you can finish your sentence. He grunts in pain as you fall on top of him, and you don’t know if you should worry or be happy about it. His hands go to your hips as you try to get out, pressing you against him.

“You idiot, you’re going to open your wounds!” you decide to worry. You put your hands on his shoulders for support, and you notice you’re now nose to nose.

“I don’t care,” Niragi says, eyes locked on yours. “I just can’t stand you smelling like him anymore.” he tugs at your shorts, “Take this off.”

“Niragi, no,” you say as you try once again to get out of his grasp, “You’re sick and this water is dirty from your blood. I’m not bathing in here”

“I want you to smell like me,” he says like he hasn’t heard you. “Take it off or I’ll take them off for you.”

“Niragi-”

“I’m not repeating myself,”

You comply after a moment of consideration, sighing as you struggle to take off your wet shorts. His body is still hot under you, and that’s what’s stopping you from shivering in the cold water. There’s an uncomfortable moment where you just stay there, straddling him and so close to his face that you can see the specks of gold in his dark eyes.

Then he’s kissing you, and you’re kissing him back with as much ferocity. His hands rise from your hips to the straps of your swimsuit, and you let him pull them down to reveal your breasts. His mouth is on them in seconds, pierced tongue playing with one of your nipples as a hand gropes the other. Your arms go around him, pulling him closer as you moan in his ear. It feels so good. You can feel the growing wetness in your cunt as he keeps sucking on you, his hardening member pressing against your center.

You desperately want him. You don’t even try to fight it. You just want him in you as fast as you can. His mouth never leaves your breasts, but his hand moves down, pushing your swimsuit to the side. He’s inside you with a swift push, and you almost scream at the stretching sensation; he makes you feel so unbelievably full. You start moving almost immediately, chasing that indescribable sensation of pleasure that he provides.

Your joined moans echo in the large bathroom, mixing with the sound of skin splashing on water. The tip of his cock hits your g-spot at every thrust, the angle only allowing him to fuck you even deeper. Neither of you speaks, involved in each other’s embrace, lips kissing and sucking every inch of skin you can reach on each other.

You know you shouldn’t be doing this; you’re both injured, exhausted, and you had fucked a different guy just the day before. But none of that matters. You’ve been wanting this since the first time he came in you.

“You feel so good inside me,” you can’t help but moan as you ride him. You can feel your orgasm growing, your pussy clenching around him every time you impale yourself on his shaft. He just kisses you harder in response, tongue pressing against yours as you moan into his mouth.

Your orgasm hits you like a wave, the pleasurable sensation running over you from head to toe. You lean against him, your limbs feeling like jelly. He’s coming inside you not long after, teeth grazing the skin of your neck, so close to your marking spot that you think you can come just from that. You whine in satisfaction at the warm sensation his cum leaves inside you.

Neither of you moves for several minutes, gathering your breath while still connected and in each other’s arms. You don’t want to move; it feels too good. It feels right. You’re also extremely tired, and your eyes soon close, lulled by the fast beating of his heart under your palm. You doze off for a moment, before the feeling of his fingers on your back jerks you awake. You tense for a moment before relaxing to his feathery touch; his fingers are so soft.

“Now you smell like me,” he says in a gruff voice. There’s undoubted satisfaction in his tone.

You smile, snuggling even more against him.

Maybe Niragi isn’t such a bad choice.

Next Chapter

#alice in borderland #alice in borderland fanfic #niragi suguru #niragi fic #niragi x reader #chishiya shuntaro #also on ao3

306 notes · View notes

bakustark · 4 years

Text

10/5 size difference | public sex

warning(s): nsfw, size difference, stomach bulge, teasing, dirty talk, semi public sex, (very) Slight Yandere Kars, Hamon User Reader, possessive behavior, come eating, angst, implied/referenced character death, etc.

Of Fools in Love

The sound of her lips pulling away from his was utterly filthy, making her wince even as he trailed open mouthed kisses down the curve of her jaw. “Ah, wait, wait, wait,” She pushed futilely at his broad shoulders and he made a displeased sound against her skin. “This needs to stop.” She said, willing her voice to be stern.

His hand grabbed her jaw, dwarfing the bottom half of her face, and turned her to look at him as he pulled away from her neck. His headscarf was still in place, a few curly violet locks peeking from the black cloth. Even though she shouldn’t, she much preferred when it was down. Kars narrowed his eyes at her, a frown on his lips, “Look at me in the eye and tell me you don’t want this.” He demanded, his voice rough, “Tell me you don’t want me.” Kars pressed his massive body against hers.

There was anger in his words, but there was also a vulnerable sort of hurt hidden under the aggression.

“Kars, I…” She gasped when he hooked his hands under the back of her thighs and raised her up, settling the sizable bulge of his crotch against her clothed mound. Her fingers curled around the black material of his coat and wrapped her legs around his muscled torso, locking her ankles behind his back.

“Say it.” He hissed, warm breath hitting her cheek. “Say it and I’ll leave right this instant.” Kars promised, the large hand on her back pressing her flush against his body.

The thought of him leaving her in that alley, marching away to rejoin his comrades in his genocidal quest to become the ultimate life form and abandoning her forever, made something desperate claw at her heart. The back of her eyes burned with tears and she caught her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Goddammit.” She hissed and pressed her mouth against his, tearing away that awful headscarf to let those gorgeous curls tumble down his back. She uttered a soft moan, relishing in his pleased groan when she carded her fingers through his hair. His tongue slid past her lips, swirling around hers and running along her teeth. Kars pressed her back against the brick wall and reached under the skirt of her dress, tearing away her undergarments as if they were made of paper. “Lisa Lisa’s going to murder me.”

Her dearest teacher, who had been there for her when no one ever was. She’d be furious if she ever found out her best student was willingly spreading her legs for their most dangerous enemy.

“She will do no such thing,” Kars growled, slowly pulling her down onto his cock. Her mouth fell open in a gasp, followed by a long moan as he fully sheathed himself inside her walls. “Shhh, pet.” He hushed her softly just as Joseph’s loud laughter reached her ears. Her legs tightened around his waist and she dug her nails into his clothed back in fright. He shot her a smirk and started rocking his hips. “You’ll have to be quiet unless you want that buffoon making a racket when he sees my cock inside your pretty little cunt.”

She cursed breathlessly, busying herself with sucking and biting at his throat as he drilled into her. There was an exclamation, Caesar’s voice this time, and her walls clamped down on his cock harshly, her heart in her throat. Kars groaned, pulling back just to slam back in, his balls smacking wetly against her skin. The head of his shaft teased the entrance to her cervix. She bit back a cry when he snapped his hips forwards, knocking the breath out of her. It was almost embarrassing how wet she was, her juices dripping down his scrotum and soaking his pants. The words of praise and utter filth that he kept panting into her ear weren’t helping her case.

His hand slid down to press against the bulge in her stomach, the quick pistoning of his hips yielding to slow, deep thrusts that made her toes curl. “You get so tight every time you hear them, pet. Does this excite you? The possibility of your little friends finding us like this?” Kars purred delightedly, a wicked glint in his eyes.

They both knew the answer to that.

Kars leaned down and pressed more of his weight against her, sucking a deep bruise just under her ear. “Maybe they’ll be so shocked that I’ll be able to take you with me…” He mused, and something told her that this wasn’t just dirty talk, “Steal you away so you never have to worry about petty things like being caught with your lover or disappointing your peers, I’ll make sure you’re so full of me that you’ll never think of anything else—” His cock jerked inside of her at the thought, a generous spurt of precum painting her insides.

She kissed his lips to silence him because she knew that if he kept running his mouth, she would start to consider his offer. Leaving with him would mean abandoning her humanity, Lisa Lisa, Messina, Loggins, Caesar and Joseph— she couldn’t do that. She didn’t really know when or how it happened, but she was in love with Kars. The thought of letting him go broke her heart, but the thought of leaving the only family she’s ever known made her want to die. She pushed the thought away, sucking and nipping at his bottom lip until it was bruised and shining with their mixed spit.

Their voices were getting closer, giggling while exchanging slurred words caused by all the booze they drank while she was gone. They had to be looking for her by now. Kars took notice and licked his lips, strands of his hair clinging to the sweat shining on his forehead, tangled around his horns until they were nearly swallowed up in the violet locks. God, he was gorgeous. His hand covered her mouth before his thrusts took a punishing pace that had her moaning against his palm with every roll of his hips.

Kar’s other hand grabbed her hip, helping her rock against him and grind her swollen clit against his pelvis. His massive body hunched over hers to press their foreheads together, staring into her teary eyes with a hungry gaze. “So beautiful, my pet, so wet and warm around me, so good,” Kars groaned lowly, “Can’t wait for you to come so I can bury my head between those soft thighs of yours and clean up our mess.” Her legs tightened around him and her eyes fluttered shut as she tightened at the thought of him lapping up his own cum dripping from her pussy. “That’s a good girl, pet, come for me…”

Her cry of pleasure was muffled against his hand and Kars closed his eyes, groaning when her cunt clamped down on him, coaxing him into his own orgasm. His legs trembled and he buried his nose into her hair, taking a lungful of her scent as he spilled into her. He pulled his hips back, the drag of his cock making her shudder, and fell to his knees. She gasped.

“Wait, you’re really going to— oooh…” She buried her fingers into his hair, nails racking over his scalp gently as he lapped at the thick liquid drooling from her cunt. He worked quickly and diligently, running the flat of his tongue along her mound and thighs. Kars’ large hands caressed her bare legs and squeezed the firm flesh of her ass, bringing her closer to his hungry mouth. There was a call of her name and Kars let go of her clit with a pop, huffing in displeasure. She sighed in disappointment.

As she made sure he’d cleaned her up enough to hide what they had been doing, Kars was tucking his long hair under the black headscarf from before and adjusting his dark clothes. He licked his lips clean before pressing a soft kiss against her mouth. She lifted a hand to cup the side of his face, stroking the pad of her thumb along his cheek before pulling away. “Goodbye.”

Kars glanced at the entrance of they alleyway, clenching his jaw, and brushed his lips against her forehead in a tender kiss. She stepped away and started walking towards her friends’ voices. Joseph spotted her first, leaning heavily against a visibly annoyed Caesar — who was sporting the same flush on his cheeks — and raising an arm to wave at her while shouting his slurred greetings. She forced a smile and didn’t look back.

Kars would be dead by the end of the month, after all.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #kars #kars x reader #n/s/f/w #kinktober 2020 #this was trashy #i’m so sorry y’all

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thekillingjoke-haha · 3 years

Text

Prime Time,Bitch!

Tagged: @spnquotebingo the keep reading function is messing up for me

Sam said he was locked up tight in the dungeon. He was never locked in with her. She was locked in with him. The hunter becomes the hunted with no where to run.

Warning: Mature Language,Blood,Gore,Character Death?

-"Thoughts"- (they are red for those who can see)"Quotes" 'Reading'

"I'll be right back. This demon side is fighting to stay in control. I just need a few more pints of blood." Sam said as he slung a bag on his shoulder. "Yeah I got it get some food to!" Y/n said with a smile as she walked him to the impala. The roar of the engine rumbled as she waved him off going back inside what she didn't know was Dean knew that Sam just left and a chilling smile grew on his face.

Y/n popped popcorn as she sat in her room a horror movies playing as she got comfortable. A scream came from the movie drowning out the sound of the dungeon door opening up. The youngest Winchester laughed as a girl tripped over nothing her and Dean always make fun of them they had no real reason to hit the ground so they should get right up. This made her slightly sad. Was Sam going to fix Dean or was it already to late for him? Shaking off the thought the killer was about to crush the women's skull when the power cut out,but the red emergency lights didn't cut on yet which was weird. "God damnit." She grumbled getting up and grabbed a flashlight and went to the breaker to fix it walking right past the open door. Flipping the switch the normal lights don't turn on only the red ones and she turned around to get her phone to call Sam when she dropped her flashlight. Y/n gazed at the empty chair in the center of a devils trap she took off running to her room,but paused he knew she would run there for her phone and Dean or the demon he's become won't let her get help. She changed course to Sam's panic room to hide.

"Oh N/n where are you? I miss my little sister don't you miss me?" A metal sound of something dragging on the floor made her tense. Thinking of all possible things it could be of how she's going to die.–'It could be a bat,but we don't have any metal ones in the bunker. Maybe a sledgehammer,but that would have ment he when into the garage and the power going out would have locked everything.''– Her eyes widen as she released what it was he must have been carrying around she was sharpening it with the rest of the blades earlier that day."Have you figured it out yet? I know how you think when a horror movie is playing you see ever scenario before the movie can catch up. No wonder Sammy says you cheat at Clue!" Dean laughed as he seemed to wander to each room. The sound of wood splitting as he yelled "Here's Johnny!!!" It seemed so much worse that Dean was the evil this time a normal demon would know her so personally this seemed almost cruel him quoting films they watched together. "What to clichés? I admit the axe is old school."

The panic room the size of a cubbie it was so small,but just big enough I could calm down and think properly. Looking up another version of myself sat in front of me...my conscience. I could speak,but she could she's in my head after all. –"You can't run. There's nowhere to go doors locked down the moment the lights went."– I saw a illusion of myself running through the halls just to hit a corner and get a axe to the chest before it faded away. –"Can't go for your phone or your laptop he probably broke it the moment he noticed you weren't in your room."– I saw myself creep into my room just to see a shattered phone and my laptop with a cracked screen buffering to open instant messenger to text Sam. The laptop was slammed shut on my fingers causing some to break and get sliced by the glass looking up the sick grin of the Demon caught my eye before the axe ended that path. –"The burner. The one in your dresser Dean doesn't know about it so neither would the demon.Get it and get back here as quickly as possible. "– It was settled call for help. Listening for any foot steps I creep out of the hiding space a faint whistle going off down one of the many halls way from my room. Sneaking down the hallway staying low I get to my room where the door is torn to shreds as I open my drawer and fish out the phone. Going back down the hallway I get back to Sam's room and immediately call him.

"This call has been forwarded to a automatic voice message at the tone ples–" Hanging up I call again and again with no answer. At this point help was no longer a option. The whistling seemed to get closer and I rushed to the panic room until I paused. –"A enclosed space in a closet. There's not much space to move around if he finds you there your done for."– I back away slightly. –"Behind the door offers a easy place to hide and get out,but if he does the same to Sammy's door he did to yours it's not much of a hiding spot then."– A axe goes through the door creating a massive hole and Dean peaks inside and sees the white of you tank top in your (f/n) flannel. The door was whole again as I looked around the sound of metal getting louder running out of time. –"Under the bed allows you to see him without him seeing you,but like the panic cubbie not a lot of wiggle room if he hears you your done."– It was too late running to the metal door of the panic room she slams it shut not to loud to sound like she's trying to hide it,but just loud enough for the demon to register it. Sealing it shut I slip under the bed and wait for the time to get out and hopefully find a weapon.

Boots walked into the room turning to the closed closet. "Oh N/n!~ There's only so many places to hide in such a small room. Did you really think I wouldn't hear that heavy ass door close?" He chuckled darkly as he opened the closet and went to the small door. Dean tried turning the wheel to unsealed it,but it seemed to dawn on him that it could only be opened from the inside. With a huff anger he began pulling the brick of the wall started to bend outwards and crack. I was glad I wasn't in there. Going to slip out from under the bed while he's distracted the burner phone rang its annoying ringtone. Not even bothering to stop it I rush to get out faster,but a firm grip caught my ankle and dragged me out. Turning onto my back Dean stood their his apple green eyes staring at me. "Found you." He lifted up the axe having let go of my ankle lifting up my feet I put as much strength as possible into kicking his stomach. The demon was knocked back into the closest hitting the ground. Unfortunately axe still in hand. Stanfing up I ran leaving the phone behind. -"Sam took Baby so the trunk armory is out of the question. The garage has so pretty handy tools too bad that it was sealed along with the front and only entrance. Kitchen has knifes none that can hurt him,but just enough to slow him down. Library demon blade was in there last you checked,but Sam could have grabbed and put it on a high shelf."– Too many options and the kitchen was closer so that was the first stop grabbing a knife I held it tightly as a stalked slowly to the Library to see if there were any supernatural weapons.

The library was dark and the red lighting barely lit up the large room. "Would you like to play a game?" Dean mocked in a deep voice as he went around the bunker his voice echoing no real pinpointing where he is. I can't call Sam and prying to Cas hasn't worked meaning Dean made angel banishing symbols in most of the rooms. Y/n was getting desprit the bunkers massive size most of it was unexplored by them so being lost in a underground maze b wasn't the best option. "Are you scared yet Y/n? Well be afraid. Be very afraid. I'm what goes bump in the night sweetheart! Never thought the Winchester’s downfall will be by the hands of the oldest. What a twist!!! Right?" Dean yelled turning to the table I saw the supplies I cleaned with,but the weapons were gone and a note was left on in their place. 'Hey Y/n I put the weapons back into the trunk for tomorrow's hunt so you wouldn't have to...you're welcome and your blade was just sitting on the table so I put it up. ~Love Sam' I wanted to cry oh chuck nothing can save me in this buncker Bobby was sending us gallons of holy water next week because we were low...all rooms were demon proof,but he seemed to be a exception now,so no calling Crowley either.

Turning around the library doors open and I duck behind one of the many shelves. "Welcome to my nightmare!~" He said with a chuckle that bounced from every wall. Dean knocked down books and destroyed anything in his way while he looked around. Crawling on the ground I go to leave when the sound of something whooshing in the arm made me drop like a bag of rocks. The axe meet the shelf and I gazed at the red illuminated face of my brother eyes now black and demented. Laughter bubbled out of his chest as he mumbled. "Carful dear wouldn't want to lose you head." Yanking the axe free many books tumbled down. Taking the kitchen knife in hand I slash his calf and go for his thigh when the knife is flung out of my hands. "You little bitch!!!" He hissed now holding the knife and showing it into my stomach. A silent cry came from my lips bot to give him the satisfaction of my screams just yet. I look up at him and just past his head where I couldn't normally reach was the handle of my blade peeking over the shelf.

I begin to giggle and it turns into fits of laughter. Black eyes flicker back to confused green ones. "What's so funny?" I catch my breath as I lean up slightly. "You picked the wrong place to corner me. Wanna play?" Grabbing his knee and pulling it buckled under him causing Dean to hit the shelf letting the blade fall freely. Reaching out I catch it "Let’s play." Stabbing upward into his stomach the same place the knife was lodged in my own stomach. He howled in pain as I removed the blade and ran keeping pressure on the knife wound as I turned corners just to get away. -'He played with your head play with his. The intercomes...a good distraction can lead him away and let you get the jump.'- I hurry to the intercoms not before making a pit stop.

Demon!Dean POV

I growl at the wound on my body the little shit stabbed me. This makes killing her so much easier then she can be just like me. Grabbing the axe I stomp through the bunker. "What a excellent day for an exorcism." Her voice sounded through the speakers now I know were she is. "Would you like that?" I said aloud with a grin. "Intensely." Y/n said trying to make her voice horse before the clipping sound of the intercom stopping rang out before being replaced with a creepy melody that always scared her. "There was a crooked man. He walked a crooked mile he had a crooked six pence upon a crooked stile." It went on with childish like tones until it got further in the song it was so god damn loud though. "The crooked man stepped forth and... rang the crooked bell and thus his crooked soul... spiraled into a crooked hell.Murdered his crooked family... and laughed a crooked laugh." My ear drums almost burst at the loud deep voiced scream ears still ringing I didn't register the blade being driving into my sholder flinging her back I turn around as she's running down the narrow hallway taking the axe with both hands throw it straight and the axe hit her almost dead center in the spine. The audio cut off after the song and I stood over her. Y/n had her face turned coughing up blood I definitely hit her lung. "Thanks for catching it for me." I smile as I heavily put my foot on the small of her back pulling the axe out. She screamed out it was mildly gurgle from the blood. Turning her over my little sisters eyes shined with unshed tears. "Oh,no tears,please. It's a waste of good suffering." I said with a small whipping the few that slipped by she whimpered Sam's name and I grew frustrated. Lifting the axe again. "Looks like you couldn't make the cut,N/n. Just another extra that stuck around for too long." Dropping the axe down it went into her chest the creaking of her collar bone and sternum were whispers compared to the blood curdling cry. They soon died out as her skin paled and her breathing stopped she'llmake a strong demon. "See you soon." Taking the axe out I begin to drag her body.

The lights in the bunker cut back on meaning Sammy was home. Having placed her perfectly in the chair I was tied to I wait until he finds her standing next to the door. "Y/n?! Y/n!?" He yelled most likely having gone to her room rushing the the dungeon his heavy foot steps abruptly stopped. "Oh God! Y/n come on!" The moose of a man rushed in the room cradling her face in his hand. "You were too late, Sammy. She called your name before she went,but I guess five missed calls wasn't enough for you to rush home. N/n fought for so long waiting it out just for you to never show." I said closing the door as he turned to me standing infront of her corpse. "You didn't make things easy on her. I mean you took all the weapons and put the only thing to defend herself on the top shelf...like keeping the cookie jar way from a child. In some way you killed her before I could." Lifting the demon blade that had his own blood on it. I stalked towards him cornering him in the room. "Sure you won't give me a good chase,but woah she wore me out." Holding the blade to his throat when a gun shot fired and a sting hit my arm causing me to drop the knife.

Y/n stood colt in her left hand the axe keeping her up in her left. "Demons always so sure that what's dead is dead and can't be undead. Ever heard of a pulse jackass. " so distracted that she was alive Sam was able to restrain and she held a handful of bags of blood. "Let's get this over with." She bagan to inject me and I felt myself become mire human and I started thrashing hard. With the last vile in hand she looked into my eyes. "You should be dead." I hissed as she pushed the needle in. "Sorry. I'm into survival."

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A/n This is the last one in round one of the Spnquotebingo and I ended with a dozen quotes.

Title: "Prime Time,Bitch!" Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors

"Here's Johnny!" -The shinning

"Would you like to play a game?" - Saw

"...be afraid. Be very afraid"- The fly

"Welcome to my nightmare."- Nightmare on Elm Street

"..lose your head." Alice in Wonderland

"Wanna play?"- Child's Play

"What a excellent day for an exorcism...Would you like that?....Intensely." - The Exorcist

"There was a crooked man. He walked a crooked mile he had a crooked six pence upon a crooked stile." It went on with childish like tones until it got further in the song it was so god damn loud though. "The crooked man stepped forth and... rang the crooked bell and thus his crooked soul... spiraled into a crooked hell.Murdered his crooked family... and laughed a crooked laugh." - The Conjuring 2

"Oh,no tears,please. It's a waste of good suffering." - Hellraiser

"See you soon." - Coraline

"She called your name before she went,but I guess..." -Hadestown

"...what's dead is dead and can not me undead." -Jacksepticeye (DBD playthrough)

"I'm into survival." ‐Nightmare on Elm Street

#spnquotebingo #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #winchester!sister #winchester!reader #demon!dean #horror movies #horror quotes #Dean winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #castiel #crowly #hunter being hunted

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totallyexhausted · 3 years

Text

What I Deserve...

Yurio leaned against the brick wall behind him, pressing his spine against the harsh cement as rain continued to drip down is face, soaking into his already wet clothes. He shivered, wiping his nose with the back of his hand as he closed his eyes, swallowing thickly as tears formed in his eyes, as the air around him became hot and heavy, hard to breathe. He smacked his head against the brick behind him, sliding against the rough brick as it scrapped against his back until he was sitting on the cold ground, and he opened his tired eyes, looking up at the stars that littered the night sky. He didn’t want to be alone… but he didn’t want to go to Viktor’s apartment yet… he wasn’t ready. He felt like shit. But whether that was from his mom’s phone call, her leaving a day prior, or the nausea coursing through his stomach, the 15-year-old wasn’t sure.

Rain beat against his face harshly, mixing with the saltwater washing down his pale cheeks, and the teenager took a deep breath as his mother’s words echoed in his head. They don’t love you, honey… and if your grandfather was trying to keep you from me, then maybe he deserved what he got….

Yurio flinched again, choking on the sob he refused to push past his lips. He was drowning, and the past few days spent with his mother hadn’t help anything… it had made things worse. He needed someone right now. He needed anyone… he needed to stop being so damn weak… he was weak. The Russian punk glanced down at the blue and green surrounding his ankle, grimacing as the slightly swollen flesh throbbed as he pressed against the bruise. He shivered again as the cold water fell from his chin, collecting in a puddle in his lap.

He pulled his phone from his pocket with shaking fingers, letting his thumb hover over Otabek’s number, knowing he had already tried calling the older boy twice. You’re just being annoying… they don’t really love you, honey. Yurio shook his head softly, biting his lip, wondering if he would have the strength to call Yuuri… wondering what would happen if he did. The phone buzzed in his hand as his mother’s name flashed across the screen. Yurio cringed, shoving the phone in his pocket harshly, not really caring if the already broken glass cracked more. She had called earlier in the evening, when the teenager had found enough energy to pry himself from the bathroom floor… to explain. To explain her absence. Medicine- she had told him. She was grabbing medicine. But the money Yurio had offered earlier was gone… and so were most of her things.

Lights flashed across him briefly as a car drove past, splashing water in Yurio’s direction as the teenager pushed himself off the dirty sidewalk. He leaned against the wall, pulling his wet jacket closer to him as thunder boomed overhead, and lightning struck a street sign a few feet away. He sucked in a shaky breath as he pushed himself away from the wall, shoving his trembling hands in his pockets as he started walking towards Viktor and Yuuri’s apartment.

They were going to ask. Fuck, they’d probably freak… after Yurio’s fight with them. The teenager stumbled slightly before catching himself against the wall and stopping momentarily. Would they even want to see him? Shit… Shit.

Yurio had been with them only about a month before his mom showed up, begging to be apart of her son’s life again. Things had happened… horrible things over the past few months that felt crushing. Numbing. His grandfather had passed. His mother showed up. She came to one of his performances, and the teenager had fucked up so badly that he ended up having a panic attack in the locker room… and it’d been a few weeks after that that the teenager finally agreed to meet with her. A month later, he agreed to stay with her for a while, while she got back on her feet- and that had made things difficult between Viktor, Yuuri, and him. He’d gotten into an argument. He had said some things he couldn’t take back… and he hadn’t really talked to them since.

But he had nowhere else to go. He couldn’t stay in that house. In his grandfather’s house. Too many memories etched between familiar fabric and musty walls. With his mom, he could ignore it. But by himself… he couldn’t. He just couldn’t be there. And his mom. The 15-year-old knew it was stupid; it was so fucking stupid, but he believed she’d changed. That she really wanted him back… and he told himself not to fall for it, not this time around but she was his mom. And he was fucking stupid. So fucking stupid.

His phone vibrated again, and the teenager pushed himself away from the wall again, kicking some water towards the road as he glanced towards Viktor’s apartment. Despite it being late, Yurio knew the two older skaters wouldn’t be home just yet. They practiced late for more privacy, and the thought of them wanting more privacy was nauseating to say the least… or maybe it was the thought of trying to explain his appearance after a month of avoiding them.

Yurio swallowed harshly as he entered the building and trudged up the 13 flights of stairs. Normally, he’d just take the elevator, especially since he felt like shit… but he was nervous, and running through explanations, trying to find a quick excuse. To find an apologize, something, anything that didn’t require a lot of effort because the teenager had been up for a while, not to mention he’d been sick earlier. Something he would rather avoid the Geezer and Pork Cutlet finding out. He didn’t need the drama. And he definitely didn’t want their concern. They can’t love you the way I do, honey. You’re an inconvenience to them… nothing more than a publicity stunt.

The 15-year-old is standing in front of their door before he realizes Viktor and Yuuri might tell him to leave. They might reject him… kick him out, tell him he wasn’t welcome anymore. The teenager grasped the key in his jacket pocket as he bit his bottom lip, staring at the numbers posted to the door in bright gold. 1326. The apartment he’d memorized… the place he’d lived and had become comfortable in. But he hadn’t stepped foot in their apartment since his mom. And they hadn’t tried calling him. Because he’d been stupid and mean. The Russian Punk was mean… And he had said things he regretted the moment they left his mouth. Yurio had fucked up… and he didn’t deserve Viktor or Katsudon.

He deserved his mother, and his dead grandfather. They were his family; the ones who were supposed to be his family. And in the end, they’d left… his grandfather unable to trust the teenager enough to ask for help, and his mother not caring enough to stay when the 15-year-old needed her most. He’d been let down by the people he loved, and he deserved it. He didn’t deserve to be back here. The Russian Punk wasn’t good enough for that. And he’d never be.

A soft meow echoed through the wooden door, followed by a light scratch, and a small smile broke across the teenager’s face. Potya. Yuuri had agreed to watch him for the teenager since his mom was allergic. And since the fight, the 15-year-old had been too afraid to come back to visit her. Another meow trailed through the door, and Yurio glanced down to see a shadow moving on the other side of the door before a furry paw was shoved under the door.

The teenager laughed softly, shoving his key in the door and shivering as he pushed the heavy door open. He sighed loudly as silence met his ears, and Potya pounced at his shoes, clawing at the laces as the teenager bent down to pet him. Makkachin raised her head from the bed in the living room, wagging her tail quickly as it smacked against the bookshelf before rising and coming to greet the teenager.

Yurio bit the bottom of his chapped lips as he pet her head, scratching between the dog’s ears as she licked his warm cheek. Potya meowed as he rubbed against the teenager’s legs before the 15-year-old picked him up, cuddling the fluffy cat against his face as he walked towards the couch. After a few moments, Potya squirmed, jumping from the teenager’s grasp as Yurio collapsed against the couch.

He glanced around the small dark room slowly. The lights from the city bled through the sheer curtains, and the teenager let out a sigh of relief as he realized nothing had changed. Everything looked the same. Exactly where it’d been a month prior. Everything smelled the same. Felt the same… but he was alone right now. In an hour, when the two skaters came home, things might not feel the same. They might not be. But Yurio didn’t have anywhere else to go, and he didn’t know how to fix what he had already broken.

The 15-year-old swallowed thickly as he leaned his head against the couch, pressing a hand against his stomach as nausea ate at him. He was nervous. And shivering… and cold. The teenager cursed as he realized his clothes were still wet from the rain, that he was still wet from the rain. He groaned as he tried to find the energy to force himself up and change, but his head was beginning to hurt again, and the teenager was pretty sure the handful of Tylenol he’d choked done earlier was beginning to wear off.

His phone vibrated against, and Yurio shivered as he pulled the moist device from his pocket. His mother’s name flashed across the screen again before going black. The 15-year-old pressed the home button, wincing as he realized he had 28 missed calls all from her… and 30 unread messages. He inhaled slowly as he flipped through the messages, wiping at the tears forming in his eyes as he browsed through the texts. I’m sorry, honey. I’ll be back later… those two bastards don’t love you like I do! They will never love you like a mother can! Just like your pathetic grandfather couldn’t love you like a mother could! Like I do! Pick up. Yuri, pick up! You’re just like your father…

Worthless. His phone smacked against the wall before the 15-year-old realized he’d thrown it. He gasped softly, watching the device crash to the ground, the screen cracking further as a small corner of the glass shot off. Potya ran from the room, and Makkachin raised her head from her bed as the teenager continued to stare at the device. Despite it cracking, the screen was still going off every few minutes, the bright screen flashing green as his mother’s face filled the window.

The A/C kicked on and rain continued to patter against the balcony outside as the teenager leaned further back against the couch, clenching his hands, his fingernails digging into the already visible cuts in his palms. Silence evaded the room again except for the soft snoring from Makkachin and pinging from his phone as another notification was pushed through. Yurio sighed loudly, closing his eyes as his headache pushed itself down his neck.

……………………………………………………………………………………

Something felt off the moment Viktor stepped through his apartment door. The hair standing up on the back of his neck as he scanned through the dimly lit living area, glancing towards Makkachin rising from her bed, Potya sitting on the counter gracefully, his senses on guard as he glanced back towards Yuuri, placing Chinese takeaway on the counter slowly.

The older man bent down, rubbing Makkachin’s neck gently before she pushed past him, towards Yuuri. Viktor stood offended, a shocked look crossing his face as he turned towards Yuuri, and the Japanese man stuck his tongue out towards him as the dog circled him happily. Viktor scoffed, “At least Potya loves me.”

He reached towards the cat, petting him briefly behind the ear before the cat jumped from the counter, running from the room. Yuuri clicked his tongue before laughing loudly as Viktor put a hand over his heart. He sighed loudly as he took his coat off, slipping his shoes off slowly and began pulling the Chinese from the bag as Yuuri grabbed some plates.

“What are you staring at?” Yuuri asked as he set the plates down on the counter, an eyebrow raised towards Viktor as the older man watched him, leaning against the counter. Viktor shook his head, smirking as he ran a hand through his silver hair. He liked evenings like this. Him and Yuuri. Chinese takeaway. Rain… everything. Everything, every evening like this made Viktor love him more, made his past okay, made his life without his parents or his little sister okay. Evenings like this made Viktor feel okay, whole… and he’d never trade this for anything.

Yuuri pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose as he repeated the question, and the older skater reached over the counter, pushing some of Yuuri’s black hair behind his ear. The Japanese skater blushed, and Viktor laughed softly, “I’m just so happy to have met you. So lucky.”

Yuuri glanced down, smirking slightly as red flushed across his face. Despite being married for a year, Viktor still had the capability to make him feel like some lovesick teenager. He could still make him blush. It was almost embarrassing. Yuuri looked back up, shoving the plates to the side softly as he climbed on the counter, sitting on the edge where Viktor was standing. The older skater raised an eyebrow as Yuuri took his glasses off, running his fingers through his hair slowly.

Potya brushed against Viktor’s legs as the older man pulled Yuuri closer to him, surprised momentarily when the younger man pressed his lips against his, running his fingers under his shirt. Viktor forced Yuuri closer, shoving his hands under his wet jacket as he rammed it off quickly, Yuuri’s fingers pulling Viktor’s shirt over his head. Viktor gripped against Yuuri’s jeans, kissing against the younger man’s neck as he exhaled slowly as Yuuri pulled Viktor’s face back towards him, letting the Russian slip his shirt off frantically before Viktor pulled Yuuri from the counter.

They stumbled slightly, crashing against the table laughing, slamming against the bookshelf in the living room as Yuuri fumbled with Viktor’s belt, Viktor pressing his lips along the younger man’s collarbone, breathing heavily. He felt Yuuri slide his belt off, slinging it across the room as Viktor pulled him up again; Yuuri biting against Viktor’s neck gently as Makkachin whined, and the older glanced towards the couch.

“Fuck!” Viktor blurted, dropping Yuuri as his eyes connected with the small teenager sprawled across his couch. Yuuri scrambled up quickly, confusion crossing his face as he reached for the light, flicking it on before following his husband’s gaze, cursing softly. The Japanese skater fumbled, pulling his shirt from the floor before tossing Viktor’s towards him, hitting the older man in the face. Viktor grasped his shirt, shoving it inside-out over his head as he took a step forward.

His foot collided with something hard, and Viktor glanced down, his eyebrows drawing together slowly as he reached for Yurio’s phone. He inspected the cracked screen, missing edges, the dented side, harboring a small amount of white paint from impact; he pressed the on button only to find the phone dead or broken, maybe both. Yuuri shoved his glasses back on his face as he bit nervously at his thumbnail, “What’s he doing here, Vitya?”

Viktor glanced towards him before kneeling next to the slumbering teen. Anger washed through him momentarily, and Viktor’s hand hovered over the 15-year-old’s jacket before he shook his head and lowered his hand. The older Russian let out a long sigh, looking over the teenager’s complexion.

They hadn’t seen Yurio in a month. No phone calls. No texts. No visits. Nothing. He and Yuuri had stopped by Yurio’s grandfather’s house about a week after the teen left, only to find the kid’s mother, telling them to get lost. Yurio didn’t want to see them. Ever. According to her. And despite his judgement, Viktor was willing to oblige if it was easier for the 15-year-old. Besides it wasn’t like the kid answered his phone calls or texts anyway. But now? Why was he here now?

The older man sat there for a few minutes, thinking. Makkachin whined against, nudging Viktor’s shoulder before sniffing the teenager’s right arm, dangling off the couch. A chill washed over the older Russian as the hair on the back of his neck stood up slowly. Yurio looked like shit. He was pale, his lips chapped, a small cut across his cheek as a soft pink stood against his complexion. The older man reached for the teenager’s outstretched palm, seeing bloody indents from his nails forced through skin. The kid had had a panic attack at some point. Self-destructive, Nikolai had told him. Yurio didn’t know how to deal with his emotions, and he relied on self-destruction, self-infliction as an outlet.

“Viktor,” Yuuri said softly, and Viktor let go of the teenager’s hand, glancing towards Yuuri, who was kneeling near the kid’s feet. He’d slipped the younger’s socks off before his fingers ghosted over the swollen and bruised flesh on the kid’s left ankle. The older man rose slowly, gently prodding the black and green flesh, his lips forming a thin tight line as he set the 15-year-old’s ankle back down softly. He glanced towards the kid’s face as Yuuri picked at some of the skin on his thumbnail before whispering, “He’s seriously out.”

Viktor hummed in response, pressing his back against the coffee table as he leaned back, anger washed through him. Yuuri was right, the kid should have woken by now- it’s not like Viktor or Yuuri had known he was here, and they weren’t exactly quiet. But he was still asleep… which meant the kid was exhausted. He hadn’t been sleeping. And he looked like he hadn’t been eating much either. His cheekbones were more prominent than a month ago, his face paler; he seemed smaller which was concerning because the kid wasn’t big to begin with.

Viktor ran a hand over his tired face, clenching the bridge of his nose as tension began to spread up his neck, through his shoulders. He turned towards Yuuri who was still tearing at the hangnail on his thumb, smiling sadly before standing as one name raged through his mind. Over and over and over. Micha. Yurio’s mom- she had lied to him. To Viktor. She said she’d make sure nothing bad would happen to the kid… but if he was here, if he had come back, something bad had obviously happened. And she was to blame. And Viktor was going to fucking kill her.

Yuuri sighed loudly as he watched the older Russian stand, pulling his phone from his pocket, flipping through his contacts before pressing the phone to his ear. He watched Viktor pace through the kitchen, running a hand through his hair before pulling the phone away, pressing call, and pressing it against his ear again. He stood there, hand on his hip as he shook his head, scoffing. He redialed as Yuuri sat down on the coffee table, running his fingers through the teenager’s hair gently.

It’d been a while since they’d seen the kid. And truth be told, Yuuri was slightly relieved to see him now… but if Yurio was here, that meant something had happened. Something with his mom. Yuuri’s stomach clenched as he brushed his thumb over the small cut on the kid’s face before pressing his hand against his cheek, then forehead. Yurio whimpered softly as Yuuri’s hand connected with an uncomfortable warmth radiating from the teenager’s skin.

“Viktor,” Yuuri whispered, his fingers still carding through the younger’s hair as he glanced towards his husband. Viktor was still pacing, still trying to get whoever he’d called to answer. He shook his head, cursing before throwing his phone against the counter, running a hand over his face slowly. Yuuri cleared his throat again, “Viktor!”

The older Russian paused, glancing in Yuuri’s direction as the younger skater stood. Yuuri crossed his arms gently, “He has a fever.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow as he crossed through the small living room, kneeling over the teenager as Yuuri brushed past him. Viktor pressed his hand against the kid’s forehead before pushing the blonde’s bangs away from his face, cursing again. He leaned against the arm of the couch, forcing his hands against the fabric as he took a few slow breaths, closing his eyes momentarily. He should have known better; Viktor should have known better- he should have trusted his instincts. Micha was bad news, and Nikolai had warned him about her, warned him to keep Yurio from seeing her. But she was his mother. And Viktor was just glad to see the kid happy again. But Micha had played them. She had played the kid since he was here, and she wasn’t. And now Viktor and Yuuri had to pick up the pieces, fix the damage she had done to the teenager… because Viktor had been a fucking moron.

Something nudged his side, and Viktor opened his eyes slowly, turning to see Yuuri kneeling next to the teenager again. He pressed a few wet paper towels against the kid’s forehead before running his fingers through the blonde’s hair gently. Viktor watched as water dripped from the towels, rolling down the teenager’s temples, soaking into the old grey fabric of the couch. This was Viktor’s fault. He was the adult. He should have known.

The 15-year-old stirred slightly, his fingers reaching for the small compress on his forehead before Viktor’s fingers grasped his, pushing the kid’s hand back down. He leaned over the couch as Yurio blinked slowly, and Viktor gave him a soft smile, carding his fingers through the boy’s hair. Confusion crossed the teenager’s face before he choked loudly, tears welling in his eyes.

“V-Vitya,” Yurio sobbed softly as his eyes met the older Russian...

#Yuri on ice #Yuri Plisetsky #Viktor Nikiforov #yuuri katsuki #sick yurio #picking up the pieces #Yurio's mom did a number on him #trying to get back into things #self-harm #depression and panic attacks #crying #sick character #sickfic #kb #teenage yuri #protective victuuri #unfinished #fanfiction

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viking-raider · 4 years

Text

The Immortal Sky - Part V *MATURE*

Summary: You’re more than half way to Bristol, when Henry finally chases up to you. The reunion doesn’t go how either of you had expected.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/You

Word Count: 10,705

Chapters: I II III IV

Warnings: Futuristic!AU, Dystopian!AU, Language, Angst, Fluff, Slapping, Name-Call, Arguing, Conflict, Hurt/Comfort, Dirty Talk, Loss of Virginity, Smut - Fingering, Penetration, Cowgirl, Cream pie, Praise Kink

Inspiration: I’ve always wanted to write a Futuristic!AU

Author’s Note: Thanks to @wondersofdreaming for being a fabulous Beta and Brainstorm buddy! Please, tell me what you think!

You had managed to reach, what had once been, the town of Cherhill, whilst still being utterly oblivious to the fact Henry was trailing after you. The two of you had been playing a complicated game of cat and mouse, since you snuck out of his flat in London.

Frustratingly for Henry, he struggled to keep up with you, almost always an hour or more behind you from the last stop over you had taken. At one point, he had even been a mere thirty minutes behind you, in Froxfield, and was sure he'd catch up to you at the next safe house, only to spend an hour checking the two safe houses there and asking people if they had seen you, only to learn you had stopped in the mini-town long enough to replenish your supplies and get a thicker coat, before moving onto the next place.

“At least, she's keeping warm.” Henry said to himself, as he stepped out of the supply store and headed on his way to the next town, two hours away, in Marlborough.

Making it to Marlborough, Henry went to the only safe house the town had, a residential home, that was also the supply location for the area. He walked down the cracked and uneven sidewalk of the neighborhood, most of the houses on the street were dilapidated, boarded up or charred remains. So, it made finding the house easy, it was the best kept house on the block, but still in a level of disrepair.

“What do you want?” Asked a man standing outside the rough picket fence that bordered the dirt lawn.

“I'm looking for someone, a girl.” Henry told him, pulling his mobile out and showed him. “Have you seen her?” He asked, looking up at the windows at the second floor of the house.

The man leaned forward, squinting at the screen of Henry's mobile. “No.” He shook his head and pulled back. “We haven't had any girls come here in about a week.”

Henry sighed and rubbed at his gritty face, his temples throbbing, then turned away from the man. “I swear, when I get my hands on that girl.” He grumbled the empty threat, for the millionth time.

Pulling up the map on his mobile, Henry calculated the distance and time to the next mini-town of Cherhill, and how much time he had in the day. It was an almost three and a half hour walk to Cherhill from Marlborough, with two hours of sunlight remaining. So, sucking it up, Henry decided to chance it and walk there through the night.

Getting into a room in Cherhill, you gingerly peeled your shoes and socks off your feet and rubbed at the raw skin and fat blisters that covered them. You weren't accustomed to walking for so long, for so far, and they felt like they had been worn down to your ankles.

Luckily, this pit stop was a little more accommodating, and you had a little bathroom in the room you were put up in, with the most absolute, teeniest tub you had ever seen in your life, and you lived near the bottom of London! But, you filled it with hot water and removed your clothing, sitting down on the dark stained toilet seat and soaked your feet into the water. Dipping a threadbare washcloth into the water, you used it to rub away some of the grit and dust that was caked into your skin. Once you soaked your feet for a little while, you rinsed your hair out in the sink, wishing you had some shampoo or soap, but settled for the plain water. Semi-refreshed, you redressed, nibbled on something for a late lunch and rested back against the bed, staring up at the water stained ceiling.

“Eric, how far is the next checkpoint?”

“Three hours, Ms.”

“When's sunrise?” You asked, rubbing at your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Four hours, Ms.”

You laid there for a long moment, considering the sanity of walking yet another ten kilometers to Chippenham. “Oh, what's the worst that can happen?” You sighed, getting up and packing your things. “At least, I got to rest my feet.” You quipped to yourself, going out into the hall.

“Shit!” You snapped suddenly, looking down the long hallway and seeing the very last person you wanted to see, before dashing back into your room, in a complete panic. “How the fuck did he find me! How did the fucker even know I had come this far?!” You paced the room, shaking.

“Of course!” You berated yourself. “He's a goddamned High Marshal! It's all he does! All day, for years on end. But, why is he even bothering to come after me?” You shook your head, trying to clear the panic. “I'll worry about that later, I need to get the fuck out of here, before he sees me.”

You frantically looked around your room and spotted a godsend.

“Praise the gods.” You huffed, relieved for this room actually having a window.

You dropped the room key on the bed and rushed the window, pushing it open and looked out. You were on the third floor, so it was a fair drop to the ground outside. But, luckily there was a small metal balcony outside the second floor window of the room below yours. So, wiggling out your window backwards and hanging from the window frame, you dropped yourself the meter down to the balcony with loud clang and a shake of the rickety supports bolting the balcony into the red brick wall of the building.

Crouching there for a moment, to give the structure a moment to settle, you dropped the last meter to the ground at the first level of the building, then tucked tail and ran. Just as Henry's head popped through the open window of your abandoned room, he caught sight of you as you dashed around the side of the building.

“Fuck!” He barked, charging out of the room and down the hall, stomping down the six flights of stairs to the main lobby, then out the entrance door, calling your name as he chased after you through a cluster of trees.

Henry had made it to Cherhill an hour before sunrise and exhausted as all hell. He had already decided to get a room, whether or not you were there, to take a power nap, before he fell flat on his face. He was no good as spent as he was from looking for you, then to take you back to London, for the trials. He still didn't know how he was going to get his hands on Mikey, but part of him didn't give a fuck about your brother, it was you, he was worried about.

Entering the safe house, a rundown, three story hotel, Henry took a deep breath in and out as he approached the front desk and the male behind it, reading some cover-less and water damaged book, and readied himself to hear that he had never seen your face before. The guy looked over the top of his book as he heard Henry step up to his counter, slowly setting it down on the desk on the other side of the counter, and stood.

“Wanting a room?” He asked, looking Henry over.

“Yeah.” Henry nodded his head. “Can you tell me if you've seen this girl?” He asked, turning the screen of his mobile towards him.

“Oh yeah, I have.” The guy nodded at your photo. “She got a room here not that long ago, a couple hours maybe.”

Henry's hope went up a teeny bit. “Is she still here?” He asked, in suspense.

“Uh..” He turned his back to Henry and stepped into a little room for a moment, before returning. “Her key is still gone, so she must still be in her room. Unless, she forgot to return it, it happens more than you could realize. But, it's not a surprise, many people up and leaving out of the blue around here..”

“What room is she in?” Henry asked, interrupting him, even more antsy.

“Third floor, room six.”

“Do you have a master key to open the door?” He asked, chewing on his lip.

“Yeah, but I can't just go up there and open her door for you.” The guy protested. “It's against policy.”

Growling, Henry turned on his heels and headed for the stairwell leading up to your room. If he wasn't going to open your door, then Henry would just kick it in. He wasn't going to go up there and knock, so you would have the time to figure out how to slip by him again.

“Hey!” The hotel worker yelled, running around the counter and rushed after Henry.

Stomping up the stairs, the guy managed to get ahead of Henry and block the doorway that led down the hallway of your floor. Standing his ground as Henry stopped before him, huffing angrily, like a bull just entering the ring to fight the matador.

“Get the fuck out of my way.” Henry hissed, between clenched teeth. “Now.”

“It is against Hotel policy to disturb the guests. If you don't leave this instance, I will be forced to call security.”

“Oh really!” Henry snapped, brows lifting. “And who is the security in this shit hole?” He asked, folding his arms over his chest.

The guy gulped as he watched the biceps of Henry's arms bulge through his clothing. “I-I am.” He squeaked, like a frightened mouse, facing down a panther.

“That's what I thought.” Henry chuckled, as a door slammed somewhere in the building. “You'll be getting out of my way.” He said, grabbing the front of the guy's shirt and jerked him out of the way, before storming down to your room door.

Henry thrust his size eleven boot through the flimsy door of your room and stormed in, feeling the cool breeze bellowing in through the open window. “Goddamn it!” He hissed, stomping to the window and thrusting his head out and watched you dive around the corner of the building.

“Fuck!” He barked, charging out of the room, down the hall and down the six flights of stairs to the main lobby, then out the entrance door, calling out your name as he chased after you through a cluster of trees.

Whether or not you liked it, Henry was there chasing after you, no longer just missing you at every mini-town from London to Cherhill. He was in minutes of you, charging through the thicket of trees to the East of the hotel you both had bolted from. Henry could just see you ahead of him, maybe half a soccer field away from him, so he started pushing himself and closed the gap between you, within a few short minutes.

“Stop!” He yelled, reaching out and grabbed the back of your backpack, yanking and sending you backwards, before locking his arms around your upper body, trapping you against his chest; both of you gasping for air.

“Just stop.” He panted softly, dropping his forehead against the crown of your head. “Please, just stop.”

You growled, almost sounding like an angry cat, as you kicked your legs out and struggled in Henry's embrace. But Henry's thick arms only held onto you tighter, not picking up his head as you did, but grunted as you fruitlessly tried jabbing him in the side with your elbows and stomp on his foot.

“Stop it.” He barked into your ear.

“Let go of me!” You screamed, half hoping someone would hear and come help you, giving you the advantage to run again.

“I'm not.” Henry rumbled, spinning you around to face him and keeping a firm hold on you. “I tracked your butt for nearly a hundred and sixty kilometers, to take you back to London, and that's where we're going, as soon as we can.” He told you, with a heavy sigh.

“I'm not going back to London, so you can get fucked!” You barked at him.

“Ah!” He snapped and just managed to block your attempted knee shot. “Yes, you are.”

“Then, I'll run again!” You hissed, still struggling with him.

Henry sighed again, squeezing his eyes shut, taking a hold of your elbow and marched you back to the hotel. “Room.” He growled at the hotel guy, who looked like he wanted to protest, but gave Henry a key anyway.

“What are you doing with her?” He called after the two of you.

“Mind your own business, shithead.” Henry barked over his shoulder as he pulled you up the stairs to the second floor. “Sit down.” He ordered, carefully pushing you into the room and pointed to the chair.

You stood in the middle of the room, arms defiantly crossed over your chest. Henry stared back at you, a war of unsaid words flowing between the pair of you through looks alone.

“Why did you run?” Henry asked, finally breaking the tense silence.

“My business.”

“Your business is my business, since you want to act like a fucking brat and run off in the middle of the night, without word or reason. Especially, since you've gotten me in hot water with my boss. So, out with it.” He scolded you, his body tense.

“I know it's about your brother.” He said, when you remained silent. “I know that he's a Runner, working for Jaxon Quinn in Bristol. That he's going there to get training to be a big time Runner, and you're terrified that he's in some sort of trouble.”

“Congratulations.” You smirked at him, smugly. “Now, get the fuck out of my way!” You barked, starting for the door, but Henry blocked it. “Get out of the way!” You yelled, pushing at him, but he didn't move.

“I'm not.” He told you, softly, but firmly, shaking his head.

“You're going to get him killed!” You screamed, your voice breaking.

Henry blinked down at you, shaking his head again, and reached out to cup your face in his hands, tilting your head back to look up at him, seeing the furious and frightened tears in your eyes that you had been trying to keep at bay since having the nightmare. His thumbs smoothed over your cheeks, wiping away the dripping tears from your lashes, his face pinched with concern and confusion at how upset and desperate you were to reach not only Bristol, but your brother.

“You have brothers, Henry.” You sniffled softly, voice weak. “Wouldn't you do anything in the world, that you could, to save and protect them, if they were in danger?”

You tried to reason with him, pleading to his sense of family and the protective nature you knew Henry harbored in his soul, the reason you knew was why Henry wanted to be a Marshal; he couldn't protect people as a Cleric and Royal, the way he could as a Marshal. Henry's face softened, so did his heart, he would do everything he could, including giving his own life, to save one of his brothers, if they were in danger and trouble. He understood, mostly, what you were doing with running off and trekking through dangerous lands to reach Mikey.

“What trouble is he in?” He asked, blinking at you.

“I-” You frowned, you knew Mickey was in trouble, terrible trouble. But, you didn't know what that trouble actually was, and sighed. “I don't know exactly.” You admitted, gulping. “But, I know he is.”

“I just—I just feel it, Henry.” You told him, choked up.

Henry sighed, feeling the space between the rock and a hard place he was currently trapped in, get a whole lot tighter. He didn't know what to do with your brother, but he saw how deeply you felt about it and couldn't ignore that. So, he moved back a couple spaces and just focused on you, now that he had you.

“We'll figure it out.” He told you, softly. “But, for now, why don't we just rest. I'm sure we're both drained after all of this.”

“That's an understatement.” You laughed, nodding your head and letting your shoulders melt under the weight of exhaustion and stress.

“Give me your shoes.” Henry said, suddenly.

“What?” You snapped back, your nose wrinkling in confusion as you looked up at him.

“I said, give me your shoes.” Henry repeated himself, pointing down at your filthy trainers. “You can't run without them.”

“You wanna bet!”

“We both know you can't, love.” He chuckled, smirking at you, smugly. “So, take them off and give them to me”

You sighed. “Henry, I'm not going to run again, I promise.”

“Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.” Henry quoted, lifting a brow at you.

Rolling your eyes, you sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled your trainers off, tossing them to land at Henry's feet. Henry bent and picked up your shoes, shrugging his backpack off of his back and opened it, taking a couple of things, then shoved your shoes into his pack, zipping it up and connected the zipper to the hook below it, locking the backpack closed with a combination number; that wasn't his life pin.

“Why are you here, Henry?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him as you flexed your sore toes.

“To get you.” He replied, uncapping his water bottle.

“Why?” You asked, drawing it out. “You wouldn't just chase me because you wanted to. What, you worried about losing out on your six thousand credits? Wanting them back.”

“No!” Henry barked, enraged at the thought that all he wanted out of you was money. “I was worried about your fucking safety.”

“I made it here in one piece.” You said, gesturing around.

“That's not what I meant.” He mumbled, moving across the room to the window. “Completely.”

You narrowed your eyes at his broad back. “What aren't you telling me?” You asked, feeling the vibe fill the room.

“What am I not telling you? What haven't you been telling me?” He hissed, turning back to you. “You ditch out in the middle of the night, without a word or note telling me to get fucked, to trek across this barren waste, risking your safety, for your drug dealing, crime running brother, because you feel he's in trouble.”

“Don't mock me.” You growled back at him, your own anger bubbling. “I knew you wouldn't believe me, if I woke you up to tell you that I had a dream about him being killed. I knew you'd fucking mock me about and tell me it was just a dream and to go back to bed. That you wouldn't understand the deep gut feeling I have that it isn't just some random dream I had.” You paused, trying to get a hold of yourself.

“It's a deep and hot feeling in my gut, like a sharp knife to my bowels; that hurt so much. That bond between him and I, vibrates with it. I couldn't just sit in your flat and ignore it, and I sure hell wasn't going to tell a High Marshal about my brother being an Adjutant Runner for Quinn. That would be a career maker for--”

You froze and stared at him, wide eyed, feeling the pieces fall into place. Henry knew about your brother, he knew everything about him and his activities, and knew that you were running straight for Mikey. It was perfect for Henry, follow you to Mikey, drag both of you back to London and turn Mikey into the Supreme Marshal and the Clerics. He'd be hailed a hero, given a promotion and a medal and who knows what else for it.

Oh, you felt like clawing his beautiful blue eyes out of his smug fucking skull.

“You fuck.” You said, your voice dripping with barely contained anger and slightly sibilant. “You're just using me to get to Mikey.”

Henry pressed his lips together and pushed his jaw forward, then nodded his head. He grabbed the back of the chair and set it down in front of you, plopping down on it. “I was going to come after you, before I knew anything specific about your brother. I figured, since you were heading for Bristol, that he was into some sort of crime, people don't tend to go there if they're not. I was afraid you would get hurt, and god knows what else.”

“I didn't give a fuck about the money I spent to get you out of Twist's hell hole, or the money you took for the mobile and backpack you have.” He said, eyeing them. “Just you. But, my boss, Supreme Marshall Dylon Reyes, called me, while I was out looking for you. To tell me that the Council of Clerics were starting the trails on Twist and his associates for their operations, you're a witness in that case.” He explained to you.

“A witness.” You echoed.

“Yes. You were there, one of the victims. So, the Council would want to talk to you, ask you questions and take your statement about anything you saw or heard there, the things you went through. My purchase of you, was done to verify that Twist was indeed selling people as Slaves and Servants. Keeping you, was, I don't fucking know. I was just told that it was final and I had too.”

“So, you did.”

“Obviously.” He snorted, lifting a brow at you. “But, it was also to keep an eye on you, to make sure you were kept safe from any of Twist's allies and higher up bosses.”

“Why would they care, I'm not the only one that was there.” You said, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Of the fourteen people we took out of that warehouse that had been kidnapped, just like you, under the same pretenses, you're the only one that had a buyer. So, you're considered more high profile.”

The muscles in your jaw twitched and your skin tingled with the hot heat of your fury, that unleashed with rock solid slap to Henry's tired and scruffy cheek, actually jerking his head to the side, from the force. Henry grunted and hissed at the searing pain of the slap, like lava had been splashed in his face. His hands gripped his knees and he shook his head against some of the pain, before looking back at you, his blue eyes darker than a stormy ocean and jaw tight.

“This is your fault.” You barked at him, trembling. “If it wasn't for you, if you had just purchased someone else in that line up, I would be home right now! I would have been able to convince Michail into not going to Bristol with that damn handler, months ago. Months ago, Henry!” You screamed, wanting to strike him again, but his hands shot out and gripped your wrists, pinning your hands to your thighs.

“I fucking hate you, dear god! I fucking hate you, so much.”

“I can live with that, if it means keeping you safe.” Henry growled through a tight jaw.

“I don't need you to protect me!” You snapped, jerking against him.

“Like fuck you don't!” He hissed, bringing his face closer to yours. “Your dear brother works for Jaxon Quinn, the second worse fucking Crime Boss this country has!”

“I know who the fuck he is!”

“Did you know he's the one that helped Twist fund that little warehouse you were imprisoned in?” He asked, lifting his brows at you. “Did you know that he's got people out here wanting to kill you? Because, if you can't make it to that interview with the Clerics, everything about Twist and that operation won't end well. They'll just get stuck with a few millions in fines, a couple of banishments, maybe someone getting sent to the Iron Tombs prison or executed. All of which people like Jaxon Quinn don't fucking feel, cause millions of credits is pocket money to him, just like the lives of the people that will be ruined and snuffed out, because there's thousands of people waiting in line to take their places.”

“Such as your brother.”

Your blazing anger turned to ice in your stomach and you nearly puked your guts out at the thought of a hit-man around some corner, waiting to kill you, or your brother taking the place of someone that had been killed by the justice system of London for their part in Quinn's business.

“That's why I came after you.” Henry said softly, easing the pressure he was putting on your wrists. “People are out here, wanting to kill you. You have a price on your head, and you're about to walk into the house, where every last one of those dirt-bags, live. Do you understand the danger you are in? Your feeling about Mike being in trouble could be true, but it also could just be the realistic feel of a nightmare.”

“But, the danger you are in is real.”

He tried to make you understand, he was desperate that you understood that your life was in danger and you being out here and heading for Bristol was only increasing that danger and making it easier for them to find and kill you.

“It won't stop me.” You said, softly. “I have to get to Mikey before something happens to him.”

“I'll tell you what happens to him.” Henry said, frustrated and tired. “You find him, his handler finds out that you're his sister and they kill you both.”

“No questions. No begging. Just both of you dying.”

A chill raced down your spine, the revelation spiraling around your brain. “That must be it.” You said, eyes flaring at Henry. “What if he does find out about Mikey being my brother, somehow?”

Henry let go of your wrists and rubbed at his face, hunching over his chair. “I don't know, maybe.” He huffed into his palms. “Is there a shower in this place?” He asked, looking up at you.

“I don't know if this room does, but I had a micro-bathtub in my room.” You retorted, looking towards the half open bathroom door.

Getting up with a tired and sore groan, Henry pushed open the bathroom door and found it did indeed have a shower and another micro-bathtub, so much to his relief. He turned back to you, studying you for a long moment, before taking off his jacket, shoes and socks, then pulled his sweater over his head, tossing them all onto the chair.

“I'm going to take a shower.” He told you, his voice measured with the still rocky trust the two of you had for each other.

“Okay.” You replied, staring back at him.

Henry slowly turned towards the bathroom, like he expected you to suddenly bolt for the door or window, but you stayed where you were on the edge of the bed. Sighing, Henry entered the bathroom, but didn't close the door all the way, in case you ran and he needed to go after you; possibly naked and wet. He spun the loose hot tap and the shower head sputtered to life, he stood there for a long time, waiting for the water to heat up, as he stared at his exhausted reflection through the spiderweb cracks running through the broken mirror, before removing his jeans and boxers, dropping them on the tank of the old toilet and stepped under the weak spray, with a loud groan.

You sighed, hearing the shower turn on and moved your backpack into your lap. Unzipping it, you removed your water bottle and a package of food you bought at the last supplier's. You sat there eating your food and drinking your water, trying to block out the thought of Henry naked just mere feet from you, and being able to catch a glimpse of his body through the fogged up mirror above the chipped sink and the open door.

“You know, Teddy Wang said you held him up at knife point.” Henry said, coming out of the shower in nothing but socks and his jeans, as he rubbed a hole strewn towel over his dripping head; still chuckling at the thought.

“Because, I did.” You retorted, glancing out the window and not his warm and pink torso.

Henry stopped and blinked down at you. “Really?” He laughed, a grin of amusement spreading across his lips.

“Yes.” You snapped, looking back at him. “He wouldn't tell me what I wanted to know, so I took out the knife my dad gave me and told him what I would do with it, if he didn't.” You informed him, angry at his amusement.

“Lord, I can only wonder what you told Fynn, to make him talk.” He roared with laughter.

“I told him, I would use his own door to bash his head in.” You replied, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I was sure you could take care of yourself, but I didn't take you as such a violent little thing.” Henry said, still unendingly tickled. “I mean, maybe I should be surprised. You did nearly take my head off with that slap of yours.” He chuckled, rubbing his cheek at the residual sting.

Letting out a frustrated growl, sick of people not taking you seriously, and the situation period, you launched off the bed and towards Henry, catching him off guard enough to send both of you into the wall. But, Henry recovered quickly, turning and pressing you up against the wall.

“Easy there, little nugget.” He grinned at you.

“Don't call me that!” You barked, struggling against him.

“Call you what?” He chuckled, enjoying your little rampage. “Nugget?”

“Yes!” You hissed, pressing your palms against his bare chest and tried pushing him off of you.

“Or what, Nugget?” He continued to chuckle, barely teetering as you pushed against him. “Hey now!” He snapped, squeezing his legs shut, planted his hands under your arms and pushed you up the wall, until your faces were level. “That's the second time you tried kneeing me there. That's not very nice, Nugget.”

“Oh my god, stop calling me that, you big brute!” You huffed. “Or else!”

Henry smirked at you, bringing his face close to yours. “Or else, what?” He said in a low and deep voice.

You knew you should just give up, he had you out matched in nearly everything, your feet were dangling above the dingy carpet, as he held you up against the wall, like you weighed less than the wallpaper peeling off of it.

So, you did something he wouldn't expect.

Licking your lips and taking advantage of how close his face was to yours, the tips of your noses lightly brushing, you tilted your head and kissed him on the lips. Henry nearly dropped you, in shock of feeling your warm lips against his, his mouth falling open and his pupils dilating. You didn't pull back, but you didn't deepen the kiss either. Henry slowly closed his mouth, his full lips cradled your bottom lip for a moment, before he pulled his head back and looked at you, licking his lips and tasting the sweetness of yours on his tongue.

He let out a shuddering breath, eyes darkening as he stared into yours. He saw a look eclipse your face and brought his lips back to yours, kissing them with a soft smack echoing in the room. You let out a soft breath through your nose and whimpered, eyes half falling shut. Henry smirked and chuckled softly against your mouth and kissed you deeper, his arms moving to wrap around you, pressing you closer against his body. You wrapped your arms around his neck and picked up your hanging legs to wrap them around his waist, nudging your mouth against his, feeling a growing bubble of desire and need for him.

One arm hugged around your waist, Henry planted a hand on the wall by your head, swirling his tongue against your mouth as his head tilted to the side, moaning deep in his throat and chest. His hand went to tangle in your hair, as the pair of you heatedly made out. The kiss was hungry and almost sloppy, you panted as Henry kissed down your mouth and chin to your neck, nibbling and biting at the pounding pulse under your jaw. You pushed your head back, letting your eyes finally fall closed as he sucked on your throat, whimpering softly as he sank his teeth into the bruised skin.

“Fuck.” He huffed and pressed his forehead against your temple. “I want you.” He moaned against your cheek, out of breath and gasping for air, as his blunt fingers and nails clawed and tugged at the waistband of your pants. “I've wanted you.” He admitted, eyes rolling shut as his clothed cock rubbed against your covered pussy, begging to be buried in the heat it knew was there, like it was sonar.

Chuckling, you nudge your cheek against his, amused by the turn of events. You had only kissed him to see if he would let you go and quit calling you, Nugget; not have the two of you melt into a heated and passionate lip battle, leaving both of you breathless and clearly wanting for the other. You would be lying, if you didn't admit that you had thought about Henry like this from time to time, wanting to see what he looked like naked, all in a hard pant, his skin damp with sweat and a pink glow from his spent effort; the feel of him inside of you. But, it also gave you qualms, deep in the pit of your stomach as well, a soft shyness washing over you for a moment, before you felt the nudge of Henry's hips against yours again, throwing it out the window and into the dying sunlight.

“Me too.” You admitted into the shell of his ear, nose brushing the still damp curls around it. “I want you too, Henry.” You whispered, breathless, and hugged your legs tighter around his hips.

Henry let out such a growl against your neck, that you let out a needy whimper, as he pushed you both off the wall, taking a step back and turning towards the bed, laying you down on it. He unhooked your legs from around his hips and fumbled with the button of your pants, before shoving them and your underwear down your hips and thighs; so you could kick out of them, while he removed his own jeans. Henry was attacking your mouth and throat again, his hands diving under the hem of your shirt and going straight for your breasts. You moaned at the feel of his lips against your skin, his hot hands squeezing and kneading your breasts in his palms, and the free feeling of his cock rubbing shamelessly against your bare folds, making the muscles of your thighs tremble from how good it felt.

“You like that, don't you?” He asked, in a husky voice, loving the sounds you were making as he humped against you.

“God, yes.” You mewled, dragging your nails down his broad back.

He chuckled, bracing his arms at either side of your head and looked down at you, watching you melt into the mattress beneath you. “You're still a virgin, aren't you?” He asked, his head tilting as he shifted his weight to one arm and glided his fingertips over your stomach.

You looked up at him and gave an audible gulp, nodding your head and looking up at him like a frightened rabbit. A smirk grew on his scruffy face, fingers circling your navel before dipping low, to rub the pads of two fingers against your sensitive clit. Henry wasn't put off by your virginity, but he didn't want to ruin it by succumbing to his animal desire to thrust his, well-endowed, cock into your tight, little hole and fuck you within an inch of your life, either. You whimpered and bucked up against his fingers, crazy for more friction. Henry clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, shaking his head at you and grinning like a hungry wolf.

“None of that, Nugget.” He cooed at you, removing his fingers from your wet folds and licked them clean; his eyes never leaving yours. “Have you ever touched yourself?” He asked, tilting his head at you.

You nodded your head, mutely.

He reached out and took your hand into his, pulling it down between your legs, and flattened two of your fingers down on your clit, and pressed them down with his own, gently guiding both of your hands in a slow and easy motion against it, watching your face for a few moments, before removing his hand, letting you continue touching yourself on your own, and looked down between your bodies. You had heard enough about sex from Mikey and your co-workers to know, this wasn't how you did it, but you did know about touching yourself, you had done on and off since you were a teen. But, you had never done it in front of anyone before, and doing it with Henry leaning over you, his eyes intent on your fingers, made you incredibly self-conscious.

“Henry..” You moaned out, trying to put the sound of a question in it, but your brain couldn't form it.

Henry's eyes flickered towards yours and smirk. “What, you just want me to shove my massive cock in that tight and little hole of yours?” He quipped, teasing you softly, his fingers brushing the skin between your breasts. “If I did that, you wouldn't be walking anywhere, for a very long time.” He chuckled, kissing the tip of your nose.

His fingers moved down your torso, skirting around your still working hand and teased a fingertip between your folds, ringing it around your entrance and coming back with a thick string of come. “Take that finger,” He tapped your middle finger. “and slip it in that sweet hole of yours for me.” He said, nodding his head at you, encouragingly.

“I--” You choked up, eyes wide, and gulped. “I've--” You gulped, flustered.

“Oh,” Henry chuckled, brushing your hair off your sweaty forehead. “You're a button rubber.”

“A what?” You squeaked, confused and caught off guard.

“You rub your little button.” He cooed, tapped your clit, with a smirk. “To get off. Without touching your core.” He gently pushed the very tip of his thick finger into your entrance. “A virgin, in almost every way.”

“That's okay, you can do it.” He encouraged you. “Nice and easy, Nugget.” He purred, moving his finger out of your way.

Gulping again, you slowly inched your hand away from your clit, fingers cupping your folds for a moment, as you hesitated, trying to muster the courage off of Henry's face and into yourself, before, very slowly, parting your folds with the tip of your middle finger and towards your entrance. It felt strange to push your finger into yourself. It was deep, wet, so much warmer than you thought, and soft. You touched something deep inside of your cunt and gasped, toes curling.

“Oh, someone found her sweet spot.” Henry chuckled, playfully tapping you on the nose.

“It feels so good.” You whimpered, rubbing at it a little bit more, biting your lip.

“That's good.” He smiled, watching you start to mindlessly thrust your finger in and out. “That's it.” He encouraged you, basking in the sight, rubbing his palm up and down your quivering thigh, before turning his hand to join yours. “No, no.” He murmured as you started to remove your finger. “Keep that finger right there.” He said, the tip of his finger brushing the underside of yours.

Henry tickled the edge of your folds for a moment, before slipping it under yours and gingerly pushed it in to join your own finger inside of you, stretching you wide open. He leaned down and pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth as you whimpered, uncomfortable at the almost painful stretch of your combined fingers. He shushed you and timed his thick digit with your smaller one, gently joining the tip of your finger at your sweet spot, and added even more pressure to it, making you cry out loud, throwing your head back.

“You're doing so well.” He praised you, nuzzling the side of your face with his. “I can't wait to have my cock inside of you.” He panted, eyes rolling shut at the idea. “Let's see if you can take one more.” He said, curiously. “Pull your finger halfway out.” He instructed you, rubbing his next finger in the juices dripping from you, then poising it at your hole.

“Just like that, good girl.”

Carefully shifting his first finger around yours, Henry pressed his new finger through the ring of muscle surrounding your entrance, taking it slow.

“Just relax.” He cooed at you, pressing his knees against the edge of the bed to shift his weight and used his now free hand to caress the side of your hot face and rubbed his palm over your chest, trying to help your relax. “Deep breaths. That's it. Very good.” He smiled at you, his finger halfway in.

“Henry, please.” You mewled, chewing your lip to bits.

“Hush.” He whispered, caressing the pad of his thumb down the bridge of your nose. “Gotta get you nice and open for my cock, love.” He told you, breathing heavy has the rest of his finger slide home with the first. “It'll hurt so much more, if I don't, and I don't want to hurt you, darling.” He said, a rush of icy goosebumps racing over his body at the sweet whimper that left your parted lips.

“Put your finger back in.”

“I can't.” You whimpered, shaking your head at him.

“Yes, you can.” He said softly, nodding his head and holding your eyes. “Come on, sweetheart.” He cooed at you, sweetly. “You can do it for me, can't you? Don't you want me to be inside of you?” He asked, coaxing you. “Keeping you nice and warm.” He added with a chuckle, feeling the creeping cold of the night outside coming through the thin walls and windowpane, chilling the sweaty skin of his naked body.

You gulped at the tone of his dirty talking, feeling it going straight to your pussy, making Henry chuckle as he felt the pooling wetness growing around your combine fingers. Whimpering softly, you pushed your finger back into the tight space above Henry's big ones.

“There, see.” Henry smiled, kissing your forehead. “Not so bad, is it, love?” He asked, crooking his, and your, fingers into your sweet spot and rubbed at it, with measured experience. “How's that feel, baby?” He asked, leaning in to kiss you, lazily.

“It feels so good, Henry.” You moaned against his mouth. “So fucking good.”

“Just wait til you have my cock in you, it'll feel a million times better.” He promised.

“I want it now.” You whined, nudging him.

“Just a little bit long, honey.” He cooed, kissing your hot cheek. “There's a little something I want you to give me first, just to make sure you're nice and relaxed, and comfy, for me to nestle inside this sweet little hole of yours.”

“Hen--”

“Ah-Ah, Sshhh.” He interrupted you, shaking his head and starting to work his fingers in and out, taking your finger with them. “Enjoy it, darling.”

You moaned aloud, licking your lips and pushing your head back, eyes rolling shut at the phenomenal feeling of the teamwork your joined fingers were pulling off inside you. You rocked your whole body down on your and his fingers, driving them deeper inside of you and stretching you wider with each motion. Henry smiled down at you, watching you lose yourself in the motion and moment; and he hadn't even given you the best part yet. He slowly slipped his fingers free of your core, you blissfully unaware of the change as you continued to fuck your own finger.

“I can't wait to have you squirt all over my cock.” He said aloud, his eyes glued to your finger, then watched the change slowly wash over you as your orgasm neared. “That's it, sweetheart. Fuck that finger good, come all over it.” He said in a husky and arousal dripping voice, feeling himself get even harder at the sight, and started rubbing your swollen clit.

“H-Hen-Henry.” You gasped, breathing hard, as your toes curled against the amazing hot flood rushing through your sweaty body; rubbing your clit alone had never felt this good.

“Come.” He hissed, eyes huge and focused on you. “Come for me. Soak the the bed, baby. You can do it, come on.” He encouraged you, a free hand moving to his hot and swollen cock, giving it a few pumps.

“Fuck! Oh, fuck!” You mewled, face contorting as your orgasm started to peak. “Henry!” You cried out, before finally falling into your orgasm and drenched your finger, leaving a damp spot on the duvet beneath you.

Henry licked his lips, the heavy and pleasing aroma of your arousal filling his nose; it made him hum. “See that? Told you, you could do.” He said, when you were halfway recovered. “And you didn't even need my fingers.” He added, with a sly grin.

“Huh?” You squeaked, looking down your heaving body to see his fingers still resting lightly on your clit, and your own finger still inside your core. “Oh fuck.” You chuckled shyly, your face heating up.

Henry chuckled and kissed you deeply. “Now, you can have my cock, sweetheart.” He smiled slyly at you.

“I don't know what—” You cut yourself off, feeling self-conscious again, and looked away from him.

You didn't know what to do once he was inside of you, you hadn't known what to do with your own finger inside of you, if it wasn't for Henry's fingers there as well, and him instructing you. But, Henry was very experienced in the art of lovemaking, and wasn't surprised or bothered by your inexperience in it; he had his own solutions to such things. So, he wrapped your heavy legs around his waist and your arms about his neck, before putting his arms around your waist. Henry lifted you up, so he could stand to his full height, slipping an arm beneath your bottom as he did, to keep you from slipping.

“It's all right, sweet girl.” He assured you, moving to the head of the bed and sat down. “Take your shirt off.” He told you, tugging on the garment.

Biting your lip shyly, you grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it off over your head, tossing it to the floor. Henry smiled and smoothed his palms up your back to the clasp of your bra and popped it free. Slipping the straps of your bra off your shoulders, Henry tossed the undergarment to the floor with your shirt and leaned forward to place open mouthed kisses to the supple skin of your breasts, nuzzling his face between them and leaving, almost painful, love bites in their wake. You whimpered, hugging your arms around his neck and hiding your face into his hair, feeling the solid and hot flesh of his cock press up against your thighs and ass.

Moaning against your skin, as your shifting rubbed your ass down against his cock, Henry turned and laid back on the bed, his head on the dingy and flat pillow, all the stuffing flattened from years of use. He held you in his lap, as you straddled him, and pulled up his knees to give you a little more stability. Henry gripped your hips to move you, so you knelt on your knees over him, then reached between your legs to take himself in hand, lining up with your sticky entrance, and pushed his hips up enough to press the fat and swollen tip of his cock just into you, then held his hips there.

“Very slowly, push yourself down.” He instructed you, nodding his head at you, as he broke out in a sweat, that plastered his curls to his forehead. “That's good. Keep it up, baby.” He said, breathing hard.

You pushed your hips down on Henry's cock, feeling how hot and hard it actually was as it filled you more and more. There was only a little bit of extra stretch as he entered you, but it wasn't uncomfortable and the slickness left over from your orgasm helped make it easier to do. It took some slow patience, but you finally had your fill of Henry inside of you, shifting in his lap.

“That feels so different.” You whimpered, feeling like he was deep inside of your stomach.

Henry smiled up at you, chuckling. “I'm sure.” He replied, nudging his hips upwards. “I'm nice and deep into your cervix.” He commented, feeling it wrapped around his cock. “Are you okay?” He asked, taking a few deep breaths, to keep a handle on himself.

“I'm-I'm fine.” You assured him, flustered at the feeling of him rubbing up against your cervix. “Wh-what do you wa-want me t-to do?” You asked, gulping thickly.

“So eager.” Henry teased, kneading your hips in his palms. “Just follow my motion.” He said, looking up at you.

Gripping your hips more securely, Henry started moving you back and forth on his cock, keeping himself firmly housed inside of you, while hitting all the right places, including rubbing your still sensitive and swollen clit against his belly. You gasped aloud, your hands gripping his wrists, and rocked faster, but Henry held you off, keeping your motion slow and steady, not wanting either of you to rush it.

“Easy, baby girl.” He cooed at you, letting go of your hips and rubbing his palms up and down your thighs. “We have all night, sweetheart. Take your time. I'm not going anywhere, I promise.” Henry shifted his hips as you continued to ride him in an easy pace, feeling the sticky smear of your juices all over his stomach and cock.

Henry had dreamt about this, in the lone times he didn't have crippling nightmares.

You would come into his bedroom, like you would when he was having a bad dream. Running your hand up and down his chest, touching his face and playing with his hair, before moving your hand down his taut stomach and into the elastic waistband of his pajama pants; rubbing his soft cock and fondling his balls, making him slowly grow against your warm palm. Wrapping your hand around the base of his then swollen cock, your hand would slide up and down the long length, swirling your thumb around his sensitive head; smiling so sweetly at him, when he moaned deep in his throat and thrust up into your grasp. Your pace was maddeningly slow compared to the hot need Henry had to be inside of you; spilling his load as deeply as he possibly could into you, and hear you call out his name as you orgasmed.

It didn't take long for that to happen as you lifted away the fabric of his pants, his eyes dropping to your still stroking hand. Smirking, you let his cock fall heavily to his abdomen and stomach. Henry gulped as you moved over him, straddling his waist and kneeling over him, hands braced against his broad chest for a moment. You reached back with one hand, taking up his cock again and bringing it to your weeping pussy, sliding him into the comforting, eye fluttering, warmth of your core, making Henry call out and grab your hips, planting his feet and thrust into you with one fluid motion, burying himself so completely inside of you.

“Oh!” You gasped suddenly, bringing Henry back from remembering the dream. “Henry.” You whimpered, as you felt the intoxicating build of a second orgasm.

Henry's hands moved from your thighs to the back of your arms, pulling you down on top of him. Wrapping his arms around you and kissing the top of your head, he kept his knees bent, using his planted feet on the squeaky mattress to push up into you. Keeping the same easy rocking, but driving himself so much deeper, that it sent spasms of pleasure throughout your whole body. You moaned into his neck, panting opening mouthed against the skin of his shoulder, sounding so soft and sweet in Henry's ear.

It wasn't long before Henry felt the unraveling snake of pleasure overcome him, his cock pulsed and throbbed inside of you, his natural instincts kicking in and made his movements involuntary as he continued to wildly thrust, his balls tightening in preparation. You could feel every muscle in Henry's body tense up, his loud, uncensored and lewd sounds grunting and moaning into your ear and hair, both of you could feel the rapid beating of your hearts pounding together with your chests pressed together; the feeling of his cock throbbing into you keeping in time with each heartbeat. He was at the point of no return now, with a few more thrusts, he push himself as deep into you as he could, scrunching you both up in the process, and came.

The strong and hot spurts of his come going off inside of you, drumming your cervix like a demolition hammer. You let out one sound, then came and squirted around Henry's still spewing cock, drenching his abdomen and balls with your release; leaving yet another puddle on the bed. Both of you became dead weight, spent from all the walking and stress, magnified by the mind-blowing orgasms you shared. Henry's hands slowly came to life, rubbing up and down your back and sides, head turning to kiss your temple as he did.

Neither of you said anything, neither of you needed to say anything. It had all been spoken in that intimate moment, saying what words could not. You sighed softly, the scent of his sweaty skin in your nose as you nuzzled his neck, feeling the deep tug of sleep take over you. Henry smiled softly, brushing his fingers through your hair, kissing your forehead as he felt you fall asleep, the soft change of your breathing, chilling his skin. He pushed his head back into the pillow and mattress, staring up at the stained drop ceiling with a huge grin crossing over his face, he hadn't felt this satisfied and relaxed in a very long time, he had never felt this complete either, as he fell asleep with you.

You woke a little while later, still laying on top of Henry, his soft cock still buried in your sore pussy. Biting your lip, you carefully sat up, freezing as Henry moaned and shifted in his sleep. You reached out and gently soothed his curls off his forehead, until he relaxed and dropped back off into a deep sleep, before carefully moving off him, biting back a moan as his cock slipped free and you could get off the bed.

Henry stirred again, and you again played with his hair.

“Ssshh.” You whispered to him softly, heart pounding. “Sleep sweet, Henry.” You cooed at him, using your other hand to rub his chest, knowing how well it calmed him. When he finally relaxed again, you tiptoed into the bathroom, carefully feeling for the toilet in the darkness, not wanting to turn the light on and wake Henry up. Finding it, you groaned as your butt touched the ice cold seat, and relieved yourself with a sigh. Stepping back out of the bathroom, you glanced around and spotted Henry's backpack. Every nerve and cell in your body told you to grab it and break into it, taking back your shoes and the rest of your stuff, and bolt out of the room; nighttime be damned, you needed to get to Mikey.

You almost did go for it, before you heard Henry softly mumble out your name in his sleep. He was dreaming about you. So, it wasn't only you that dreamed of him, that your mind-blowing and intense sex wasn't just because you had given him an opening to do so. Henry actually wanted to have sex with you, because he was in love with you.

“Goddamn it.” You huffed softly, your breath coming out in a light fog in the chill of the room, feeling the chemicals of your flight mode die away as you watched him sleep from the foot of the bed, and he mumbled out your name, yet again.

Shaking your head, you grabbed the first shirt like object off the floor and pulled it on, before stepping over to the curtain-less window. You were so conflicted, you wanted to leave and get to Bristol, it was only a ten hour walk from Cherhill, and according to the antique clock on the wall, it was only three in the morning. If you left now, you could power walk it to Bristol, gaining more time between you leaving and Henry potentially waking up. Then, by the time he reached you again, you would be in the heavily populated city, making it a million times easier for you to hide from him, as you searched for your brother.

You looked over your shoulder at Henry and sighed, but you couldn't just abandon him again either. Especially, after the night you both had. It would have been a kick to his trust if you had ran again, but an even bigger drop kick to his heart, ruining whatever was potentially happening between the pair of you. He would never trust you again, he would never love you again. He would either finally treat you like the Slummer Slave he had purchased, or he would just throw you to the Council of Clerics, letting them do with you as they pleased. Sighing again, you rubbed at your tired face, turning back towards the window, and looked out over the back of the hotel, the half moon resting on the tips of the trees beneath it, throwing a eerie silvery light through their branches.

“What am I going to do?” You asked yourself, breath fogging up the windowpane in front of you, oblivious of Henry starting to stir on the bed behind you.

The slow alarm sounded through Henry's skull as his body realized that your weight was no longer on top of him. His unconscious mind's first attempt to remedy this, was to roll over onto his side, figuring you had simply rolled off of him in the might. A hand sluggishly moving out over the mattress in search of you, but came up empty. He moaned in his sleep, brow furrowing, before his alert blue eyes popped open and panned around the room in front of him, the bathroom door was dark, but open, a quick glance to the room door showed it was still locked, but you could have taken the key and locked it behind you as you ran again.

His heart started to pound, with the anxiety of possibly losing you, and anger that you had broken your promise not to run again. He rolled onto his back, to get up out of bed, but paused, finding you standing at the window, wearing nothing, but his knit sweater, to keep the chill of the room at bay, to some extent. He was relieved to see you hadn't run after all, but he could tell by the way you stood and hugged your arms around yourself, that you were having a mental war with yourself. Frowning, he sat up, reaching out for his boxers and pulled them back on, before standing up to move behind you.

You gasped at the touch of Henry's hand on your hip. “Christ.” You let out in a frightened huff.

Henry smiled softly at you. “I'm sorry.” He chuckled softly. “I didn't mean to scare you.” He said, kissing the back of your hair and wrapping his arms around your shoulders, hugging you back against him, to share the extra warmth of his body, and rested his chin on the top of your head.

“Anything interesting?” He asked gently, looking out the window.

You knew what Henry meant, he wanted you to confide in him, tell him what you were thinking and what was clearly bothering you. You sighed and squeezed your eyes shut, your stomach was in knots, as you thought about him and your brother, torn between the two men. Did you tell Henry you weren't going back to London with him, no matter what, breaking his heart and incurring his wrath? Or, did you let your brother reap his choice to work for dangerous people, potentially getting himself kill? It had been Mikey's choice to work for Jaxon Quinn, he knew the risks and rewards of doing so.

Everyone did.

You sighed again, the weight of your conflict sounding with that outtake of air. Henry took a soft intake of air through his nose and let it out again, your body was tense against his. He really didn't need to ask what you were thinking, or really how you were feeling, he could sense it, and had known about it the moment he learned all the facts in the matter. He just figured it would help you relax and come to a conclusion on what to do, if you talked about it.

“He's my brother, Henry.” You whispered, leaning your head back against his chest, but kept your eyes out the window.

“I know.” He replied, gently.

“But,” You frowned at the faint reflection of you both in the window, a new knot twisting in your stomach.

“But?” Henry frowned back.

“But, I-” You chewed on your lip for a moment, mustering up some courage. “I also love you.”

Henry felt a tingling warmth in his chest, hearing your words, pressing his lips together as he tried controlling the smile on his face. “I love you too.” He confessed, feeling a weight lift off of him.

“I don't want to choose.” You added, almost soundlessly.

Henry sighed, the smile turning into a frown as he heard your words. “I know you don't.” He said, softly, and closed his eyes, feeling the swell of conflict fill him as well.

He honestly didn't want to make you choose between him and Mikey, knowing that whatever choice you did make, you would end up regretting it, because it wasn't the other option. He felt you get squeezed into the same rock and hard place he was currently trapped in.

“Come back to bed.” He said, finally. “It's cold.”

Neither of you moved for a moment, before you let Henry pull you back to bed, slipping under the thin duvet with you and curling his body around yours to keep you warm, letting you use his arm as a pillow. But, as you both, slowly, drifted back off to sleep, Henry had already made the choice of what the two of you were going to do next, when the sun finally rose again.

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kaylaxwrites · 3 years

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Into You

Pairing: Jessica Jones x Reader Words: 2.5k Summary: After the police practically dismiss your concerns of stalker, you turn to Alias Investigations for help. Request: Jessica Jones x f reader where reader hires her as a pi (for whatever reason) and the case takes awhile so reader develops feelings but doesn't want to act on them because it's in appropriate since Jessica is working for her. Then as soon as the case is over Jessica pulls out two glasses and some whisky and is like "I'm a pi obviously I noticed you're into me now let's drink together and see where this goes cuz I like you too" (anon) A/N: Sorry this took so long! It might not follow the request exactly (I forgot to make the case like take a while) but I hope you like it!

Warnings: reader has a stalker, gets cornered by stalker and is also punched

Tears stung your eyes as you stepped out of the police station. You were convinced, you knew, you had a stalker. Someone had been following you for several weeks now, left crude “love letters” taped to your apartment door, and generally left you with an unsafe and uncomfortable feeling. You went to the police today for help—any help—and left feeling crushed and defeated. The officers inside didn’t take you seriously, brushed you off, dismissed your concerns and you were angry.

Afraid.

You started walking down the street back towards your apartment, brushing away stray tears. Being in the open—even in front of a police station—made you feel uneasy. You didn’t know what to do next and you were about to spiral into a panic attack. One step at a time, you tried to tell yourself, taking deep breaths as you walked. You would go home, and figure out what to do there. Right now you just needed to get home and calm down.

You looked to the sky as a means to keep your tears at bay when a sign in a fifth-floor window caught your eye and slowed you to a halt.

Alias Investigations.

A private investigator? Could they help you with your problem? Maybe they could help you get the evidence you needed for the police to take you seriously. Did you have the money for it, though? Fuck it, you thought. It would be cheaper than moving across town and changing your name. With a steading breath, you opened the door to the building and made your way inside.

You soon arrived at the fifth floor and anxiety knotted your stomach. This building looked sketchy—the suspiciously blood-like stains in the elevator was more than enough to give you that uneasy feeling—but you were already here. So might as well. Right?

You knocked hesitantly on the door, surprised when you heard what sounded like muttered curses from the other side. Did you come at a bad time? You almost left but then the door creaked open and you were met with the annoyed face of a pale, black-haired woman.

“Can I help you?” she asked curtly, opening the door only enough to show her shoulders and face, trying to appear as unwelcoming as possible.

“Uh…” The woman and her weird greeting left you somewhat speechless so you weakly pointed at the window where Alias Investigations was printed in bold letters. “Alias Investigations?” you said as if she wouldn’t know the name of her own business. You could kick yourself for your awkward stuttering.

“Shit. Hold on.” She closed the door in your face and you took a step back, startled. Through the opaque glass on the door, you could see the silhouette of the private eye quickly picking up the main room of her apartment, throwing trash and other stray items out of sight. You stopped yourself from smiling when the door was thrown back open and she welcomed you inside.

You sat tentatively in one of the chairs across from her desk as she sat heavily in the opposite seat, folding her arms on the top of her desk. She gestured for you to start talking and you did. “I think I have a stalker,” you started. But then you shook your head, restarting. “I know I have a stalker. I don’t know who he is, but I’ve caught glimpses of him a couple of times and he keeps leaving me these…letters on my door about once a week.” You dug into your bag and pulled out several of the letters you tried to bring as evidence, laying them on the table.

Jessica, you realized from her name tag on the desk, picked them up and scanned through them. “Have you been to the police?” she asked.

“I went there this morning. They practically dismissed me outright. I was walking home when I saw your sign.” You nodded towards the window behind her that advertised to the street.

She shuffled through the letters some more. “And do all of these…?”

Talk graphically about what your stalker would do once you were “together”?

“Yeah. The officer…” You cleared your throat, feeling tears stinging your eyes once again. “The officer said that I-I had probably led some guy on and that’s why he was leaving me love letters. He hasn’t threatened to kill me, so they aren’t—they aren’t going to help me.” Your voice was strained by the end of your sentence and you knew Jessica picked up on it.

“And you don’t know who it is?”

You shook your head. “Like I said, I’ve caught glimpses of him, but…”

“What does he look like?”

“Tall. Six foot, maybe? White. Not skinny, but not like super muscular either. He always has a hood or sunglasses on, so I’ve never really gotten a good look at his face. He hasn’t talked to me in person, either. Just leaves the letters.”

Jessica thought for a moment, looking over the letters once more. “I’ll help you,” she said eventually.

You nearly shot out of your seat. “Really? Oh my god, thank you. I don’t know what else I’d do.” You reached into your bag for your wallet. “How much will I owe you? I only have two hundred to give now, but I can find more to pay you later.”

“I’ll take a hundred for now. I’ll figure out the rest later.”

You pulled five twenties out of your wallet, half of your paycheck you cashed out earlier that day. You also gave her your phone number, address, and your schedule for the week. Jessica said she’d be in touch with you and you soon left afterwards, feeling lighter than you had in weeks now that the weight was beginning to lift off your shoulders.

You didn’t hear much from Jessica the next few days. She said she was going to watch you in your daily routine for a little while to see who she could find that was suspicious or she saw a lot in your vicinity. You never once saw her watching you, so you had to take her for her word—that either meant she was really good or you just gave a hundred bucks to someone who was going to ghost you. Thankfully, by the end of the week, you didn’t have to worry about being ghosted by a P.I.

Jessica found your stalker.

James Williams, she said his name was, but it didn’t ring a bell. You didn’t know him and you weren’t sure how he knew you. “You could’ve helped him at work or smiled at him on the street,” Jessica assured you. “These assholes will take any random act of kindness as a love declaration.”

“You could say that again,” you muttered. But you thanked her for her help and ended the phone call, agreeing to meet in about two hours after you got home from work. You pulled yourself from your hiding spot in the stock room of your workplace and finished up your shift.

By the end of the hour, you were starting your walk to Jessica’s office. You were less than two blocks down the road when an arm wrapped around your shoulders and backed you against the wall of an alleyway. Your head smarted against the brick and you blinked rapidly as you took in the face in front of yours.

You didn’t recognize it, but it must be…

James.

“What—what do you want?” you stuttered, your brain suddenly short-circuiting.

“You called…you called a P.I.?” he asked. He almost sounded…heartbroken. “I—I had a plan. I had a plan for us and you ruined it!”

“I don’t want to be a part of your plan. I don’t even know you!”

“I had everything figured out. We were gonna—”

“Get off of me, fucking creep!”

You instantly regretted your words as a look of anger flashed through his eyes. Maybe calling the psychopath a creep wasn’t the best way to go. Before you could brace yourself, he swung his fist and you were met with a flash of pain in your nose, a trail of blood following not long after. The force of the blow had you spiraling towards the ground and your felt your ankle twist as you fought to remain upright. Gravity won in the end and your palms scraped across concrete as you fell. Before your thoughts could even register, James’ hands were at your shoulders, lifting you upright, and pressing you against brick once more.

“Do not…call me that,” he said between heavy breaths. You flinched when he reached a hand up to cup the side of your face, brushing away blood with his thumb. Your mind flashed through every self-defense post on social media, but you couldn’t think clearly to remember specific moves. You were halfway to hyperventilating when James was suddenly yanked aside and thrown down the alleyway.

“You okay?” a voice asked. You looked to your left. Jessica.

“I’ll be fine,” you managed.

Blood was pouring from your nose still and you tried to stem the flow with the sleeve of your shirt. Movement down the alley caught your eye and you glanced over. James was staggering to his feet and started towards you. Jessica huffed and rolled her eyes, meeting the man halfway. In the blink of an eye, she lifted him and threw him into a nearby dumpster, latching the lid closed so he couldn’t escape.

“That’ll hold him until the police get here,” she said, brushing her hands off.

“Police?” you asked.

“Yeah, that little stunt will get him time for assault. And you won’t have to worry about him anymore.” She took a few steps towards you. “Let me see,” she said, gesturing towards your face. As the bleeding was now mostly stopped, you lifted your head so she could see the damage. “It’s not broken,” she said after a moment, “but you’re gonna have one hell of a shiner in the morning.”

Great, you thought. But if it was the price to pay for getting rid of your stalker…

At that moment, a police cruiser pulled into the mouth of the alley.

You don’t remember much of the statement you gave to the police. The throbbing in your skull pretty much override it all. But thankfully, before long, the officers were taking James away in handcuffs and you were allowed to leave, the card of one of the officers pressed against your hand. Jessica stayed by your side through it all and you were thankful for her presence.

When you were allowed to leave and the officers had left, you tried to stand on your sprained ankle, but could barely make it a single step. The walk back to Jessica’s office was going to be one hell of a trip. Jessica took one pitying look at your pained step and bent as if she was going to pick you up. You quickly shuffled out of her reach. “What are you doing?” you asked.

“You can’t walk,” she answered simply.

“So what? You’re just going to try and carry me? Halfway across Hell’s Kitchen?”

“You got a better plan?”

You looked down at yourself. Your shirt was splattered with blood from your nose. Couldn’t exactly take an Uber looking like you did. “I guess not,” you sighed in defeat.

“So?”

“But you can’t carry me!” Jessica was tiny and you… “I’m too…”

“Heavy?” You gasped as your eyes widened in shock. Jessica was blunt, sure, but… “Shit, not like that. I didn’t—” She sighed. “Just… Look.” She knelt down in between two parked cars, placing a hand under each of the bumpers. With barely a grunt, she stood, lifting the ends of the cars on either side of her until the wheels were nearly waist high.

“Holy shit,” you breathed.

“Yeah.” She dropped the cars and they bounced to the ground. You were surprised the alarms didn’t go off or the wheels didn’t bust. “So are we good here?” You stuttered to find words. You wanted to just let her pick you up—she did just lift two cars, after all—but you were still worried. “So can we go or what?”

“I-I guess.” You moved awkwardly as Jessica lifted you into her arms. Your ankle throbbed as your weight was lifted off of it. You tried to situate yourself comfortably as Jessica carried you, but you didn’t know what to do with your arms. You settled on one across the back of her shoulders and the other curled into your chest, trying to minimize the points of contact with Jessica’s body.

But then you realized just how close Jessica’s face was to yours.

You took in her profile, watching how her hair bounced as she walked, how her pale skin practically changed colors under different streetlights. You realized then just how beautiful she was and maybe you were starting to have a thing for her. Great.

You blushed and turned away as her eyes turned to you. She huffed out a chuckle before returning her attention to the sidewalk.

Eventually, Jessica set you down on the couch in the living room of her office. She stepped over to the bookshelf in the corner of the room, a bookshelf that held more liquor than books, and poured two large drinks. She crossed back to you, offering you one of the glasses. You took it gratefully as Jessica fell on the couch next to you. You sipped your drink slowly, carefully—but by the time you were only a quarter done with yours, Jessica had already refilled her own, having brought the half-full bottle across the room with her.

The two of you sat there quietly, drinking, unwinding, for several minutes until you felt the need to break the silence. “Jessica, I—,” you began, but she cut in, finishing your sentence for you.

“You’re into me.”

Your face flushed and you turned your gaze quickly to the dark amber liquid in your glass. You weren’t even really sure what it was—whiskey? Bourbon? Was there a difference?—but you were tempted to reach over and chug the whole bottle if this was the conversation Jessica wanted to have. “I-I was just going to say thank you,” you stammered, “for everything.”

“You sure that’s all you wanted to say?” She turned her whole body to face you, tucking one of her legs underneath her. You refused to meet her gaze. “I’m a PI. A good one. And you’re an open book. You didn’t think I noticed?”

Your face burned hotter than ever and you wished the couch would swallow you whole—were you really that obvious about your feelings? Jessica reached behind her for the liquor bottle and refilled her drink once more as well as topped yours off. You took several burning gulps to try and distract yourself from the situation. You would give anything to be anywhere but here. You were into Jessica, but she wasn’t into you—the following conversation would be the most embarrassing of your life.

“I’m—I’m sorry. I should go.” You stood to try to gather your coat and your bag, wanting nothing more than to leave.

Jessica’s iron grip on your arm stopped you dead in your tracks. “For what it’s worth,” she said, almost scoffing, as if what she was about to say wasn’t worth anything at all, “I’m into you, too.”

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