imsonick

[imsonick]

The Farmer's Daughter 15

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall

Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Walter sighs as he shuts the hood of the truck. He tuts and faces you, keeping his hand on the metal, his other going to his hip. He looks at you then the sky behind you. The rain has stirred the scent of mud and grass and left a glaze over everything. 

“You’re lucky the thing didn’t blow up in your face,” he says. “Maybe the rain saved you.” 

“Oh, I... didn’t know,” you utter nervously. “Timothy said it was fine--” 

“Yeah, well, shows how much he knows,” Walter stands straight and pushes back his curls, “he’s not ready. He’s too young. I’ll make sure he learns. Be sad if he through away all your dad’s hard work, huh?” 

“Y-yeah, I guess,” you swallow. His words remind you of the imbalance. You need him. That’s the reality that brought you all the way up here. 

“Right, well, I’ll deal with it later. I got some chains I can use to get it up to the house but we should head into town then go see your mother. Make sure she isn’t worried sick,” he steps towards you and brings his hand up under your chin. You fight not to shy away, “what were you thinking? Putting yourself in danger like that?” 

“I... I had to come see you--” 

He smiles, “that’s sweet but I’d rather you wait and have you in one piece, sweetheart.” 

You nod into his hand and wince as he leans in. His thumb rubs your chin as he tilts your head up and he presses his lips to yours. Your surprised by his gentleness, though his beard grazes your roughly. You let him kiss you as he swoops an arm around to wrap you up. 

When he parts, your breathless and dizzy. His eyes gleam down at you, “wife,” he rasps out, “we’re almost there.” 

The shift in his mood puts you off. It’s just like back in the kitchen, one moment he’s terse and short, almost disappointed, the next he’s almost delicate and content. He releases you and takes you by the hand. You follow him back up towards the house. 

You wait outside as he runs in to get his keys. As he comes back out, you open the door of the truck and brace the interior. You put your foot on the small metal step to pull yourself up and gasp as you’re lifted from behind. Walter helps you into the seat and you wriggle free with a meek ‘thank you’. 

He kisses your cheek before he shuts the door. You focus on buckling the belt as he rounds the front of the truck. He climbs into the driver’s side and turns the engine. He sets off, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the corner of your seat. 

You sit quietly, watching the hills roll by. This is it. This is your life. You’re going to married and a wife and you’re going to be tied to this man and these lands forever. You never really thought it out, you just expected life to unfold before you. 

He pulls up to the bank and turns into the lot. He steers into one of the angled spots and kills the engine. You tap your fingers on your legs before you regain your bearings. As he opens his door, you do the same. You get out, hopping down with a small oof. You catch yourself on the door. 

Walt stomps around, “hey, hey, careful. Don’t hurt yourself.” 

“I’m fine,” you smile, “really, I can manage.” 

“I just don’t want you twisting your ankle,” he says. 

“Um, okay, all good,” you show him your foot, “really.” 

He stares at you. His cheek ticks. He takes your hand and shuts the passenger door. He tugs you away towards the front of the building. As you follow the sidewalk down to the entrance, you pass a few other curious pedestrians. You don’t miss there gazes and the low whispers between them. 

You go inside and find the bank empty. Walter drags you to the counter and taps the bell on it. You stand on your toes to see over the high desk and see a head pop out of a back office. The woman looks unimpressed as she goes to bang on the door next to hers, “customers.” 

She quickly retreats as you wait. The next door opens and another woman emerges. She’s taller than the other one, slimmer too. She struts over as she tugs straight the collar of her blouse. Her pretty pink lipstick clings to one lip as the other is faded to its natural hue. 

“Hello, folks, how can I help you today.” 

“I’d like to speak with an advisor about a mortgage,” Walter says as he lets go of your hand, instead hovering his large one along your lower back. 

“That’s exciting,” she chimes, “you and... I didn’t know you married?” 

“Not yet,” Walter exhales, “anyway, do you got someone available? I don’t really have time to sit around.” 

“Sure, sure, Pete should be able to help you out. I’ll just take you to an office.” 

The woman, Marska, comes around the desk and waves you down the hall. She takes you into an office and leaves you there. You and Walter lower yourself into the stiff chairs. He reaches between to offer his hand. You take it and nervously stare at the empty desk. 

There’s a tap on the doorframe and a man enters. Pete. You’ve seen him before when you came to the bank with your mother. 

“Morning,” he says as he swaggers around to sit behind the desk, “lovely to see you folks bright and early.” He offers his hand across the desk and Walter reluctantly lets go of yours to shake it. Pete looks at you and you hesitantly shake his hand. The man beside you shifts and huffs. “So, we’re looking into a mortgage, huh?” 

The manager smiles as he leans back nonchalantly in his chair. He looks between you and Walter, “gone and snagged yourself a young one, huh, Marshall?” 

Walter growls and crosses his arms, “I have a down payment.” 

“Uh, yeah, of course,” Pete rolls his chair closer to the desk, “just making some small chat. Big news, the two of you.” 

“Is it?” Walter challenges. 

“Marriage is a big deal, isn’t it?” Peter chuckles nervously. 

“You would know,” Walter sneers as he sniffs, “you got something on your cheek.” 

You only notice at the mention of it. Your eyes retreat from the window to Pete’s face, the smear of pink along his cheek. You look away, embarrassed for him. It must be true what they say about him and Marska. 

“Uh, thanks,” Pete wipes his face with his sleeve, “let’s just jump in then.” He puts his hands over the keyboard and clears his throat. You can see a trickle of sweat along his hairline as Walter’s disapproval burns through the small office.  

[imsonick]

Period dramas dresses tournament: Grey/Silver dresses FINALS!- Isolde, Tristan & Isolde (gifset) vs Lucrezia Borgia, The Borgias (pics set)

[imsonick]

[imsonick]

Winter's King 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: this one came out of no where.

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

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I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

It’s uncharacteristically grim on the plains of Debray. Rains pelt the tall green grasses, flattening them in a slanted downpour that dims the horizon. Clouds blot out the daylight and lend to atmosphere of unease in the warring lands. 

Behind the castle walls, one can forget about the bloodshed staining the counties red, though it is all the dukes and his audience can speak of. The lords that bluster through those gates, sometimes at the toll of morning, some in the black swathes of night. You can’t count them all, you can name even fewer, but they come anon and leave just as brusquely. 

A peel of thunder shakes the land and a dark line limns the curve of the horizon. What appears first as a storm cloud advances quickly through the fields, appearing more clearly to the naked eye, distant nonetheless. Men. Another party fast on the approach. 

The alarm goes up at a man’s holler. Ethred, man at the gate hollers to the other men in mail. Niam peers out from the vantage of the tower and calls back down. A hush falls and bodies scurry all around, metal clinking and boots crunching. There’s something amiss. Something you can’t quite place. 

You turn away from the window, the steam rising from the basin in your hand swirling around your head. You carry on down the corridor, wool skirts around cautious steps as you balance the swaying water in the vessel. You approach the lady’s door and give it a rap with your knee. Merinda, another handmaid, opens it from within. 

You enter without a word and place the basin on the vanity table. The duke’s daughter preens herself with a painted fan, fluttering her lashes at her reflection as her curls spill down her long back. She tilts her head this way and that. She snaps the fan shut and puts it down, touching her soft brown cheeks with a devilish grin. 

“Do you know what father mentioned last eve?” Jazlene asks with a vain flutter of her lashes. 

“What did he mention?” Her mother, Lady Rezlyn prompts lazily as she plucks another cherry from a dish heaped in fruit. 

“A husband,” the daughter grins coyly at herself, “it is well due, isn’t it, mother? Who do you think it might be? Lord Gai, perhaps? He is young still.” 

“Perhaps the Earl of Mesafin,” her mother taunts back to a disgusted gasp. 

“Do not,” Jazlene pouts, “I could never... I am much too pretty for that haggard beast.” 

“Well, then, who might you have, precious?” Rezlyn goads. 

There is a clamour in the hall that keeps the younger of the woman from answering. She rolls her eyes and darkly glare at the door. You peer back behind your shoulder as a wail goes up carrying her father’s name; ‘Lord Dustan!’ 

“What is all that?” Jazlene whines, “as if it isn’t enough with the rain and the winds. It is summer!” 

“It’s always summer in Debray, darling,” Rezlyn scoffs, “otherwise I’d have never married your father. Pray you don’t hook yourself a winter lord.” 

You peek over your shoulder as you stand near the door, in your vigil, awaiting your next order. You face the ladies again as the elder continues to feast and the younger fusses over her thick brows. You scrunch your lips back and forth, a habit that often has your jaw aching. 

Jazlene turns to narrow her eyes at you, “what is it then? What has you making faces?” 

You bow your head, appeasing her ego, “my lady, there were men coming. A party approaching from the north.” 

“There are always men,” she shakes her head, “who was it then? Anyone I should wear silk for?” 

Her mother laughs, “I warn you, daughter, that trite tongue will not endear any husband.” 

“I do not know, lady,” you answer. 

“Ugh, useless, must I work as my own handmaid?” Jazlene tisks, “come, pin my hair. Merinda find me a gown. Mother... wipe the dribble from your chin.” 

“Eh, watch yourself,” Lady Rezlyn rises and wipes her lips with her sleeve. She wears muslin in a dark shade of burgundy, embroidered with little copper finches. “Or hope you marry above me before you lash that tongue at me.” 

Jazlene merely trills with laughter. You take the pins and work at twisting her fine curls into place. Merinda brings to her a dress of teal satin and is promptly shooed away, “something pink. It brings out my bosom.” 

You ignore her bawdy jest as her mother harrumphs. You work in quiet tandem with the other handmaid. You add a touch of paint to the lady’s cheeks and kohl around her eyes. You tint her lips with pigment and she pushes out her lips at the mirror. You help Merinda dress her, pulling the noble daughter’s corset tight enough to leave her lightheaded. 

The pair of ladies, elder and younger, leave the chamber with you at their skirt tails. They sweep through the corridors with chins up. They are queens in their own minds. Their fine dresses and sparkling gems are untouched by the disparity of war. The lives lost are squares on a game board, tawdry talk for men in their studies. 

“Lord Dustan,” Lady Rezlyn mimics the earlier call for the lord of the castle, “my husband. Dear, dear husband!” 

The women go to the banister and look down upon the great hall as the flurry continues below. You and Merinda loom behind, not daring to stand at a level with the pompous nobles. You have never volunteered yourself for their impetuous lashings. 

“Woman!” Dustan booms back up, “do not trouble me now.” 

“Oh, has another lord come? Perhaps a suitor for our lovely daughter--” 

“Cease!” The duke demands hotly, “now is not the time for womanly games.” 

“Tell me it true, husband, she will be an old maid before you find a suiting son-in-law--” 

“Go away to your chambers. Now. The men who come are not to be trifled with and you lot do trifle overly much!” 

“Bah! Oh do not be so uncouth!” Rezlyn decries. 

“Father, please, is it a husband?” 

“Go before I send my guards up to put you away like thieves in a dungeon. Hear me when I warn you that this does not concern you. Not as yet,” Dustan snarls, “you would spoil this war with your puny concerns.” 

“Ugh,” his wife puts her hand to her forehead, “he does tax me. All I ask of him is to take care of us, daughter. As any husband should.” 

“I should have your lips sewn shut!” Dustan rebukes hotly, “be gone before I find a tailor.” 

The women share an aghast look. The turn back to flutter away in their skirts. You and Merinda follow them to the drawing room, closing them in as they fall onto the velvet cushions. Jazlene reclines dramatically on the chaise as her mouth mopes on a sofa. 

“Shall I be alone forever, mother?” Jazlene snivels, “why won’t he let me marry?” 

“He only wants to find the right man, that is all, darling,” Rezlyn coaxes. “He is overprotective and that is good for it means he will find a husband for you with a similar bearing.” 

“Such sweet words cannot convince me. He punishes me. When all my lady friends have wed and borne a whelp or two, I remain with the dust and stone.” 

“Do not be theatrical,” Rezlyn girds, “you are silly.” 

“I am not silly, mother. I am afraid. I am twenty and three and I have no suitor. I have only a war butchering any man who might have my hand. Why must this go on? Why must I suffer for the gripes of stubborn kings.” 

“We cannot fear. This war will be won and you will have a knight for a husband. Isn’t that better? To have a warrior you can be proud of than some bookish lord in his tower?” Rezlyn stands and moves to sit with her daughter, petting her as she cooes, “oh my beautiful, no man can resist you. You will see.” 

⚔️

Some hours pass with the restless women, pacing and chattering, about careless things beyond marriage and war. Like needlework and a banquet that should be had upon the truce. Would that the day would come sooner. 

You and Merinda stifle yawns that pass between you. The act is contagious as you stand in the tedium of the wealthy and wait for a duty to be called upon you. The hours you spend watching the women preen and swoon make you envy the stable boys and the shit shovelers. 

The noise beyond those walls continues. You heard the moat open and the clopping hooves of horses, even the clatter of carts. The voices had since hushed but footfalls carried back and forth. The wordless activity betrays an air of impatience, almost of nervousness. As the ladies within mirror the sentiment. 

Finally, as the windows darken and the candles burn brighter, a knock shakes the door. The ladies snap their heads around. Merinda is asleep on her feet as you move first. You open to a man in grey and black waits on the other side. He is not Lord Dustan’s. 

“The duchess and her daughter,” he garbles through a mouth that sounds full of salt. 

You dip your head and look to the ladies in question. There is a tension, of unease, of unknowing, of excitement turned to dread. This is not as it has been. There is not call to the dinner table. There is no buoyant introduction of a lord Dustan met as a young scamp. There is silence and fear. Has someone died? Has a battle been lost? 

The women emerge and greet the man with niceties and tight-lipped simpers. He does not pay them heed as you and Merinda exchange looks. You trail after the ladies but the man stops. He turns back, a hand on the pommel at his waist, and sneers, a furrow in his brow. 

“One of ya,” he grits. 

Jazlene says your name. She must’ve noticed Merinda swaying on her feet. If she even cares so much about a maid. You keep your head down and follow as they press on. Down the corridor and around the duke’s study, recently deemed his war room. You’ve never been within. It is not the domain of women. 

The grey and black soldier thumps on the door. Mother and daughter clasp hands. Even they can sense the unusual frigidity. The door opens from within. It is Lord Dustan. He wears a serious look on his lined face. The ladies are beckoned in and the soldier nudges you after them as you hesitate. 

Lanterns light the space from the desk at the rear of the chamber. The large table draped in maps, wooden horses, and little wooden pucks stands central on a thick rug. A figure stands behind it, head down as his burly and broad silhouette seems to sop up the shadows. 

The ladies follow the duke to stand across from the man. His head is down as he slides a horse along a road on the map. He stops it and grips it tight. He looks up and the lantern light dances on his features. You suck in a breath, as the rest do, stunned by his appearance. 

His hair is white, his eyes are a goldish yellow, pupils deep pools of black, and his square jaw is just as thick as the rest of him. You have never seen a man like him before, but you have heard of one. Of him. King Geralt of Rivia. 

You stand in similar confusion to the ladies. Their silent confoundment is broken by Duke Dustan as he nears the table. He sniffs and presses his fingers to the table top. 

“Your highness, my wife, Lady Rezlyn, and my daughter, Lady Jazlene,” he introduces. 

The women glance at each other then curtsy to the white king. He watches them dully. You fold your hands, taking it in curiously. It is rather something to witness the scene. You are so unimportant as to not be a part of it. 

“Your highness,” the recite, “it is...” 

“An honour,” Dustan finishes for them, “of course it is. We fondly welcome you and your allyship. We hope that we will be essential in ending this war. In helping you attain the peace you have so valiantly fought for--” 

The king raises his hand to silence the lord. You can’t help but quork your head. Allyship? But King Geralt, he is of Rivia, he is of the hinterland, he is the one who invaded the summer country and bid it his own. He is the foe. That is what they told you. 

“Enough...” the king speaks in a silty tone that scrapes in his throat. His eyes wander over the women and narrow. You wince as your own meet his golden irises and you shy away, putting your chin to your chest. That’s a mistake. “...words.” He slaps his hand down, “you do not win wars with words.” 

“Yes, your highness, you are correct. I know it well. It is why I invited you here. It is the very reason I made my entreaty. You have my men, they will win this war for you.” 

The king is hardly impressed by the fact. He looks back to the table and moves the horse further before turning it back. He knocks it over and stands completely straight. 

“And the daughter of Debray, your highness. To have a wife of summer’s blood, men will bend the knee. If you show them you do not mean to eradicate but to join with them,” Dustan moves to stand closer to his daughter, “isn’t she a fine queen for a fine kingdom?” 

Jazlene swoons and falls against her father. She’s fainted. Rezlyn grabs onto her other shoulder and you peek up at the chaotic scene. You come forward to help, snatching a pillow from the single couch, and you place it under Jazlene’s head as they lay her down on the floor. 

A shadow shifts as Dustan and Rezlyn fuss over their daughter, fanning and calling to her. You look up as darkness clusters over you. You see the king staring down at the scene. No, not them. He staring at you. Before he can reprimand you, you put your head down. 

You must quit that lest you find yourself at the wrong end of a switch. 

[imsonick]

Singin' in the Rain (1952) Bohemian Rhapsody - Queen (1975) La La Land (2016) Buffy the Vampire Slayer - 06x07 (2001)

MURDOCH MYSTERIES — 17x22 “Why is Everybody Singing?”

[imsonick]

By LabradoriteKing on Pinterest

[imsonick]

[imsonick]

Everything I need Dark Tony Stark x Shy Reader

Dark Professor Tony Stark x Shy Reader 

Warning:Kidnapping, Drugging, Non con, Forced Relationship, Manipulation, Isolation, trapping, bondage, mentions of abuse, age gap, confinement, stalking, 

You were Tired, Extremely tired when you walked into your dorm, Your roommate Casey rushing around she was late for class, But you didn’t quite care, You just worked the grave yard shift at the diner, 

you work three jobs, just to be able to go to class here, You have no family since they all died in a car accident a few months ago, Your deepest and darkest secret was that you were relieved they were gone, Your parents made your life a living hell, Ever since you were five, they abused you not just physically but mentally, and Emotionally, They were terrible, You never told a soul about it, You just kept everything in, They refused to help you through collage, So you took it upon yourself to do it, They always told you that you would amount to nothing, That you were nothing, there is no one around campus that doesn’t know about the death of your parents, including the professors, 

The only one who seemed to give a damn was Professor Stark, He always asked how you were holding up,You pretended you were crushed, But inside you were relieved more than anything, No more phone calls with them yelling at you about how useless you were, or that you were wasting your time. Tony Your Professor always thought you were smart, The guy was a genus but still taught here, 

You never understood it, How he juggled being a professor and maintaining the Avengers, 

You were just about to doze off when your alarm went off, Groaning at the noise, You hit snooze getting off the bed and getting dressed, 

You wore some skin tight dark jeans, a gray tee and a pair of running shoes, you were hugging your books as you entered the class room, too tired to even notice eyes on you, You sat in the middle row, You didn’t like attention, It wasn’t your strong suit, You liked to be invisible to blend with the crowd, never noticed, But Professor Stark did, His eyes met yours as you sat down, The intense stare he was giving you sent a chill down your spine. 

Tony watched as you walked in, He knew you had just lost your parents and you had no one, you would be perfect, that and the fact that you were so shy and timid, He watched as you sat down in class, making eye contact he smirked, finally finding the right one, now all he had to do was set everything up for you, You were going to be his girl, He had almost everything ready but he had to tweak a few things, 

Tony was a guy that no one said no to and even if they did he took what he wanted, 

You were taking notes in class as you listened, looking up every once in a while, Professor Stark would look right at you, only for you to look right back down, 

“Okay everyone that wraps everything up for today, Remember I want your reports on how Molecular structures work on my desk by Monday, Not Tuesday, Not Friday Monday no exceptions,” Professor Stark says 

Everyone groans, as they pack up, You pull out your report already finished with it, you stack your books, 

“Y/N I would like you to stay behind and meet me in my office regarding your GPA for this semester.” He says 

You look at him hesitating but nod, after everyone leaves, You hug your books to your chest as you enter his office, 

“Please sit.” He says as he pours himself a cup of coffee, 

“Would you like some Coffee, I also have tea.” He says 

“Tea would be fine.” You mumble 

You hear the clacking of a cup, you set your books down as he hands you the cup, 

“Now about your GPA, I have to admit, I didn’t expect you to be so ahead this semester after what’s happened.” He says with a smile, 

You nod taking a sip of your tea, 

“I never neglected studying my time off,” You say 

He chuckles 

“I can see that, and it shows,” He says 

You take another sip of your tea but suddenly the room starts to tilt, you start to feel extremely tired, 

“Y/N? are you alright? You don’t look so good.” He says 

It almost sounds like he was in a tunnel

The room starts to spin, and suddenly the cup falls to the floor making a crashing sound and everything goes dark, 

Tony catches you before to hit the ground, Smirking petting your hair, 

“It’s alright sweetheart, You will never have to worry about a thing again.” He whispers in your ear scooping you up in his arms as your head lays on his chest.

[imsonick]

[imsonick]

Şahinbey Millet Camii

Photos by my friend in Turkey.

[imsonick]

an enlightening soak

fused with the foe, chapter four

a/n: don't mind me, just giggling like the little love gremlin that i am

summary: “No, no, nothing is wrong, it’s just–…” he stressed before a strained exhale flowed out of him and he averted his eye, “…in the library, on the fourth bookcase up top, there are some books that should help clear things up for you.”

warnings: king!steve rogers x reader, smut, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, slow burn, innocent!reader, gore, injury, first kiss, love realization, masturbation

word count: 1282

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“…well, you didn’t say a word to me the whole night, barely even looked at me,” you sat down on the edge of the central fountain in the castle’s topiary garden, “and then at the end you just up and left without–, well, I’m not quite sure what was supposed to have happened, but I know it’s not that, I have brothers, I'm not completely clueless.”

Taking a seat beside you on the edge, Steve urged, “I know you’re not, but–,” his words then fell short as realisation washed over his features, “oh gods…”

“What?” you raised your gaze from the pebbles beneath your shoes, “what’s wrong? Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no, nothing is wrong, it’s just–…” he stressed before a strained exhale flowed out of him and he averted his eye, “…in the library, on the fourth bookcase up top, there are some books that should help clear things up for you.”

“…you want me to read?” you cocked a brow, “I don’t understand.”

“You will, just–…” he nearly looked flustered, “give it a chance.”

“Why can’t you just tell me?”

“Because it is a delicate matter that I’m not sure if I should be the one to teach you about,” he worded carefully. 

“Why couldn’t you? Do you not know either?”

“Oh, no,” he refused to meet your eye, “I know. I just don’t think–…” his restless body forced him to rise, “you should really just find those books and read them, then you’ll know.”

“Hmm…” your confusion hadn’t defused one bit, “alright.”

Bending down to pick up a fallen leaf from one of the sculptural topiary bushes, his fingers began to fiddle with it, “so, you haven’t ever had a sweetheart or anything?”

“I spent most of my life in my room, either because the door was locked or because it was just the safest option,” you nearly laughed, “so, no, I haven’t ever had someone like me in that manner.”

“Not even a servant?” he offered you the briefest of glances, “someone you’d call your friend? Maybe just someone daring enough to give a princess a kiss?”

“I’ve–,” you felt your cheeks heat up as you tried to answer, “I’ve never–… no…” lowering your vision to the gentle ripple in the fountain water, you then asked quietly, “…have someone ever been daring enough to kiss you?”  

Looking back at you, the faintest of chuckles rumbled within him at the adorable nature of your tone, “yeah.”

Dragging your fingertips gently through the water, you glanced up to meet his gaze, “we’re friends, right? Wouldn’t you say so?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “we’re friends.”

“So, if I asked you to, would you maybe kiss me?”

“What?” his head tilted slightly as if he thought he’d misheard you. 

“Would you kiss me?”

“Uh…” he glanced back down at the leaf between his fingers, “you sure you’d want that?”

“Well, I don’t make it a habit of asking for stuff I'm not sure about.”

“Right,” he exhaled, “alright, well, sure, if that’s something you’d want.”

“Great!” you exclaimed as you wiped your damp fingers on the skirt of your dress, “then do it.”

“What, right now?”

“Well, why not?” you shrugged. 

“Alright,” he let the crumbled leaf float down to the pebbly ground, “sure.”

As his long stride neared you, a bubble of nerves burst within you, “what should I do?”

Towering above your seated position as he stopped before you, “just,” his careful touch slowly found your arm, “close your eyes…” his gaze searched yours a moment as you felt your pulse begin to pick up, “the rest will come to you naturally.”

Letting your eyes flutter shut, a small gasp slipped out of you as you felt his light touch find your cheek. 

It was different than you’d imagined. It wasn’t weird or slimy, it bloody took your breath away as his lips gently brushed against your own. 

When he slowly withdrew, you couldn’t help but hypnotically drift after his fading lips before a shutter that ran down your spine caused you to float back. 

“You alright?” his warm touch lingered on your cheek a moment longer, caressing the high point as your starry eyes fluttered back open. 

“Y-yes,” you breathed raggedly, feeling as if you might tumble back into the fountain, “uh, thank you.”

And in that moment, you knew, you didn’t need any other clue to string all of the pieces inside of you together. 

You were in love with the king of Eflorr. 

Though you were in a window a few storeys up, you could still nearly hear the laboured grunts as Steve’s sweat-glistening visage sparred with a few wardens down in the wide front courtyard. Your lips couldn’t help but part slightly as you ogled. 

But just as you felt drool begin to trickle out of the corner of your mouth, a pair of hasty footsteps rounded the corner. 

“There you are, your majesty,” you hoped you weren’t too visibly flustered as you turned to face the servant, “your bath is ready.”

“Thank you, Hilda,” you offered her a polite nod before making your way back towards your private chambers. 

Steam invitingly wafted off the copper tub as you stepped inside. Layer by layer, you stripped down and draped your attire over the back of the folding screen that stood in the very corner of the room. Sinking into the bubbles, a soft sigh seeped from your lips as you melted back against the bathtub. 

With your thoughts still floating back in the courtyard where Steve was training, your fingertips couldn’t help but ghost over your lips as they tingled at the memory of his. 

As your eyes fluttered closed, your touch did as it had formed a tendency of ever since you read those books the monarch had advised you to educate yourself with. Fluttering down your soaked frame, your touch wandered over every spot that caused frail whimpers to flow out of your lungs. 

But just as your bubbly fantasies began to drift you away completely, the sudden sound of the door to your chambers being burst open jolted you out of it. 

Absentmindedly wandering in, Steve’s gaze was glued to the papers in his grasp, “the town meeting is starting in an hour, would you–,” he finally looked up as you twisted around and the bathwater sloshed at your startled motion, “oh,” he froze, thankfully not seeing much as both the tub’s high walls as well as the lush bubbles obscured your exposed frame, “I am so sorry,” from the looks of it, he’d already freshened up after his recent activities, “I didn’t–, I should have knocked,” he swiftly turned back around to leave, “I’ll just ask you later, I’m sorry.”

“Ask me what?” your voice halted him as his hand clasped the door handle. 

With his back firmly turned to you, he said stiffly, “uh, I was just wondering if you’d like to join.”

“Join?”

“The council meeting,” he swiftly squashed the innuendo that your hazy brain had conjured, “if it’s alright with you, I’d love your opinion on some of the things on the agenda today.” 

“You would?”

“Dove, your mind is brilliant,” he stated, “of course, I want your input on all the important matters.” 

Even though your cheeks were already aflame, that compliment only managed to ignite the fire. 

“When does it start?” 

“In an hour.”

“Alright,” you bit down on your bottom lip, “I’ll see you in an hour then.” 

“Great,” his white-knuckled fist then twisted the door handle, “have a nice bath–, I mean, uh… bye,” he stumbled over his words as he rushed to leave. 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[imsonick]

Mr. Holmes Maid (2)

Summary: You’re his maid.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Maid!Reader

Warnings: angst, power imbalance, dub-con (just in case) cuddling/sharing a bed, master-servant relationship, the reader was an orphan, mentions of physical abuse against the reader (childhood/implied), inappropriate behavior

Mr. Holmes’ maid (1)

Mr. Holmes’ maid masterlist

Four months after Sherlock came to your room for the first time, one of his former classmates came for a visit.

Everything was normal. You prepared tea and biscuits. While you followed the strict codes of conduct and were not allowed to speak to Sherlock’s guest, he wouldn't stop asking you questions you didn't want to answer. The man didn’t want to take the hint that you were uncomfortable around him.

His hand brushed against your bottom more than once, and he shamelessly stared at your chest.

“I wondered why Sherlock had a maid all for himself. Now I know,” he grinned and patted his lap. “Why don’t you give me the same treatment you give your master.”

“I-“ you didn’t know how to react. This man was just awful, but you weren’t able to fight him. You were only a maid, and he was your master’s friend.

“What’s going on here?” Sherlock came just in time to save you. He cocked his head and watched you whimper in distress. You never acted like that. Not in front of him, or his brother.

“I only offered your maid to sit on my lap, my friend,” the man patted his big tummy. “Maybe she likes me more than you. You’re always so…strict.”

“We are rather acquaintances, than friends. I haven’t heard from you for years,” Sherlock stepped toward you to stand by your side. “Maid, please retreat. We have to discuss manners you wouldn’t understand.”

“Yes, Mr. Holmes,” you never felt more relieved than in that moment. The man scared you in more than one way.

You curtsied and left the room, walking as fast as your feet would carry you.

All you wanted was to be away from this man and his demands.

Your loyalty belongs only to your master, Sherlock Holmes.

“This person,” Sherlock angrily entered your room. He cursed under his breath, using words you never thought belonged to his vocabulary. Your master was angry. Why, you didn’t know. “How dare he come here believing he can offer me money to get my maid.”

“What?” You sat up on the bed, suddenly wide awake. “I don’t understand.”

“He called me rude and unreasonable because I didn’t want to hand my maid over to him,” Sherlock pushed his locks out of his face. “I haven’t heard of him for years, and he comes here to steal my maid.”

You didn’t understand. Why would a man you never saw before come to Sherlock to get you? Your lips wobbled and you felt like a cold hand gripped your heart.

“Do not fret, my dear,” Sherlock said. “I sent him home, not without giving him what he deserved.”

You glanced at Sherlock, shocked at the sight of his split knuckles.

“Mr. Holmes,” you got up from the bed to take care of his hands. “We need to clean the wounds. Let me help you.”

“I cleaned the split skin,” he said, and gently ran his index finger over your cheek. He hummed and watched your shoulders relax. “He will never bother us again. We should rest now.”

“Yes, Mr. Holmes,” you murmured, already used to sleeping in one bed with your master. “I changed the sheets and got you another blanket. It’s getting colder, and you are not used to the cold.”

“So sweet,” he cupped your chin with his index finger and thumb. “I wonder if your lips taste sweet too.” Sherlock leaned closer. His lips almost touched yours when he dropped his hand and stepped away from you. “I-I should…no…I need to reread a few papers. Have a good night.”

Sherlock left your chamber and didn’t return that night. It was the first night you spent alone, and you felt cold and lonely.

“Mr. Holmes, there is a letter for you,” you shyly glanced at Sherlock. He was engrossed in reading another letter. “I have finished my chores for today. I’ll retreat to my chamber to knit.”

“Wait—” He suddenly got up. “I need your opinion on something.” Sherlock walked out of his office to get a blanket. “I got it for the winter. You said it’s cold in your chamber and I thought of you.”

Sherlock pushed the blanket into your hands and turned his attention toward the letter without waiting for your answer. Your heart fluttered. He got a warm and soft blanket for you, and it meant the world to you.

“Have a good night, Mr. Holmes.”

You woke like any other night with Sherlock’s arms locked around your body like anchors holding you to him.

“You’re awake,” Sherlock murmured your name. “Why?”

“There is no reason,” you whispered, afraid to tell him the truth. You woke because of a bad dream – or rather a memory from the past. This happens once in a while if you allow yourself to think of the past too much.

“Do not lie to me, maid,” he sounded angry, and you flinched. “You were crying in your sleep and tried to get away from me.”

Forced to tell him the truth you took a deep breath. “I had a bad dream,” you sniffled. “I dreamed of the orphanage I spent my childhood at. The children called me names, and the nuns hit me with a ruler.”

“You never told me that you grew up in an orphanage,” he sounded surprised, and his tone softened. “Why did you never tell me?”

“I’m here to serve, not for chatter. That’s what I've been told all my life. I didn’t think it was important,” you murmured. Sherlock never asked questions about your childhood. He only cared about your reputation and your cleaning skills.

He inhaled sharply. A habit when something angers him.

“I need to know every detail. Details are important,” he said. “I want you to tell me everything about your past. Now!”

“Yes, Mr. Holmes,” you hoped he’d lose interest and forget about your nightmare in the morning. “I was all alone, and the other children didn’t like me. No one ever told me why they didn’t like me. I tried anything but…” You wiped your eyes. “No one ever wanted me.”

“You’re here now,” Sherlock whispered in your ear. “Safe and sound.”

The night was shorter than usual. Someone yelled Sherlock’s name and harshly knocked at the door. You woke, startled by the man screaming your master’s name.

“Open the door!” the man yelled even louder. “You dishonored my wife!”

“Y/N, I want you to stay here and try to get more sleep. Let me handle this,” Sherlock slipped out of bed and grabbed his robe. He threw it on and left your room.

You couldn’t go back to sleep. His warmth left your body, and your teeth chattered. Scared you listened closely as the man calmed and repeatedly apologized to your master.

“People these days,” Sherlock reentered your room, closing the door with a loud thud. “He dared to come to my home and scare my—” He looked at you, unsure what you are to him. “Never mind. He came to the wrong house.”

You nodded and lifted the covers. “Are you alright, Mr. Holmes.”

“Of course, Y/N,” he took his robe off and joined you in your bed again. “We will sleep a little bit. Tomorrow will be a busy day.”

“Mr. Holmes, what a pleasure to see you,” the owner of the boutique spluttered, obviously excited that the infamous and wealthy detective came to his boutique again. “What brings me the pleasure of your presence.”

The man smiled widely and almost drooled all over your master. You got ignored, like most of the time. Well, your simple dress and appearance don’t catch the eye of many people. In the end, you’re only a peasant, not a person to most of the people you meet.

“I need a new wardrobe for my—,” Sherlock cleared his throat when you didn’t react, “maid. Y/N, come here.”

“Mr. Holmes,” you were surprised he told the man that the dresses and winter coat he ordered weren’t for Enola, his sister, and ward. “Do you want me to have a look at the dresses for your sister?”

He sighed, exasperated. If Sherlock hated one thing, it was waiting time. “The dresses are for you. I need you to try one on. I don’t want to waste my money on dresses not suiting you.”

“I-“Confused you look at the owner of the boutique. He looked as shocked as you.

“I need her to represent the household, Holmes. I cannot let her run around in a torn dress,” Sherlock touched the back of your dress, gripping it tightly until you heard a ripping sound. “See, the material is the worst. I have a reputation to protect.”

“Mr. Holmes,” the man nodded eagerly. He called for his wife to help you try on one of the dresses. “Of course.”

Sherlock hummed and looked around the boutique. He wasn’t interested in buying another vest or coat. Your master tried to distract himself to not follow you and watch you redress. He was a gentleman after all…

“Oh, look at you,” the boutique owner’s wife cooed. She told you to look in the mirror. The woman in the mirror staring back at you wasn’t you. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

The biscuit and rose-colored silk bustle dress with lace trimmings fitted you like it was made for you. “It’s beautiful,” you replied, but didn’t know what else to say. You've never worn a dress like this before. In lack of words, you remained silent.

“Let me get Mr. Holmes,” she finally said and left you alone with your racing heart. Why would he buy you a dress like this? Maybe it was another test. He’d buy it for his sister, or some other woman and wanted to remind you of your place.

“What do you think, Mr. Holmes?” She came back with your master by her side.

Sherlock looked you up and down in the new dress. He hummed and clasped both hands behind his back while going around you.

“It’s well done,” he said. “I’m satisfied with your handiwork. Let’s try on the others,” Sherlock stopped right in front of you to watch you drop your gaze. “Shall we?”

“Yes, Mr. Holmes,” you murmured, unsure how to react to his behavior. “What do you want me to try on next?”

He cocked his head to glance at the dresses. “The red one. I liked it the most.” Sherlock followed you. Hand brushing over your back. “I hope you like it as much as I do. You will look beautiful in it.” He whispers the last part.

Your heart was beating out of your chest. Sherlock’s hand on your back felt warm and soothing, still, it was inappropriate. He openly showed affection toward a peasant.

This could ruin his reputation, and yours…

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[imsonick]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

summary. | The city’s fearsome mob boss has an alternate way you—an innocent little thing—can pay off your debt.

pairing. | dark!mob boss!Ari Levinson x naive!female!reader.

warnings. | NON/DUBCON, see each chapter for their respective warnings.

THE ORIGINAL CONCEPT — Dark Concepts 2023

CHAPTER ONE — THE DEAL

CHAPTER TWO — THE RULES

CHAPTER THREE — THE REVISION

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

dark!associate!Curtis Everett x female!reader. (another reader, not ari’s)

[imsonick]

THIS!

[imsonick]

Only Mine Professor Steve Rogers x Innocent Reader

Only Mine

Dark Professor Steve Rogers x Innocent Reader 

Warning: Dark Themes,Age Gap,  Forced relationship, drugging kidnapping, Grooming, Stalking, Non Con

Steve was bored and tired it’s always the same thing, Students come in here to achieve, but just end up flunking his class, He was a history professor, And most students come in here thinking it will be easy, since it’s History and end up disappointing him as usual, 

He knew he was being a little too harsh, and He knew that he was missing something in his life that’s why he was so miserable and so harsh on his students, but he knew that he had to find something and outlet or someone, someone to make him happy someone who wouldn’t disappoint him like everyone did. These girls today are just so self absorbed and whore around it’s nothing like before he got frozen in ice, after the serum, and now being retired from the avengers.

He was looking down at his papers grading them, when he saw something he hasn’t before, your name, you have every answer right, an ‘A’ 

Steve smirked knowing that someone was paying attention, You just transferred here from Colorado and this isn’t the first Ease you got an ‘A’ on either Steve has taken notice to you and you payed attention taking notes, watching closely. 

Steve had taken notice to you, and he had one more test for you and then he would make his decision. 

You had you bag hanging on your shoulder as you walked to class with your roommate you were just entering Professor Rogers class room, she was laughing, 

“It’s not funny.” You say

“I’m sorry I can’t help it.” Jessica says wiping the tears away, 

“Your a nineteen year old virgin.” She says 

“I told you I’m saving myself!” You yell

As you sit down 

“Okay class settle down.” Professor Rogers says as he starts handing everyone’s work, out your paper was and ‘A’ you were so glad, since you studied your ass off and went over all the notes you could to get a perfect score, You let out a breath of relief so happy that you got a great score,

Jessica slams her forehead on her desk You look over at her she holds up her paper that says ‘D-’ 

“Told you. You should have studied instead of going to bakers party.” you say 

“Oh shut it nerd!” She says 

You chuckle, After taking diligent notes and sitting through an hour lecture you and Jessica were leaving class chatting to one another little did you know Steve was following close behind you two, listening closely to your conversation, 

“God how do you always get ‘A’s’!?” Your friend complains 

“Because I study my butt off unlike you. Who decides to go party.” You say with a chuckle 

“So I like to have a bit of fun sue me why don’t you.” She says 

You laugh, 

“You’re too much of a good girl.” She complains 

“Well that’s what happens when you have a Military father.” You chuckle  Steve smirks, feeling a bit turned on. as the two of you walk

You two walk towards the coffee shop 

Steve knew right then and there that you were perfect for him that you were going to be his girl no matter what, He knew he had to be careful on how he did this, he also knew he had to get you away from your roommate she was a bad influence on you, He also knew that you would make the perfect wife and mother, That’s all Steve ever wanted was a perfect family with the perfect woman, 

Sure you were young but that’s what made it perfect, You could bare many children, you were a quick learner meaning he could train you, 

He smirked at the thought, He had been looking for so long not finding the perfect woman but now it seems that dream is just within grasp. 

“Do you want to go to a party tomorrow night before spring break?” Steve’s attention was caught by your friend asking you, 

You hesitate 

Steve knew you were a good girl, but if you accepted he knew it would be the perfect opportunity 

“I don’t know I still need to study.” You say 

“Oh come on live a little bit.” Your friend says

You sigh

“Fine, but only for a few minutes, I need to study for my next midterm.” You say 

“Yeah, Yeah, the good girl can’t have fun.” She says 

You chuckle grabbing your coffee as the two of you leave Steve smirks knowing he had to plan this just right that you were going to be his girl, Spring break will be in two days, meaning, This is perfect And he knew he had to prepare before tomorrow night.

[imsonick]

ⅴ▬ ⁽ 𝑜𝓇𝒸 ⁾

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₅˖₇ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : mdni----- unedited, NSFW,  explicit content, teratophilia, orc/royalty!human, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, overstimulation, breeding, spit kink, sloppy kisses, size difference, somnophilia, slight voyeurism, orcish, reader loses all forms of etiquette and just babbles-- stupidly, belly bulge. ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎: as royalty it's your duty to marry and provide heirs for the kingdom, however, your parents have a different plan for you.

꒰m!orc ₊⊹ afab!reader꒱

 𝐹or as long as you can remember, you have been allured by the forbidden. Whenever your parents commanded you to abstain from a certain act or sternly prohibited you from engaging in another, it ignited a fervor within your being. And inevitably, you succumbed to its allure.

Your relationship with your parents was not a harmonious one. From the time you were but a child, they made it abundantly clear that you were not conceived out of their love for one another, but rather out of an obligation to the throne. To them, you were an inconvenience, a mere hindrance that they longed to be rid of. Thus, you existed in a perpetual state of unease, forever uncertain of their next move.

The castle bustled with activity this week, the number of knights seemed to have multiplied, and your encounters with your parents grew scarce. Your daily meals together became non-existent- not that you were complaining. Instead, during supper, they scorned and mocked you—drawing comparisons to your elder cousin who had recently become betrothed to a Duke. You were aware that they would arrange a marriage for you; it was inevitable, but you hoped it would be to someone who would eventually cherish you as you would them.

Verily, this day seemed naught but a replica of the day prior—a day draped in melancholy. The heavens were adorned with clouds of a somber ashy hue, obscuring the radiant sun in its entirety, and permitting but a scant ray of light to penetrate. You lay sprawled on your bed; the clamor from beyond your door kept you from getting any sleep, so you opt to lay there, eyes shut and breathing even.

The two hefty thuds at your door jolt you awake, your eyes snapping to the entrance. A servant girl stood there, her gaze piercing, and her upper lip curled in a sneer. "The King and Queen request your presence for a meal in the dining chamber."

You release a heavy sigh and nod. "Yes, I shall join them shortly, Nadia." she scoffs and closes the door with a soft thud. Rubbing the remnants of sleep from your eyes, you rose from your bed, slipping into your shoes with a sense of resignation. Hastily, you arranged your disheveled hair and adjusted your attire in the mirror, preparing yourself for the impending encounter. Finally, summoning your resolve, you embarked on the descent towards the dining hall.

 Your stomach churns uncomfortably as you motion towards the knights, fingers twisting nervously as they swing open the heavy oak doors. Stepping into the chamber, you swiftly bow and linger there for a moment, awaiting permission to be seated. "Hail to the Sun and Moon of the realm." Your sire grunts and gestures for you to take a seat; you release a shaky breath and settle across from your mother, who pays you no mind.

Within the dining hall, a profound stillness prevails, accompanied solely by the gentle clatter of utensils upon porcelain plates. You dare to disrupt the silence, your heart constricting within your breast, burdened by your uneasiness. " Pray tell, have I heard true? Have the demons breached the borders, causing mayhem? Is that why the ranks of the noble knights have swelled in recent days?"

The older man looks up from his meal, steely eyes on your face. "I did not deem you astute enough to discern matters of such nature, but aye, it is true. The Orcs shall breach the barrier if we do not do something. The knights from Tvatian shall not grace us with their presence for a week's time, yet our defenses wane with each passing moment."

The sound of your mother's throat being cleared reverberates through the air, abruptly drawing your eyes towards her. "You shall soon attain the age of twenty, my dear. Do you have any intentions of entering into wedlock?" Her voice possesses a cloying sweetness, signifying her ulterior motives; she is forever scheming. As you carefully place your knife and fork on the table, you grant her your undivided focus. "Aye, mother," you reply, your words tinged with a touch of uncertainty.

With a disapproving click of her tongue, she gracefully lifted her goblet to her lips, attempting to conceal the mischievous grin that flickered across her features. "Verily, a little bird has whispered in my ear that Orcs take pleasure in having humans as mere playthings, using them as harlots and passing them amongst themselves. How dreadful."

 Your hands clench beneath the table, and you struggle to suppress the bile that threatens to rise. Your heart thumps sporadically in your chest, almost painfully. What is she implying? "Pray tell, what is the essence of your words?"

"The royal family's expectations are not to be taken lightly, my child. If you persist in shirking your responsibilities by avoiding marriage and offspring, alternative measures must be considered. You shall be delivered to the head Orc at the border; mayhap that will pacify them until the Tavatian knights arrive." Your father had spoken this time, causing you to swiftly turn your gaze towards him. Tears welled up in your eyes, and a soft laughter escaped your lips. "Pray, father, assure me that you jest."

The answer lies within his silence. Your hands collide with the table, your head sways vehemently from side to side. "Nay, nay! You shall not subject me to this. What offense have I caused thee? I have obeyed all your commands unquestioningly, and you are planning to— Nay, I shall not proceed."

As the succulent salmon dances on her fork, your mother's laughter fills the air, resonating with a warmth that belies the gravity of her words. "My dear child, you find yourself bereft of options. You shall be deemed a traitor to the noble lineage and condemned to perish before your very birthday." A lump lodges itself in your throat, and tears stream down your face, as you rue the moment you stepped out of your room. "For what reason do you bear such animosity towards me?"

"Escort her back to her chamber; she's giving me indigestion," your mother states with a grimace.  The knights pause briefly, uncertain of how to guide you away. Dismissing them with a wave of your hand, you rise from your chair and exit the chamber, tears clouding your sight. The journey back is unsettling, with the maids gossiping and gesturing, their disdain evident on their faces, and their disapproving gazes following you.

The door is forcefully slammed shut behind you, and with great urgency, your feet carry you to your bed, where you collapse with a heavy sigh. Almost immediately, your pillow becomes saturated with the tears that pour forth, and you huddle into yourself, simply becoming smaller. 

  Indeed, you knew this would occur eventually, but you hadn't thought you would be handed over to some hideous monster who would likely slay you upon arrival. Violent sobs wrack your body, shaking you to the core, while your nose runs uncontrollably, the pillow muffles a scream of agony.

After half an hour had passed, you lay there, sleep welcoming you with warm arms. The answer to this puzzle would reveal itself upon your awakening.

—

Woken by the sound of shuffling, faint whispers, and delicate clinks, you remain motionless, filled with trepidation, and unwilling to stir from your position. You quickly clench your eyes shut upon hearing the intruder approach. As much as you desired to confront them, you were also intrigued to uncover their intentions within your room.

"Seize her limbs; we must transport her to the dungeon." In an instant, your heart falters, trembling fiercely, and for a moment, your breath is held captive. As your eyes snap open, the ceiling of your chamber looms above you. Swiftly, you strike at the person nearest to you, expressing gratitude to the gods as you hear their curse.

Emerging hastily from the confines of your bed, you sprint towards the exit, a shrill cry escaping your lips as a hand clutches your ankle. You descend abruptly, your chin colliding with the cold marble beneath, silently expressing gratitude for the prudent act of placing your tongue against the roof of your mouth in the final moments.

   Swiftly flipping over, you kick frantically, tears streaming down your face as your legs are forcefully spread apart, and the assailant inserts themselves between your thighs, seizing hold of your arms.

Your vision blurs as a heavy slap is brought across your face. The brief respite from your struggle grants the assailants the opportunity to lay a cloth upon your nostrils. Your eyes flutter shut, darkness casting a shadow upon your vision. The feel of your body being lifted is the only thing you remember.

Within the confines of the cell, you find yourself in a state of contemplation, your head gently leaning against the cold metal bars. The sharp sound of heels striking the ground causes you to straighten up. The passage of time remains elusive, yet the atmosphere hints at the arrival of a new day, shrouded in the quiet of dawn.

Your mother's face came into view, causing you to sneer in disdain as you buried your head in your knees, refusing to meet her gaze. The very sound of her voice sent shivers down your spine, igniting a mixture of anger and sorrow within you. She callously auctioned you off, displaying a complete lack of concern for your well-being.

"I reckoned it would be preferable for you to don your best attire, but it would be futile. A watchman shall be present shortly to guide you to the border, make no disturbance, do you understand? 'Twould be unsightly if you do."

You ignore her, but deep down, you are filled with dread to venture towards the border. You longed to weep and plead with her to refrain from sending you, but it would only wound your pride. Instead, she smiles and draws nigh unto the prison bars. "When we emerge victorious in this war, and if you are still breathing, I shall dispatch you to a brothel. I couldn't possibly have such a defiled child. Revel in your sojourn there, my dear."

The clatter-clack of her footwear slowly vanishing into the distance brings forth a torrent of tears. Why must this befall you? What sin have you committed to warrant such treatment? The jingle-jangle of keys catches your attention; the guard stands before you with a look of pity. "Your majesty, the time has arrived."

You nod in a pitiful manner and rise from the ground, using your soiled hands to dry your tears, leaving traces of dirt on your cheeks. As you draw near to the guard,  he pulls down his sleeve and tenderly wipes your cheeks with a sympathetic smile. You bow softly in gratitude and proceed to walk with him to the carriage.

He assists you inside and closes the door; a click prompts you to peer through the tiny gap. A lock secures the door; as you lock eyes with the guard, he merely sighs and shakes his head. "The Queen has requested this. I beg your pardon, Your Majesty." 

  You remain silent, leaning back in the seat and staring blankly at the castle. You see your father standing at his office window, observing. You avoid his gaze, curling up in the seat. Then, as the carriage sets in motion, your heart swells, and tears flow.

The carriage's abrupt jolt awakens you from your nap; the sun is just beginning to descend, signaling the end of a day filled with endless riding. The only noise is the steady trot of the horses and the occasional whisper of the soldiers. Have you arrived already? You swallow nervously and flinch as the door is forcefully opened. "We have arrived, your highness."

You nod and sit up, clasping his hand to disembark from the carriage. Your eyes swiftly survey the surroundings. Despite the tales, the border seemed relatively serene. You couldn't hear anything from beyond the wall. At length, a throat is cleared,  causing you to look up, and the guard beckons you along. You hesitate for only a moment before fortifying your resolve and walking forward.

After much anticipation, the distant voices grow more distinct. "Captain, 'tis here! Shall we unseal the gates?" The clamor of the ponderous wheels turning and ascending is loud in your ears. The gate opens enough to allow your passage beneath. They weren't wasting time at all. The guard places a hand on your lower back and pushes you forward gently. "The Orc General has agreed to receive you; he's on the other side waiting."

You suppress the lump in your throat and proceed, every gaze fixed upon you. The wall loomed thick and intimidating,  and you couldn't shake off the fear of it collapsing on you as you reached the other side. However, as you eventually crossed over, your gaze locked with his.

Standing tall at a minimum of 9 feet, he possessed a powerful build adorned with thick muscles, and hair decorating his chest. Dark brown hair cascaded down to his waist woven into an intricate braid, contrasting against his pear-colored complexion and a thick beard enveloped his jaw. Scars crisscrossed his body, enhancing his rugged charm.  Despite his blunt tusks, one of which was slightly chipped, there was no denying the outrageous attractiveness of this Orc.

As he takes a step forward, an instinctual reflex compels you to retreat, a shiver of trepidation coursing through your being. Your legs, heavy as if forged from lead, refuse to heed your desperate plea for escape. A subtle chuckle escapes his lips, the corners curling upwards in a smug grin. "Time is not a luxury I possess, little human," he mocks, his voice dripping with impatience. 

  You part your lips to utter a response, but only silence greets your futile attempt. The resounding thud of the closing wall seals your grim destiny, causing your weakened knees to buckle beneath you, surrendering to the tender embrace of the grassy ground. With a deep sigh, he strides towards you, casting a towering shadow over your slumped figure, a chilling reminder of his overpowering presence.

With utmost ease, he effortlessly lifts you, as if you were as light as a feather. Your body tenses in his embrace, a mixture of vulnerability and anticipation. The tears well up, threatening to spill over. Surprisingly, his touch is tender, his hands delicately traversing your legs and back. Summoning your courage, you manage to muster a question, your voice trembling slightly. 

  "Might I inquire about your name?"  Despite your hesitant speech, he pays no mind, his voice resonating with a deep timber that sends a surge of desire coursing through your veins. A flush of warmth spreads across your face, compelling you to avert your gaze and focus on your lap. "I am Loran, the General of the Mammoth Clan."

Silence envelops the air for a fleeting moment before your voice breaks through once more. "My name is (Name)" He acknowledges your introduction with a subtle hum, and together, you navigate through the labyrinthine paths until you arrive at a large tent. With utmost care, he settles you upon a sumptuous bed adorned with furs, then proceeds to position himself near a table, obscuring its contents from your prying eyes. 

  A knot tightens in your throat as you summon the courage to voice your deepest fear. "Might you have intentions of devouring me?" you whisper, recoiling at the childlike vulnerability that tinges on your words.

His laughter causes a flutter in your chest; every aspect of him leaves your insides twisted. At last, he ceases his actions and pivots to meet your gaze, his arms folded. You had to physically remind yourself to avert your eyes from his well-defined muscles. "Would you like me to?" His voice carries a teasing lilt, yet his words hint at something more intimate.

You shake your head in denial and draw your knees closer to your body. He was nothing like the figure you had imagined; you were convinced that your life would have ended by now. Your gaze wanders aimlessly as you delve into your own musings. Unbeknownst to you, he crouches down before you. The calloused tips of his fingers grazing your chin send a shiver down your spine. Your eyes meet his, and you find yourself holding your breath.

"The hour grows late; retire for the night. "

 You offer a silent nod, watching him leave the tent. Following his guidance, you settle back onto the furs. After the tumultuous events of the day, slumber swiftly envelops you, embracing the plush comfort of the bedding.

The warmth seeping into your skin prompts you to wriggle out of the furs. The weight of an arm flung over your stomach arrests you, dread settling in your heart and coiling around it like a vice. Though yesterday's events come rushing back to you and you relax, your tense body melting into Loran's embrace.  

  Despite the circumstances that brought you here, he had shown nothing but kindness, even playfulness - he didin't really make you uneasy, and it seemed as though a burden had been lifted from your shoulders.

In the realm of uncertainty, his actions remained capricious, yet amidst this unpredictability, a newfound liberation enveloped your being, you were free. Loran, with an irresistible allure, draws you nearer, your bodies melding as your front meets his. You place your hands on his chest and gently create distance, huffing as he cuddles closer.

After struggling a bit more, you come to a stop and seize the opportunity to examine him closely. Withdrawing your hand from his chest, you gently place it on his cheek, relishing its velvety texture. Loran possessed a striking appearance. Tracing your fingers along his lips, the sensation of his tusks lightly brushing against your fingertips captivates you once more. Their smoothness leaves you mesmerized. The rounded tips are gentle and harmless; they would not cause any discomfort if you were to share a kiss.

 Blushing with embarrassment, your cheeks turn a rosy hue, and for a fleeting moment, you seek solace by burying your face into his chest. Raising your gaze once more, you cautiously wave your hand before his face, ensuring his continued slumber. With no signs of movement and a steady rhythm of breath, a sigh of relief escapes your lips. 

  Gradually, you shift your position, ascending along his form, while your heart flutters nervously within your chest. With a mixture of fascination and unease, you lean closer, drawn to an inexplicable magnetism emanating from him. His lips, so alluring, entice you irresistibly.

 Placing your hand on his cheek, you lean in with deliberate slowness, capturing his lips with yours. The sensation of his tusks grazing your skin sends a rush of pleasure up your spine. With closed eyes, you deepen the kiss, savoring the unexpected softness of his lips. His taste is intoxicating, akin to a forbidden elixir. You have always been drawn to forbidden pleasures.

With a hint of reluctance, you retreat, allowing your eyes to slowly unveil the world around you. A startled gasp escapes your lips as your gaze meets Loran's. Despite your endeavors to break free from his embrace, his arms encase you like unyielding steel, entrapping you. Loran's chuckle resonates with a profound and drowsy timbre, while his hand ascends to firmly grasp your chin. "Do not flee from me, Sma ni." ( little one )

His lips are on yours, gentle and governing. His other hand gripping your waist and quickly lifting you onto his chest. The sensation of his thick and moist tongue overpowering your mouth elicits a fervent moan from deep within you, while your thighs instinctively clasp around his stomach. As his hands glide up your top, the pads of his fingers diligently work out the tension in your soft skin. Gradually, they find their way to your hips, expertly guiding them to grind against his abdomen.

With a soft whine escaping your mouth, you break the connection of his kiss, and your tongue lazily protrudes, leaving a trail of warm saliva on your chin. A primal growl resonates from deep within his chest, causing your thoughts to blur. Your hands instinctively find their way to his chest, the rough hair gently tickling your palms. The pressure on your hips eases, and his hand tightly grasps your hair, enabling him to sit up and halt the rhythmic grind of your hips.

A soft whimper escapes your lips as the throbbing sensation between your thighs intensifies.  Loran's lips trail along the curve of your throat, delicately nibbling at your tender skin, while his tongue glides with ease. Suddenly, a tearing sound startles you and a rush of cool air caresses your newly bared legs. The remnants of your shredded trousers gracefully descend to the floor, leaving you vulnerable and exposed.

Upon the velvety fur, Loran tenderly positions you, his voracious eyes meticulously exploring the expanse of your body. In a swift motion, he removes the sole obstruction that conceals your body, leaving you vulnerable to his cravings. You clench your thighs, your pussy pulsating with emptiness. This man was sinful; he looked so delectable, his lips shimmering with the remnants of your passionate kisses, and his complexion adorned with a captivating flush.

He lets out a deep groan, settling himself amidst your thighs, the ache in your legs a mere whisper compared to the intensity of his touch, tongue dancing over your nipples, nipping and tugging. Loran's hand travels up your body, his thick fingers entering your warm, wet mouth. You suppress a gag and suck on them shyly, tears welling up in your eyes. As his fingers delve deeper into your throat, you grasp his wrist firmly, your hips grinding against his thick bulge.

Loran pulls his fingers from your mouth, watching the rivulets of saliva drip down his digits. Leaving a glistening trail of moisture along your body, Loran delicately caresses his fingers through the soft curls of hair on your pussy, teasing you with the soft touch of his fingertips. With deliberate precision, he gradually eases one digit into the confines of your snug entrance stretching you. You pull your fleshy bottom lip into your mouth, teeth digging painfully. Your lashes flutter, exposing the whites of your eyes as they roll back in blissful surrender, eyebrows arching. Your mewls are soft and pleading. "Mmph! L-Loran. Please "

Your voice is a siren's call to him, as you whimper and plead for him. His desire to possess you completely, to fuck you full of his cum, to have you swollen with his young, consumes him. The mere thought of it almost brings him to the brink of release. Granting mercy upon your adorable, fucked out face, he finally sinks his finger into your cunt, relishing the exquisite tightness that embraces him, while your delicate hands clutch his braid and tug.

  With his other hand, he gently cups your cheeks between his large, powerful fingers, causing your lips to pucker. His mouth descends upon yours, messy and dominating, leaving a trail of mingled saliva that pools down your flushed cheeks. He chuckles as your eyes wander elsewhere, glazed and hazy with pleasure as he eases a single finger inside you.

A high-pitched sound escapes your lips as he expertly probes a sensitive spot deep within you, causing your hips to tremble and your inner walls to clench around his fingers. Leaning closer, his warm breath brushes against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "Ayh lat naka ve cum, sma shara? " His mother tongue is foreign to you, but it sounds absolutely erotic, especially while he's stroking your drooling pussy skillfully. You shudder fervently, emitting mewls and whimpers, as the squelching noises of his thrusts fill the confined space of the tent. “I—uhn~ w-wait p-please, Lor…” You babble nonsensically. ( are you going to cum, little human? )

 Loran, in a teasing mood, complies with your dumb prattling, and moves away from you, fingers slipping out with an erotic pop. A soft whimper escapes your lips, your lower lip jutting out in a pout as tears well up in your eyes from the empty feeling in your pussy, your eyes widen at seeing him suck on his dampened fingers. “N-no, why’d you stop!” 

 With a chuckle, the Orc leans in to press a tender kiss on your flushed cheeks, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "I simply did as you asked, Faushnu," he whispers. Pulling back slightly, he studies your expression - your eyebrows furrowed, lips parted, and your chest rising and falling rapidly. "I did not mean for this," you whimper, grinding your hips against his growing bulge. “M-more. Give me more.” You give him a stern glare, that only turns him on more, his little hostage was so demanding. ( baby ) "Of course, Your Highness," he says, his tone dripping with playful mockery. Loran's large hands firmly grasp your waist, swiftly maneuvering you onto your stomach. With a gentle yet commanding motion, he elevates your hips, causing your face to be buried in the soft furs beneath you. The sensation is almost agonizing as your back arches, eliciting a sharp squeal from your lips. A glob of warm saliva unexpectedly lands on your moistened pussy, causing an involuntary clenching reaction. "What are yo--?" 

  Before you can finish, the sudden roughness of his tongue against your throbbing cunt has you seeing stars. His feral growls reverberate through the air, as his tongue delves and ravishes you with an insatiable fervor. Reduced to a whimpering wreck, tears of rapturous delight cascade down your flushed face.  Desperate to regain control, you weakly press your small hand against the crown of his head, attempting to halt the relentless onslaught. "No more, please, m'gunna cum. Want to cum for you," you manage to slur amidst incoherent babbling, your words a contradictory mix. 

Loran, enraptured by your musings, fingers your pussy once again, effortlessly finding that spongey nerve inside of you and deftly curling his thick finger into it, time and again. A torrent of scorching pleasure engulfs your entire being, as you succumb to an intense climax, your trembling thighs embracing his head while your pussy flutters around his finger.

" Loran! "You slur, thighs still convulsing as the feel of Loran's hands on the fat of your hips seems multiplied, your mind filled with goo. The rustle of fabric falling to the ground barely registers before his thick cock presses into your pussy, hands guiding your hips onto him. Warmth trickles onto your pulsing cunt, his saliva lubing where you connect. You clench around him, emitting obscene moans. 

   He delves deeper, your snugness yielding to his thick, heavy cock. You swear you can feel every pulsating vein, every ridge of him inside of you. You whimper and whine when he fucks half of his big cock into your tiny little hole, and you thrash and let out small mewls of pleasure. "Mmph, Lor--!! it won't fit!" you whimper amidst sobs. 

"Hm?" He utters, his voice a low hum, as he observes with rapt attention as you stretch around his green, monstrous cock. The pressure within your abdomen steadily intensifies, inch by inch, until Loran thrusts in the last couple of inches, his large balls flush against your engorged clit. You're already fucked stupid, pupils blown, and moans strewing from your lips. The Orc takes hold of your hand, guiding it towards your stomach, allowing you to feel the undeniable presence of his shaft protruding from your belly. "Do you feel me? Feel my cock in your insides, my little human?"

With a forceful motion, he retreats, then thrusts forcefully into you, his grip tightening on your hair as he pulls.  A fervent moan escapes your lips, as the resounding collision of his hips against your ass fills the air, the only thing you can hear. The wet squelching of your arousal intermingles with his precum, cascading onto the opulent furs beneath you. His name becomes a sacred mantra, slipping from your tongue like a fervent prayer. "S'good, m'gunna cum, let me cum, please, please."

With a gentle caress, Loran's hand ascends your stomach, pinching your sensitive nipples. You mewl, back arching as you clench and pulse around his thick length, cumming harder than before, a wave of darkness gently tinting your vision. A low, guttural moan reverberates from deep within you, harmonizing with Loran's unyielding thrusts. “That's a good fuckin’ girl.”

The Orc's hand comes down on your ass, observing the quivering flesh. Your violated hole trembles around Loran's thick length, and he snickers, his hips stuttering. "You're mine. Hm? Do you understand, pet?" His thrusts became more profound, faster, not giving you rest, groaning as you nod quickly, whimpering.

You turn your gaze towards him, his fingers constricting in your tresses. "Loran, want you to cum inside me, please." Your feeble arms emerge from beneath your form, delicate hands reaching to spread your pussy wider. "You will, right?"

 Your wanton plea hurls the massive Orc over the brink. Loran's hips slam into yours once more as his scorching cum coats your walls; the copious amount of it had you cumming once more. Loran continues to pump his seed into you, his cock still hard and balls full of cum. He longed to see you swollen with his offspring; he wouldn't stop until he knew you were trapped with him.

You are not permitted to rest until the early morning, curled against his chest with his seed leaking from your stretched opening. Your body is tender, marked with bruises on your neck and chest. Loran places his large hand on your cheek; although he is running late for the meeting, he decides to allow you more time to sleep.

He lifts you gently, thankful that he has cleaned you up and changed the bedding. You snuggle into his warmth, almost convincing him to delay for another hour. "My zemar, it's time to wake up. We must rise before the sun sets." (my heart)

Stirring in his arms, your eyelashes flutter before you slowly open your bleary eyes. Attempting to close them once more, his hearty chuckle resonates, partially rousing you. Placing you gently on the bed, he drapes one of his shirts over you, guiding your arms through the sleeves. Loran picks you up again, cradling you as he carries you out of the tent, shielding your eyes from the glaring sun. The short walk to the other side of the campsite goes unnoticed by you.

He arrives promptly, his raven perched gracefully on its stand. A soft whistle escapes his lips, a signal for the bird to gather the troops. Loran takes his place at the head of the table, positioning you to face him, your legs wrapped around his waist. With spit on his fingers, he traces circles around your cunt, pleased that it had returned to its original state, tight and warm. After lubricating your entrance, he spits on his palm and wraps his member in a firm grip, ensuring that it's slick. 

  Loran aligns himself with your little hole and eases inside, emitting a deep groan at the vice grip; you let out a sleepy moan, tightening around him. His large hands grip the fat of your hips, guiding you down the rest of his thick length. He pulls his shirt over your ass, concealing where his cock is nestled inside of you.

He has to stop himself from fucking you on the table in front of all his tribe members. Once he had you in the perfect position, his soldiers began to file into the room. He couldn't help but notice how your warm, tight hole was becoming slick. Unbeknownst to you, his thick cock was already buried deep within you.

The meeting unfolds seamlessly. With nightfall as their ally, they conspire to dismantle the impenetrable walls of the Kingdom on the morrow. A sacred covenant governs The Mammoth Clan, dictating that the fairer sex and the innocent offspring shall be spared from any affliction. Thus, the innocent shall be granted mercy and protection.

Awakening towards the end, your pussy pulsating and enveloping something thick and long. A twitching motion stirs inside you, nudging your G-spot. A soft moan escapes your lips as you hide your face in his neck. Loran dismisses it as your mere awakening, soothingly caressing your back. Only a fool would miss the evidence of your arousal - the glistening juices trickling down your bare thighs and the hint of green meeting a clenching hole

" Dismissed. "

The orcs file out of the room, speaking amongst each other. Loran's gaze descends upon your petite frame, concealed beneath his garments. He looks feral. Once the auditory commotion subsides, you cautiously lift your head, locking eyes with his penetrating stare.

"Loran, please."

The Orc emits a deep snarl, his lips forcefully meeting yours as he firmly grasps the flesh of your hips, hoisting you off his slick member. Swiftly, he plunges you back down, thrusting into you with fervor, fucking you onto him. You're moaning mess, the spit from your sloppy kiss sliding down your chin and eyes rolling to the back of your head. The sound of wet slapping resonates loudly within the confines of the tent. With a gasp for air, you disengage from him, your hands finding solace on his broad shoulders.

 A particular thrust causes the swollen, mushroom-shaped tip of his cock to abuse your g-spot and your moan is shrill. You climax, your body trembling around him, leaving a creamy, ivory ring at the base of his cock. Stars burst in your vision as you weakly press your lips against his throat, whimpering as he continues to thrust into you, your sensitive and throbbing core tender. " Lor-.. no more.. s’too.. much!" you sputter, sloppily pressing your lips to his and sucking on his large tongue. 

Despite the roughness of his hips snapping into yours, he caresses your sides softly and pulls away from your kiss, licking his lips. "Be a good pet, hm? Let me use my pussy, can you do that for me? " You nod hesitantly, and he smiles, sending your stomach to unfurl languidly. "S'my good girl." You bury your face in his neck with a whimper, but when your blunt little teeth sink into his collarbone it pushes him over the edge; and he stands up with you still bouncing on his cock, thrusting so deeply that you hiss. Ropes of cum paint your pulsing walls, filling you up.

Loran's shallow thrusts ensure not a single drop is wasted as you envelop him in your embrace, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply.

Mayhap, the circumstance of being dispatched to this place was not as grievous as first imagined...

[imsonick]

💸 — 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 (1/3)

summary. | The mob boss has an alternate way you can pay off your debt.

pairing. | dark!mob boss!Ari Levinson x innocent/naive!fem!reader.

chapter warnings. | NON/DUBCON, dark themes, obsession, stalking, mob themes, manipulation, pet names, age gap, innocence kink, abuse of power, corruption kink, power imbalance, smoking (ari), drinking (ari), debt, Daddy kink, anxiety/fear, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

word count. | ~1.5k.

author’s note. | here it is! this series is a continuation of the dark!mob boss!ari drabble that i posted for my Dark Concepts (2023) event. please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog! any and all feedback (positive) is welcome. no beta, all mistakes are my own. taglist: @hansensfics. MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY!

The weight of the debt sits heavy on your shoulders, dragging you down. It’s the source of your worries, the thing that makes you sick when you wake up and realize your dreams haven’t come true just yet. 

You find it hard to breathe as one of Ari’s associates leads you to the leader’s office. You don’t know this man’s name, but you notice that he walks with such confidence that you wonder if you’re headed to the lion’s den, only now taking your final steps and breaths. 

You also note that the man doesn’t keep a hand on his gun as usual. You clearly aren’t a threat—what could a little thing like you do to the big, bad mob boss?

Nothing, that’s what. Ari Levinson is untouchable. No one dares to cross him, and the ones that do always end up at the bottom of the nearest river or mailed piece-by-piece to their family members. 

The man knocks on the door a few times, and the sounds are arranged in a way that sounds like a pattern. You force yourself to forget it immediately. The man blocks you from seeing the handle and keys in a code. You take this moment to look around the hallway.

It’s ornate—elegant. The carpet is clean, and beautiful pieces of art hang on the walls. This isn’t what you expected. You pictured water stains and the smell of blood and rotting bodies. Instead, your nostrils are filled with the scent of cigarette smoke and sandalwood. 

The door opens, and the associate nods his head, motioning you to enter. You do as he says with shaking legs, knees on the verge of buckling from fear.

Ari Levinson welcomes you in and ushers you to sit wherever you’d like, and you relieve your trembling limbs when you sit in front of his oak desk. The chair is comfortable—nice and soft. The set it came in is probably worth half as much as what you owe the mob boss.

“Do you need anything to eat or drink? I can make some coffee or tea,” he offers. “N– no, thank you, sir,” you nearly whisper, scared and, therefore, quiet. Ari gives you a smile as he rubs his beard, flashing the tattoos, scars, and rings that decorate his hand. 

You don’t have a chance to gander what the ink represents. The amount of people he has killed would be too permanent and on the nose. He’d have to change that one daily.

“Shy, aren’t ya? Don’t worry. I don’t bite unless you ask me to,” he chuckles, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. You can spy smoke swirling from an ashtray, a cigarette freshly put out sitting inside. You bite your tongue as the urge to rattle off all the reasons why it’s bad for him comes up. He’d probably shoot you just for that, right?

“So, what did you need to talk about?” Ari starts for you, and for a second, you forget why you’ve come here. Your nerves have always made you absentminded. It’s a terrible issue you’ve suffered from since you were taking tests in school. You search for words to form thoughts.

The debt. A few beats of silence pass as you try to prepare your speech, and Ari watches you intently the entire time. He is unmoving. He only smiles when you make eye contact with him or sip his whiskey. “You want something from me? You gotta ask nicely,” he eventually adds. 

“S– Sir, I never knew my family owed you money,” you begin, taking a deep breath. “Of course you wouldn’t, baby. That was many years ago, and I doubt an innocent thing like you knows what goes on around here,” he grins.

“Yes, well, I was hoping I could have some more time to pay it off. I don’t make much at my job, but I promise I’ll get you your money back,” you explain, hands flying out of anxiety. Ari hums as if considering your offer. 

It isn’t the first time he has heard something like this, but it is the first time a sweet girl like you has come begging before him. Usually, it’s men who should know better or women who think they’re well aware of what they’re dealing with. 

“The interest is a bit much, but I can handle it. Please, I just need some more time,” you plead, and you wonder if you’ve spoken too much. Or perhaps your request is too outlandish. Either way, you worry that you’re doomed. 

There is more silence and then a deep sigh from the burly man in front of you.

“You make a good case for yourself, pumpkin,” he tells you. You look at Ari, raising your gaze from your lap, where your thumbs twiddle. “But now that I think about it, I really don’t need your money. I have more than enough of my own, anyway,” Ari snickers.

You force a smile. You wish you were in that position where you didn’t have to worry about making ends meet daily. He mirrors your grin, but the mob boss’s seems genuine.

“I– I’m sorry, sir. I don’t quite understand,” you admit to him sheepishly. Ari coos at you. “That’s alright, bunny. What I’m saying is that you don’t have to pay the loan back,” he says, and you’re filled with elation. Your body feels lighter, and you wonder if this is another one of your dreams.

You could nearly jump for joy, but you know you should restrain yourself in front of the city’s most dangerous man. Instead, you settle for grinning until your cheeks hurt and giggling. “Oh, my. Thank you so much, sir! That means the world to me—you don’t understand,” you cheer.

Ari chuckles at your happiness before the smile on his face fades. “But that doesn’t mean you can just walk away freely, baby,” he tells you, and you can feel your bubble bursting. Is this it? The end of your life? Your smile drops, and your heart beats faster.

“Don’t worry, your punishment won’t be anything bad. In fact, you’ll probably end up loving it as much as me,” Ari continues, and he stands up. Your neck cranes as you watch him, never fully understanding his… enormity until now. 

Ari walks towards you and kneels in front of you. He places his warm, rough hands on your knees. These hands have been stained with blood, and they’ve also been wrapped around his cock as he has thought dirty things about you.

“You’ll be my perfect little plaything for the rest of the year. No ifs, ands, or buts. Unless you want me to add to your debts… Increase your interest?” Ari threatens, and you’re quick to shake your head. You’re not sure what the position entails, but you hope it’s much better than being tortured or picking up more shifts to give each penny to the burly man.

“Good girl,” the older man coos. “I’ve been dying to have you on my arm, angel.” Ari grabs your hands and pulls them to his face. You don’t fight him. Your body is malleable under his touch—it’s like you’re in some kind of a reverie. He presses chaste kisses to your knuckles, rubbing your fingers gently as his gaze does not waver.

You can’t help but wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into. Ari knows this—and he also knows that no matter what, his voracity—his need for you—would have been met, whether you like it or not.

The journey home is a blur. You’re not in your body, simply a ghost stuck in a machine. When you go inside, you peer through the sheer fabric of your curtains to see the car speed off. Ari insisted a driver take you wherever you’d like—of course, not out of his turf. 

Ari. Your phone feels heavier than usual. He took it from you and added his name as a priority contact. Well, not his name, but Daddy. The title is accompanied by a lone heart emoji, nothing pink or vibrant. Dark, just like his soul. You want to laugh at the cliché but restrain yourself from doing so.

You sit on your couch and let out the shaky breath you never realized you were holding. Oddly, the tears don’t come, even though your throat burns with a loud sob ready to be unleashed. You know you should be thankful—it could be worse, you could be dead—but you don’t feel elation.

Ari is nice, right? He was nice to you, at least. What frightens you is that he doesn’t seem to take ‘no’ as an answer. But you force yourself to think positively. Perhaps he’s a gentleman. The next four months will fly by—they always do. You hope so, at least.