#Dark!Dennis x Reader

[terrence-silver]

Hi! I'm sort of new to the fandom and I found your blog. I love your writing especially Yandere!Terry. Could you write Yandere!Mike x Reader? If not that's okay.

---

Wow, this will be several levels of toxic, but that’s just our bad boy. 😬

― I think Mike Barnes is more of a Tsundere than a Yandere, especially in the 80's. What does this mean? He gives off the airs of someone who deliberately goes out of his way to be needlessly and almost cruelly antagonistic towards his beloved, all while firmly staunch in broadcasting the fact that he doesn't give a damn about them and he does broadcast this fact a little too loudly and brashly to be entirely unaffected. He's aggressive. Mocking. Taunting. And even downright a bully. Actually, there is nothing 'downright' about it. Mike Barnes would bully beloved, straight up, all while being the very definition of a quintessential bully himself. All of that, rather than acknowledge that he simply likes them (he might not even realize or admit so to himself for the longest time, so it is a moot point), and if someone concludes he does instead of him, calling him out on it, what with all the attention he's giving them, how much he talks about them even if it is in a negative context, and how much of his energy he simply invests into them and making their life more difficult than it should be without seemingly zero reason, the extent of which he can't shut up about them, he reacts with even more of a temper as a defense mechanism. Liking? That loser!? No way, man! Not on your life!

― Except, for someone who stubbornly and vehemently professes to have zero interest, Mike Barnes is there crashing every date beloved might have, running into them in every club, on every dancefloor, on every lonely corner of the street, stalking them on the regular, breaking into their home, showing up at their campus if it is college they attend, busting up every friend-group, catcalling them, scaring off every companion they might have, beating up every protentional significant other they might've hooked up with and ensuring they're too frightened to approach beloved with romantic intent ever again out of fear of his retribution, sometimes doing so alone, sometimes with the help of Snake and Dennis who act as his partners in mischief and crime as much as two figures who report back to Terry Silver. The outcome is always the same; beloved's circle is perpetually disbanded due to Mike. Their fun cut short. Their hobbies destroyed or made fun of. Their things sabotaged or stolen. Tears in their eyes. Almost like Mike takes a gleeful sort of pleasure by making sure he's in their thoughts every waking hour of the day, and in their nightmares alike by being the obnoxious, terrorizing fearmongerer they can't stop thinking about. The fearmongerer that scares them. Pursues them. The reason they look behind their shoulder.

― All of this is an extension of Mike's underlining jealousy at everything and anything and unwillingness and inability to cope with his own feelings and the deeper the crush in question gets, the worse he potentially becomes to the point the abuse he puts beloved through could become physical or life threatening, especially when the conflict inside of him gets too big and his feelings go beyond attraction and straight into affection. Oh, then he might flirt, in that dirty, lecherous, filthy way pervy, hormonal teenage boys tend to, expecting to be reciprocated and getting violently angry when he doesn't, even though he might've been roughing up beloved only just yesterday or two minutes prior --- and taunting them if they do accept, humiliating them for it even though he's secretly feeling triumphant and even happy they actually said 'yes' to him. You think I'd want you that way? Yeah right. In your dreams, pal, he'd say, especially if he is out to impress Snake and Dennis. Thing is, there is no winning with Mike in this particular era of his life, because he pursues, he pesters, he deliberately places himself on beloved's path, yet perpetually pretends he has no attachment to them whatsoever and that he genuinely hates them, and for all the mistreatment beloved suffers, from their point of view, why would it be anything else but loathing?

― Mike Barnes' aversion to being introspective about love could have shades of him simply being a kid growing up in the 80's, being a product of the times and his own environment, and a rather innately aggressive one at that, offering his muscle to the highest bidder for a quick buck and personal advancements, basically selling himself as a mercenary to ethically apprehensible Billionaires, if need be. Love? Love!? Who the fuck falls in love anyway!? Only pansies! And Mike Barnes isn't a pansy! He's the Bad Boy of Karate, don't you know, with a fierce reputation in the martial arts community by the time Terry Silver hires him, enough so to warrant magazine articles about himself, detailing his tenacity in combat --- a tenacity fiery enough to catch Silver's attention, of all people --- which says a lot. I think Mike believes he has a reputation to maintain. A sort of streetwise attitude that keeps getting him employed. And a streetwise attitude doesn't involve him being lovey-dovey with someone, no matter how much he might wish to, deep down, raising the question of toxic masculinity and how badly it has him afflicted. Mike Barnes would sooner push beloved in front of a moving car in lieu of his failed attempts at flirting than ever do so in a healthy way. Question is if he at all knows how, even though it is assured he dislikes everyone who has the tools to approach their own beloveds wholesomely.

― Although, god forbid anyone else ever touch beloved. Address them wrong. Just look at them in a way Mike doesn't approve of or look at them at all. Stand too close to them. Nevermind actually harming them the way he has been doing himself for a while now. He can hurt beloved. Others can't. That is his turf. His prerogative. He has his arms slung over beloved's shoulder in an instant, in the face of whoever beloved was talking to, prodding at the individual in question with threats. In a line-up of broken noses, hospitalized suitors and would-be bullies, the person that might actually get involved with his champion leaving a trail of beaten up people way before the All Valley even draws to a close, is Terry Silver himself. Yeah, sure, he recognizes what the heck this is. He's experienced enough to know. Introspective enough to understand, on Mike's behalf, that this is attraction. A man doesn't go around acting this violent unless he's invested in something and while he told Snake, Dennis and Mike to go around and have fun, doing all the things the Bad Boys of LA should do, he draws the line at whatever can compromise them actually participating in the tourney and distract from training, not because he has moral limitations, but because the last thing Terry wants to be bailing Mike Barnes out of jail before he can actually uphold the end of his deal and win for Terry and John. Now, he's the actual Yandere to Mike's Tsundere.

― Thing is, beloved undoubtedly can't catch a break and has the worst luck and has proceeded having the worst luck ever since they got caught in the whirlwind of Mike Barnes' attention (woe the day) because Terry Silver, benefactor extraordinaire, at least around the time Barnes is in his employ, is of the belief, that anything his champion wants, his champion gets. An allowance. A car. Terry's own Beverly Hills roof to stay in. 50% ownership of all Cobra Kai dojos around The Valley --- allegedly. Chaperones (and handlers) in the form of Snake and Dennis who egg him on his worst impulses and hold him back when he tactically needs to be held back, giving Terry a run-down of everything Mike says, does, how many times a day he shits, if nessecary. Exclusive training from him and Sensei Kreese. And if he's that distracted by a hot piece of ass, then he should get that hot piece of ass too. After all, Cobras take anything they're rightfully entitled to, and Terry might just encourage Mike in even more aggression, giving him all manner of bad and rotten advices that all boil down to Mike simply having beloved for himself like a coveted boxer has a groupie. Him breaking, blackmailing, harassing them and seducing them into being his. Yes, Terry Silver encourages this simply because it appears to be useful, and if all fails, he might he even push, sweettalk, manipulate or coax beloved into it himself, as an extra incentive to get Mike Barnes to preform well at the All-Valley, by any means necessary.

― Bizarre just how extreme and out of hand this whole situation can potentially go if we leave our minds open and reach out for the darkest of outcomes; it goes from Mike Barnes bullying his crush because he can't confess he likes them, to Terry Silver, one of the richest men alive, interjecting by basically giving beloved an ultimatum worthy of a mafia boss shaking down a victim; be with my boy and make him happy until the All Valley ends and quit fucking distracting him, and your parents, loved ones, friends, your pet dog for all I know, all collectively get spared. Rent can always mysteriously jump in the building beloved lives in, after all, and everyone they care about could homeless. Naturally, there our poor beloved is, given no, or very little actual choice in the grand scheme of things, embroidered in a scheme far more complex and tangled than their own circumstances, in an arrangement with a very content Mike Barnes, and an equally content Terry Silver pulling the strings behind the scenes, feeling assured that if he simply plies this kid with enough rewards, promises and figurative candy (and gets him high on bloodlust and pain), that his victory in the tournament is all but assured. After all, he has a great many promises to keep for John Kreese, and if he has to play a matchmaker between two brats to statistically get Mike Barnes into the amenable state of mind of certain triumph, than so be it.

Terry Silver has done far worse things.

And Mike Barnes will be expected to work all of this off on the mat, with Larusso, or rather, on Larusso --- and put in some extra effort too due to the fact that Terry had to waste his own precious time acting out the role of a Cupid. Not that he didn't relish in that fine bit of machination.

Nothing is for free.

#welcome newcomer! #thanksies for your lovely ask #tw; all the warnings #mike barnes #terry silver #yandere #tsundere #tw; dub-con #tw; non-con #tw; blackmail #tw; bullying #tw; abuse #dark #mike barnes x reader #mike barnes x beloved #kk3 #cobra kai #john kreese #snake and dennis

[abbatoirablaze]

His Sunshine, Chapter 8

Word Count:  1.7k

Warnings:  angst, implied smut

“For the millionth time, Denny, I’m telling you, that I do not have sierra eight,”  Lloyd seethed, glaring at his best friend.   The two men could practically hear his teeth gnashing against each other as he thought about whether or not his best friend would lie to him, “Denny, come on.  You gotta believe me, buddy…”

Carmichael sighed. 

The two of them had quite the history.  He, Lloyd, and Suzanne.  The there of them had all met in Harvard; Lloyd while playing football on a scholarship with Denny, and Suzanne, the feisty cheerleader.  The three of them always had a shared goal in mind of working for the CIA, which only led to a strong, intense bond, especially between Lloyd and Denny.

“You better not be lying to me, Lloyd…”

“I’m not, Den.”

“Lloyd.”

It was a warning tone.  Even he knew that Denny didn’t entirely trust him. 

“Alright, fine,” he growled, crossing my arms over his chest as he stared at my college best friend, “you want to know the truth, here’s everything…here’s all of it, laid flat out on the table, because I’m looking for her too!”

Denny’s brow raised in curiosity, “you’re what?”

“She’s my soulmate, Denny,” he said simply, shooting a glare to Suzanne, who was already glaring at him.  Her own jaw tensed, and Denny frowned, catching it, “I met her before she was in the program…before her mark showed up.  I-“

“He broke up our marriage to go chasing after some teenager,” Suzanne groaned, her voice laced with disgust, “what was she again, “thirteen?”

“You knew about her?” Denny asked in an amused tone as his own attention shifted from Lloyd to her, “and you didn’t try to kill her?”

“Bite me, Suzanne,” Lloyd growled, shooting his ex-wife yet another look. Then he looked back to Denny, “she was a kid, yeah…barely sixteen, bu-“

“So, you know how to squeeze her.  You know how to push her buttons.”

“He wishes,” Suzanne scoffed, “he’s only really been close enough to touch her once…isn’t that right, Lloyd?”

“Twice,” he corrected angrily, “Prague, not too far after Gentry hid her away from me.”

Suzanne bit back her surprise, “you-“

“And I’ve been close a few times,” he growled, “the airport being the last time.  She ran away from me…”

“She ran away from you?” Denny asked quickly, his eyes lighting up, “she never took her exfil, Lloyd.  She abandoned the program.”

“She was never supposed to be in the program,” he grunted, crossing his arms, “her father was.  He traded his place for her own.  Fucking Fitzroy bought it so quick…fucker ate it up.  A kid that the agency could shape into whatever the fuck they wanted.  Bu-“

“She’s a sierra, Lloyd.  We need to control her.”

“SHE’S FUCKING INNOCENT,” Lloyd growled, standing up from his chair.  His hands slammed down on the table, hard.  He stared between Denny and Suzanne, “Six drugged her after I saw her in an airport…he sent me a video of him raping her…she didn’t miss her exfil.  Her fucking handler turned her into a god damned red herring.”

Denny’s jaw tensed yet again.  He looked between his best friend and his colleague, “she’s an enemy as of now, Lloyd…”

“Yeah…well so am I…but I’m fucking useful…right?”

Denny nodded, “if I ask you to bring her in…would you do it?”

“Open checkbook…no questions…”

“I can do that.”

“Carmichael, are you se-“

“Not your deal, Suzanne,” Denny growled, glaring at the woman, “stand down.”

“You’re going to give him an open checkbook to hunt her down, to-“

“Suzanne…you don’t need to be privy to the conversation,” Carmichael said suddenly, realizing that she may hinder his plans, “you should leave…”

“Denny…”

“Suzanne.”

Her jaw twitched and she quickly turned away, storming out of the room.  Lloyd grunted, a chuckle escaping his lips, “fucking frigid bitch.”

“What I’m going to tell you stays off the record, Lloyd.”

Lloyd smiled, arms uncrossing from his chest.  He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, “yes?”

“What you’re saying lines up with a tap we had on one of our agents phones,” he answered quickly, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table, “the girl…your soulmate…she claimed that after she ran from you, sierra eight drugged her and raped her.  The other day I found her in the evidence room…she destroyed the computer.”

“She wouldn’t run from me…she didn’t want to…I could see it in her eyes, Denny…”

“I can give you an open checkbook, but not for long…I can also provide a few extra teams to ensure that she is located…we’ve got ears everywhere…they lost her somewhere in the middle of the country a few weeks ago…”

“I’m not going to bring her in if I find her, Denny.”

“You have to if I give you the green light to go after her.”  

“No one touches a hair on her head,” Lloyd said quickly, “I stay with her at all times.”

“Prove yourself useful in getting her back here and we’ll discuss it.”

“No Denny…that’s non-negotiable…”

My heart raced as I looked around the room.  It’d been a few weeks since the procedure, and I’d made my way to yet another town, but there was something that had stuck in the back of my mind since then; something I couldn’t escape. 

I felt like I’d betrayed Lloyd. 

Every time I closed my eyes, I was like I could picture the hurt that was across his features when he’d seen me on camera.  I could see the overjoyed expression he wore in the airport and the moment it turned into one of rejection when I turned to run away from him. 

I felt my hand inching up my wrist and to my forearm, until I was dangerously close to my soulmate mark. 

But the anxiety won, and I didn’t touch it.  My heart both ached and raced for the sensation of feeling him.  However, instead of touching my mark, I threw my arm away from myself. 

‘He’s going to kill me for what I did.’ 

“You know…some people wouldn’t want to know for fear that it’s someone bad.  Some women and men even get rejected by their soulmates when they meet.  Did you know that?” 

My heart ached at the thought. 

If he didn’t kill me, he would surely reject me.  Who would want a soulmate that was so sullied? 

I wasn’t a virgin. 

I had been molded into this weird killing machine. 

I wasn’t the soft, delicate creature he’d first met. 

I sighed to myself as I opened the door to yet another safehouse that I’d been staying in the past few days.  It wasn’t anything special and was hidden away in the heart of the city.  It was something similar to the former UK’s leader, Ms. Cahill’s place.  It was right in the middle of everything and nothing. 

Setting my grocery bags down, my hand absentmindedly went to my stomach. 

‘Why couldn’t it have been his?’

‘Why did I run from him in the first place?’

“Sunshine…”

I whipped around so fast that in turning my arm hit the bag, knocking my produce to the floor.  My heart caught in my throat as I saw who it was.  Tears instantly came to my eyes, and my bottom lip warbled, “Lloyd?”

Sitting down on the shabby couch was none other than my soulmate; Lloyd.  My heart raced at the sight of him momentarily, and I fought the urge to run to him, to find comfort in his arms.  He stood up and straightened out his shirt.  The smallest of smirks played onto his face, and I could feel the cocky air of his attitude from the other side of the room, “you look surprised to see me, Sunshine…”

“I-I-you aren’t-“

“I came to find you, sweetheart,” he said softly, his jaw twitching as he looked around the room, “I must admit, I thought you would choose to hide somewhere a little more off the grid.”

“That’s what the last place was.  The agency was starting to tear through the ones off grid like they were tissue.  My last safehouse was blown,” I said quickly, my own gaze shooting around the room, “I-“

“Don’t worry, sunshine,” he offered, taking a step forward, “it’s just us…it’s just you and me.  You don’t need to be on high alert.”

“Are you here to kill me?”

I wished I didn’t ask the question as soon as it passed my lips.  His expression betrayed him.  It was a look of deep hurt that met even his eyes.  He gave me a sad look as he stepped towards me once again.  The floorboards creaked beneath him, and his frown only deepened when I instinctively jumped, “I would never hurt you, sunshine…”

“But-I-I’m not what you wanted.  I’m not-I’m not the girl you first met anymore, Lloyd…”

I could practically feel his heart lurching in his chest as he closed the distance between the two of us.  He was quick to reach up and cup my face in his hands, “Sunshine…you are everything I’ve always wanted…”

“I’m not...not-“

“I don’t care,” he whispered bracing his forehead against my own, “I’m not mad at you for that…for what he did to you…he took advantage of you, cupcake…”

“Lloyd…”

“The agency poisoned you against me.  He poisoned you against me,” he sighed, his calloused thumb gently stroking my cheek, “but that’s over with…now that Carmichael has Fitzroy pushed out-“

“Carmichael?” I asked nervously, cutting him off.  I took a step back and he frowned as I put more distance between the two of us, “Carmichael wants me dead…h-him and Suzanne.  They’re both looking to ki-”

“I worked it out,” he said quickly, rushing me, “they won’t bug you ever again, sweetheart…I promise.  They won’t be bugging us…”

“Lloyd…”

“Let me love you the way I promised you the day that we met,” he begged softly, capturing me in his grasp once more, “let me love my soulmate, sunshine…you’re still in there.  I know you are.  You just had to bury that part of you to survive…because that’s what you are.  My girl’s a survivor, through and through.”

I melted, my heart thumping heavily in my chest.  I felt a warmth running over me as his hand touched my mark.  My breath caught in my throat and he smiled. My own hand grazed over his, and he shivered. 

“I love you, Sunshine,” he said sweetly, “let me be soft with you…let me show you how I want to treat my soulmate.  Let me fill that promise I made to you, Sunshine.  Please.”

I nodded, leaning forward until our lips met in a soft, tender kiss.

Chapter 9

Tag list:  @lohnes16, @buckysteveloki-me, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @valhalla-kristin, @danielle143, @noseyrosey1597, @marve2014, @littlemoistcarrot, @minaxcarter, @ohtobehappy, @ebonynextdoor, @dforever15, @bambamwolf87, @bigcreatorwombatdreamer, @multifandom-world8, @gh0stgirl33, @mrspaigeomega, @grimistangel

#gray man #the gray man #netflix #his sunshine #soulmate au #lloyd hansen x reader #soft lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen smut #lloyd hansen #chris evans characters #denny carmichael

[littlelioncub43]

I will provide you guys with one (1) Tech Tuesday thot.

Dennis Baker is the most pathetic little bean to ever exist, and he knows it. He feels so guilty for even liking you, but you're so sweet, so kind, so god damn pretty it hurts. He's never been this enamored before, this needy and desperate for someone.

So, the amount of shame he feels when he touches himself to the thought of you is off the scales. The pathetic noises he makes, the sad little face of literal guilty pleasure when he sneaks his hand under the blankets and into his boxers. He whimpers, all soft and whiny, as his hand strokes himself while imagining doing things to you, filthy things that he couldn't ever say out loud.

Like eating your pussy until you pass out, making you choke on his cock, coming in your pretty mouth, watching his white seed pool on your tongue, smearing some of it along your cheek, bending you over and fucking you as many times as he can, making you cum over and over again until all you can say is his name.

Just thinking about you moaning his name is enough to make Dennis moan your name in the most broken voice he can muster, his hand furiously jerking himself, his hips lifting to fuck his fist on instinct.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck, please, please," he whines and brings his second hand to his balls to cup them desperately. The thought of your mouth sucking on them briefly crosses his mind and Dennis is a goner. "Please, yes! Yes! M'sorry, I'm sorry, fuck!"

Again, the pathetic angel just feels so guilty for picturing your naked pussy covered in your mixed releases, his cum dripping from your sweet petals— he can't help but apologize, even to the room around him.

As he milks himself, he sighs your name and gentle apologies. Dennis pictures kissing you and holding you, showing you just how well he can take care of you, how much he cares, how much he loves you.

But for now, all he has is his hand.

#tech tuesdays #tech tuesday #this took a slightly dark turn #soft dark!dennis baker #yandere!dennis baker #but like a really kind and loving yandere!dennis baker #dennis baker #dennis baker x fem!reader #dennis baker x female reader #dennis baker x you #dennis baker x reader #dennis baker x gn!reader #dennis baker imagine

[rafesaddiction]

It's not cheating when he's your stepbrother – Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: You lie about your first kiss. Will you lie about your first time too?

You are Rafe's stepsister, just graduated from boarding school and here for the summer holidays before you'll leave for college. You and Rafe used to be close, but that changed, years ago. Now he is distant and mean, and something else happens when you have your first boyfriend. A nice guy, a sweet guy, nothing like Rafe.

Concept: stepsiblings, first time, just the tip

Warnings: mdni! – smut, noncon/dubcon, rough sex, p in v, loss of virginity (virgin!reader), fingering, stepcest, violence, slapping, manhandling, mentions of child abuse (ward physically and emotionally abusing rafe), cheating (reader cheating on boyfriend), name calling (rafe calls reader slut and whore), angst, dark!rafe, mean!rafe, this starts off kinda sweet but gets quite dark.

When reading this, please do so at your own discretion. Keep in mind, this is just a work of fiction.

Word count: 9.0k (holy fuck! how did that happen?)

tagging @ashy-kit since you asked. I hope you'll like this.

“Wait! Was that actually your first kiss? Oh my god! It was!”

Sarah stared at you with large eyes, then covered her mouth, laughing. You just smiled, shrugged, and averted your gaze, feeling heat in your cheeks. It was a bit embarrassing that your younger stepsister had more experience with boys than you did. The reason for that might have been that you had gone to an all-girls boarding school practically your whole life. But truth was, if anything, away from parents, kids had even more opportunities at boarding school to gain sexual experience, be it with other students, local boys, or even teachers. You knew that a lot of your classmates did much more than just kiss when sneaking out at night. But you weren't the type to sneak out at night. You were the type to get your first kiss at 18 after graduating from said boarding school.

“Tell us more,” Wheezie insisted. She sat next to you on the couch, cross-legged, looking at you, eager to hear your story. You smiled at your little stepsister. You two had grown closer over the past years, with Wheezie discovering the internet and thus being able to chat with you even when you were hundreds of miles away at school.

“Denny is quite a good kisser though. You’re lucky, he was your first,” Sarah said, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl on the coffee table in front of her.

You knew that Sarah had hooked up with Denny. So you had, of course, told her when he had asked you out. Sarah was totally okay with it, she even encouraged you to text him back, when he texted you. Denny hadn't been her boyfriend, just one of her hook-ups, ages ago. And as of now, Sarah was too happily in love with her pogue boyfriend to be jealous at all. It was kind of a forbidden romance, Wheezie had told you all about it, but Sarah herself also liked to share, she loved talking about her boyfriend and his pogue friends and their way of living. And you liked to listen to her exciting stories or when she complained about her father or brother. You liked that you were kind of close, even though you only spent the summer and Christmas holidays at Tannyhill.

Your mother had you at a very young age and you were practically raised by your grandma. When your mother married Ward Cameron, you were old enough to be send off to one of the most prestigious boarding schools in the country. The school was in another state, but could as well have been on another continent. Your mother didn't want to have you in her new life, she already had three new kids to look after. Ward wouldn’t have minded, he made sure you knew that you were as much a daughter to him as Sarah and Wheezie. He showed his affection by paying for your expensive education. Now that you had graduated from high school, you were supposed to spend the summer before going to an ivy league school with your family in the Outer Banks.

“Did you close your eyes? Did you feel butterflies? Did he do the neck grab?” Wheezie kept shooting one question after the other and you felt your face must have been glowing. You looked away, trying to think of what to answer, when your eyes met a pair of intense blue eyes, staring at you from across the room.

Rafe, your older stepbrother, stood in the hallway, looking at you. And for some reason, you felt that damn heat had reached your ears. You quickly looked away, turning to Sarah, who was telling Wheezie that she shouldn't base her expectations on tiktoks and fanfics.

The kiss happened the night before at a kook party. You had been texting and hanging out with Denny for about two weeks. He was your age, he was charming, smart, the former captain of the football team. He was actually so good that he got a scholarship to play at a college team. Not that he would have needed the scholarship to go to college, his parents were one of the wealthiest kook families on the island. Almost as rich and influential as the Camerons. Of course, you knew Denny before, the island was small and he was one of your stepbrother's friends. But this whole thing with him only started about two weeks ago when you quite literally ran into him at the country club. He insisted on buying you another drink even though you were the one who spilled your drink on him. He texted you later, he got your number from Sarah, and, since Sarah was encouraging you, you texted back and agreed to go on a date with him. You had been on four dates already: dinner, a trip to the beach, another dinner, and a date on his family's yacht, when you went to the party with him the previous night. And then it just happened. He kissed you outside the house where the party was. It was a starry night and the kiss was nice. And after, he took your hand and walked inside with you and you smiled, as you felt the warmth of his hand around yours.

“I'll get us some fresh popcorn, then we can start the movie, okay?” You grabbed the half-empty bowl and got up from the couch, while your stepsisters were in some serious discussion about some actor from a show you had never heard of.

You left the living room and walked past Rafe, who didn't seem to have moved an inch. You didn't look up at him when you spoke to him.

“You wanna join us and watch a movie with us? It's Wheezie's choice tonight, so I guess it's whatever is trending on netflix at the moment,” you said and were about to head for the kitchen, when suddenly his hand wrapped around your arm. You stopped and looked up at him, gasping.

Rafe leaned down to you, and you felt his hand gripping tighter around your arm. You winced and were about to say something, when you met his eyes. Dark blue orbs staring at you, so very close to you.

“Why did you lie?”

You frowned in confusion.

“Why did you lie and say that that was your first kiss?”

You just gazed up at him. And despite the heat in your face, you felt a shiver running down your spine.

You parted your lips, wanting to say something, but he cut you off.

“I hate liars.”

And then he let go off you, turned around and just left, and you felt your heart beating in your chest, so rapidly, so loudly, your stepsisters in the other room must have heard it. You stepped back from the door, your back pressing against the wall, as you tried to compose yourself.

He was right. That kiss wasn't your first kiss.

Your first kiss happened with Rafe when you were 15 and he was 17.

It was right after Christmas. Before New Year's Eve. It was late at night and you decided to have a hot chocolate before going to sleep. You met Rafe in the kitchen, standing at the open fridge, rummaging it for some leftovers from dinner. He was wearing that ridiculous Christmas sweater with the reindeer over his sleeping shorts. You couldn't help but giggle at the sight of him. He was already tall then, not as tall as he was now, but much taller than you. He was lean, less bulky. He was a boy still and he grinned like one, when he turned to look at you.

“What's so funny? You laughing at me?”

“Nothing, nothing,” you shook your head, grinning, “Sven.”

You squealed and giggled when Rafe launched a tickle-attack on you.

It used to be so easy around him. He was always sweet, sometimes teasing, but always in a sweet way. He was protective and you felt safe with him. You were closer then, and it was just easy to be yourself with him.

You got into a real tickle fight with him, chasing each other around the kitchen, as he finally got you.

“Stop, stop, stop! I surrender!” You said, out of breath. Your cheeks hurting from laughing so hard.

He stopped tickling you, but his hands still rested on your sides, and he stood very close in front of you. Your own hands clutching that ridiculous sweater of his. He looked down at you. His hair disheveled, his cheeks flushed, his chest heaving, his lips parted. He didn't laugh or grin and your own laughing had stopped too. All you heard was your rapid heartbeat and both of you panting.

And his hand touched your cheek. You felt a little spark, but instead of withdrawing, you leaned into his touch. Your lips parted as he leaned closer. His face so close, you could hardly make out his features, so you closed your eyes, and breathed in. And it was his scent that filled your lungs, before you felt his lips on yours. And that contact sent a wave of some yet unknown sensation through your body, and you felt it everywhere, felt it in your fingertips that grabbed the sweater. Felt it in your toes as you stood on them to meet Rafe's lips. Felt it on your skin, where he touched you, felt it under your skin. Felt it coursing through your veins.

A distant sound, and Rafe suddenly broke the kiss. In a state of daze you opened your eyes and moved them to what Rafe was staring at. Or to who.

Ward was standing in the door to the kitchen. His presence towering both of you. You shuddered and jumped away from Rafe.

You slowly walked backwards, your heart racing, sudden fear being the dominant emotion. But when Ward came closer, his attention wasn't focused on you. He hardly seemed to notice that you were even there. He glared at his son, glared at Rafe who just stood there, as if he was paralyzed by fear, unable to move.

You didn't wait for what happened, you chose flight and ran past Ward, ran up to your room, locking the door. You heard no screaming, no yelling, though you had expected as much. When half way up the stairs, you had heard a thud, and then something banging heavily, like a chair falling to the ground.

The next morning, you didn't see Rafe at the breakfast table. You saw your stepfather, who was smiling and being his relaxed self as ever. Only he avoided directly looking at you.

You saw Rafe later in the afternoon. You wanted to talk to him, say something, but you didn't know what. And when you saw the bruise under his eye, you had no words left.

Four days later you left to return to school. And when you came back during spring break, things were different, very different. Rafe no longer smiled at you, never laughed when you were around. When he didn't avoid you, he glared at you. And there was something so dark in his blue eyes that it made you shudder and sob at night.

“But you have to come!” Sarah pushed out her lower lip and looked at you with her big brown eyes, pleadingly, practically begging you to come with you to the party that evening.

“I want to spend time with my favorite older sibling and I want you to meet my friends. Besides, what do you want to do here, huh? Your boyfriend is on a family trip in the Bahamas and you can't seriously want to spend another evening binge-watching The Summer I Turned Pretty with Wheezie. Come on! Pleaaase.” Sarah's pouting went up another level and she made actual puppy eyes.

You didn't mind spending another evening with Wheezie and listening to her endless monologs on why she would always choose Jeremiah over Conrad, over any guy really.

You sighed. “But I don't have anything to –”

“To wear?” Sarah interrupted you and grabbed your hand. “Come on, you can pick whatever you want from my closet.”

You sighed in defeat, but smiled, as you followed your stepsister into her bedroom.

You didn't end up with choosing anything from her closet, but she picked out an outfit for you. And Sarah had great taste and you didn't complain. She selected a light summer dress for you, fitting for a casual party at the beach. You liked how the fabric felt on your skin and how the cut accented your curves without revealing too much. The skirt was a bit shorter than what you'd usually wore, but it was the middle of summer and you were on the island and not in the city.

When looking at the mirror, you smiled at the young woman smiling at you. You touched the golden necklace you were wearing. A gift from Denny. When he gave it to you the other day, you were surprised. Wasn't it a bit early for such costly gifts? But he insisted on you taking it and he was so happy when he put it around your neck. The pendant was a green stone, it was a bit heavy, but it looked nice. You really appreciated the gesture. And you really appreciated how your boyfriend treated you. He was okay with taking things slow. He never pushed you and in these past weeks, you had never done more than holding hands. You hadn't even kissed again. – Something you wouldn't tell your sister, for a reason you didn't quite know yourself.

You enjoyed yourself a lot at the party. Sarah's friends were easy to get along with, especially JJ. You just met him like an hour ago and he had already made you laugh more than you had in the whole past month or even year. But talking with Pope was also nice, he knew a lot and you liked listening to him. You also liked watching how these two boys got into a playfight about something stupid. You didn't mind that Sarah left you with the pogues as she and John B wanted to spend some time alone.

“Now, c'mon. Dance with me, big-city girl,” JJ pointed at you, then bent his finger to indicate that you should follow him. You laughed and shook your head. He then tried to catch you with an imaginary lasso.

“You’d better go, before he does his full-on cowboy impression, and talking in that accent, and believe me, you don't wanna hear that. No one wants to hear that,” Pope told you, leaning closer to you, and then taking your cup, so you could go and join JJ at the bonfire.

You couldn't deny that the cheap beer you had been drinking had made you a bit tipsy and somehow loosened you up a bit. But mainly, you just felt comfortable in the presence of Sarah's friends that had quickly become your friends too. And you weren't the only ones dancing by the fire. Other people also danced to the music coming from someone's speakers.

JJ took your hand and twirled you around, made an effort at imitating some dance moves that looked very elaborated. It was fun, you felt a permanent grin on your cheeks, glowing with the heat from the nearby fire, the booze and the excitement. You felt free, not thinking about anything at all. Not even thinking about the way you moved, but you just did. You felt the music, felt the joy of being young and careless – and you suddenly felt something hard that you bumped into, while twirling around.

“Sorry,” you muttered and looked up, as two hands grabbed your arms.

And you looked into the angry face of your stepbrother.

You froze, just for a moment. Then you tried to get away, but Rafe only held you closer, like pulling you into a tight embrace, and for an instant you thought that he might want to dance with you. But he didn't.

“Hey!” JJ's voice behind you made your head spin around.

“Let her go!” The blond boy stood a couple of feet away, his hands clenched into fists. His whole body seemed tensed up and he glared at Rafe. JJ looked so different from how he had looked a minute ago. All that carelessness, all his smiles gone.

You felt Rafe tense up too, as his hands tightened their grip around your arms, making you wince in pain.

“JJ,” he said his name through clenched teeth as if it was an insult.

The two boys stared at each other, the tension between them was palpable. People had gathered around them, but you didn't actually take notice of them. You looked at JJ, tried to tell him not to do anything stupid, but his eyes were fixed on Rafe. You looked at Rafe. You gave up freeing yourself from his iron grip.

“Please,” you pleaded, unsure what else to say. Your voice too soft, too weak anyway. You felt cold all of a sudden, and very sober.

And then everything happened just so fast.

JJ must have stepped closer, because the next moment, Rafe pushed you behind his own body as he lunged forward to hit JJ. When he moved his arm back, his elbow hit you at your chin and you, no longer held by him, stumbled and fell to the sandy ground. But neither Rafe nor JJ took notice. When you looked up, you saw them throwing fists at each other. Their bodies colliding, this was another kind of dance. You were shocked to see such fierce violence, both of them seemingly fighting with the intend to end the other.

You were shaking and only now noticed that you had started to cry. You cried and yelled and pleaded them to stop.

Fortunately, some guys stepped in, pulling the fighting boys apart.

Rafe angrily shrugged off the guy who was holding him, while two others held JJ, who fiercely, but in vain fought to free himself.

“Rafe!” You screamed his name, and that made him stop, made him turn his head towards you, still sitting on the ground, tears running down your face.

Rafe's eyes were dark and the look on his face was unlike anything you had ever witnessed. You flinched as he came closer, suddenly so afraid of your own stepbrother. He frowned at your reaction, but proceeded. He grabbed your arm, made you cry out in pain, pulled you to your feet. And when you tried to get away, because every cell in your body told you to run, he caught you, wrapping his arms around you from behind, picking you up like you weighed nothing, held you in both his arms. Your feet kicking the air, your fists trying to hit him, you were screaming, but he easily carried you away. And no one stopped him.

Through teary eyes you saw JJ being held by the two guys while a third one punched his face, and yet he fought, tried to get away, looking at you, looking at Rafe, who carried you away, carried you from the beach to his car.

He opened the door and tossed you onto the passenger seat. You let out a groan, as something hit your back. As soon as Rafe let go off you, you tried to get up, get out, but Rafe pushed you back into the seat.

“Let me go! Just let me go!” Your hands tried to shove him out of the way.

He caught one of your wrists, twisted it in his grip, as he reached over you to fasten the seatbelt.

You whined and gave up fighting as you knew he was too strong and you had no chance against him at all.

“Please just let me go. Why are you like this?” You pleaded between sobs.

“Why am I like this?!” Rafe yelled at you and his hand shot forward to grasp your chin, pressing so hard, you feared he would crush your jaw.

“You acting like a goddamn slut messing around with a fucking pogue!”

You flinched at each word he yelled at you, his face closer and closer. His eyes so wild, his whole expression just fuming with rage, directed at you.

“I did not,” you tried to defend yourself.

“You're a fucking LIAR!”

You flinched, and when you closed your eyes, a stream of tears ran down your cheeks.

“No,” you tried again, but he cut you short.

“You think I'm stupid?” He tilted his head, frowning, his eyes small as he glared at you in disbelief. “You think I don't know what's going on? You fucking that pogue. You’re a whore. Just like Sarah. All my sisters are goddamn sluts fucking those filthy pogues. And what does that make me look like, huh? Thought about that? Thought about what it means for your family? Your free-spirited fucking lifestyle? How does that look on dad, huh? Have you ever thought about anyone but yourself? Ever thought about the consequences of what you're doing?”

You gazed at him, taken aback by his accusations, not understanding what had gotten into him.

His eyes moved down from your face to your chest, which rose and fell under your agitated breathing.

His hand slowly let go of your chin, moved down your neck. You held your breath as you felt the pressure on your throat. His tongue flicked out, wetting his lips. His hand moved down further, his palm pressing hard onto the necklace’s pendant. You winced as you felt the hard stone digging into your skin.

“My own sister. Dressed like a whore. Fucking a pogue.” His voice was now calmer, darker, and it made you shiver.

“But, Rafe,” you sobbed, your hands tentatively reaching for his arm. “I did not do anything, I swear.”

The back of his hand hit your cheek so hard, your head flew to the side and it hit the headrest of the driver's seat.

You stared at him in shock, eyes widened, lips parted, pressing your hand to your throbbing cheek.

You couldn't believe what just happened.

But instead of apologizing or saying anything that would explain what he just did, Rafe just kept looking at you, his eyes on your trembling body. You noticed only now that your dress had slipped up, revealing a bit of your underwear. You quickly reached down to pull the fabric to cover as much of your legs as possible.

You looked up as you heard him scoff.

Shaking his head, moving his lips as if talking, talking to himself, he pushed himself back from the door, slammed it shut and walked around the car to get into the driver's seat.

You shifted as far away from him as you could, pressing your shoulder against the window, but you did not try to get out. You did not try to stop him when he started the engine. You did not yell or scream or rage. You just sat there, quietly sobbing as he drove you back to Tannyhill.

And Rafe didn't say anything, didn't even look at you when he parked the car in the driveway. He didn't look back when he got into the house, just left the front door open after he went inside.

You followed, slowly, your body still shaking with sobs. Your face hurt. The throbbing had become a sharp pain by now.

You got inside the house, it was dark, your parents and your little sister fast asleep.

You waited at the top of the stairs, until you heard the door of Rafe's bedroom shut, then you ran into your own room, locked the door behind you and crawled under the covers of your bed.

You didn't tell anyone what had happened that night with Rafe in the car.

Of course, Sarah knew about the fight between Rafe and JJ, and the day after she asked you, if you were okay. She even asked you if she should come over. But you said, you were okay and she should stay at John B's, you might come over later too. Sarah liked that idea, she was totally excited about it. You were talking over the phone, no video, so you didn't have to fake a smile. But you liked just listening when she talked with you about John B and the pogues. Their treasure hunting, their fishing trips, how she was learning to surf. It was nice to hear that your stepsister was so happy. It made you forget your own situation for a while.

Truth was, you weren't quite sure what that situation was.

The next days you tried your best to avoid your stepbrother, which wasn't too hard. He seemed to be out or asleep most of the time. So you were able to spend some time with Wheezie, preferably outside the house, somewhere you'd know you wouldn't accidentally run into Rafe, like that ice-cream parlor or the waffle house that sold these literally gigantic waffles with pink marshmallows. You even went to the mainland to a funfair with your little stepsister. Wheezie didn't notice the bruises on your face. You did quite a good job covering them up with your make up.

Since your boyfriend was still away with his family, you spent the nights either watching movies with Wheezie, helping her make tiktoks, or just in your room, reading a book.

You closed the book you had been reading for the past hours. Yawning, you looked at your phone. It was almost 3 a.m. You needed to use the bathroom. You sat on the edge of the bed, hesitating. Usually you would go down the corridor to get to the bathroom Sarah and Wheezie were sharing. But it was the middle of the night and you didn't want Wheezie to wake up. Besides, Rafe hadn't come home that night, so he wouldn't hear you.

You left your room and went to the bathroom. Pushing open the unlocked door, you stepped inside and froze. The light was on and you should have taken your time and listened when you had been outside. The water of the rain shower was running. And Rafe was standing under the shower. His back to you. The water raining down on his body, his naked body. The open shower offered you a complete view. His hair was wet, sticking to his head. Drops of water gracing his broad shoulders. Trails of water running down his back, accentuating the contours of his well-defined muscles. Water running down his lower back, over the curves of his butt, down his legs. He shifted slightly, his legs parting just a bit. Your eyes darted up, and you saw how he turned his head, turned it towards you. And looked at you. Water drops caught in his lashes, as he gazed at you. And his body moved and he was about to turn around completely, when you finally woke up from your frozen state and swiftly turned around and left the bathroom as fast as you could.

When you were inside your room, you were shaking. Your back pressed against the back of your door. You were panting, so loudly, it was embarrassing. You covered your mouth with both your hands. Your legs felt weak, like they would give in, but at the same time you felt something else, a very different, very unknown sensation. Something that had started as a tickling sensation and was now a throbbing, between your legs. You pressed them as closely together as you could. But it wouldn't stop. All your previous sleepiness gone, it seemed like all your senses were fully awake and heightened.

You heard a door open and close. You tried to focus and listen, between the sounds of your own rapid heartbeat. You heard footsteps on the corridor. Slow and heavy. They came closer and stopped. In front of your door. Right behind you. You pressed the palm of one of your hands against the wood. And you stopped breathing. Your mind racing. Trying to remember if you had locked your door.

It was still, completely still apart from your own heavy breathing, muffled by your own hand.

Then you heard footsteps again and another door, open and close.

And you still couldn't move.

When you finally made it to your bed, after checking if you indeed had locked your door, you didn't find real sleep for the rest of the night. Again and again you woke up, hearing the dripping sound of water or raspy breathing close to your ear.

You must have fallen asleep at some point, because when you opened your eyes next, the sun was shining right into your face and it was almost noon. You groaned as you turned in your bed. It was unusual for you to get up this late. You got dressed, wearing a sweater and your jeans shorts. It was most probably too hot outside for wearing a sweater, but with the air conditioning working, it was a bit chilly inside.

You went to the kitchen to get some coffee and something to eat to finally start the day. On your way downstairs, you heard Wheezie's and your mother's voice from another room. You figured that at this time of the day, the kitchen would be empty. Except it wasn't.

You stopped in the doorway when you saw Rafe. His back turned towards you, wearing a loose t-shirt and grey sweatpants, Rafe was standing at the coffeemaker.

Involuntarily, you let out a gasp, which he must have heard, because his head turned around. His eyes met yours. Just for a brief moment, then he turned his attention back to the machine in front of him. He didn't say anything, but you could have sworn that you saw a tiny smirk curling up the corners of his lips.

You took a deep breath. Something inside you told you to just go and run upstairs, lock yourself in your room. But your feet started moving and you walked to the fridge. It didn't seem as if Rafe even cared that you were in the same room with him. So you supposed that he had resumed his usual stance of just ignoring you. Besides, you still heard your sister's voice from the living room close by. Even Rafe wouldn't dare to do anything with his family, with his little sister so close by.

You went about grabbing something to eat and making yourself a coffee, while Rafe was doing the same quietly. You didn't look at him, just heard him move about and saw his frame from the corner of your eyes.

Your hands rested on the edge of the counter, fingers curling, your weight shifted to one foot, the other foot rubbed over your calf, feeling the warm woolen fabric of the sock, you were deeply in thought, while waiting for the coffeemaker to finish the program for your cappuccino.

“You're done with the staring?”

That dark voice directly behind you made you flinch and you lost your balance, tipping to the side, you almost fell – if it hadn't been for a strong hand catching you. And even when you were standing securely on both feet again, that hand didn't let go off your waist.

You felt your chest widen with the deep breath you took.

Rafe's body was so close to yours, you could feel the heat radiating from it. You could feel his muscles move as he leaned down to you, his chest pressing against your back.

“So, did you like what you saw? Last night? You left in such a rush. What were you doing in your room? Lying in your bed, thinking about my cock, touching yourself?” His lips grazed your ear as he whispered those words that made you involuntarily shiver, despite the heat you felt under your sweater.

You turned your head to look at him, when you felt something poking at your back.

Your lips parted and you felt them quiver as his face moved closer. His breath caressing your face, his eyes holding yours as his lips hovered over your mouth. Your breathing hitched as you felt his other hand move up to reach for your face.

“Finally you're up!” Wheezie's voice made you gasp. You felt pure heat rushing to your head.

Rafe’s hand – a second ago almost brushing your cheekbone – reached up to the cupboard above your head, taking out a glass. He walked to the fridge to take out the orange juice and pour some into the glass.

You grabbed the mug from under the coffeemaker, turned around and lifted it to your lips even though the contents were still too hot to drink. Your sleeves covered your wrists and you held the mug with both your hands, holding onto it like a lifeline. You nodded at Wheezie and tried to offer her a smile while your whole body was trembling.

Rafe had downed the orange juice and was pouring himself another glass, when Wheezie came over, snatched that newly filled glass from his hands and turned towards you while taking a sip.

“I needed your help with that tiktok,” she said and her accusing tone made you feel guilty, even though you couldn't remember having promised her to help her.

“I'm sorry,” you muttered. “We can do it now?” You offered.

Wheezie exhaled dramatically.

“Now is too late. We're about to leave.” Wheezie looked at you with her dark eyes, pouting. “But you could come and we can make it on the ferry,” she asked sweetly all of a sudden and took another sip from the orange juice.

Rafe, obviously having decided that he was still thirsty, had stepped closer and took out another glass from the kitchen cupboard above your head. His arm brushing your hair as he did so. And you felt goosebumps crawling over your skin, spreading on your neck.

Your eyes darted up and you noticed that Rafe's eyes traveled to your neck, and that look felt more intense than any touch and caused another shiver.

“You cold? Are you sick? Is that why you slept in?” Wheezie sounded seriously concerned now.

That shiver must have been visible. You cursed your own body for reacting so intensely and so weirdly to your stepbrother's presence.

“No, no, don't worry, Wheezie. I'm fine. I just spent the whole night reading.”

You heard a scoff coming from Rafe, but didn't look.

“Oh, that book with the dragons? You need to tell me all about it!”

“I will,” you smiled, and it was a real smile. You loved your little sister's enthusiasm.

“But not today. Denny is coming back from his family trip and we're meeting this afternoon.”

Wheezie's lips formed a disappointed ‘O', but then she nodded and took more sips from her glass.

“You're spending a lot of time with that boy lately,” Ward had entered the kitchen, and he offered you a warm smile. “You should invite him over for dinner, so we can officially meet.”

“Oh, my god, dad. You sound like a total patriarch,” Wheezie rolled her eyes.

“I do? Now the patriarch tells you to get in the car, Wheezie, we're already late,” Ward tilted his head and looked at his youngest daughter with warmth in his eyes.

Wheezie rolled her eyes again, muttered an annoyed “Fine,” put her glass down on the counter next to you, hugged you as if she was about to leave for months. When she let go, she turned towards her brother standing by the fridge.

“Bye, Rafe. Thanks for the juice,” she said, twirled around and literally danced out of the kitchen, as Rafe mumbled his reply.

You noticed how his stance had changed completely, his shoulders were drawn up, he was looking down. He seemed more tense ever since his father had come into the kitchen.

“If you don't find it too patriarchy of me, I’d like to get to know the boy that my daughter spends so much time with.”

“No, of course, that would be nice. I’ll ask him,” you quickly replied and smiled at your stepfather. You couldn't deny it, it always made you feel sort of happy when Ward casually called you his daughter, making no difference between you and his biological daughters.

“Now that's settled then,” he said. “Enjoy your date.”

“Thanks,” you took a sip from your cappuccino, which was now cool enough to drink.

Ward gave you another smile, before turning his attention toward his son.

“I asked you to drop off the crates at the site by 2.”

“I – I will. I'm on it,” Rafe gazed at his father who frowned at him.

“That's what you always say.”

“But I will.”

“It's a simple task, Rafe. If you can't even do that –“

“No, I said I will!” Rafe straightened up, took a step closer to his father, his body tensing up, you noticed.

“Honey? We need to get going,” your mother looked through the kitchen door.

“You have a nice day with Denny, sweetheart,” she addressed you, before just frowning at Rafe and leaving.

Before Ward also left, he smiled at you again – this time, the smile was a bit strained, you noticed.

He shot a less than friendly look at his son.

“For a change, just don't disappoint me again.”

When your parents had left, you remained in the kitchen and there was a strange silence.

You looked at Rafe, he was biting his nails.

“You okay?” Your voice soft, full of real concern.

He turned his face towards you, glared at you.

“Shut up!” You flinched as he yelled at you and then stormed out of the kitchen.

You let out a shaky breath after he had left. You weren't hungry anymore, so you just emptied the remains of your cappuccino into the sink and went upstairs.

Wrapped in a towel after taking a long hot shower in your sisters' bathroom, you returned to your room, only to find Rafe standing at your bed, looking at the clothes you had picked out to wear.

He held up the top you had put on the bed.

“You gonna wear that to your date?” He tilted his head, looking at you, his eyes slightly narrowed.

“Give that back,” you tried to snatch it from his hand, but Rafe's reflexes were better and he held it up, out of reach. Still you tried to get a hold of it, reaching up with one arm, while you held the towel close to your chest with your other hand, feeling it loosen from the quick movement.

Rafe looked down at you, just with his eyes, and there was a glint in them, and the corners of his mouth curled up into a smirk.

You frowned and held both your arms now in front of your chest, clutching the towel.

The tip of his tongue flicked out and wetted his lips. As if it was some reflex, you bit your own lips, and he chuckled in response. You only now realized that his body was so close to yours that you felt that vibration in your own body.

“You want to seduce him? Want him to fuck you?”

“Why are you so –” You looked up at his face and tried to step back when you felt the edge of the bed hitting the back of your legs and stopping your movement.

“So what?” He bowed his head down and his piercing blue eyes stared at you.

“Mean,” you said.

“You like it, don't you?” He tilted his head to the side and that grin on his lips changed.

“No,” you said quickly and as firmly as you managed to.

“No what?” He mocked you.

You looked at him, your brows furrowed. Still holding the towel with both hands, you tried to push at his chest with your elbow to get some distance between you two.

“I like you better when you're not mean,” you said, no longer looking up, but your eyes on his chest that you were trying to push away.

“That so?” His voice was lower than before and you lifted your gaze to see his eyebrows raised. “Like when?”

“Like when you were nice.”

"What is nice, hm?”

You felt a heat crawling under your skin and lowered your gaze.

His fingers under your chin tilted up your head, made you look at him again. His thumb brushed along your bottom lip.

“This nice?” His voice a raspy whisper.

The sudden softness of his touch made you shiver.

Your lips parted and you drew in a sharp breath as he leaned down.

“This?” His voice so low, you could hardly hear it, but feel it so intensely, as his lips moved close to yours. And you could taste his breath, taste the coffee and the orange juice and him.

You held your breath and his lips grazed the corner of your mouth. You closed your eyes. Exhaling through your mouth, you felt that trembling growing. Your legs suddenly unsteady. But you didn't fall. His arm wrapped around you and held you close to his body as he slowly lowered you on the bed.

His lips were so incredibly soft as they covered your face with tender kisses. His body was hovering over yours as you lay on your back. You felt its warmth, but not its weight.

His hand touched your face, his long fingers caressed your neck, brushed over your shoulders, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your heated skin. His mouth traveled over your cheekbone to your ear. His breath made you gasp and whimper as the tip of his nose touched that spot you didn't know was so sensitive. Slowly and without any resistance from you, he uncurled your fingers that were wrapped around the towel. He guided one of your hands to his shoulder, and your fingers, like they had their own will, grasped at it, held onto him, as your body arched and a moan escaped your lips when his mouth found the sensitive skin on your neck. His big hand cupped your now exposed breast, kneading it, fumbling it, no longer touching softly. His knee pushed between your legs, parting them. And you felt the pressure at your core as your hips rose to meet him.

Your breathing, slow and loud, was all that could be heard in the room. And then the soft sucking sounds of his lips on your neck, leaving a mark.

Both your hands were on him now. The one hand at his shoulder, grabbing so hard, it was shaking. Your other hand touching his back. The lightest pull from you and he rocked his hips against yours, making you gasp and open your eyes in surprise as you felt his hard length urging against your thigh. Being completely inexperienced, you couldn't quite judge whether it was normal that it was so huge. And your mind was cloudy with all those unknown sensations that you were unable to tell whether this was right when you felt his fingers rub along your folds, when they parted them and pushed inside you.

You tensed up, cried out, as you clenched around the intruding digit. Your hands no longer pulling Rafe closer but trying to push him up, like pushing at an unmovable rock.

You whined as his finger pushed deeper, your face turning to the side, away from him as a tear ran down your cheek. He let out a hissing sound, his mouth close to your neck. His finger remained inside of you but stopped moving further. You already felt so incredibly full. His lips started moving over your skin. He kissed your chin, kissed your cheek, licked at your tears.

“No,” your voice a hoarse whisper, your hand balled into a fist, pressing at his shoulder uselessly, in vain trying to push him off you.

“No,” you said again and that word turned into a moan as you felt something pressing against your most sensitive spot. His thumb rubbed your pearl and your traitorous body reacted by shivering. And your legs parted further. He moved them up, made them bent, giving him room. His finger curled inside you. Your body convulsed. You opened your eyes, but you couldn't see anything clear. You felt your body heating up, sweat covering it. Your hands clutching at Rafe's shirt as you made those noises that didn't sound like coming from you. But they came from you. From something deep inside you. Something Rafe had just started to awake. You bit your lips to make those sounds stop as you felt that throbbing at your core with Rafe's fingers caressing, pushing, rubbing, pinching, curling, thrusting.

His other hand gripped your chin, turned your head and you looked up at him, just for a second, before his lips met yours and he claimed your mouth in a kiss that was nothing like the one you remembered from all those years ago, that tender kiss. This kiss was hungry and fierce, and intoxicating. Your mouth opened for his tongue. He claimed it. And when it pushed inside you, it felt like it was your own hunger. You felt like you were starving as he was devouring you.

Wide-eyed, your face burning with heat, your body aching with an unknown need, you gazed up at him when he broke the kiss, lifting his body, no longer touching you. But you still felt him, felt him on you, felt him inside of you, tasted him in your mouth. He had let go off you for a moment to take off his shirt and his sweatpants.

He was completely naked when he hovered above you, resting on his hands pressed into mattress on either side of you. The muscles in his arms tense and hard. Everything about him was hard. Solid like a rock. He was kneeling between your legs. Your body shaking, shivering as if you were cold when you felt that sweat covering it and that wetness between your legs. You were so much the opposite of him, in every way. You felt it so much at that moment when he just looked down at you. Something in his eyes so harsh that it made you shudder and close your eyes. You shook your head and stopped when his hand touched your face and held it. You opened your eyes. His face only inches away from yours.

“I'm gonna be gentle, alright? I'm gonna be nice.” His lips brushed yours in a tender kiss and your body arched up, despite your hands being balled up into fists and your arms pressed close to your chest as if you were trying to shield yourself.

You felt a movement, felt the bed tilt. And when you opened your eyes, you saw him kneeling in front of you, touching his hard cock, pumping it.

You gasped at the sight. It was even bigger than you had thought from what you had felt earlier. It was too big.

“Just the tip, alright? I won't push it all in. I know you're too delicate,” he said as if he had read your mind – or just saw the fear in your eyes.

He leaned down to kiss you and whisper at your lips.

“Just the tip, I promise. You will like it.”

As if proving his point, your hips moved up on their own and a hot shiver made you moan as his fingers touched your needy core. A smile appeared on his face, not quite a smirk, but you weren't sure anymore what you saw, what you felt, what you wanted. All reason was clouded and still, you knew that this was wrong.

You closed your eyes as he lifted one of your legs.

“Look at me,” his voice dark and so low, you felt a tingling at the back of your neck.

You obeyed and opened your eyes. Your arms were still pressed against your heaving chest, but it was easy for him to move them and place your hands on his shoulders as he lowered himself onto you.

“Look at me,” he said again and your eyes were fixed on his face, watching his features, seeing that little smile, that glint in his eyes, seeing his mouth open, and his face contort the moment his tip parted your folds. At first it felt slick and smooth and then suddenly so painfully rough. The thick tip was stretching you unbearably wide. Your legs automatically pressed against his body, desperately trying to close and shut out the intruder. He pushed them apart and you screamed, screamed out loud at the top of your lungs as he pushed inside you. Too deep, too hard, too rough, too fast.

Waves and waves of stinging pain rushing threw your body, making it convulse and shake, making you whimper and whine, you felt like you were being torn apart. You pushed at his shoulders, pressed at his chest, but his hips kept moving, rocking hard against you. Urging his hard length into you.

“So good,” he muttered between strained breaths. “So tight,” he panted. “All mine,” he growled.

His movements so rough and relentless, he seemed lost in his own pleasure. His eyes fixed on you, but not really seeing you, he seemed like he had forgotten all about you, your part in this, your existence.

“Rafe!” You screamed his name, screamed it at his face, screamed it so loud, your throat hurt.

His eyes flickered and he looked at you, really looked at you. And something changed in his features. For the briefest of moments, he paused, leaned down to kiss your lips, whispering something you didn't understand. And then you felt his fingertip touching that spot his thumb had teased before. Only now it wasn't teasing any longer. You didn't know how or why he knew exactly what to do, but that touch, that movement with his fingertip was all your body needed, all it craved for that moment. Your mouth opened wide as you moaned, then just gasped. The back of your head pressing into the mattress, your eyes rolling back. Your fingernails digging into Rafe's tense muscles at his back, as you were pulling him closer, ever closer, when that pain all of a sudden turned into pleasure, a painful, hot pleasure that left you in a state of rapture. Your body bending, trembling, shaking, as Rafe fucked you through your first ever orgasm.

You heard him groan, an animalistic sound. You felt your walls tensing up in waves and clenching so hard around him, making his thrusts only more ruthless, more forceful, as he took you, took all of you. And as the rush of your fierce high faded, you felt him so intensely. Felt him pushing inside you, filling you, feeling you, breathing on you, touching you, holding you, kissing you – it was like he was melting into you, when all of a sudden he stopped his movements, gazed down at you with hazy eyes, his features tensing up for a moment, and the next, the absolute opposite: all soft and lovingly, so sweet. He lowered his body onto yours and you felt his heavy panting syncing with yours. He kissed your face, breathless. Kissed your lips and after pushing into you a few more times, he pulled out and rolled his body off yours.

You kept lying on your back, next to him. Your legs still apart, knees bent. And you felt the cool breeze from the air-conditioning on your heated body, covered in a film of sweat, yours and his. And between your legs, you felt another kind of throbbing. And something sticky dripping out of you. You shut your legs and winced, rolling on your side, you turned away from him. It was as if reality hit you hard, and despite the fact that you still hadn't composed your breathing, despite the fact that your body wanted to remain in that blissful state, you felt a sudden wave of shame and guilt and something else that hurt even more, even deeper than the burning pain at your core.

At the touch of his hand, you flinched. You didn't want to, but your body curled up and you moved away from him, when in fact, you wanted nothing more than for him to hold you, to tell you that it was alright. That everything was exactly how it should be. That you were safe. With him.

Instead, you felt the bed tilt and you heard him get up and put on his clothes.

You moved your head so you could look up at him, look at him through teary eyes.

He stood in front of the bed, looking down at you. For a moment he seemed to hesitate, as if he wanted to lie down again. Then his features hardened. A frown appeared on his brow. His hands balled into fists, his jaws clenched.

“Now you can lie about that too. When your boyfriend fucks you tonight, you can lie and say it is you first time.” His voice so cold, so hard, it took the air out of your lungs.

And you only exhaled when he had left your room and the door shut behind him and you cried and sobbed and wept.

a/n: this was kinda intense. Much darker than my recent fics. And so long. But I didn't want to rush it. I needed to write it as it is. I still hope you liked reading it. Reblogs, comments and likes are very much appreciated. btw, it's my birthday today.

xx

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #dark rafe cameron #outer banks #drew starkey #obx #smut fic #rafe x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fanfiction #dark fic

[evielmostdefinitely]

I would love see the first time that “excentric” aspect of they relationship started. Like how Coryo punishment her for the first time, She know what will happened? They talk about? And how she feel with that? Afraid ? Turn on ? Jealousy in think that probaly he did this with someone else ? Sorry if i wrote something wrong, english is not my first language

closer to the darkness |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: as requested, the dark backstory that led to you and coriolanus' exciting sex life.

contains: very very VERY DARK undertones. mentions prostitution and the exploitation that occurs in the capitol. public sex with undertones of slight humiliation. very very dark coriolanus. slightly manipulative and obsessive coriolanus. bdsm themes. dom!coryo x sub!reader. spanking. spanking with implement. oral (fem receiving). overall very dark smut. minors dni.

A simple invite, passed to him by the sly smirk of a classmate. “Snow,” Dennis hissed lowly, pencil tapping on the page of a book, eyes cutting to watch for the librarian. “A couple of us are going to The Underground tonight. Are you coming?” 

Coriolanus blinked, face staying stoic, unreadable. He didn’t particularly like the boys in his class, not now anymore than years before. He found the civilness of their polite conversation to be useless now- now that he had you. 

“I’m busy.” Coriolanus dismissed. He had no interest in going to their gambling billiards room or whatever this club was. 

“Oh, come on.” Dennis grinned, head ducking low. “You can leave the Duke girl for a night. She won’t mind anyways. Her brothers are always there. You’ll be in kept company.” 

Coriolanus perked at the mention. Your brothers, the two elder Duke boys that he hadn’t yet charmed the way he had your father and mother. A necessity to secure their approval. He knew they’d run the family business, already high up in the family ranks. If he planned to go forth with his game ideas, he’d need their investment. 

That drove him to cancel his plans with you, a half-hearted excuse about studying, offering to spend the weekend with you instead. He joined the boys of his class, socialites and aristocrats alike, all wearing their family’s name like a badge of honor. Coriolanus followed them towards the luxury end of the Capitol, secluded and reserved for only the best of the Capitol goers, exclusion even in the highest class. 

Coriolanus twisted the wad of cash in his pocket, hoping he could remember enough to pass at the roulette tables. “Here,” Dennis hummed, passing the small, black mask to Coriolanus when the doorman let them in. 

“What’s this?” Coriolanus muttered, twisting the mask in his hands. 

“Just part of it. I’m sure it helps the others feel their identity is well protected.” Dennis shrugged, tying the silk ends to the back of his head, eyes accentuated with the harsh black contrast of the material. 

They gamble openly during the games, but are worried here? Coriolanus thought, fighting back an eye roll. Instead, he fastened the material, following the string of people through the darkened hallways. It felt far from luxurious, more like the burrows and halls he’d sneak with Lucy Gray back in District Twelve. 

His mind wandered back to hers, furiously shaking her from his thoughts. He needed to be sharp, alert. Coryo had already decided he’d stumble into your brothers, hopeful he could still find them with the masks, that he’d sit at the right roulette table. 

Coriolanus stilled when there was no table. No green velvet lined table with dice and cigar smoke, no liquor or Avoxes roaming about. No, instead, there was a small, circular stage with a single row of chairs surrounding it. 

“Snow,” Dennis nudged his arm, pulling him from his thoughts. “We’re over here.” 

Coryo followed him, thankful for the mask, hoping it would conceal his wandering eyes. What was this place? A stage in the middle, nothing else. Coriolanus’ chest tightened with fear, grim curiosity perhaps as he settled into his seat. All around him, men with masks, chatting with each other, all nearly identical in the dim light of the room. 

“I heard they found her from Eleven.” The boy, Lucios, beside Dennis grinned. 

“I’m quite bored of the homely looking girls. They always look frightened, like caged animals being led to slaughter.” Dennis rolled his eyes in boredom. “I wish they’d bring in another girl from One. They always know how to put on the best shows.” 

“I’d even settle for Two.” Lucios cackled in a droning posh tone, waving over for his drink. “Maybe Three.” 

“It wouldn’t even be a real girl from Three. A hologram.” Dennis laughed. “As long as it isn’t Twelve or Ten, they always have the worst smell.” He snarled, eyes cutting to Coriolanus, who was rigidly watching the interaction. 

Dennis frowned, lips parting with a question, the trilling of a bell silencing him and everyone around them. All settling into their seats, quiet and still. Coryo’s heart beat so loudly it was deafening in his ears. Eyes scanning the room, he caught a glimpse of your brothers on the other side, eyes meeting only for a moment before the room fell dark. Completely pitch black, Coriolanus swallowed his rising panic, fists balling. 

It was a set up, a conspiracy to get him here, kill him. Of course they’d want to, they wanted you all for their own. Dennis had commented on you weeks ago, congratulated him behind bared teeth. How could he be so stupid? How could he not see?

A single light blinded him, body tensing at the sudden intrusion of light spilling above the stage. Underneath the beam, a man stood. His face was concealed entirely by a red mask that covered all his features, dressed in appropriate but dark wear, but with gloves that matched his mask. Next to him, a girl kneeling in a collar, and just a collar. Her face not covered, oh no, Coriolanus could see every line of fear, shine of terror though she tried to hide it. 

“Gentlemen,” The man’s voice was loud, even through the muffling of the mask it rang through the silent room. “Tonight our guest from Nine.” His gloved hand ran over her tied hair, and Coriolanus didn’t miss the way she shivered, biting her lip in fear. 

Coriolanus watched in eerie intrigue as the man brought her to a small bench like contraption, making a large show of securing her arms and legs, so she was left spread, vulnerable to the audience to see the most intimate parts of her. 

Coriolanus’ chest burned, maybe with fear, maybe with something else. Your brothers were here, here. He hoped they hadn’t seen him, stomach turning with the fear of what you’d do if you found out- fear that you’d leave him. The man on stage’s droning words fell deaf on his ears, mind racing with a plan, a plan to leave before they’d see you. He couldn’t see the row on the other side because of the light, so he hoped they couldn’t see him. 

His thoughts were stopped by a single cutting whistle of wood through the air, walloping onto skin with a resounding smack! followed by a muffled cry. 

“In the dark times, far before the dark times, since nearly the beginning of time, there have been many forms of debauchery that have been used to cause excitement.” The man droned dramatically, twisting a leather paddle in his hand. 

He tapped the girl’s left bottom cheek, before bringing his arm back, sending the paddle soaring onto her ass again. Coriolanus jumped slightly at the impact, mind dumbly blank of the worries from before. Nearly trance-like, watching the man paddle the girl, how she cried pathetically, how her flesh turned, blossoming with marks. 

“There has always been a power imbalance.” The man continued, letting the paddle rub teasingly over her body. “There have always been the powerful, the helpless. Those who are in charge, those who are submissive- completely at the mercy of your cruelness, of your control.” 

Coriolanus felt his pants tent, blood rushing from his head down to his throbbing cock. The man stalked, heavy footsteps that echoed in the room, back between the girl's legs. “There is a need for order. Even in intimacy.” He hummed, bringing the paddle down twice, two snapping flicks of his wrist. 

Coriolanus swallowed, spit pooling in his mouth at the cries the girl gave. The man scanned the room, setting the paddle on her backside, slowly taking off a glove. Coriolanus leant forward, watching the man with intense intrigue. 

“Because as we all know, there is pleasure in power.” The man boomed, his hand disappearing between the girl’s legs. A gasp ghosting on the edge of pleasure filled the room, her back arching at the sensation that was hidden from Coriolanus’ view, his eyes narrowing for a better view. 

Coryo’s face blushed deeply, burning with excitement when the man’s fingers lifted, covered in sticky arousal from the girl that webbed his fingers. “And as you can see, there is pleasure in pain as well.” Though his face was hidden, Coriolanus could hear the smug smirk of his voice. 

“My darling guest here is one who enjoys such pain, which is why she’s chosen to serve the Capitol and offer her services.” The man continued, wiping her release on his pants. “For the night, the rates bidding starts at a high price since she can only be shared once.” 

Coriolanus slipped out when the bidding started, the lights dimming enough for him to see the exit. He walked furiously down the streets of the Capitol, throwing the mask furiously on the ground. Still, his cock throbbed, stirred to life, not at the girl but at the idea. The idea that you would be tied up, tilt that power to him entirely, be at his mercy and command. 

He’d brain his throbbing cock as the reason his thoughts were scattered, why he showed up at your penthouse. 

“I thought you were studying- oh!” You squeaked, letting the door fall with a snap shut, Coriolanus’ hands on your waist, kissing you with feverish hunger. 

“I missed you.” Coriolanus rasped, your heart swelling at the words. “I couldn’t wait until this weekend. I had to see you. Had to taste you.” 

Your knees wobbled at the words, tensing with excitement. You could feel his stiff cock on your hip, ignoring the way he rubbed himself into your hip, letting him settle between your legs. You were surprised when his plush lips pressed to the inside of your thighs, hot breath ghosting over your clothed pussy. Your fingers tangled through his hair when his lips wrapped around your sensitive clit, lapping and suckling. 

Coriolanus knew what to do, what he needed to do to get you brainless, pliant before he’d suggest such a proposal. So he let you pull at his hair, let you tug at the roots while you whined and cried out, bucking beneath him as his tongue worked you open. 

“I want to try something.” Coriolanus hovered above your sprawled out frame, slack and limp against the rustled sheets. His eyes were dark, looking down at you from the slope of his nose- it sent a shiver right through your already trembling frame. “If you’re willing.” 

Brain still foggy from the previous orgasms, you nodded lazily. Of course you did, it was like clockwork to Coryo, all a part of his plan. “You always enjoy it so much when I’m rough with you,” Coryo began, biting back a smirk at how you blushed, body folding shyly into itself at his words. “I want to try something a little… more.” 

“I don’t much care for torture.” You frowned, lips pulling in a scowl. 

“I would never torture you, darling.” Coryo smiled softly, a small shake of his head that had you relaxing. “I think you’ll find this more pleasurable than painful.” 

He had you over his thigh after a short amount of coaxing. Legs on either side of his thigh, body resting on the silk sheets behind him. He alternated sharp smacks to your ass that left you squealing, lifting in tense alert at the sensation only for his hand to slip back between your thighs, tease and pleasure you until you melted back onto his thigh. Until his spanks were met with pathetic whimpers of pleasure, rubbing yourself shamelessly on his thigh. 

It was only the beginning. The very start of the shift in power for the two of you. First in the bedroom, then out in the world.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x capitol!reader #tbosas #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x you #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow fic #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x oc #coriolanus snow x you smut #coriolanus x you #young!coriolanus snow #young coriolanus snow #young president snow #dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fanfic #coriolanus snow x female!reader #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #tbosbas fic #tbosbas fanfiction #the hunger games #president snow #tbosbas x reader #tbosas x reader #tbosbas

[olsenmyolsen]

Ever Since Natasha Saw You (18+)

master list

dark master list

Post Black Widow Dark!Natasha Romanoff (Female Reader X Natasha Romanoff)

Summary: She was a hero. But to her, YOU were so much more.

Word Count: 6.1K

Content: Dub-Con, Obsession, Kidnapping, Stalking, Blood, Knife, Knifeplay, Mommy Kink, Feelings, Trauma, Death,

The Black Widow hid a secret.

She was in love with you. Sounds pretty innocent... right?

"Night Y/N!" Your coworker Daisy called out as you were still typing at your computer. It was Friday night, and everyone but you was already leaving. Leaving to be free of the thoughts of work for at least the weekend.

You had a marketing job in downtown Manhattan. Skyscraper. Cubicle. Long nights. That kind of job.

You liked it, honestly.

Sure, New York and the surrounding areas were dangerous. Hell, at times. But you had heroes and vigilantes to save you. You had first-hand experience in 2012 when you and your Dad were saved while out at your "I made it through University without killing myself" lunch.

Now, here you were 4 years later. Still in the city while your Dad left. But that was fine. Being on your own has been exemplary. Sure, you have some friends... coworkers, really. You went on dates! I mean, they didn't lead to much more. But you were going through life.

A cat! You have a cat. An orange tabby who only loves you for food...

Anyways! You were fine and finishing up work on your computer when a pop-up of World News showed up in the top right-hand corner of your screen.

What's New 3 Weeks After The Fall Of A Secret Organization Hiding In The Sky? Russia and the U.S. Remain Quiet.

You heard about the debris and strange things found over on that side of the world earlier this month. With that came the theories.

You rolled your eyes at most. But some were fun. Like aliens was a popular one. People online said it was a crashed group of green-shape-shifting aliens. Your coworker Lindsey swore by another that claimed it was a giant purple guy who crashed on Earth.

Yeah, that'll be the day.

You even had a friend of a friend named Darcy who said an Avenger was present to what happened, leaving you curious.

The Avengers, as far as you were concerned, were in trouble. Rumblings, sightings, and videos of two sides of the superhero group fighting at a German airport left many to speculate that this was the end. Plus, this coming weeks after what happened in Lagos and the murder of King T'Chaka made it all the more plausible.

So, if the rumor was confirmed that an Avenger was at the collapse of what many were confused about, it was... interesting.

But you couldn't dwell on that. You shook your head and closed out of the news to finish up your projected cost for the next wave of Roxxon Marketing.

_

As you walked out of your office building, you were unaware you were being followed.

It wasn't the first time you had been followed. Fuck it wasn't even the fiftieth time it had happened, but still you remained clueless. She thought it was cute at first how unaware of your surroundings you were. It always made her smile.

Because in one second, an innocent and pretty thing like you could be gone.

But she wouldn't let that happen.

Not by anyone else, at least.

You have to understand. She was your protector. Yeah.. Yeah, that's right! The one to make sure you got home safe. The one to take care of threats no matter how minuscule they might be. She also made sure no one got too close or even dared to ask you out.

You couldn't date. That would be unfair and very hurtful to the one who... watched over you...

I mean, you never wondered why suddenly Dennis never showed back up to work after asking you out to lunch, now did you?

Rumor was his family got sick, and he had to skip town. But we know about rumors now, don't we? I.E., purple aliens. Green shapeshifting ones. You get it.

Oh. Also. What happened to Dennis, you may ask?

I'll let you know when his body turns up.

However, all of this is to say that you were lucky Natasha Romanoff picked you.

She was back after being gone, having to deal with some family business. But she was back! For you! Natasha thought you should be grateful. She could be- SHOULD BE on the run right now, but here she was twenty feet behind you.

After tonight, you were going to know precisely who she was.

Natasha smiled as she followed you. She laughed as she saw how cautious you were of people even when you're on your phone like you are right now.

However, as cautious as you may be, it leaves you vulnerable. Sweet. Easy.

Natasha thinks you're too nice for your own good sometimes. Like you always see the best in people. It drives Natasha crazy the amount times she has had to stop because you stopped to help someone. A drunk. A homeless man. A- you get it.

As you and Natasha head down into the subway, she appreciates how your route hasn't changed at all since your first day of work many years ago. Yet she can't help but snicker at how you've never noticed her taking that walk with you. But then again, even with how cautious you are, you don't notice things.

You still haven't noticed the tiny cameras Natasha installed in your place. Or the amount of panties she's stolen. Or even the amount of times you've slept with her arms around your body. In addition to the hushed whispers and stolen kisses, she's left on your lips.

On top of that, you haven't noticed her feelings for you.

Natasha moves closer to you as you both are nearing your stop. With a plan in motion, The Black Widow can't help but smile.

Natasha takes another step forward and grabs onto the metal pole in front of herself to stop her movement when you look up and around the car. You stop when your eyes reach Natasha's green ones in a hoodie and jeans. You smile quickly before putting your head down, focusing back on your phone.

What you did just now was polite. You looked from your phone to stretch your neck and smiled at a cute blonde who just so happened to be looking your way.

That's what you thought.

To Natasha, you signaled her out.

With your eyes, you noticed her. After all this time, you did it! On tonight of all nights. It was a sign. It was meant to be!

Natasha smiled and stared at you, unaware.

When you finally got up to get off at your stop, you felt your arm being yanked back. When you stumbled back and turned your head to find a bald man older than your father looking at you like he won a prize, you pulled as hard as possible. But his grip was tight. "Where are you going, sweetheart?" He looked over your body, making you pull again.

How was no one stopping this man? Was no one seeing it? Did no one care?

The train car beeped, signaling the doors were going to be closing, and the man had yet to remove you from his grip. You were about to scream when the blonde woman from before grabbed your other arm, making you shriek in surprise. The woman acted fast and kicked the man in the knee hard enough to break it before rushing the two of you out of the train car just as the doors closed on three other men hitting their first against the door.

You wanted to wave them bye and flick them off, but your arm hurt. Not the one the man held.. But... but your other one. The one the woman held as she saved you.

"You, alright?" The blonde had a raspy voice as she spoke. It sounded familiar, but as you quickly scanned her face, you declared she must have that kind of face. (as if) But her eyes. Her eyes were one of a kind. Beautiful and a shimmering green you wanted to get lost in.

So lost that you almost forgot about the arm pain and the dizziness you were starting to feel...

"Yeah." You nodded to the blonde who had yet to release your arm. "I'm fine."

This was a lie, and Natasha, of course, knew that. I mean, she was the one wearing the ring that, with one turn of the gemstone, revealed a tiny needle. One that the blonde used to inject your arm with a sleeping agent.

"Are you sure?" The woman smiled as she asked you. Why was she smiling? You went to nod that you were indeed fine but found yourself more tired. Weaker even. "Oh, honey, you don't look so good."

Natasha smiled as she felt your body losing the fight. Natasha quickly looked around before wrapping your arm around her shoulder to make it appear as if you were a drunk friend who needed help getting home.

"Oh, Y/N, it looks like that guy must have really done something, huh?"

The guy in the group of men that she paid off.

Your mind was becoming black as your body went limp, and before you could ask her how she knew your name or who the hell she was, you took one last look at the blonde.

This time, you recognized who she was.

You went to speak but slurred your words as you closed your eyes, passing out in Natasha Romanoff's arms.

_

Getting you home was easy.

As Natasha unlocked your front door, she smiled, pulling you closer as you entered through the threshold between the hallway and your apartment. Natasha smiled wider as she looked around at what would become her place with you before looking at your limp, unconscious body. "We're home!"

Home was with you.

With a kick to the door, it closed behind you two as she hurried you to your room.

Once inside, Natasha was happy to find that not much, if anything, had changed since she last visited. She said hi to your cat, who purred at the sight of the blonde.

Natasha loved your cat and couldn't wait to be a good cat mom.

Natasha took you and gently placed you on the bed before looking around the room. She was looking for something. Natasha closed the bedroom door and went back, kicking the floorboard to the right of your end table, and up it flipped. She bent down and pulled out a small black backpack she stored two years ago.

Opening it up to make sure everything was still there. She knew you probably didn't even know that it existed. (You hadn't.) But Natasha had to be sure.

Dumping out the bag's contents, she was happy to see that nothing was missing. But she still took inventory. 5 Widow Bites. 1 Pistol. 12 Bullets. 1 Set of Handcuffs. 1 Knife. 3 Needles of the Sleeping Agent. 1 Burner Phone.

Finally, 2 very dry Nutri-Grain Bar.

Natasha kept the loaded gun, knife, and handcuffs out of the bag and placed it on the desk in the corner of your room. The bag moved to the edge of the bed—no point in hiding it now.

"Oh, Y/N!" Natasha sat next to your upper body, passed out on the bed. She spoke as her soft hand ran through your hair. It calmed Natasha. "You're so pretty, Y/N."

Natasha looked over your still-covered body before moving her hand down your back. "Here. Come on." She flipped you over onto your back and pulled you more onto the bed.

Natasha's eyes found your face. "Baby, I can't wait for the rest of our lives." Natasha bit her lip as she spoke to you. Hopefully, and giddy for the future. "We're going to be so happy." Natasha leaned down and planted a kiss at the top of your head. "You still smell like coconut. I still don't really like that shampoo, but I know how much you do." Natasha smiled as if this was a normal conversation before giving you another kiss. Just as one of her hands began to snake its way across your stomach before landing at your hip.

"I love you."

Natasha couldn't help herself. She smiled brightly as she said those words out loud to you for the first time.

Natasha's lips found the side of your face again and again. She always loved how soft you felt against her. Delicate. Like something Natasha wanted to cherish. Keep perfect. Forever.

But there was also that part inside of her. The side of Natasha that wanted to own you. Take that softness and fuck it out of you. Damage you. Hurt you.

Both were fighting for control.

Regardless, Natasha slid down the zipper of your unbuttoned jeans and slipped her hand over your black cotton panties. Moaning as her stomach flipped in the joys of touching you, feeling your heat on her fingers. Letting excitement wave over her, she cupped your pussy before dragging her index finger up over your growing wet-covered folds. "Oh fuck, baby!" Natasha moaned before looking at the side of your face.

Natasha smiles to herself. She leans over and kisses your cheek, and quickly removes her hand from your recently shaved pussy.

Natasha licks the little slick on her fingers off.

Natasha savored the taste before she laid flat on her back. Lifting her ass as she tore off the black jeans she was wearing along with her red panties. Choosing to keep her slightly raised pullover hoodie on, Natasha grabbed your left wrist. "I want you to feel me..." Natasha looked over and spoke to you. "I want you to feel how wet you make me, Y/N! How tight I am for you. I've been waiting."

With that, Natasha kept her eyes on your left hand as she moved it down her toned stomach. The tips of your fingers brushing over her skin, making her squirm in anticipation for what's to come.

Moving them further down, Natasha gasps as your hand gets pushed down onto the top of Natasha's bare pussy. "This is for you." She moans as she pushed your hand further down. Directing your middle and ring finger to her clit. "Oh fuck!" She moans and grows wetter at your unconscious touch.

"Keep going. Keep going!" Natasha directs your fingers to move in a circular motion. Before her mouth drops as your fingers get pushed over The Black Widows dripping pussy. She moans and grips your hand. "Right there." Natasha moves your fingers around her opening for you.

"It's for you, baby. Come on. I want you to fuck me!" She gives your hand one more push and bucks when your fingers easily slide into her. Natasha loudly moans while her left hand grips the comforter of the bed.

Your fingers feel perfect inside of her.

Natasha can't get over that.

She thinks you were made for her.

Slowly, Natasha starts to move herself against your fingers. Her hips working overtime. Only using her right hand to position your hand better. "Oh my God!" Natasha smiles as a shaky breath comes out. You're doing this to her. You're making her feel this good. You're fucking her right.

Natasha is rocking her hips up and down your slick fingers. You're pushing her closer and closer. "Oh god!" She grunts as she slams the back of your hand to feel you deeper, indirectly slapping her pussy and clit that, sends a wave of pain that morphs into pleasure. "Oh yes!"

Natasha does it repeatedly while her left-hand works on her clit. Her middle fingers pushes the bud of it up as she continues her circular motion. "That's it, baby! Make me cum! Make me fucking cum!" She turns her head to you and stares at your unconscious body. "You're doing so well, baby."

If you were awake right now, you'd feel Natasha's wetness run down your fingers. Into your palms. And down your wrist. You'd hear her moans and screams of pleasure as she makes herself cum with your fingers. "Oh my God!" Natasha Romanoff jolts up. "Y/N, I'm cumming! I'm cumming! Oh fuck! Oh, fuck, baby.."

Natasha rides her orgasm out and smiles when she falls back onto the bed. She turns and looks at your body. "You made me feel so good."

You're perfect.

As she catches her breath, Natasha gently pulls your fingers out and brings them up to her mouth. She marvels at the sight of you now covered in her before she takes her tongue and runs it over your fingers. Enjoying the taste of herself. "I can't wait to taste you." Now that we're together, she forgot to add.

Natasha insets your finger back into her mouth. Loudly sucking on them and moaning before shoving your fingers to the back of her throat, making herself gag on them. She repeats the action.

"Will you let me do that to you?" Natasha says after she's pulled them out and caught her breath. "Hmm?" She licks them again. "Will you gag for me?" She kisses your ring finger and twirls it around. "I wonder..."

Natasha kisses you one more time as she gently places your hand down and moves her body to lay half of it on you. "I wonder what you won't do now that you're mine." She takes your chin in her hand and moves it in her direction. "I can't wait for you to be awake. For us." Natasha deeply kisses your lips as her hand quickly pushes your boobs up. "But first." Natasha releases you and gets up from the bed. She takes off the rest of her clothes and tosses them into your now-shared laundry basket before moving to the desk where her belongings are located.

"I need to take care of a few things."

_

Slowly, your body starts to stir awake.

You go to move to your side but wince when you land on your arm. You are unsure why it hurts, but you are too stiff and tired to worry about that right now. But for some reason, since you're awakening, your body isn't going back to sleep.

Silent bells are ringing in your head, but you don't know they're there.

You groan and manage to flip your body onto its stomach. This position feels terrific, especially since you feel the coolness of the bedsheet against your body. You snuggle your face into your pillow- your eyes shoot open.

You don't remember coming home...

You open your eyes wider and take a look around the room. It's your room. You're relieved to see that but grow more worried at your nonexistent memory of getting home.

Plus, it looks like things around the room are off... you turn your tired back against the mattress and find yourself surprised to have another person in the room.

A blonde-haired woman wearing one of your college sweatshirts looking through one of your old journals... Once again, the alarm in your head is not alerting you. It's distant and faded.

"That's my shirt..?" Your groggy voice makes the woman look up with a smile.

To you, the woman's smile looks like a kid on Christmas morning.

To Natasha, she's testing out how you're gonna act.

"Hi!" The woman gets up with a glass of water from the chair at your desk. The action reveals to you that it looks like she's not wearing any bottoms, but you can't tell because of the length of her- your sweatshirt. The blonde rounds the bed and carefully gets on her knees before you on the floor. She looks kindly at you as your eyes quickly scan her face and exposed legs. "Nice to see you up." She says to you. Innocently enough. "How are you feeling?" She sweetly asks as she hands you the glass of water.

"I don't- I don't remember..." You say, making the blonde smile wider. "I was walking..." You struggle to come up with anything after that. It's like your mind went blank.

Why couldn't you remember?

You shake your head and take a few sips from the glass before the blonde takes it from you to place on your bedside table—a kind gesture on the outside. But the less you know about the pheromonal powder agent you just ingested, the better.

"Oh, honey..." The blonde lifts and places her hand on yours. The soft contact makes you feel warmer. However, the feeling of this being wrong is still unreachable to you. Natasha smiles when you don't pull away. The drugs from before and now are working. "Those men really did a number on you, huh?"

Men? You think as Natasha watches your face.

"You know you're lucky I was there," Natasha says as she rises from her kneeling position to stand in front of you. Now she towers you, and you feel her legs brush past your own. You don't stop her as she moves closer to you. She raises a hand and pushes some of your hair back. "A man grabbed you and wanted to hurt you, but I was there to stop them. But honey, I think they drugged you..."

Her touch and voice were soothing. She felt and smelled wonderful. You even did your best to not react to the pet name she gave you. "Dru-drugged me?" Once again, the bells should be going off, but Natasha knows exactly what she's doing. "Yeah, I got you off the train, but as we were walking, you started to walk funny. Your face got sleepy." She says this while looking into your eyes. She has her gaze fixated on you, and it pulls you in. "But you were smart." The blonde smiles down at you. "You made sure to tell me where you lived so I could get you home safe." Her raspy voice makes you smile, but her words are making you question if that happened... but you don't remember...

"Are you okay?" She asks as you're thinking. You look back up at her concerned face. "Yeah.. I- I was just trying to remember..." Natasha nods and moves her body in between your legs. Spreading them further apart. "What did you say your name was again?" You ask, making Natasha laugh. "I didn't. Good try, though." She places her hands on your shoulders. She's bold. "What's the matter? You don't trust me?" Something about the way she says it makes you feel sick and guilty for even thinking that you didn't trust her.

Natasha, of course, knows this.

"No- no, I trust you! I'm sorry!" You reach your hands out and place them on Natasha's covered hips. Natasha smiles at your action while faking a sad sniffle. "My name is Natasha." You look over the blonde and smile.

That's when it clicks.

"Natasha Romanoff." Natasha's frown turns into a smile. "Wow, you know who I am?" She fakes surprise and turns on the innocence. You nod with your mind, unable to think about anything else but her. "Wow! I got saved by The Black Widow."

Natasha watches as you process this faux information. Gosh, you look so cute. "I guess I was lucky, huh?" You look at her, earning a chuckle. "I just didn't want anything to happen to you," Natasha says, warming your heart. "You're too perfect." She adds in a low whisper. Something you catch that makes your brain fuzzy.

However, before you can do or say anything else, Natasha pushes her body closer to you. Carefully, she watches your eyes as she lifts one leg over yours. Placing one knee on the bed next to your hips before doing the same with the other. She smiles down at you as her bare ass finds itself sitting in your lap.

You feel her wet pussy on your tight black bike shorts.

"Is this okay?" She whispers as she brings her face close enough to yours to feel her breath on your ear. You inhale her scent and feel the butterflies in your stomach.

"More than okay, Natasha..." You find yourself saying. The alarms in your head have officially been silenced. You should be asking why she's doing this, why she's still here. You shouldn't be accepting her advances. But yet you aren't questioning her. You accept her actions with a smile.

She smiles back.

"You know..." Natasha leans down and kisses your cheek. "I'll always protect you." You feel a blush on your face when her soft lips touch your skin again. "I've loved you for so long, and now I get to show you." Natasha lifts her face away from you to look at your eyes flutter.

Natasha sees how defenseless you are now.

The drugs have all worked.

"You love me?" You question as you move your hands down from Natasha's hips to her thighs. The touch of her feels cool to your warm hands. You peer into her green eyes and see them sparkle. "For years, I've loved you." She unwraps her arms from around you and places them on your hands. She moves them up from her thighs to under what used to be your shirt. You feel the bend of her hips and the softness of the sides of her body as your fingertips brush past their way to her nipples.

She pushes your hand to grope her boobs.

"For years, I've wanted you, and now I have you. Don't I?"

Natasha slowly moves her hips back and forth, sending a wave of pleasure through her body as her wet clit brushes up and down the end seam of your bike shorts. She moans and whimpers while looking at you, waiting for an answer. "Don't I, Y/N?!" You push and pull her boobs as you look at Natasha Romanoff acting like a slut for you. "Yes. Yes, Natasha! You have me!"

"I'm yours!" You wanted to scream.

"Good girl." She whispers as she leans down and kisses you again and again. Her tongue pushing its way into your mouth. The taste of her is salvia is electrifying. The pleasure you feel makes you moan into her mouth. Natasha smirks as you push yourself deeper and closer to The Black Widow.

Natasha reaches down as you two fall onto the bed to places her hand in the middle of your bike shorts. She begins rubbing your core up and down as her hand pushes your legs open. "Come on, baby. Open up for me."

You nod with your eyes closed and feel Natasha's fingers slow down in speed as she now gently brushes her fingers past your wet clit seeping through the shorts.

Each time she touches it, you jump.

And then. Natasha pulls her hands away from you: nothing but the cool air touching the wet spot on your shorts. You feel needy and frustrated. You open your eyes to see Natasha on her knees, lifting her shirt off her body. Her blonde hair falls back into place right above her shoulder.

She smiles at you and watches as you take her in.

You feel your mouth become dry as you look up at Natasha's toned stomach. A set of abs staring at you. You move from her perfect breast and hard pink nipples to her shoulders and biceps. The definition in her arms makes you close your mouth to hold in a noise that would've been embarrassing.

You look up at her neck—a smile when you see a cute mole that was previously hidden. Finally, you bring your eyes to her face and the smirk on her lips.

"Can I take these off?" Natasha points down to your bike shorts. You nod, making Natasha internally laugh. The shorts were coming off no matter what your answer was.

You pull your head from Natasaba's gaze and watch as Natasha's left hand goes to the bottom seam of your shorts and lifts them up from your body.

Once again, her touch makes your skin flush with pleasure. It's as if you're addicted to her and her touch.

Natasha pulls her right arm from behind herself, and that's when you drop your mouth. "Na-natasha, what's that?"

"Did I say you can speak?"

You sit stunned as the knife in her hand comes closer to your body. You weren't aware that you couldn't speak unless spoken to, but... di- did Natasha expect that of you? Did she tell you, and you just forgot?

"Look at me." She sternly asks of you. "Not at the knife but at me." The movement of the knife doesn't stop when you pull your eyes to Natasha and her beautiful green ones. "What did I say earlier?" She asks. "Think real hard and then answer me, okay." Her eyes leave you as she focuses on the blade, meeting the bottom seam of your shorts. You keep your eyes on Natasha's face and hear the ripping sound of your shorts as she goes further and further up.

She stops at your hip close to the top seam when you decide to speak up.

"That you'll always protect me." Natasha smiles wide. You listened and answered her perfectly. Natasha smiles and can't help herself when she leans in and kisses you. "Good job." She says with care dripping from her lips. "What else did I say?"

"That you love me."

Natasha nods. "I do love you." She leans in and, with the knife still in her left hand, drags up the rest of the way. Her lips touch yours at the same time the blade cuts through your shorts.

Immediately, Natasha tosses the knife off the bed. It clatters on the floor, making you jump into Natasha's lips again. "Sorry." You say when she backs away. "It's okay." The blonde tells you. "As long as you know that I would never hurt you, right?"

"Right." You agree easily.

Natasha smiles as she pulls at the fabric resting on your pussy. The coating sticks to you as she pulls it further away until the string of wetness breaks mid-air. Falling back onto your thigh. "Did Mommy make you feel this way?"

She knows that she did.

But she wants to hear you say it.

"Yes." Natasha brings her fingers back to where they belong. "Yes, what?" She glides her middle finger over your pink mound. You moan and shudder.

"Yes, Mommy."

_

Natasha should've left soon after that night. But she couldn't bring herself to do it.

She knew her friends needed her help, but she couldn't leave you. She finally had you, and you had her. Why would she want to jeopardize that?

So as, the days turned into weeks to months to years. Natasha felt the pressure to run continue to build.

In contrast, as the days turned into weeks to months to years. You felt yourself falling deeper and deeper in love with the one who saved you. The Black Widow. The cute blonde hero who made you breakfast in bed. The woman who stayed with you. The one who whispered sweet nothings into your ear every night as you drifted asleep. The woman who saved the world repeatedly could now be there for you.

Natasha even let it be known that you didn't have to work anymore. She had an array of offshore accounts and wanted to spoil you, and you, in turn, let her.

You blushed when she looked your way and never got tired of seeing her smile. A goddess herself sculpted her body, and Natasha happily made sure you came for her. Only her.

"Hey, what's going on?"

You walked out of your and Natasha's bedroom after finding the bed empty to see her in the living room going over her weaponry. Something you didn't like, but you trusted Natasha with them. Knowing she would never harm you.

It was early afternoon, and after your morning trip to the farmers market, followed by some light grocery shopping, you came home to Natasha, waiting with some brunch and a board game.

You took a nap after that, and while you slept, Natasha made her decision.

"They need me."

You knew who Natasha was talking about. It wasn't a secret that you were dating Natasha Romanoff. Well, it was a secret to everyone else. But you get my point. You were dating a fugitive labeled that by the United Nations on account of the Sokovian Accords—an ex-Avenger who still wanted to help.

"What if I don't want you to go." You asked with hurt in your voice. You finally had the love of your life. Someone you weren't even looking for, and now she wanted to go?

"Baby..." She put her gun on the coffee table and made her way to you. Wrapping her arms around you as you wrapped around her body. "I don't want to go..." A white lie, considering her little weekend-avenging trips from time to time weren't enough. "But I have to. To protect us. To protect you." The truth.

"Rogers needs me. Plus, with Vision and Wanda running around trying to be a normal couple again. He really needs the help."

You nodded into Natasha's shoulder. You hated that she was right. "How long?" Natasha sighed. She really didn't know how long it would be.

"Give me two weeks, and I'll be back."

You deflated, and your heart formed cracks. You didn't want her to leave, and you didn't want her to go for that long!

Natasha started kissing your head and rubbing your back, and you didn't understand why until you felt the tears leaving your eyes. You were crying.

Natasha hated it. She hated hearing how heartbroken you were. But at the same time, she loved it. You were hers. And she was yours.

"I love you Y/N. I'll be back before you know it."

"I love you, Natty. Please be careful."

_

Natasha wasn't even gone for two weeks. In fact, her time with Captain and Birdboy lasted a mere pair of days.

On day 3, Vision turned off his transponder.

Within 48 hours, half of everything was dust.

When Natasha found the others at the corpse of the synthezoid. Two people ran through Natasha's mind.

Yelena.

And you.

_

"Y/N!"

Natasha screamed as she busted open the door to your shared space. She threw her useless phone onto the counter as she ran through the living room, still in her uniform. Passing by the TV that sat on the emergency broadcast. "Y/N!" She called out again as she stopped at the bedroom door. "Please be here. Please be alive.."

Natasha had tears in her eyes as she slowly opened the bedroom door. Her breath left her lips in a gasp before she blinked away tears that were escaping. She carefully made her way to the bed and sat down.

You turned over as you felt the bed shift. Then you opened your eyes when you felt Natasha's presence. "Natasha? Natasha!" You sprung up from the bed and collided into her body.

You both wept as the relief flooded your combined emotions. "You're alive..." Natasha whispered into your head before inhaling.

She grew to love your shampoo.

"I miss you." You said. "Don't worry, Detka. I'm here. I'm here." Natasha kissed the side of your head before leaning back and kissing your mouth.

God, she missed your lips and the softness of your cheeks as you tried to hide your blush.

"I miss you." You repeated, confusing Natasha.

"Babe?" She pulled back and held your head in her hands. Her green eyes scanned your beautiful face and saw nothing wrong until a speck of dust flew off your nose. "No.." Natasha whispered with pain. "Y/N." She kept your face in her hands as little by little. You ceased to exist. "Y/N!" Her hands started to be covered.

"I miss you."

"Y/N, please no! No! Please!"

"I miss-" "Stop it!" "Nata-"

"No!" She screamed and screamed as you vanished until she woke up thrashing in her bed at the compound. Alone. Gun drawn and ready...

"Whatever it takes..." Whispered by you... Is this the last thing Natasha always heard when she woke up from her nightmares..

Natasha looks around the room with bags under her red, dried eyes and chapped lips. She struggles every day to live. She hates herself for leaving.

She hates that the last thing you told her was, "be careful."

She is hurt. Alone. Scared.

She misses you.

Every day, she tries and uses her resources to find a way to bring everyone back. But so far, she's always coming up empty-handed.

The worst part is, is that even after three years of you being gone. Natasha never told anyone. You were a secret to everyone else.

But to Natasha, you were everything.

dividers by @/benkeibear & @/firefly-graphics

#dark natasha romanoff #dark!natasha romanoff #dark natasha x reader #dark!natasha x reader #dark!natasha x femaler reader #tw stalking #tw knife #tw knifeplay #black widow imagine #black widow x reader #post black widow #tw obsession #tw obsessive behavior #you have an orange cat #natahsa romanoff #mommy natasha #mommy k!nk #mommy k1nk #character death #dark one shot #one shot #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff smut #dark natasha romanoff smut #dark!fic

[mvltisstuff]

Heyy, i love your fics so michh, can u make Buck x reader, they have a newborn girl and reader is stressed because the baby won't stop crying and buck helps her. Take your time!💋

close to you - e.b

summary: request

evan buckley x reader

gif

a/n: this is such a great idea, and i’m so happy you asked me to execute it <3 madeline is also inspired by the name maddie, as i feel like that’s so cute for buck :((

madeline was a gift from the moment y/n took time off work because of her pregnancy. she was a gift the moment they decided on a name. she was a gift the moment she entered the world in the small hospital room.

however, y/n despised herself for thinking part of it was a curse. she loved her daughter more than anything in the world despite the short amount of weeks that she had arrived. buck had gone back to work, but y/n needed more time to recover from the birth. she got the pleasure of staying home with her baby, and she genuinely thought so.

it wasn’t until the constant screams came through madeline’s mouth that y/n started to get more and more tensed. her head was pounding, her body was sore and she just wanted to give her baby peace.

she felt like the worst mother in the world, not being able to comfort or secure her baby girl. she figured it would come naturally. in reality, it’s never been harder.

she cried when she was hungry, needed a diaper change, sleepy, or she just cried. it seemed like it was always that she just cried and screamed. it burned in y/n’s ear painfully as she listened to the squeals of her daughter. she just wanted her to be happy, and buck wasn’t there to help.

“mad, please.” y/n begged when her eyes started to water again, and the quiet squeaks left her baby’s soft cheeks. “i’m so sorry, i want to help you.”

y/n sighed as she rocked the baby in her arms, the bags under her eyes only getting darker as she stayed up with madeline. buck was exhausted when he came home, so he just went to sleep. y/n was fine with that as he did everything he could for his girls, all the time.

she’d be lying if she said she didn’t miss buck every hour.

he had some type of paternal magic to him that eased madeline. it brought her down to earth, and it gave y/n time to relax. her hormones were all over to place. every time her baby cried, it flooded her body was sadness and exhaustion. she was deeply jealous of buck secretly because of the ease he seemed to have with handling their child.

“hey, dad,” hen smiled, seeing buck walk back into the station after a few weeks with his wife and baby alone. “how’s y/n and the baby?”

“they’re good, i feel so bad leaving them though.”

“it’s hard to leave, that’s the last thing i wanted to do when we first got denny.”

“it’s just- i talk to you about anything, right?”

“of course, buck! what makes you say that, though.”

“madeline cries a lot, and i can just tell in y/n’s face that somethings wrong. i mean, i get that babies cry, but it just seems like it’s taking a huge toll on y/n. i don’t want her thinking she’s a bad mom, and if what happened to maddie happens to her,” buck thinks back to his sister, who went to hell and back trying to be a better mom for jee-yun. it breaks his heart to even consider y/n feeling left in the dark the same way. “i can’t handle that.”

“listen, buck,” hen lands a hand on his shoulder. “it’s going to be ok. you could even go for a little longer off work, you came back really soon.”

“y/n said it’d be good for us, and make me happier.”

“but is it making things easier? you both need to be doing this together. y/n’s saying a lot of stuff she doesn’t mean, and her mind is running at a 100 miles an hour.”

“i know,” buck says. “i’m gonna see her after the shift, i’ll talk to bobby. see what i can do.”

y/n continued to pace around the kitchen for hours, her lower back beginning to ache and her ears hurting from the wails of the baby in her arms. she tried everything from feeding her to rocking her in her swing, but nothing seemed to stop the cries of her daughter.

“madeline, please, i’m begging you,” y/n whines, practically on her knees for her child to stop crying.

the cries quickly started to blend in, y/n realizing that they’ll never go away. she wasn’t sick or anything, y/n repeatedly checked, but madeline still was just simply unhappy. and, y/n swore she was the problem.

buck arrived home late in the night, hours past dinner and inching closer to the bedtime of their casual family. when he opened the door, he just knew that y/n was in there with their baby, struggling to hang on and fix the problem.

“y/n?” he calls out, wandering around their home and finally landing in the nursery. the light purple walls and decorations were darkened, y/n and madeline sitting in the chair together. y/n’s shirt had been pulled down so she was able to feed madeline, but it seemed like no use. the baby in her arms was still weeping and throwing her tiny hands around. “oh, y/n.”

her blank expression told it all, along with the dark bags under her eyes. “she’s so upset, buck, i don’t know what to do.” y/n murmurs slightly over the cries of the baby.

“it’s ok, honey, we’re gonna figure it out.” y/n’s eyes just water with each tear that drops from madeline’s eyes. “no, no, it’s okay, y/n.”

“i’m sorry, i’m just so tired.”

“i know, i’m here now. we can fix this, okay?” y/n swipes under her eyes, taking in sharp breaths and trying to steady herself. “hey, honey, listen to me. you’re ok, madeline’s ok, i’m ok. we’ll be alright.

she nods as his arm touches her side, the baby wrapped in his other arm. “alright. why don’t you hold her, and i’m gonna go see if our noise machine is here yet.”

buck rustles through packages and gifts from their baby shower and tries to find anything that might help their girl sleep, and anything that will bring relief to y/n.

“i found it! it’ll be white noise, which we should’ve tried sooner. i don’t know if it’ll work, but it won’t hurt to try.”

buck allowed y/n to place the baby in her crib, letting her tiny body rest against the soft mattress. they turned the lights off and plugged in the machine, which sang out the staticky white noise that calmed their daughter.

her crying started to come to a halt after a bit of hearing the noise, her adorable little eyes shutting after a bit to finally rest. y/n could feel her whole body relax under seeing her baby finally sleep, as it had felt like days.

she felt like crying, she felt like sleeping, but she also felt like she had so much to do. the house was a mess, her baby had finally gotten to sleep, but she also wanted to sleep. it felt like one thing after another, and buck looked over again to see a y/n staring at the ground.

“what’s the matter? talk to me, y/n.”

“i’m not cut out for this,” her shaky voice comes out, his hands on the sides of her arms.

“what? of course you are!”

“i can barely manage to keep this house together, let alone keep our baby happy and i haven’t even been able to go back to work! i feel like shit and i just want to be happy with my baby, but i don’t even know if she’s happy and-“

“alright, i know,” she allows herself to fall into bucks grasp, as he worries silently for her in his mind. he can feel the exhaustion venting off her body, begging for sleep and somewhere to lay in peace and quiet. “i don’t want you worrying about anything else. let’s go to sleep, and i’m gonna help you, i promise. i’m never leaving either of your sides.”

his arms warmly grasp her body clad in a soft set. he leads her to their shared bed, pulling the blankets out and holding her as she finally gets her deserved sleep.

#911 #911onfox #bobby nash #eddie diaz #evan buckley #evan buckley fanfic #athena grant #henrietta wilson #evan buckley x reader #evan buck buckley x reader #may grant #maddie buckley #911 chimney #chimney 911 #evan buckley x you #evan buckley fluff #evan buckley one shot #evan buckley fanfiction #evan buckley fic #evan buckley 911 #evan buck buckley #evan buckley x y/n #evan buckley x female reader

[strvngeweather]

WHAT YOU NEED.

a one shot.

🍷PAIRING: collegeartnerd!taehyung x black!reader. 🍷GENRE: College AU, smut 🍷WORD COUNT: 1.7k 🍷WARNINGS: Smut, consumption of alcohol, swearing, drunkness, non-consensual kiss 🍷SUMMARY: After getting your heart broken by Jin, Taehyung, the local art geek, provides a worthy distraction from the heartache. 🍷AUTHOR'S NOTE: So I had no plans on posting this because it's not ... great but, I decided to anyway because I may continue it as a series. Thanks for reading <3

You knew better than to get involved with Jin.

He had been your first love – still was. He was the bad boy who wooed you, the head cheerleader, in high school and the rest was history. Everyone had warned you about the relationship. They said that it wouldn’t last, that he would end up leaving you high and dry, and that attending the same college as him was a romantic death wish. But you knew you and Jin were different. You knew that you had a love that would stand the test of time. You knew that deep down in your heart, that Jin was the only man for you.

You had been wrong. So wrong.

Your first mistake was believing that a guy like Jin could be tied down. Your second mistake was coming to the hottest party of your college career just a month after Jin broke up with you in a Denny’s parking lot at two in the morning.

He had spent the entire party cozying up with some blonde girl with a bird tattoo on her arm. Every time he put his arm around her or kissed her or whispered something in her ear, it was like he was taking a piece of your heart and shattering it.

“Here,” your best friend, Lea, shoved a red plastic cup full of a dark brown liquid into your hands. “You need a drink.”

“I need Jin.” You realized how pathetic you sounded but you didn’t care.

“You need a drink,” Lea repeated. “And you need a fuck.”

You shook your head, taking a gingerly sip of the drink; you winced as the alcohol hit your taste buds. It was strong, burning as you swallowed. “What the hell is this?”

“Rum and coke. Mostly, rum though.” You tried to give the drink back, but she shook her head, forcing the drink back into your hands. “Drink it,” she demanded. “Screw him! Tonight is about you having fun. It is not about Jin. So, you drink that drink, you climb up on a table, you shake that beautiful ass of yours and then you fuck the brains out of someone else.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you should consider a career in public speaking?”

“All of the time.”

You obeyed your best friend, quickly chugging the drink and heading to the kitchen for a refill. She was right, you figured. You couldn’t spend the entire party sulking over a guy who no longer cared about you. This was college, for crying out loud, you deserved to have some fun. 

And fun you had. The night slipped away from you like a thief. One drink turned into two and two turned into three and soon enough, any thoughts of Jin were out of your mind. It had been the first time in the last two weeks that he wasn’t on your mind.

It was just too bad you were never on his.

You had gone to the kitchen to pick at the lukewarm finger food the host had put out. Most of it was gone but you took what you could from the vegetable platter. The kitchen wasn’t exactly packed but it was crowded enough to where he hadn’t noticed you. And because he hadn’t noticed you, he had no problems telling his friends how he really felt about you.

“So, you broke up with Y/N?” This was Hoseok. A frat boy that was obsessed with penis jokes.

“Yeah,” Jin replied. “Had to let that clingy bitch go.”

His words knocked the wind out of you like a sucker punch. You could feel the sting of tears in the back of your eyes but there was no way you were going to cry. Not here. Not now. You slipped out of the kitchen quietly, pushed your way past the other partygoers, and ignored the sound of your name being called by Lea. You made a beeline for the staircase, heading up it and into the nearest bedroom. You took a seat on the edge of the king-sized bed and wept to yourself.

“Are you okay?”

You jumped at the sound of a deep voice. You thought you had been alone but as you turned around, you saw the outline of a figure sitting on a bean bag chair. “I’m sorry. I thought I was alone.”

The figure got up and you could see who it was now: Taehyung Kim.

Taehyung was an art major that everyone seemed to love. You shared a class together and saw him on campus a few times but didn’t interact often. You two just didn’t run in the same circles. Most people had agreed he was exceptionally handsome, but you were always so preoccupied with Jin that you couldn’t fathom finding anyone else attractive. But as you looked over him now, you realized that they had been right. Taehyung was handsome. Really handsome. And that voice – good, God! Had it always been so velvety?

Taehyung came and sat next to you. “My bad, I just needed a place to sober up from the craziness downstairs.”

“You’re drunk?” He certainly didn’t look it – or sound it.

“Mhm,” he hummed, laying back on the bed, and placing his hands behind his head. You noticed the way his dark blue shirt lifted, getting a peak of his toned stomach. “Not super drunk but the buzz is buzzin’, ya know?” That earned a laugh out of you which forced a smile out of Taehyung. “Anyone ever tell you that your laugh is sexy as fuck?”

You laughed again. “You are drunk.”

“A little,” Taehyung admitted. “I’m a little bolder when I’ve got liquor in me. But I’m not lying, you’re sexy as fuck.”

“I thought you said my laugh was.”

“That too.” He got up, running a hand through his dark, wavy, locks. “I’ll leave you alone now. I don’t wanna disturb you or anything.”

‘You need a drink, and you need a fuck.’ Lea’s words rang through your head. You had your drink and Taehyung did seem like the perfect candidate to get your fuck. No, you thought. This was too crazy. You had just met him officially for the first time tonight and as far as you knew, he had some goth girlfriend who he loved dearly. You watched him go, cursing yourself for thinking of hooking up with a random person tonight. His leaving was clearly a sign from the universe that you needed to deal with your heartbreak in a more mature way. 

After about ten minutes, you got up to leave. When you opened the door, Taheyung was on the other side. “I think I forgot my phone,” he said.

“And something else.”

“Something else?” He cocked his head to the side.

You nodded and did something completely out of character. You kissed him.

And he kissed you back.

His lips worked against yours in a feverish manner, his tongue slipping inside. The only person you had ever had sex with was Jin so you were trying hard to keep up and if Taehyung could tell, he certainly didn’t let on. He left a trail of kisses from your chin to your clavicle, stopping at the top of your breasts to suck and bite at the flesh.

His hands roamed your body before settling on the curve of your ass, softly groping the fleshy area before moving down to the end of your dress and pulling it up over your hips. His lips found yours again, taking your bottom lip in between his. He placed an arm around your waist and used his other hand to gently rub your core through your panties. A moan escaped your lips as he pushed your panties to the side, his fingers sliding up and down your already-soaked slit.

“Can I taste you?” He asked between kisses.

You muttered out a yes or at least you thought you had. You were too busy trying to keep your composure as his thumb worked against your clit and his middle finger pumped in and out of you.

Taehyung guided you to the bed, laying you down and sliding your panties off. He settled in between your legs. You felt his lips against yours, his tongue lapping at you, his hands forcing your legs to open wider. You gripped the bed sheets feeling your pussy tightening; an indescribable feeling bubbled up in your lower stomach and just as you felt you were about to burst, Taehyung stopped.

“Wait, why did you –” You paused once you realized he was slipping off his jeans, followed by his briefs. He stroked his hard dick, placing the head at your entrance, and rubbed it up and down your slit.

“Tell me you want it.”

“I want it.”

“Say it louder, baby. No one can hear us.”

“I want it.”

“You want what?” Taehyung rubbed the head right on your clit.

“I want your dick,” you told him through a moan. “Please.”

“Good girl,” he replied before sliding it all the way into you.

A throaty yelp escaped you as he began to pump in and out. He pushed your legs back as far as they could go, fucking you at the perfect angle. Your body shivered in pleasure beneath him. It had been a good year and a half since you had been fucked properly. Looking back, you should have seen the signs with Jin. Despite being so young, the two of you walked around like an old married couple, and sex with him was almost like a chore and you had settled into that thought – accepting that this was what sex would be like for the rest of your life.

But Taehyung was proving you wrong.  

“Oh, fuck, oh baby,” Taehyung moaned. The room was filled with the sound of your moans and his dick slamming into your wetness. “I’m going to cum, baby.” He sped up but made sure to place his thumb on your clit, working it until he felt your juices soak his dick even more. He waited for your eyes to roll back and your moans to heighten into a whistle tone before he pulled out and came all over your thighs and stomach.

He lay on the bed next to you, the sound of heavy breathing filling the air.

“Taehyung,” you managed to get out after a moment, but he didn’t hear you. He had already fallen asleep.

You contemplated getting up, going downstairs, and slipping out of the party but you didn’t. Instead, you scooted closer to Taehyung, cuddling up next to him, and to your surprise, he woke up just long enough to wrap his around you and whispered, “Sleep well,” before both of you drifted off into slumber.

#bts fic #bts fanfic #bts x black reader #taehyung x black reader #taehyung kim x black reader #bts x reader #taehyung x reader #taehyung imagines

[jtargaryen18]

One Night With You ~ Pt 3

One Night With You ~ A Halloween Tale in 3 Parts

Masterlist

Read Part 1 | Part 2

Words: 5.8k

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Neighbor reader

Warnings: A little language, references to the sound of people having sex, masturbation.

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and any original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content in the third act. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I don’t consent to having my work reposted or translated.

Summary: For @iheartsebstan who was my very first follower here on Tumblr and one I adore. 💕 It’s all about a chance encounter and how it can make everything in your life so much better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

October 31st: Halloween

The trick-or-treat in your apartment building started at 7 PM. You had no idea just how many kids were in the apartment building because you usually went out with Denny or your coworkers. It was 8 and the event ran until 9. You’d gone through more than half of your candy. And you remembered joking with Bucky that he had enough candy to spare if you ran out.

The problem was, Bucky wasn’t home.

Would he be home? Was he out saving someone as a member of the Avengers?

Was he avoiding you?

You didn’t know who your neighbor was when you agreed to have dinner with him. This morning it was the first thought that popped into your head. With Denny snoring next to you, you were Googling James Buchanan Barnes.

Sure, everyone knew the story of Captain America and his best friend who’d been taken by Hydra and made into an assassin. You hadn't thought it was all that interesting in school. You remembered reading that Sergeant Barnes had been rehabilitated and was free from the dark mind control he’d been a victim of for long decades. That was good news. But, like Captain America, he was over a hundred years old. The man had to have some massive PTSD from what he’d been through.

How to reconcile that story with the man who lived next door? Bucky had seemed a little intimidating at first. Now that you were getting to know him better, he didn't feel like a threat at all.

Still, it explained why someone who looked like him wasn’t out in clubs, meeting people. It might have had a lot to do with the simplicity of your evening with him. Helping him make pasta and cook dinner. A nice conversation over a meal and for once, a man seemed truly interested in who you were, not what you had to offer.

Then Denny texted and he might just have ruined everything. It gave you something to think about last night. By the time Denny was trying to sneak out super early in the morning -- like he did most of the time -- you confronted him. He broke the agreement of your "non-relationship." You'd agreed there would be no displays of jealousy or possessiveness. You broke it off.

You hadn’t confirmed to Bucky that you had a boyfriend because Denny wasn’t that. But the minute he thought someone like Bucky was interested in you, he flew to your door to end what had been a wonderful evening. You didn't regret your decision there.

Bucky must think you’re either jerking him around or you were just straight-up crazy. Either way, that opportunity was probably gone.

“Wow,” Bucky’s voice rose above the din of all the kids' voices. He rounded the corner and his blue-eyed gaze locked with yours. He smiled and it just about stopped your heart. “There’s a lot of kids.”

You laughed. “That’s what I thought too. I’m glad you’re back, I’m almost out of candy.”

“Hang on,” he said, working through the crowd to get to his door and let himself in. In a flash, he was in his doorway like you were, holding a huge basket of candy. Walking over to you, he dumped some of it into the plastic pumpkin you were using. The faint notes of sandalwood and amber reached you.

Because being a super-hot reformed assassin isn’t enough. He had to smell good too.

Going back to his door, there were now two of you, it was a little less crazy on your end of the hall when another flock of them came around the corner. But when nine o’clock rolled around, you breathed a sigh of relief. You’d been dangerously close to running out of candy again.

“How bad was it before I got here?” Bucky asked.

“About as crazy as it was after you got here.”

The two of you laughed.

“At least it's Friday,” you offered. “I don’t have to work tomorrow.”

Bucky nodded. “Same. Hopefully.”

When he was about to turn to go back into his apartment, you asked, “You want to have a drink, watch a Halloween movie or something? With me?”

You sounded a lot less confident than you thought you would.

He stopped, looking surprised. Then that smile… “Yeah, that would be great.”

“Yeah?” you asked. Maybe you still had a shot.

Bucky started to follow you, then remembered he was holding a mostly empty basket of candy, and his apartment door was wide open. He set the basket just inside the door before locking it and coming with you.

Nerves almost got the better of you. Now knowing who he was? It was thrilling and terrifying all at once. You didn’t feel like he posed any threat to you, but you did hope you could talk to him like a normal fucking date instead of a fan girl. He must have so many of those.

Closing the door behind the two of you, you headed to the kitchen. “I’ve got bourbon and scotch, and I think I have some vodka here somewhere.”

“Vodka is fine,” Bucky said, taking a seat on your couch. “If you have it.”

That was easy enough. You made a vodka and tonic for each of you. Carrying them back to the living room, you joined him on the couch.

“I’m not going to get you into any trouble, am I?” Taking a drink, he kept his gaze on the glass in his hand. “Or have I already?”

“No, you didn’t have anything to do with it.” Well, yes you did. “Denny and I got into a fight this morning when he left, and it got a little loud. I hope we didn’t wake you up.”

Bucky shook his head. “I didn’t hear anything, but I left at 5.”

“Good,” you told him. You took a couple of drinks, wanting the temporary courage the alcohol might offer you. “You didn’t miss anything really.”

“Was everything alright?” he asked, the sincerity in his expression made your heart skip a beat. “Did you get everything settled?”

You drained your short glass on that note. Bucky watched you but didn’t say anything.

“Everything is settled,” you admitted. “I ended things with him.”

Did you imagine those smoky blue eyes lit up? “I’m sorry,” he said after a moment.

You shook your head. “Don’t be. I’m not.”

Bucky placed his glass on your coffee table, scrubbing a hand through those gorgeous locks of hair.

“Last night, you asked me if I was happy,” you admitted. “I thought I was for a while. We were friends with benefits, you know? Denny had just gotten out of a bad relationship when I met him. We were friends, then we started hooking up. He didn’t want a committed relationship because of all the awful things that happened to him in his last one.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Bucky said quietly. “That wasn’t you.”

He was right. And you knew that. 

“What did you get?” Bucky asked carefully.

“I wasn’t…” Sitting here and admitting this to Bucky, it hit you how ridiculous it all was. Your heart sank to think of how sad it was going to sound. But there was something in his gentle expression. A lack of judgment… “I wasn’t alone anymore. A couple of times a week I had someone to watch a movie with or have dinner with, you know?”

He nodded, his sensual lips pressing into a line.

But he did know. Flashes of what you’d read about him on Google flashed in your mind. He knew about being alone. He’d been held captive for decades. Who knew what the monsters of Hydra had done to him? Put him through? And what, you expected him to feel sorry for you?

“I’m sorry,” you told him. “I shouldn’t be complaining to you about… “

Easing back on your couch, Bucky’s expression was kind.

“You can complain to me if you want to,” he said.

“I mean, with everything you’ve experienced,” you said carefully. “I must sound pretty pathetic.”

Bucky nodded. “I didn’t think you recognized me.”

“I didn’t,” you told him. “Denny told me. The reason he texted me and showed up here last night all upset was because a friend of his saw me walking with you.”

“He was afraid for you?” You didn't like the worry that started seeping into his expression.

“No, he was jealous I guess,” you said.

Bucky huffed at that. “Jealous of me?”

You nodded. “He was. I guess he was afraid I was trading up.”

“I wouldn’t consider me trading up.”

You would.

“He can’t make pasta,” you finally said, hoping to lighten up the mood.

That made him smile. And he was so gorgeous when he smiled… But there were shadows behind his eyes. Shadows of doubt or fear? You couldn’t tell. You just knew you wanted to take them away.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “Really, none of it was your fault… And yet, it was. You showed me more genuine attention in one meeting than Denny did in our entire non-relationship – and that was before you made me dinner. I had a really nice time, Bucky. And I guess it got me thinking that… I want a relationship like that. Someone who is talking to me and listening instead of talking at me.”

“You deserve to have someone treat you right, doll,” Bucky said.

Doll, huh? You liked it.

“So, you’re an Avenger,” you finally said, now that things were out in the open.

Bucky shrugged. “Not really. It’s an opportunity.”

You didn’t understand. “An opportunity?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, for me to go out and try to wipe out some of the red in my ledger. So to speak."

The poor man. "That red didn't belong in your ledger, Bucky. The things they made you do? Those weren't your decisions. Right?"

“No,” Bucky told you. “They weren't. But I still did those things. So many terrible things. I remember all of it, in painful detail. Those memories will never go away.”

You processed that for a moment. They had him for so many years. You were sitting next to a man who was over a hundred years old, most of that time he spent as an assassin for one of the worst criminal syndicates the world had ever seen. You could almost see the guilt weighing him down. 

“Do they, the Avengers, still consider you a threat?” you asked.

“Before they cleaned my head out, I was a threat,” he explained. The pain etched in his expression had your heart squeezing. What the poor man must have been through. And it wasn't his fault.

“I’m just surprised,” you admitted. “I feel perfectly safe here with you.”

The pain eased out of his expression at that, replaced by surprise.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you told him.

“That’s good,” he whispered. “I never want you to feel afraid of me.”

You believed him.

“So you wanted to watch a movie?” he asked.

That he wanted to direct the conversation away from himself, you got that. You didn’t want him to be uncomfortable. And you did invite him over for a movie. Snatching up your remote, you went to your collection of movies for streaming. You loved horror movies and you’d bought several over the last couple of years.

“See anything you want to watch?” you asked him. But when you looked at him, you caught him staring at you.

And you were fine with that.

His gaze shifted to your flat screen. “How about… what’s The Conjuring?” he asked.

Perfect. Ghosts. Possession. Hopefully nothing there that would bring back any bad memories for him.

“The Conjuring it is,” you told him, selecting it. You sat back on the couch, moving closer to the center. To Bucky.

The movie began, opening with Ed and Lorraine Warren giving a lecture back in the 70s. You could quote most of the movie, but Bucky hadn’t seen it yet, so you didn’t want to ruin the movie for him by talking. 

Halfway through the movie, Bucky moved a little closer, resting his left arm, the prosthetic arm, along the back of the couch behind you. It was a chilly October night and the warmth of him was tempting.

Yeah, everything about the man is a fucking temptation.

You leaned a little closer. Then he shifted closer to you. You went to put your head on his shoulder, but he stopped you.

“Sorry, that’s not going to be very comfortable,” he sounded apologetic.

Sitting up, you met his gaze. “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t want him to feel bad about his arm. You scrambled for a solution, and it came to you pretty quickly. Rising from the couch, you moved to sit next to him on the other side. Flitting around nervously as you were, you tripped and fell on the man.

Bucky caught you, face to face with him, your arms braced on the back of the couch on either side of his head. You weren’t rightly sure who moved first. All you knew was that your lips met his. The kiss was explosive, with him pulling you in to straddle his lap and your hands clutched in his hair as his kiss set you ablaze. The moan he pulled from you was a deep, raw sound. Bucky just felt so good beneath you, the soft locks of his hair in your hands, the taste of him filling your senses.

Long heated minutes ticked by as the two of you kissed, moving together. His lips were a tender tease, dancing against your own as if he couldn’t resist. His hands skimmed over your back and hips as you ground down on him, hard and heated beneath you.

Bucky was the one to break the kiss, panting against your lips while his hands held you in place. “Doll, stop,” he said. “I’m sorry. Jesus.”

Your breath came as fast as his. “Why are you sorry? Why—”

Bucky’s flesh hand cupped your face as he gazed into your eyes. “I want this… I think you get that. But this isn’t the only thing I want with you… I'm not Denny. And I don’t want to mess this up.”

“You won’t.” You were panting. “You can’t… “ Your body ached, literally, and all he’d really done so far was make out with you.

You started kissing him again and he didn’t fight you, he was clinging to you. Now his arms around you tightened. He rolled his hips beneath you, nudging into the ache where you needed him most.

He chained hot kisses across your jawline to your ear. His tongue teased the sensitive shell of it, his breath hot as he whispered, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, please,” you begged him.

The deep moan that pulled from him pushed your arousal even higher. In a hurry, you pulled the heavy sweater you wore over your head and flung it away. Your fingers moved to undo the buttons of the blouse you wore beneath it.

The heated velvet of his lips burned a path from your ear down your neck. His mouth claimed each patch of skin you revealed in opening the blouse. Bucky didn’t wait until you were finished to slide his good hand up under your bra, kneading the flesh that filled it. While you hurried to shed the blouse, he reached behind you to undo the clasp of the little black bra you wore, roughly pulling it off you. With your breasts on display for him, the heated look in those stormy blue eyes had desire burning you from the inside out.

When his flesh hand returned to your breast, you gasped at the gentle touch. You were used to sharp squeezes for someone else’s gratification. Bucky’s warm hand skimmed over your flesh like it was an honor to do so. The metal of his other arm warmed against the skin of your back while his head dipped, his lips wrapping around your nipple. His mouth was tender, careful. He didn’t bite you. His tongue played with the tight peak in a way that had you squirming on his lap, eager for more of his gentle touch.

You couldn't remember the last time a man was so careful with you.

When his lips blazed a trail to your other breast, you twisted to give him better access, to give him everything. If you hadn’t been so turned on, you would have been embarrassed at your own desperation. Still, he took his time, handling you with delicacy.

Bucky’s arms tightened around you, and he rose from your couch with you with no visible effort at all. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you held on. You were about to tell him where your bedroom was but then you realized, he knew the way. He’d never been in your apartment before. How did he know that?

Your bedroom was cool and dark. He was careful when he lowered you to your bed, reaching around you to turn on the lamp on your bedside table. You knew you were staring at him. With just a knee on the edge of your bed, and the man had beautiful thighs, Bucky stopped and looked at you in question.

“How did…” How did you ask without making him feel like he was doing something wrong? “How did you know where my bedroom was?”

Automatically his hands came up to scrub through his hair and you were cursing yourself. What the fuck were you thinking asking that? You were right there – in your bedroom where you wanted to be – with your super-hot, superhero neighbor.

“I’m sorry,” you said in a rush. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

When his troubled gaze moved to the door, you moved closer to him, placing a hand on the heavily muscled thigh before you.

“Please, don’t go,” you whispered.

Blowing out an exhale, Bucky slowly turned and sat on the edge of your bed. His back was to you, but his attention was very much on you. You could feel it.

“When they took me," he said slowly, "They gave me the serum that gave me all these abilities I never had naturally. Everything was enhanced. I was so much stronger than before and faster. All of my senses were enhanced. I can see things from a distance in great detail. I can pick up scents. My hearing..."

His hearing? Feeling a little awkward now, you crossed your arms over your bare chest. Bucky pulled off the black boots he wore.

Turning his head, he watched you from the corner of his eye. "The abilities they gave me, made me the ultimate predator. There was no one I couldn't find anywhere in the world."

Shivering on your own bed, you just listened. Your mind was scrambling as empathy battled with fear. Bucky was a good man, wasn't he? Because it occurred to you that if you were wrong about him or things went badly, you couldn't hide from him. You couldn't run from him.

While your mind was throwing up red flags in the background, the need that coursed through your body intensified. You wanted him in the worst possible way.

"Back in the real world, my abilities aren't necessarily a good thing, doll," he said as he turned to face you on the bed. His fingers started undoing the buttons on his flannel shirt and you couldn't pull your gaze away from those quick movements. "I've been your neighbor for many weeks now. I've seen you so many times in passing, always in a hurry to be somewhere."

Bucky wasn't wrong. You weren't the most punctual person. Self-sabotage and procrastination often made you late, always had you scrambling to get where you needed to go.

A chill of anticipation ran up your spine when he pulled that dark blue flannel shirt free of his jeans and peeled it off. Your gaze was immediately drawn to all those muscles, the elegant black metal arm with threads of gold adorning it. There was scarring at the skin around that arm but it wasn't as bad as you'd expected.

"You've got this style about you," Bucky said. "I would think someone who wears so much black was either in mourning or trying to hide themselves, to blend into the background. But you're not hiding. You drive me crazy, every time I see you. I love those little skirts you wear, those stockings and combat boots. I love the blood red lipstick you wear, the little silver earrings..."

You had no idea he'd noticed you at all. As it was, at this moment, you were only wearing jeans. You edged back towards the center of your bed. Almost as if it were a predator's response, Bucky followed you. The ache between your legs only grew, had you trembling under that heated gaze.

"I wasn't trying to listen to you in your apartment, doll," he went on. "I really wasn't. I can't really help what I hear."

Hear? Your gaze moved from studying that arm, cutting off thoughts you shouldn't be having about that arm, to meet his. Your mind struggled to push thoughts through your aroused state, to think about what he just said. What did he not mean to hear in your apartment?

How were you supposed to be able to hold a thought with him on your bed with you? All those muscles and warm flesh. How would he feel in your arms? On top of you? Inside you? 

Bucky whispered your name softly. "Did you hear me?"

You nodded, at least you thought you did in your lusty haze. 

"What did you hear?" you asked. "In my apartment."

"Most nights, I just heard you moving around in your apartment." Bucky's intense gaze held yours. "You watching TV or making yourself dinner. A couple of nights a week, he came over. And then I got to listen to you make dinner, listen to him talk about himself, his day. It pissed me off so much that he never asked how your day was, never brought you flowers or cooked for you. He didn't treat you right, doll."

Bucky had heard a lot. But if he'd heard all that...

"Then..."

"Then?" you prompted him. "You listened to us..."

Bucky paused, and a hint of chagrin bled into his expression. One hand slid over your right ankle and with care, he pulled off that shoe.

"I wasn't trying to," Bucky explained, removing your other shoe before leaning over to place both on the floor by your bed. "It wasn't a lot different from listening to the two of you have dinner... It was all about him." 

You were somewhere between humiliation and shame. The look in those smoky blue eyes, the care you read there, lessened the sting.

"I'm not saying you did anything wrong or that anything is wrong with you," Bucky moved closer, crowding you into your pillows. "Every time he was in your bed, it was all about him. He got off. You didn't. Not one time." When you dropped your gaze, careful warm fingers under your chin put it back on him. "He never even noticed."

Tears stung the backs of your eyes. Every word he spoke was the truth. This time when Bucky moved closer, pressing you onto your back beneath him, you didn't inch away. Tears slid from the corners of your eyes as he hovered over you. Propping himself on his metal arm, his natural hand smoothed over the side of your face, brushing your tears away.

His heated gaze locked with yours as he settled next to you, one heavy thigh draped across yours. His hand slid down to cover your right hand, his fingers lacing with yours. With care, he leaned over and began kissing you. The hand he captured, he moved to his head and you were fine with that, sliding your fingers through the satiny locks of dark hair. His shift in position had his thigh between yours now and you weren't going to lie, the way he nudged it up into your melting center made the ache worse. So good...

Bucky's kisses went to your head like good whiskey, sending ripples of heat and euphoria racing through your bloodstream. Your thighs clamped around that muscled thigh as his lips danced with yours, gently but demanding all the same. When he dropped some of his weight on you, you fought to breathe, vining around him to get more. Now both your hands were sliding through his hair as his lips blazed a trail across to your jaw then seeking out all the places that made you weak just under your ear. 

You'd pretty much disappeared beneath him, and you were loving it. He pulled a chorus of sounds from you as his mouth trailed down your neck, down to your chest. He chuckled at the way you whined when he moved off you.

"Shhh," he soothed. "I've got you."

When his lips surrounded one nipple, your hands clutched in his hair. You didn't have the time or wherewithal to consider how careful he was being or to remember how Denny more or less treated your breasts like stress balls. You were gasping as his lips and tongue teased the aching peak over and over. The desire he was stoking in you was unfamiliar, even in your private moments which was usually the only time you could find release. 

Your body had a mind of its own. Your back arched, a wanton plea for more, more... It gave him easier access and he took it. Your thighs clutched his in desperation because you needed relief from the fire he was building in your body. The intensity of that delicate ache was climbing. His hot mouth moved to your other breast as both his hands, warm and warming metal, began roaming over your body like fever chills.

Bucky loved it when you pulled his hair. He groaned when you started pumping your hips rhythmically, begging him without words for more. You felt that raw sound all through your body, gasping as he moved further down. He was rough when he plucked open your jeans, yanking them down with your panties to reveal all of you to him. His gaze roamed over all your newly revealed curves, making you shiver as anticipation threatened to get the best of you.

Without a thought, you slid a hand down to your own swollen, soaked flesh. Watching him licking his lips as you showed him how you worked your clit had you on the edge of the cliff...

"No, you don't." Bucky's voice was low and rough. 

Batting your hands away, he dove for you with his mouth. His lips and tongue in that tender flesh had you climaxing in seconds, wailing into the quiet of your bedroom. His hands wrapped around your thighs, holding them open as he really went to work, teasing you through the orgasm in a way that kept you flying, kept you riding that wave the way you rode his tongue. You couldn't move your lower body, couldn't get away from the onslaught of pleasure he was subjecting you to. 

You writhed wildly on the bed in his clutches. The sight of his dark hair, the locks dancing around your thighs as his mouth took you apart would be forever seared into your memory. The way he teased you relentlessly until you came a second time on the tip of his tongue had the world spinning around you. Your nipples were hard, aching peaks in your hands, your back arching wildly as he worked you through it.

Jesus. Would you survive this?

When all sensation stopped, you lay trembling on your bed like you'd been hit by lightning. Bucky scrambled to undo his jeans, shoving them down his body with haste as you watched him with hungry eyes. As soon as his cock was freed, you were staring, marveling at its size. Your hand slid around that heated stalk of flesh, warm velvet in your grasp. He was bigger than Denny or anyone else you'd been with. You were excited and nervous all at once. How was that going to feel?

As if he could read your mind, Bucky came back up to you. His shadow swallowed you again as he kissed your lips and gave you a taste of your own lust from his shiny lips. It only pushed your desire higher, had you winding yourself around him eager for more. When you reached between your bodies for him again, Bucky captured your hand and thwarted your efforts.

"Doll," he whispered against your lips. "I want you so much... But I need to slow down a little here. Okay? It's everything I can do not to come right now. And you're so small..."

"Please," was the only word you could get out.

"M'gonna take care of you," he whispered. "I promise... I'm treating you right."

You couldn't conjure an ounce of humiliation now. You did need more of him. You wanted all of him.

Taking himself in hand, he slid the swollen head of himself through your slippery folds back and forth. Each pass was a soft brush against your clit, a shot of pleasure to take your breath away. You held onto him as he slowly pushed into you, his breath a heated rush just like yours. 

And he was huge. You sucked in a breath as he kept pushing into you. It helped that he had you soaking wet, but feeling your pussy walls stretch around him was intense. The slightest pain blended with a sensation of fullness that had your thighs quivering around his. His blue-eyed gaze stayed on you as he kept going, watching you for any signs of distress. 

By the time he reached the end of you, you were on that ledge again. The only thing that kept you from sailing off that cliff now was the fact that he'd stopped moving. Bucky's body was still inside you as your body stretched around him.

Bucky's eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth slack above you.

"Are you okay?" he whispered.

Aside from feeling almost split in two in the best way possible, you were pretty fucking far from okay. You were squirming beneath him, hands clutching at his hair, at the damp muscles of his back. When you slid your hands down to the firmness of his ass, you squeezed. You needed him to move. You needed him to ride you like you were going somewhere.

"Don't...stop," you managed, fighting for air. "Please."

"Look at me," he whispered.

And you did, opening your eyes to meet his gaze.

"Does anything hurt?" Bucky asked, sounding as wrecked as you felt.

You shook your head frantically. "Please."

Because you weren't sure you were going to survive if he didn't start moving soon. You were burning from the inside, your lower body stretched around his cock, quivering in need sharper than anything you'd experienced so far. When you raked your nails up his back, you hoped he'd take the hint and take you. Destroy you. 

Slowly, he started moving and it was everything you craved. Bucky's cock was hitting places inside you that left you breathless. His body was heavily muscled, pressing yours into the mattress. All you could do was hang on as his thrusts sped up. Bucky wasn't fucking you. He was claiming you. It was in the tender possession of his hands that skimmed over your body. The sweet caress of his lips over your face and shoulders, dropping on your skin like warm summer rain.

And all the while, he made you take his cock, filling you again and again with thrusts that were driving you insane. When your inner walls began to quiver around him, you braced yourself for a release that was approaching so fast. Your heart hammering against his, Bucky sped up.

"Let go for me," he purred in your ear. 

You didn't have a choice. This time, you buried your face in his chest to muffle the scream. And Bucky kept going as you rode that wave, pleasure pulsing through your body as he began chasing his own end. Your name was a prayer on his lips as his movements quickened, desperate now instead of careful. At the last second, Bucky pulled himself free of you, his come spurting over your tummy, your thighs. There was a lot of it, hot and thick drizzled over your skin. Bucky looked so beautiful above you, lost to the same pleasure he'd just drowned you in as he worked himself with his hand.

Your eyes slid closed, you struggled to breathe. You couldn't remember the last time you felt so sated after sex, so fulfilled. 

"I hope that smile is for me," Bucky said softly, using his flannel to clean his spend from your skin. 

You were smiling. You were happy. But as your skin cooled, you shivered. Bucky tucked you under the covers, climbing under with you to stretch out on his back. When you moved close for cuddles, his right arm pulled you to him. You loved the steady beat of his heart below your ear, the sheer warmth of him.

"Sleepy," you murmured. "Will you stay?"

Denny had stayed after sex but he'd immediately turn his back to you and get on his phone. You didn't know Bucky's intentions but you were hoping he might want to stay the night.

"I'll stay," his voice was rough and sleepy. 

You held each other in the cool quiet of your bedroom. Bucky only moved you to turn out the lamp. Maybe now that it was dark, you felt a little braver.

"You said... that sex wasn't the only thing you wanted with me," you reminded him. "What did you mean?"

Bucky pressed a kiss into your hair. "I meant just that. Not that the sex wasn't good because it was amazing..."

Your heart skipped happily in your chest at that.

"But it's not all I want from you," Bucky said in the darkness. "I want to get to know you. I want to talk over breakfast in the morning and eat leftover candy." His fingers traced circles around your shoulder and arm. "I want to wait for you to get off work at the florist and take you on a date. I want to have hot chocolate and watch it snow outside together."

Snuggling closer, you smiled. It all sounded wonderful to you. And if sex was that good on top of it?

"Is that yes?" Bucky asked.

"Yes," you whispered. "But... do you think we can do what we just did again before breakfast in the morning?"

His sigh was a happy sound. 

"Doll, we can do anything you want," Bucky whispered.

@valsworldofcreativity @21stcenturywitchcraft @coconutqueen21 @bval-1 @caffiend-queen @sadlittlecountess @candy-and-writing @capsicle-shield @chaoticfiretaconerd @chrisevansgirl @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @coldmuffinbanditshoe @daughterofthenight117 @hv-chw3 @iheartsebstan @imanuglywombat @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @justrae9903 @lokislastlove @mariaenchanted @maxwelllee2020 @nekoannie-chan @nerdwholikesword @notyourtypicalrose @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho @peaceinourtime82 @rainbowkisses31 @rayofdawnworld @richonne4life @rissysthoughts-blog @saiyanprincessswanie @scarletsoldier21-blog @shygirl-00 @supernaturaldean67 @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @team-iron-wannabe-man @titty-teetee @tonib666 @villanellev @vitamingummies @what-is-your-plan-today @what-is-your-wish @xoxabs88xox @rosalynshields @naturalthrone22 @marvelovernfan @gotnofucks @eralen @kawairinrin @bluemusickid @geminievans1 @daughterofthenight117 @sunmoonandbuckyrecs @jesevans @kandis-mom @salvatoreitmeanssaviour @kmc1989 @curiousandjoyous @marvelouslyme96 @texmex

#One Night With You #Bucky Barnes #Winter Soldier #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes x You #Halloween

[blackterrae]

Ideas for Black!Reader Fic

I am going to try my hand again at writing. And I wanted to share some people and fandoms that I love. If you don’t know these shows/actors/franchises/movies/streamers I’m putting you on! For the following:

Johnny Depp- All his characters

Cameron Monaghan- I know that there are fics out there but it’s only always his Jerome/Jeremiah roles never just him or Cal Kestis

Anthony Carrigan- I loved Anothy as Victor Zsasz

Paul Dano- There are Riddler fics but not as many for his other roles

The Entire Cast of Hawaii Five-0 (2010) - Don’t even get me started on how good this show is! And the cast looks amazing!

Chicago Med/Fire/PD- These shows have so much potential for fanfic storylines!

The Game (2006)- Has great potential for slow burns and fluffs.

Star Wars franchise (1977-present) - I know I said Cal Kestis but there are also other characters like Anakin, Luke, Obi Wan,Boba Fett (etc.)

NCIS franchise- I honestly love this franchise and it’s characters!

Hamilton

Any/All Sports Men- Jude Bellingham,Lewis Hamilton,LaMelo Ball,Allen Iverson(etc.)

Berleezy - He’s handsome and he’s funny!

Coryxkenshin- I literally love him and his videos!

Albert Aretz (Flamingo)- Look … he may be the epitome of mediocre white man but I like what I like!

AMP- Duke Dennis, Kai Cenat, Agent 00, ChrisNxtDoor,Davis, and Fanum ( all I gotta say is love a black man from infinity to infinity🗣️)

Beta Squad- A British YouTube/ streamer group!

SOMEBROS- Berleezy, Rico, ,PG, Joe (etc.)

WWE- come on now, do I even need to explain!!!

Four Brothers- All the cast but Garrett Hedland in particular!

Peacemaker - Don’t get me wrong I love Adrian Chase but I want to see just as much Peacemaker x black!reader fics because 2 words… JOHN CENA

MAWS- New animated Superman show! Love!

Smallville - The entire cast is hot! Tbh I fell hard for Tom Welling when I was younger when he was in Cheaper By The Dozen. Plus they literally whitewashed Vixen. COME ON! Vixen is a black female hero btw. She was also with Jon (Green Lantern) at one point.

Justice League/Justice League Unlimited (2001 and 2004)- I mean I literally can’t find any Jon Stewart x black!reader fics and he was with a BLACK WOMAN!

Warner Bros Franchise (minus the looney tunes & space jam)- There are lots of popular franchises that this company has from Fast & Furious to The Matrix!

Peaky Blinders- Saw a Tommy shelby x arms dealer black!female reader fic on my previous account but even then I couldn’t find it again on that account. So it’s gone with the wind. And the cast (i.e the actors and other characters they’ve portrayed). Example: Cillian Murphy as Johnathan Crane.

The Bear

FBI (All)

Vinnie Hacker

Tiktokers

Blue Bloods

Will Poulter- I haven’t really seen any Adam Warlock fics

Slashers

Stranger Things

Dave Lizewski

Eddie Redmayne

Macgyver (2016)

Fresh Prince of Belair

Guardians of the galaxy- Explanation? Do I really need one?

On My Block

Descendants (characters will be the actors age in real life.duh)- Love Boo-boo Stewart & Mitchell Hope!

Matt Rife

Joey Bragg (Liv &Maddie) - What can I say I love dorks!

The Boys- Haven’t seen that many fics about the characters and a black reader

Once Upon A Time- I love dark fairytales sometimes because they remind me that not every story has a happy ending and you have to learn from them. But this series is good for any theme really.

Walker Texas Ranger (1993)

Top Gun

Magcon: Whether you saw their vines on YouTube or vine, you know who they are

Dolan Twins

Mission Impossible

Euphoria- Entire show has great storylines with the potential of drama in fics

Shameless- Especially Carl Gallagher and Lip Gallagher

Creed- Michael B Jordan need I say more

Keanu Reeves- There are very few fics about Keanu but I’ve seen a few of his John Wick x black!reader fics (chef’s kiss) but never see any of The Matrix Fics!Also Ted (Bill & Ted)

River Phoenix

Batman Beyond

Rider Strong

Danny Gonzalez

Timothée Chalamet

New York Undercover

Past-Present Singers & Rappers/ Groups -Bow Wow, Tupac, Lil Baby, Nelly, Omarion, Prince, Michael Jackson, Jon B,Usher, Central Cee, Måneskin, New Edition, BTS, James Bay(etc.)

Anime(Any kind!)- Would love to see other shows, I know hunterxhunter,aot,one piece (etc.)

Bridgerton- There is very little Bridgerton stories catered around a black reader.

Marvel- Now that’s not to say that there aren’t any in fact there are many but I never see (Tobey Maguire Spider-Man stories and it seems like everyone tends to focus on the famous Marvel characters like The Avengers but not on other aspects like X-men or better yet, heroes that haven’t even gotten their own movie but are just as amazing like Squadron Supreme , it’s equivalent to DCU’s Justice League.

Secret Invasion- Not gonna lie , I’m feening for Gravik.😳

DCEU- Another franchise that pushes its other characters to the side. For example, Hush (Thomas Elliot) is literally the epitome of Bruce Wayne gone bad!

Ross Lynch- There are so many roles that Ross did so well in Like Teen Beach Movie or Sabrina.

Highschool Musical Franchise (2006- present ) I’m not just talking about HSMTS (2019), I mean even further back than that. I don’t see any Troy Bolton x black!reader and that’s crazy. I also can’t find any Zac Efron x black!reader

Interview with a Vampire (1994) and (2022)

Austin Butler- He did well in his role as Elvis!

Vikings - There are a good amount but still!

Transformers

Suits

Saved By The Bell

The Goldbergs

Parks & Recreation

Leverage

The Outsiders

Heart of Stone

New York Undercover (1994)

Addams Family

Victorious

Matpat

ICarly

The Real Bros of Simi Valley (2017)

Think Like A Man (2012)

One on One (2001)

Scorpion (2014)

The King of Queens (1998)

G.I. Joe Franchise

Terminator

Beware the Batman (2013)

Any and all Asian Idols/Actors

Seal Team

Mortal Combat

Bill and Ted

Barbie

Detroit: Become Human

Will Trent

Tokyo Vice

Growing Pains

Graceful Family (Kdrama)[Any Asian Drama shows or movies would be great as well]

The Regime

Batman: The animated series

If anyone needs ideas for these franchises/movies/shows/actors , then holla at me! I got you!

Also add more to the list if anything that you would like to see comes to mind.

Also tag black writers who you want to see this!

@sheabuttahwrites @shinsouscatpisssmell @cocoamoonmalfoy @heathenarmyimagines @cinewhore @cocoamoonmalfoy @stxxllaaa @glitterjuju @lilvampirina @breanime @blackmissfrizzle @afro-hispwriter @stargirlfics @lavenderursa @clydesducktape @pettyprocrastination @theblvckvenus @plantvenuss @punani @n-slayaaaaa @infernalodie @halfofmysoulsblog @iridecsense @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @supremethunda @thekrazykeke @canumoveurseatup-no @hiatuswhore @avintagekiss24 @ohcaptains @iguessweallcrazyithinktho @xsapphirescrollsx @sunflowertuliplily @bakarilennox @batfamily14 @ramp-it-up @blackreaders-assemble @royallyprincesslilly @funnyexel @blackterrae @slashisms @artemisthewh0re @shelbydelrey @toocriticalharlow @v-era-18 @vampsired @queenimmadolla @sinnerlillith @greengoblinswifey @apocalypse-shuffle

#black fanfic #black fanfic writer #black tumblr #bipoc writers #black writers #jack sparrow x black!reader #harry styles x black!reader #timothee chalamet x black!reader #mha x black female reader #r&b/hip hop #hawaii 5 0 #NCIS #cal kestis x black!reader #anime #marvel #dceu #warner bros #heroes and villains #star wars x black!reader #the bear #black fandom #peaky blinders #mortal kombat x black! female reader #black!fem!reader #Chicago PD/Med/Fire #multifandom black imagines #blackterrae #begone hiatus/writer’s block #slashers x black!fem!reader #Sam Witwicky x black!fem!reader

[littlelioncub43]

What kind of basement husband would the tech boys be like😏

Oh I love this

Absolute menace. And surprisingly, the strongest mentally. He doesn't break for a looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong time. Like I'm talking YEARS. Never gives up hope on getting out. Im almost rooting for him.

Den can easily be manipulated and dominated. Like a tractor running over a dandelion. No competition. He is eager to please and keep you happy, because he doesnt like knowing you're mad. He just wants you to like him. Ngl, I feel bad for him.

Hes a baby and would happily be the center of your world. Little to no complaints except for the occasional whine to go out with you. Hes very well behaved, ideal baby boy.

He's the second most mentally strong, but he does break. He does however fall into the routine and delusion like the others do. He grows to love you over the months, and he likes keeping you happy.

Like Justin he would be excited to be your whole world, but he would he scared at first. It takes him a while to warm up to you, but once he is, boy, he runs hot for you. He will be the happiest if you never let him go. Even if you left the door unlocked by accident, he'll tell you that you forgot to lock it.

#tech tuesdays #dark!reader x justin capshaw #dark!reader x jake jensen #dark!reader x eddie munson #dark!reader x dennis baker #basement husbands #i love this

[markhoffmans-certified-slut]

Catch-Up Characters | PDA

Pairing: Slasher Men x f!reader

Notes: I literally cannot control myself, if I don't start doing something for Joel I will explode. I haven't wrote a preference for awhile, but I just realized I never did catch Dennis up on the two I've already posted, so this is for the new characters to my blog!

Characters in this chapter include: Dennis Crim, Joel from Smile, Mike Schmidt, and William Afton.

I will be doing this for one more chapter (the nicknames preference) and then they will all be on the same chapter whenever I post something new. It's always slow with preferences, but you can follow them on my masterlist here!

<>~<>~<>

Dennis Crim 

When it comes to displaying his affection for you, Dennis never has any problems with it; he isn’t too over the top, especially if you were the type to get easily embarrassed at the thought of other people seeing you, but Dennis is sure to make sure any other staring customers who can’t seem to shake your perpetual beauty know that you’re his. He’ll wrap an arm around you and slide his hand into your back pocket, or press a kiss to your head. He typically ignores it; after all, you were all his, so he didn’t care if other people want to stare. Whenever he catches himself getting too annoyed, he simply thinks of all the times you sit on his lap or kiss his face when you wake up with him. 

Joel (Smile)

He himself can sometimes get a little bit embarrassed when it comes to showing off; often times he doesn’t try and purposely make himself the center of attention, however there are a few times he will completely ignore the other people around the two of you and just kiss you. He couldn’t help himself sometimes, you were just so pretty. Whether it be because someone kept eyeing you, or mainly because he just couldn’t help the overwhelming desire to kiss you right there no matter who sees. He will typically have his hand in yours when the two of you are out together, or occasionally Joel will rest his hand on your lower back. 

Mike Schmidt 

To say he cared at all about being seen kissing you was almost an insult; Mike was immensely lucky that you were in his life, let alone that you wanted to run errands and do little things with him. If he wanted to give you a quick kiss, why should he care if there’s people around? Mike isn’t the type to show off or make himself stand out, so he certainly wouldn’t be sticking his tongue into your mouth in public, but he has no problem holding onto you and keeping you close to him while you’re out shopping. 

William Afton 

One way that William is different from the others is that he simply does not give a single fuck if the two of you are in the middle of a crowded restaurant or if you’re in a dark movie theatre. William doesn’t mind groping your ass or kissing you as much as he pleased in the moment. Sometimes you would have to stop him, especially if someone was staring at you; William has no issue pushing his tongue into your mouth or kissing your neck to show anybody else in the area that you’re clearly taken and that they shouldn’t be standing there just staring. 

#slashers #slashers x reader #slashers x reader fluff #slashers x reader smut #slashers x female reader #slashers x female reader fluff #slashers x female reader smut #shark night #shark night dennis crim #dennis crim x reader #dennis crim x female reader #fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf mike schmidt #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddy's mike schmidt #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x reader fluff #mike schmidt x reader smut #mike schmidt x female reader #mike schmidt x female reader fluff #mike schmidt x female reader smut #five nights at freddy's william afton #william afton #william afton x reader #william afton x reader fluff #william afton x reader smut #willian afton x female reader #smile 2022

[jamneuromain]

For your Lloyd and Secretary one, what if someone who works closely with Brewer finds out about how he died and seeks out for vengeance? And how about he kidnaps and enslaves Secretary and Lloyd has to get her back? But the Secretary thinks that Lloyd would just replace her, even if she had developed some feelings for Lloyd, she still believed that he would leave her. But Lloyd finds her.

Hi nonnies! Sorry for taking so long to write :3

I love your ideas and I present to you--

Out for Blood

Lloyd Hansen x You

Warning: Mob AU, Mob!Lloyd, Secretary!Reader (Driver!Denny Carmicheal), Graphic Depiction of Blood and Violence (I guess Lloyd is a warning of his own?), Reader has hemophobia (fear of blood), a lot of cursing.

W/C: ~5k

Summary: You were captured by a rival gang. Would Lloyd come and save you?

A/N: This is a sequel to A Whiff of Blood, Thank you for all your love to Mob!Lloyd<333

For the record, your hemophobia is directed to blood coming from other people, not your own. You wouldn’t faint or puke if you had a papercut, but you would (and did) puke when Lloyd showed up at your door a few weeks ago, littered with blood and cuts.

Tasting the faint tang of rust and salt from the cut inside your cheek, your tongue inevitably touches the wound in your mouth.

Ouch, it stings.

An almost ridiculous - but somewhat fits the situation you are facing - idea comes to mind.

You hope Lloyd could pay for your dental care if your tooth gets knocked out.

In a dark humid stinky cell, you are obligated to keep yourself from fainting.

How long is it since you’ve been captured? An hour? Two?

You don’t know. Not that the concrete walls give any clues as to where you are and when is it.

Your head is dizzy, and somewhere on the back of your head is throbbing, possibly the spot where someone knocks your head with a baseball bat or a heavy club.

-who the heck still uses a club to beat the shit out of their victims to issue a kidnapping these days? Aren’t they worried about possible brain injuries?

Your hands and feet are tied to a plain wooden chair with zip ties, not something you can get out of without tools and time. Knowing that they kidnapped you and took you to this place, instead of dumping you down the pier with a large stone tied to your feet? You’ve got time, some of them at least. They want something from you, hence the reason why you are alive.

The problem is to rescue yourself before they realize nothing is coming out of your mouth.

So, the real question is, how much time do you have?

Dull thuds of footsteps approach you. After some screeching from the iron bars and the clang of the lock opened by a key, that is supposed to be the cell gate’s composition, you assume, for you are forced in another direction having been tied to the chair, another screeching sound, and the door swings open, entering two men.

They stand before you, one has his hands on his hips, the other crossing his arm.

Think. Your mind goes one hundred miles per hour. Think. Sometimes Lloyd keeps his captives alive, but only when his men are wearing masks. But these two are showing their faces in broad daylight – nightlight, to be precise, since you left the office around 7:30 pm, and later got a smack in the head after having picked up the dry cleaning for Lloyd.

You watched their faces closely. The first man who appears before you is shorter than the other, it is difficult to tell his height when you are sitting on a chair, but you assume he is approximately your height (which is definitely short for an average man), medium build – again, it is hard to tell with his jacket on, you have to conduct most of your analysis base on guesswork. Something about his face looks familiar, however, you cannot pinpoint who or what, since as a secretary, you meet a lot of people daily.

The other guy, the taller one and the more muscular one, doesn’t strike you as someone you know in the past. A hint of tattoo peeks on the back of his hand, a sharp edge with the color of tattoo ink. The beard covers half his face, and that he’s bald, in contrast to his wild facial hair.

“Well, well, well.” The first one smirks, “If it isn’t Lloyd’s pretty thing in our hands.”

Think. They haven’t killed you yet, but they are planning to. Think of something smart. To stall. Or to gather enough information so that Lloyd will know who to revenge on if you are dead.

The hair on the back of your neck practically stands when the word “dead” crosses your mind for a split second.

You cannot panic. Not now. Think.

“You can drop an invitation to my mailbox, y’know? If you wanna talk.” You look up at them. A small smile raises the corner of your lips, but you are not smiling, not really, because your sharp eyes are taking in the minor changes in their expressions.

The first one raises his eyebrows, somewhat surprised, while the second one remains stoic.

“Impressive.” The man compliments, “Thought you would thrash and kick, but I guess you have seen too much of this - ” He gestures to your tied-up position, “working for Lloyd, eh?”

You neither confirm nor deny, yet, you make an attempt at deciphering his intentions, “What is it with this time?” God, you sound like you have been kidnapped twice a week since you got the secretary job. You raise your eyebrows as he does, “Threats to cooperate? Info about his latest business? Or are you two with the FBI?”

They both glance at each other when you mention the FBI.

Good news, they are not cops.

Bad news, they are not cops, which means they are more likely to kill you.

“Hey, you.” You turn your head to the silent bulk of beard, “Didn’t I see you tattling to your badge buddy two weeks ago? Is it what this is about? That I see you tipped off the cops?”

Of course, you haven’t seen the second man tattling to the cops. You don’t know him. But considering the tension ever since you pose the possibility that they are with the police and law enforcement, it is not a bad way to start an argument between the two of them.

That is, hopefully, there are only two that initiated your kidnapping. The plan of brewing a feud among the kidnappers would be more difficult to implement if there’s another person involved.

Under the first man’s continuous stare, the second man huffs out a grunt, grabs your hair in one hand, and lands a blow into your stomach with the other.

“Cука.” He grumbles, stepping back to where he was standing.

If it weren’t for the pain in your stomach, as the blow on your stomach feels like your guts have cracked into four pieces, you would most absolutely jump up from the chair that has you tied, and clap, for he has bared his identity before you, stripping clean.

Thank fuck you know a few curse words in Russian, one of them being “cука”, which means “bitch”.

Russian mob it is.

You know about the Russian mob in LA. A few weeks ago, Lloyd teamed up with one of his business partners to sell illegal substances (a nice way of putting it) and gradually took up the Russian turf. He got shot and was nearly killed after that, when the Russians ambushed him in the clinic he used to go, killing his doctor and one of his men. Lloyd himself barely got out alive and took shelter in your apartment.

Today, around 7 pm, Lloyd took his driver Denny and two of his henchmen to a club he owned to meet the Russians to settle for a truce. As his secretary, you know that he usually conducts his mob business there, instead of in the building where you work. So, you finished up the paperwork and called it a night, while ordering some pizza since cooking would take an additional one hour and a half.

You were on your way home, stopping by on the side of the curb to pick up Lloyd’s dry cleaning when you lost consciousness after a hit in the head.

Oh crap, you would have to send those clothes to the dry cleaning again.

Focus. You take a deep breath, clearing the irrelevant thoughts from your mind. Think smart. How could you subtly prove yourself worthy to them?

“Fine.” You huff out, “You are not working with a badge buddy, I get it.” Adding some sarcasm to the mix, you twitch the muscles on your face, your tone as despising as your expression, “I’m sure what I’ve seen with my own eyes is purely some illusion-voodoo shit.”

Great. Now you sound like Lloyd fucking Hansen.

The first man clears his throat, effectively silencing the grumbling Russian guy.

“Quite a temper.” He pulls a chair from the corner of the cell, sitting in front of you, pointing at himself, then back at you, “You know, we could’ve been friends, you and I.”

“Oh yeah?” You quirk your brow, “What’s stopping ya’? Enlighten me.”

Shit. Too Lloyd.

You are somewhat surprised when he responds per your ask, “If you insist…”

Yeah well, you weren’t exactly insisting (or interested, for that matter, you couldn’t care less). Nevertheless, you nod for him to continue.

“Suza Brewer. Rings a bell?” He smiles, but the friendliness is nowhere to be seen.

Of course, the name Suza Brewer rings a bell. Unfortunately, it’s the bad kind of bell.

Brewer had threatened to have you to himself, and asked Lloyd – not in a nice way – to balance between their deal and you.

… since you are alive and breathing and your limbs are still intact, without a doubt, Lloyd chose you, his faithful employee over the dumb biker Brewer, and fed Brewer to the fishes. You had speculated that there were crocodiles underwater where he disposed of the bodies, because damn, Lloyd’s body-dumping was never found by police forces, or any other people, for that matter, and now you are equally tempted to throw this kidnapper beneath the Westside Pier too.

If only you weren’t tied up like a lamb for slaughter.

“Vaguely.” You pretend to think, tilting your head to the side, even though the back of your shirt is soaked with your cold sweat, “Is he in trouble?”

Hell, Brewer is more than “in trouble”. He’s more like “in crocodile”. His body parts could be swimming along with those hideous beasts, travelling hundreds of miles apart from each other, as you speak.

Somehow, the phrase “in crocodile” has you close to smiling. Especially in this circumstance. Fuck. You are most definitely contaminated by Lloyd Fucking Hansen. You bite the inside of your cheek from actually smiling. As a result, you accidentally bite on your wound.

It stings like a bitch.

The man in front of you speaks softly, “Suza is my brother. And your boss, Lloyd Hansen, killed him.”

This is not going to end well.

You pray to whatever deity that would answer, and hope that you could have a better ending than the Brewer guys. If not, then at least a quick, painless death.

The man observes your face for any expression that could slip away some info, but eventually, he sighs and continues, “So, I decided that I would avenge him, by taking away Lloyd’s most prized possession.”

Ah. Lloyd’s most prized possession would be his gun. He’d spend an hour every day wiping it spotless with a fine cloth, counting the bullets in his gun before popping the magazine back in place. You have heard about a few of the henchmen joking that Lloyd would be more pissed if a man touches his gun, compared to touching his dick,

You have seen the gun on many occasions. Most of the times on his belt, occasionally in his hand, and once, only once on the table when he was dismantling it. But he quickly put it back together seeing you with the pile of paperwork and shoved it back on his belt. Twice, if you are counting the time when he nearly bleeds out in your home.

“Aaaaaaand you want to ask me what his prized possession is?” You pipe up.

That’d be easy. However, you doubt what this Brewer brother had in mind could be this plain and straight.

As far as you know, Lloyd doesn’t have any siblings, parents to account for (he was adopted by a gang member around five, who died in an alley fight a decade later), women that he’d ride or die for (he picks different escorts when he’s in the mood, no one, in particular, meets his eyes), or any offsprings (then your job would be more nanny than a secretary). In fact, you wrecked your brain for the answer to this question, and the truth is, that Lloyd doesn’t care about anyone in any way – apart from the men (and women) working for him. Even so, his expression of “caring” is to drop a generous check if any of them was taken out or quit voluntarily, and never pay attention to them again.

He doesn’t have any pets, neither a dog nor a goldfish to keep him company.

You wonder whether he harbors any feelings at all, except the thrill of being a sociopath.

… maybe he loves his gun in a romantic way, who knows.

“No. I got that part.” Brewer No.2 speaks with a wild glint in his eyes, “And she’s sitting right in front of me.”

You huff out a laugh. This could be the top 1 joke of the Hansen Government Services, that Lloyd sees you as his prize? Pfft.

But the man’s determent tone tells you differently. That he believes Lloyd cherishes you the most. Which means he is going to take you away.

“Don’t believe me?” He shrugs, “My intel snapped pictures of a file, hidden in his top drawer, on top of every shit he has.” Showing the pictures he has on his phone, he added, “You were on that file, Ms. Secretary.”

It was Lloyd’s desk. Dimly-lit, but still, Lloyd’s desk. Someone could burn that desk down to ash and you’d still recognize it. And the file laid bare. With a CV and a photo…

Oh no. Oh shit. It is you.

You’d be lucky as hell if Brewer No.2 simply told you something bad about Lloyd and gave you some money to run far away, as if this is some bullshit mob romance novel. In this situation, he is more likely to skin you alive and send your fingers in a FedEx package to Lloyd’s doorstep as a Christmas present. Or pull out your fingernails before shooting you in the head. Or torture you in the most painful ways possible. Oh God.

The fucking Brewer family and both of these men could go straight to Hell strapped on rabid Cerberus with burning white-hot iron shoes that could not come off.

Think. Think! He hasn’t killed you yet. Why he hasn’t killed you yet? You could be more deader than Suza Brewer who was stuck at the bottom of the pier right now. Why is this Brewer No.2 keeping you alive? What does he want from you besides to intimidate Lloyd?

You have no choice but to ask, “I’m guessing that, since I haven’t got a bullet between my eyes, you want something else too?”

A wicked grin perks up his lips. Handing his phone to your face, he says, “I want you to call him.”

Forget dental care, you now hope Lloyd could pay for a decent funeral.

Brewer No.2 dials the number for you and puts it on speaker. Your heart thumping in your ears, praying that he’d answer. But also praying that he won’t. What if it’s a larger trap to lure him here? You’d rather he doesn’t pick up and get it over with. Plus, he’s too busy to pick up calls, he’s negotiating with the Russians-

“Who’s this?” Lloyd’s sharp voice pierces through the speaker, and seems to have gripped your throat tightly.

Brewer No.2 urges you to speak, but turns out he’s too hyped up to wait for your mumbling lips to make a sound. He drags his tone almost annoyingly, “Hello, Hansen. I’m Levi Brewer, brother of Suza Brewer. I’m here to collect a debt.”

“Oh yeah? Enlighten me.”

That’s so un-Lloyd-like. He’d normally end the call until the person on the other end of the phone could learn to speak what they want directly, which you have witnessed a few dozen times. You can almost imagine Lloyd’s unamused face and his killing glare, having had to deal with Brewer No.2, Levi Brewer.

“You, Mr. Hansen, killed my brother, which is why I’m taking the love of your life away from you.” Brewer No.2 announces, pulling out his gun to flip the safe off. The crisp clicking noise is like a heavy punch to your stomach, declaring the clock of your life ticking towards its end.

Jesus. You? The love of Lloyd’s life? You could’ve sworn Lloyd has a deeper bond to that escort named Cherry than you.

“Say hello to the pretty little thing I’ve just captured.” Brewer slams his palm across your face, squeezing a yelp out of your tightened throat.

The only “pretty” thought about you is that you are pretty sure you are neither “little”, nor “thing”, but that’s a debate settled for another time.

“Say your name, beautiful. I’m sure your boss would catch up soon.” Brewer No.2 points the gun to your face, and places the phone near your lips.

No matter how reluctant you are, you know this might be the only chance where you can tip Lloyd off. And maybe, just maybe he’d revenge on Tweedle Dee by allowing Dee – Brewer No.2 share the same fate as his brother. “Evening, Mr. Hansen.” You mumble, the taste of iron roots deeply in your mouth that you cannot speak clearly, “Sorry to disturb you.”

Lloyd doesn’t reply. He must be mad. Deeply mad at you for ruining his negotiation with the Russians.

Russian? Fuck, the Russian in the room – you spare a quick glance at the silent bulk of beard in the corner – shit, they were in on it together. The Russian mobs asked Lloyd to give you up – nonono, it can’t be, Lloyd wasn’t that good at acting, and considering Levi is sharing this news that you were kidnapped just now, he could be plotting with the Russians.

Does Lloyd know? Your head is messing with your thoughts. Does he know about your abduction? Was he permitting this to happen?

No. Brewer works against Lloyd, which means Lloyd couldn’t have known.

Who should you trust? Was Lloyd generous enough to give you up? Even though he declined Suza Brewer’s deal: you for the business? And fed him to the sharks because he disrespected you?

… probably crocodiles, but who cares at this point.

“Are you hurt?” Lloyd asks.

“Not really.” The tip of your tongue presses against the wound in your mouth, eliciting pain to clear your head – desperate measures for desperate times – and you continue, “I was wondering, though. I think two teeth of mine are loose. Does the employee benefit cover dental care?”

Think, think, think! How can you pass on the message?

Before Lloyd can answer, you take a head start, “Must be one of those Alenka … Alonka Chocolate bars?”

Last Christmas, the Russian mobs sent over a basket of those chocolate bars, Lloyd ordered to have them tested (in case there was poison) and gave them to his employees after they came out clean. But that was about a year ago, and Lloyd saw the wrapping papers in the basket near your seat right before the day ended. He joked about “eating with the enemy” while you admitted the chocolate was not half bad.

There. The message. Loud and clear.

“The dental plan gives you a 10% discount,” Lloyd says calmly. Which is a big fat lie, because no dental plan would be so petty. He wants to say something about 10. But about what? Ten minutes until he’s here? He’d bring ten men along?

“But I won’t tolerate tardiness, sunshine,” Lloyd’s voice sends a shiver down your spine, “Your working hours are nine am to eight pm. Don’t you dare be late.”

Holy Mary and Joseph. First ten, now nine and eight? Lloyd is about to tear this place down in less than ten seconds.

“Enough chitchat.” Brewer No.2 takes the phone back and aims his gun at your face again, “Say your goodbyes. Lloyd Hansen, you are about to hear her final words.”

“My final words?” You lean back onto the chair, steadying yourself with your feet as much as possible, “You really talk too much.”

A loud blast erupts from where the silent Russian is standing. He is most definitely covered in a few dozen kilos of rubbles and bricks. Levi instinctively covers his head, but the blast knocks him to the ground, where he stays unconscious. You are the only one with enough preparations to lower your body, even though being tied to the chair. But you still get thrown over by the blast and the chair collapses underneath your body.

A few henchmen armed to the teeth step through the hole in the wall. After them, Lloyd.

Lloyd in a black coat.

Your ears are ringing, and you can’t tell what he’s trying to say.

Another man with a black briefcase comes to your side. Your pupils were examined, your pulse was checked, and your lungs were listened to.

“… you feel any pain?” The other man asks you.

You shake your head. It hurts a bit in your mouth but that’s just a little cut.

“She’s alright.” The man who appears to be a doctor confirms, helping you up from the ground.

You stand on wobbly legs. The past hour has been too much of a scare that your knees are shaking. You trip over your own feet, before a pair of solid arms steadies you.

“Easy tiger.” Lloyd’s voice booms by your ear, having your head snap in his direction.

He came.

Oh God he came.

Knowing this was a semi-trap, but he didn’t need to be here. He could wait until this is over and give you a proper burial.

And you could’ve died. He could’ve died. You both could’ve died.

You stumble into his embrace, fingers clenching his thick woolen coat.

You probably shouldn’t. He’s your employer, your boss. He’d probably sue you for sexual harassment. But you did.

The blood soars in your ears. You dare not breathe out loud, fearing that you are dreaming.

It feels like a dream. It all did.

“ ’s alright. It’s alright now.” Lloyd murmurs. He runs a hand down your spine, inching your head close to his shoulder.

“How-How did you find me so soon?” Among everything, this is the one you were the most curious about. Yet you dare not look at him. Even if he has just saved your life.

Lloyd narrows his eyes. If you were any other girl, you’d be crying and weeping, and wiping snot on his coat, telling him how much you wanted to be with him the moment you thought you were dying. But no. You were not any other girl.

Fuck.

Long story short, he doesn’t want to elaborate, for you have plenty of time to discuss about this later, “Noticed there was something wrong with the Russians. Then your doorman called.”

“My doorman?” You raise your head to look at him, your brows furrow in confusion, “The guy at the residence entrance? Henry?” While your fingers slowly untangling from his coat.

“He had my number – I’m the last tenant of that condo – told me your pizza came and he couldn’t reach you,” Lloyd explains as simply as possible.

Ah yes. You ended your work around 7pm and ordered pizza…

You make a mental note to thank Henry for saving your life.

A groan drifts to your ear. You turn around on instinct, as Levi Brewer regains his senses.

“Where… I… What…”

In a split second, Lloyd pulls out his gun to shoot him twice in the chest.

A scream gets stuck in your throat, when the crimson blooms in Brewer’s chest.

Your body is shaking, trembling - a natural fear towards the predator behind you.

Brewer crumbles to the ground.

Lloyd lets out a sigh. He puts his arm around you, guiding your hand towards a piece of lukewarm metal. The metal that has just shot Brewer in the chest.

“You have no idea how to shoot, do you?” He asks, but doesn’t expect you to answer. It is a miracle that you are not fainting, he had hoped for far less before arriving.

Wrapping your index finger around the trigger, Lloyd takes a deep breath before flipping off the safe.

“Eye.” He lifts your chin in the direction of Brewer on the ground.

“Arm.” One of his hands steadies your shaking arm into a stable angle.

“Mark.” He lowers the gun point to Brewer’s forehead.

His warm chest against your back, blocking every possible way of escaping. The familiar feeling of having your throat in his hands creeps up your neck, making it difficult for you to breathe.

Your heart thumping loudly, your breath as shallow as it can be, as the warm air coming out of his mouth reaches your ears.

“Aim for the head. And shoot.”

He curls his finger next to yours, and your finger hits the trigger.

The gun is well-positioned, allowing the bullet to dive into Brewer’s forehead, leaving a round of crimson around the bullet hole.

You spin on your heels immediately, fighting the hurling stomach deep down.

The hard piece of metal comes between you and Lloyd.

A gun.

Lloyd’s gun.

You just used a gun to kill someone.

You are never getting a decent job anywhere in the world.

You are going to keep this skeleton in your closet forever (and of course, working for Lloyd until the day you die).

The cold metal burns your palm. You remember about the jokes that Lloyd never allows anyone to touch his gun.

“I… This belongs to you.” You shove the gun into his hands, as if this is some beast that would bite your fingers off if you keep it for one more second.

Lloyd snorts when his prized gun is pushed into his hands. But he doesn’t say another word. He clasps the gun back on his belt before ordering his men to leave.

You follow his troop out of the building in silence. The past hour has been a series of roller-coaster events that you need some time to process.

Denny is waiting in the car when you climb in. While the rest of Lloyd’s men get in a van, Lloyd barks a few orders to them that you haven’t paid attention to. You sit in the car, your back rigid, and you put your hands on your knees like a pupil in class.

Denny offers a sympathetic smile when your eyes meet in the rear-view mirror. He isn’t the type to talk, serving as Lloyd’s driver. But he’s nice enough to hand you a bottled water from the glove compartment, which you take with a murmured “thanks” and clench it with your knuckles turning white.

The adrenaline fades from your blood system, and your heart beats in a stable rhythm, your breathing finally adjusts itself to slow inhales and exhales.

The bruises on your wrists and ankles are scorching in pain. The back of your head is hurting too. Luckily, none of your bones is broken, which could be the best news of this evening.

This feels way too familiar.

As Lloyd opens the car door, your heart jumps to your throat again.

You are worried. Worrying about he’d fire you, thinking you have leaked information to the Brewer guy. Worrying about you have touched his gun, using it to kill someone, no less, and he’d cut off your hand for using it. Worrying about Lloyd would be dead if he steps into a trap with you as bait, that Levi Brewer intended to kill him…

Why the fuck are you worrying about Lloyd? He’s perfectly fine taking care of himself. It is you who needs extra self-defense lessons.

“What… Um, what happened to the truce you went to negotiate with the Russians?” You can’t help but ask, knowing that the dead Russian who kidnapped you was dragged out of the rubbles and put into a body bag, heading in another direction on the van that had Lloyd’s men on it.

“It was a trick,” Lloyd grumbles, “to stall. We agreed upon no phones, so it took me a while to get the call from that doorman. Then I knew they were trying to stall me from getting to you.”

You were whacked when you had just picked up the drycleaning for Lloyd. “-my car, and my – your clothes -” You remember.

“-were taken care of.” He picks up where you left off, “I’m assigning you an assistant, Claire. She’s living next door. She has driven your car back to the garage, and sent the clothes to dry cleaning as well.”

“An assistant? I don’t need an assistant.” You argue, “I can work fine on my own.”

“And get knocked out on the street in the middle of the night?” Lloyd snorts impatiently, “She’s there to protect you, but ask her to pick up the coffee, take out the trash, and drive the car for you, I don’t care. Claire would be by your side when I’m not close enough to save your ass.”

Ah. So you are a liability to him.

Maybe you weren’t suitable for a mob secretary at all.

You were no prized possession, as Brewer claimed to be.

And he’s your boss. You should feel lucky to be alive instead of mulling over whether he treats you special or not.

“Yes, Mr. Hansen.” You collect your feelings. It is perfectly normal for him to assign you a bodyguard/assistant. Hell, it’s even perfectly normal that he wants to fire you for your incompetence. Hiring an assistant? He doesn’t want you to get kidnapped again, that’s all.

… or replace you when she gets the gist of your job.

You think bitterly, staring at the tinted window.

“By the way, you don’t have to come to work tomorrow.” Lloyd casually tells you, “Paid leave, and it’s Friday anyway, you deserve some time off after this …” He carefully considers the choice of words, “… incident.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hansen.” You reply automatically.

It is such a weird thing that you let out a small exhale of relief when you heard the word “paid leave”, as if he would’ve thrown you off the car and told you that you are fired right after saying you don’t have to come to work.

Lloyd isn’t so ruthless after all.

Your heart beats faster, hopeful for …

What are you hopeful for?

You kick the ridiculous thought into the corner of your mind, answering, “I’ll be back on Monday.”

Taglist (Also tagging those who might be interested): @stargazingfangirl18 @sarahdonald87 @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @magnificentsaladllama @biteofcherry @petalj @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @thezombieprostitute @yiiiikesmish @warriorblu @vonalyn @notathingjustthere @lokislady82 @irishhappiness @toozmanykids @alicedopey @cakesandtom @universitypenguin @openup-yourmind @helenaeisenhower @wilsons-striped-ties @tittittoee @bean-is-reading @yearningforsappho @esposadomd @salvatoreitmeanssaviour

Find A Whiff of Blood Masterlist here 👈

Questions? Comments? Requests? 👉Send them to my inbox 👂

#lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen fluff #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen #the grey man #mob!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen angst

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: The Endless

Kinktober Masterlist

Kink: Body Horror

Pairing: Dennis x Reader, Ransom x Reader

Wordcount: 6,011

Summary: The evil at the heart of Drysdale manor defies all explanation—and comprehension.

Warnings: Body Horror, Victorian Era, Eldritch Horror, Lovecraftian Horror, Dubcon, Noncon, Monsterfucking, Manipulation, Graphic descriptions of gore

A/N: here’s my super late second Kinktober entry! i’m sorry procrastination got the better of me this month, but i hope you all still enjoy my work. as always, comments, reblogs and feedback are always welcome. 💖 mind the warnings, and enjoy!

You are awake. 

Cool air stirs the moth-eaten drapes hanging over the narrow window, and gooseflesh rises on your clammy, sweat-damp skin. Your hands tremble as you clutch the bedsheets, aching from the tightness of your grip while you stare into the dark. 

Why are you awake?

Your bedroom is awash in gray twilight, illuminated only by a stripe of cold, clear moonlight that spills across the floor like water. The shadowy corners of your threadbare room offer no answers either, and you slowly unclench your shaking fists to place a hand over your heaving chest. 

A dream? No. A nightmare. 

Nothing of it remains now, only dim memories of pulsing warmth, of hungry hands and mouths. You swallow, your tongue sticking to the roof of your dry mouth. You have not slept easily in the manor since your arrival two weeks prior, and tonight is no different.

The wood flooring creaks underneath you as you make your way toward the window, intent on closing it. You pause with your hands on the windowpane, staring up through the glass. It is a cloudless night, the full moon hanging low above the treetops like a fat jewel. The sky around it is dark—there are no stars. No stars at all. 

How can there be a moon, but no stars?

You do not remember opening the window before you went to sleep, and as it creaks shut, the servant’s bell rings insistently beside your bed. You turn toward the sound, your lips pressed into a thin line. It doesn’t stop ringing as you gather your robe up from the back of the chair by the desk in the corner, and tie it tightly around your waist. After a few tries, you get the oil lamp on the bedside table lit, and soft orange light blooms on the wick. The still shadows in the corners of the room now breathe and shift as the flame dances behind the glass. 

The bell rings again. 

The hallway is dark, the cool air still and stale. Your lamp casts long shadows on the walls, dimly illuminating the dusty, ill-kept portraits hanging there. As you pass, the grim faces of Drysdales past glower down at you, the corners of their lips seeming to curve in the firelight.

The light plays tricks sometimes, in the dark. 

You can hear the wind outside, branches scratching against the worn, crumbling sides of the manor, like tapping fingers. The manor had been a grand place once, but try as you might, you cannot imagine it so. Few traces of that splendor remain in the empty rooms of decaying furniture and dead leaves. Much like its owner, the house is failing, curling in on itself in its old age, the water-logged walls sagging inward as if the house were holding its breath. 

You ascend the stairs, careful not to put too much weight on the railing; the iron is pitted and rusting from the damp, and you are not fool enough to trust it. As you reach the landing, door at the end of the hall opens, spilling light into the gloom. Dennis stands in the doorway, fiddling with his spectacles. 

“S-sorry to wake you,” he mumbles. It’s as if he’s trying to look anywhere but your face. When he does, his cheeks go pink, and he looks away again. “H-his chest is hurting again.” 

You offer him a tired smile. 

“You needn’t apologize to me for doing my job, Mr. Drysdale.” In the short weeks you have been at the manor, you have come to know Dennis Drysdale as a sweet, nervous man, and he has done little to dissuade you of that impression. He steps aside to allow you into the room, still stammering as he trails behind you. 

“That may well be, b-but is after midnight. I-I’m perfectly capable of administering the injection myself, but he insisted. Grandfather can be quite…stubborn.” He murmurs the last part as he closes the door with a sharp click. The master suite is bright and warm in comparison to your room, a fire raging in the marble hearth, and the sconces lit. 

“I truly am sorry for waking you.” Dennis catches your sleeve with the tips of his fingers. Suddenly, you are not cold at all, your body brimming with heat. 

“It’s really no trouble. Consider it repayment—I did so enjoy seeing the grounds yesterday.” You had thanked him then, too; and his cheeks, already bitten red by the crisp autumn chill had gone even redder. You have found little to like about Drysdale manor, but Dennis’ company remains one of few instances of silver lining.

“P-perhaps I-I could show you more. I-inside, I mean.” His expression turns hopeful. “The music room i-is quite lovely.” 

“I would quite like that.” 

You wash your hands in the darkened washroom before removing the injection kit from the cabinet. The bed at the center of the room is a massive, four postered thing that like the rest of the manor, has seen better days. The intricate carvings on the canopy’s pillars are worn with age now, the gold leaf eroded by time and touch, and the red velvet curtains eaten through by moths. 

Ransom Drysdale lies on the bed, his breath a wet rattle in his sluggishly moving chest. The old man smiles at you as you approach, and despite his age, his teeth are remarkably straight and white. Ransom’s thin, drawn skin stretches tightly across his skull, the bone pressing through so sharply you can’t believe the skin doesn’t split from the force. He reminds you of a baby bird, light and fragile. He beckons you with one frail hand.

“Good evening.” 

“Mr. Drysdale,” you greet him. “Are you not feeling well?” His smile thins, and he gestures at himself.

“This body is almost ninety-five years old. I never feel well.” He watches you with remarkably sharp blue eyes as you put on gloves and prepare the long silver syringe, poking it through the rubbery covering stretched over the top of the bottle. Ransom offers you his right arm, fist clenched as you tie the rubber tourniquet. He doesn’t move as you slide the needle in.

“Don’t get old,” he advises as you put pressure on the pinprick, staunching the sluggish flow of his blood. 

“I don’t think I can stop that,” you reply, wiping at the spot with an alcohol soaked pad before wrapping his thin arm in a bandage. “The Lord gives us each our time.” You clean the syringe off and store it back in the kit. Ransom’s  dry laugh becomes a gurgling cough, and when he pulls his hand away from his mouth there is red staining his palm. 

“The Lord?” He scoffs. “Come now, I thought you much more intelligent than that.” You cannot help your own lip from curling in disapproval. 

“Of course I believe in God.” You snap closed the latch of the kit with more force than necessary. His smile widens at your words, and for a moment all you can see are those too-white, too-perfect teeth. There are so many, it’s like his mouth is wider than it should be. 

“Ah, yes. You are a proper lady, after all.” Mockery drips from every syllable, and you cannot stop your own face from wrinkling with distaste. “Please, indulge an old man his eccentricities.” He pats the bedside with a frail hand. “I shall be asleep soon enough.” You glance at Dennis, who stands near the fireplace, doing his level best to not be noticed. 

“You are an atheist?” You ask as you sit. 

“Not by chance,” Ransom replies. “But by experience.” For a moment, there is no sound other than the crackling whisper of the fire. He stares at it, and the flames dance strangely in his eyes. “All my long life, I have seen little of the doings of God.”

“And what have you seen?” The wind howls outside, and the fire burns low, and the old man’s eyes seem to pierce through the very essence of your being. 

“The malevolent dark.” Ransom licks his lips. “Once you have peeled back the veil and looked beneath, my Sweet, there is no way to sew back up the wound.” A chill rolls down your spine as if drawn by an icy finger. You look away.  “How can one be God of godless things?” You want nothing more than to leave this room, for the elder Drysdale’s bright blue eyes to look anywhere but at you. 

“I am not a theologian, Mr. Drysdale,” you reply, swallowing thickly. “I am a nurse.” 

“And is that all you are?” He asks, and you shrink at the hunger in his gaze. “Beneath?” The way he looks at you… Were he a younger man, you suspect he might have reached for your hand—or the hem of your dress. You stand, suddenly, your face uncomfortably warm and your stomach churning. 

“I trust the pain has subsided?” The question comes out curtly, and Ransom laughs, his voice like dry reeds. 

“Yes thank you.”

Though the hallway is as dark and unwelcoming as it was before, you still  prefer the quiet dread over the fevered intensity of the elder Drysdale. Somehow, it takes longer to find your room again, the twisting, labyrinthine corridors more confusing in the dark. You set the lantern on the desk and untie your robe, hanging it neatly on the hook at the back of the door. 

Once you have peeled back the veil and looked beneath, there is no way to sew up the wound. 

As you turn toward the bed, there is a noise like rustling paper. Your chest seizes, and you feel your body clench as you turn toward the sound. For a moment you do not see it, squinting in the dim light of your little oil lantern. There by the door, the corner of the wallpaper has begun to peel. As you watch, it curls down another inch or two, gummy strands of old glue snapping as it falls. You move to fix it, standing on the tips of your toes to reach. But as you press yourself against the wall, it is not spongy, crumbling plaster you feel but warmth. Like skin.

You recoil, retching. 

The faded vines painted on the yellowed wallpaper writhe like snakes as you stare, their leaves trembling. There is a buzzing in your skull, a vibration that makes it impossible to focus on the shifting patterns. You reach up again, and catch the edge of a loose strip under your fingernails. There is a wet, tearing sound as you pull at the wallpaper, your fingers slipping, slick now as you peel the paper back from the wall. Your eyes widen, and you drop the strip in your hand with a muffled shriek as you clap your hand to your mouth to stifle it.

There is no stone or plaster beneath the yellowed wallpaper—but instead there is raw, red flesh. Dark, purple veins ran through it, disappearing beneath the torn edges of the paper. It pulses wetly with the house’s heartbeat, and a lidless, red rimmed eye peers out at you from the gore, rolling as you reel back. 

Warmth trickles from your nose, and you wipe at it with the back of your hand, a whimper escaping your lips as it comes away wet and red. The heartbeat grows louder and louder until it is all you can feel, trembling in your bones. It isn’t half as horrible as the voice, though, the voice that whispers into your bleeding ears like grinding glass—

You collapse to the floor, and as your vision narrows, and on your tongue you taste warm copper. Your body trembles violently, your limbs flailing. The full moon shines down on you through the window, the only light in the starless sky. 

There is no way to sew up the wound.

—

You wake in near darkness to the sound of a knock. The little window at the foot of your bed reveals a darkening sky, its edges tinged with fast fading pink and orange. I slept all day? You quickly rinse your face in the bowl at your bedside, wincing as you wipe at the crusted blood by your nose. It comes away easily, and you rub it between your fingers until it dissipates in the water. 

Another nightmare. 

The wallpaper by the door is whole and unmarred, no signs of the horrific thing you’d seen beneath it. Perhaps you’d scratched yourself in your sleep? It is the only remaining possibility. The knock sounds again, and you call out over your shoulder. 

“Coming!”

When you open the door, Dennis is on the other side. 

“Oh good, you’re awake.” There is genuine relief on his features. “You were quite tired, earlier.” In his hands is a tea tray, and your face warms when you realize he’s brought it for you. You step aside to allow him entry. Dennis sets down the tea on the desk, and stands next to it awkwardly. 

“I do not remember your earlier visit,” you say apologetically as shame settles like lead in your belly. “I was remiss in my duties today.” 

“You were unwell.” Dennis waves off your concern, smiling gently at you. “The house still stands, and my grandfather remains as ill-tempered as ever. There is little you have missed.” Your laugh is unexpected, escaping your lips before you can stifle it. Dennis’ smile widens. 

He is so handsome when he smiles. And he is, truly, without the worry and anxiety lining his face, he seems twenty years younger, standing there in your room. 

“You are too kind.” 

“Someone should be.” He holds your gaze a fraction of a second too long, and you feel your heart flutter in your chest. “Your, ah, your tea. We shouldn’t let it get cold.” 

“Oh, n-no. Of course not.” 

There are no chaperones here in the manor to ensure the two of you remain decent, but you leave the door open out of habit anyway, the sunset turning the hallway orange and purple. You drop two sugars into your cup, and then pour in the tea from the little porcelain pot. 

“Have you always lived at Drysdale manor?” You ask, and Dennis shakes his head. 

“Oh, no.” He looks down at his cup. “When my mother died, Ransom took me in.” 

“I’m so sorry.” His smile turns sad. “And your father?”

“Died before I was born. He and Grandfather didn’t really… get along. I’d never met him until the funeral, actually. He raised me. Paid for my schooling…” Dennis pauses, looking wistfully at the bands of fading sunlight. “It is a debt I can never hope to repay.” He turns those soft blue eyes to you. “I know the manor is… less than pleasant.” 

You cannot disagree. “You should not have to stay.” 

“Grandfather will let me go, soon.” He says, though neither of you truly believe it. “He says the time is coming when this house will be mine to do with as I wish.” 

“And what do you wish to do with it?” You ask, draining the last of your tea from your cup. 

“Let it crumble into the sea.” Dennis finishes his cup, and places it back on the tray. “I am truly happy to see you better. You did not seem…yourself.” 

You grimace. “My nights have not been particularly restful, Mr. Drysdale.” Reluctantly, you meet his gaze. “And the nights here are long.” Dennis looks at you with a grim smile. 

“They are indeed.” He casts a pensive look at his teacup. “I should like to visit somewhere with long days.” 

“Somewhere warm. Somewhere the sea isn’t quite so gray, and cold.” Dennis’ expression lightens as you sigh. “I do miss the sea.”

“I should like to see it. Your sea, I mean.” Dennis has seen even less of the world than you have, the majority of his experience limited to the manor and the sleepy township on the other side of the overgrown wood. To one side of the crumbling manor is the wood, and the other the sea. Here, it is as dark and cold as the manor that looms over it, angry waves crashing endlessly against the rocky bluffs. 

“You are a young man, yet. There is plenty of time, if you do not mind me saying so, Mr—”

“Dennis. Please.” His fingers twitch on the desk, like he wants to touch you. “I should like to hear you call me by my name.” You hesitate, almost afraid of the familiarity. 

“Dennis.” His smile is brighter than the setting sun.

“Thank you.” 

— 

The house is a cruel maze. Every turn you take brings you back the the master bedroom, the doors appearing insistently around every corner. You do not want to open them. You want anything but to open them. The doors glow with a sickly pale purple light, vibrating and pulsing excitedly like a beating heart. Around you, the hallway is brightly lit, the chandeliers above you sparkling as if they’d only just been dusted, the wood paneling polished to gleaming. You turn away, and the house creaks around you like it’s heaving a sigh. 

You do not want to open the door, but the dream does, presenting it to you as you try to flee from it, the hallway stretching out in front of you with the doors at the end. 

The handles are cold under your fingers, and you press down on the latch, throwing them open. Ransom waits for you on the other side. With every step you take toward him, he looks younger. He is handsome when you reach him, and though his eyes sweep down over your naked body, you feel no shame. 

“Nothing great can be had without sacrifice.” The knife he presses into your hands is of the clearest, blackest glass. The symbols carved on the hilt vibrate in your skull painfully. Your body moves without your direction, turning towards the fireplace. Dennis stands in front of it—naked too. 

“Cut.” 

You do. 

You have to put the symbols somewhere—they can’t stay in your head, they’re too big. It hurts to have them there, and you need to put them somewhere, anywhere. So you put them on Dennis’ skin, carving them lovingly into his chest. He doesn’t scream. 

“Cut.”

You do. 

The knife slides in like butter, and Dennis’ skin parts as easily as the wallpaper. What pours out of him isn’t blood, thick like tar, like pulled taffy, pooling at your feet.

You sit up, a scream threatening to burst from your throat. Like last night, the only light is that of the moon, painting shapes on your wall through the window. Shaking, you reach for the matches, lighting the wick of your oil lantern with clumsy fingers. 

The dream has done more than unnerve you. Warning t you bells ring in your mind’s ear, calling for you to run, run—and you want to. You look down at your hands—there is blood under your fingernails. 

I have to find Dennis. 

The thought consumes you, driving you as you tie your robe around your nightgown with shaking hands and sweaty palms. The darkness in the hallway is oppressive, bearing down on your little lantern with weight that leaves you staggering. On the wall, the portraits whisper to one another, just out of reach of the dim firelight. You wipe at the blood beginning to leak from your right nostril, and the droplets that have already dried there flake off onto the back of your hand. 

“Dennis!” Your voice is muffled by the dark, swallowed by it—not even the echo returns to your ears. 

Slowly, you ascend the stairs. 

With each step, the discomfort weighing in your stomach like lead grows heavier and heavier. Something terrible awaits you upstairs, you just know it—and yet you cannot stop. 

The air at the landing is thick and warm, and you gag as you breathe it in. You hold your lamp aloft, praying that it will illuminate the bespectacled face of your host—it does not. There is a gurgling moan, muffled by the closed door, and you shiver when you hear it. 

“D-Dennis?”

Pale light leaks out from underneath the door of the master bedroom, and terrified tears gather in your eyes as you approach it. There’s a dull thud, and a wet crunch, and the light pulses like a heartbeat. With a shaking hand, you push against the door.

A scream rips itself from your throat. 

The putrid mass of flesh almost hurts to look at, looming in the dimly lit chamber. It is as though Ransom has been unmade, reduced to a trembling puddle of skin and hands and teeth that cling to Dennis’ writhing body like a leech. Its form is a grotesque patchwork of twisted flesh and horror, malformed limbs, distorted faces that writhed and contorted with sickening fluidity. Its skin—if it could even be called that—was a pulsating, mottled mess of sickly colors; patches of ashen gray and bruised purples that oozed dark, foul blood. 

Everywhere it touches, it sticks fast like glue, the flesh flowing together seamlessly, like they’re one single being. 

Blood trickles from both your nostrils, flowing down over your lips as your brain rattles uncomfortably in your skull. Something like a mouth opens wide, revealing rows and rows of teeth while bulbous unblinking eyes stare at you from his misshapen form. It speaks, and warm blood leaks from your ears at the sound of its voice. 

“Godless-ess-ess things-ngs-gs.” The mouths do not speak in unison, each stepping on the tail of the other as they rush to get the words out. The Ransom-thing pulls Dennis’ mouth open, and his gurgled moan of pain is cut short as it reaches inside. His throat bulges obscenely as the fist travels down it, and the wet choking noises are all you can hear as Dennis turns tearful, bloodshot eyes to you. That horrible light grows warm enough to burn, the skin of your cheeks blistering and splitting open in the wake of its brilliance. 

How can it shine so bright and be so dark?

The world bends, ripping open like paper as the room runs like watercolor paint, with only darkness behind. It’s like he said. You cannot make the words come out of your mouth as your eyes begin to roll, your jaw locking. You taste fresh blood as your teeth sink into your lip, your whine of strangled in your tight throat. Malevolent dark. Blood is dripping from both of your nostrils, leaking warm copper all over your lips and chin. Your head feels full to bursting, like everything inside is going to leak out of your ears, and you are falling—

And you go willingly into nothing. 

—

The sunlight streaming through your window is the brightest its been since you arrived. It is the warmth on your face that wakes you first, and then the terror lances through you, fresh as ever. The same four walls greet your wide eyes as you stare disbelievingly around the room. Your mouth tastes like stale blood, and you find the source as your tongue touches the sore patch on your lip where your teeth had broken through the skin. 

You wash yourself as quickly as you are able before venturing out into the uncharacteristically bright hallway. Perhaps it is the angle of the sun through the window on this particular morning, but the worn carpet seems brighter, its pale red restored to bright crimson. The portraits on the wall have lost their gaunt, fragile quality. Indeed, you can see their rosy cheeks, as if their sallow complexion was shed with the heavy dark. 

As you arrive at the second floor landing, you spy Dennis in the doorway of the master suite. 

“Dennis!” You rush toward him, your heart in your throat as you recall your blood-soaked nightmares. For what else could they be? He looks surprised to see you, pausing with his hand on the door handle. 

“Good morning,” He replies, his expression grim “I was—I was just going to call for you.” You pause in your preliminary inspection of his features, 

He looks at the ground. “He died last night.” 

“What? He—he died?” Your shock makes you take a step back, searching Dennis’ features for the lie. There is none. 

You look past him into the bedroom. Ransom’s frail body is indeed there on the bed, his skeletal chest still. You wait for a moment, to see if those mad blue eyes will open again, but the do not. Dizzily, you lean against the doorframe, one hand on your thundering heart. The memory is there, as sharp and clear as crystal. Tearing flesh and sinew, the thick taste of blood in the air—

 “I-I should check his pulse.” You grimace at the thought of approaching the bed, but you do not know what else to do. “To be sure.” Dennis shakes his head.

“You-you don’t understand,” he says sadly. “I-I was here when grandfather took his last breath.” Dennis’ blue eyes shine with unshed tears, and you suspect he might have cried before you’d gotten there. “I have already sent for the vicar—h-he should be here tomorrow.” You have no desire to approach the bed, nor Ransom’s body. He moves forward to close the door, forcing you back out into the hall. “You… you need not stay longer than necessary. I—I shall of course ensure you are fully compensated for your time.” 

“My time?” You pause, shaking your head. “I—are you alright?” He seems fine, his skin pale but unblemished. There are no teethmarks, no missing fingers, no melting, gelatinous flesh. Instead, he smiles at you, that soft, gentle smile.  

“I was sure you would be packing your bags already. Not… asking how I am.” He reaches for your hand, passing his thumb softy over your knuckles as your cheeks prick with heat as he shakes his head. Your stomach flutters at his words. With a sharp intake of breath, you sink your teeth into your lip, tasting warm copper as it aligns with the delicate bite mark you’d left behind just last night. Dennis drops your hand, as if suddenly aware of the impropriety of having held it in the first place. 

“I—I’ve no right to ask, but… Will you stay? Until the vicar arrives?” 

“Of course!” You exclaim.  In truth, you do desire to leave the manor—more than almost anything—but you’ve little desire to leave Dennis alone in this dismal, terrible place. He clasps his hands behind his back, like he’s trying to keep from touching you. 

“Thank you. For all you’ve done for my family.” His reluctant to say it leaves him floundering for, a moment, his mouth working silently. “And for me.” Your throat tightens, your tongue floundering uselessly in your mouth. 

“Y-you’re welcome.” 

—

It feels as if you’ve wandered into a dream as you pack up your things, emptying the dark wardrobe in the corner of all your personal effects. Your face heats as you recall the warmth of his hand, the softness of his smile. Were you back in the city, were you both unfettered by duty and class—perhaps Dennis might have courted you. And if you had parents to approve of the match, certainly they would. 

Another life, perhaps. 

As you finish tucking the last of your belongings into your bags, a light knock comes at the door. 

“May I come in?”

You look down at yourself hurriedly, smoothing nervous hands over your dress. 

“Yes.” The door opens slowly, and Dennis smiles bashfully on the other side. 

“I thought perhaps we, er, we might have dinner. Together.” He looks down. “T-the cook always goes home just before dusk, and I, well…” Dennis doesn’t have to say it. He doesn’t want to be alone. You don’t either. 

“I would like that.” 

You’ve not eaten in the dining room before—indeed you’d never been in it at all except in passing when you had very first arrived. Now, however, it seems almost warm, the sconces lit, a fire raging in the massive hearth as the dying sunlight fades from the wide, tall windows. He greets you with a nervous smile. 

“Please—sit.” He pulls out your chair for you, and then takes the seat to your left. The dining room is well lit, the cobwebs cleaned from the rafters. The low chandelier is polished to gleaming, and you wonder at the state of the manor. Dennis uncovers the plates, setting aside the dish covers. There is rabbit on your plate, with fresh asparagus in cream—by far the most appetizing meal you have had since coming to Drysdale manor.

“Oh, Dennis…” It feels like he’s done this for you. “This is lovely.” 

Dennis’ rings tap softly against your wine glass as he fills it. Funny. You hadn’t noticed him wearing them before, though you cannot be sure. You pluck the proffered glass from his fingers, and take a sip. It’s light, fruity. 

His expression fills with warmth as he looks at you. 

“I-I admit, I h-have come to quite enjoy your company.” He says softly. “Would it be bold to assume y-you feel the same?” Your throat tightens, and you look down at your plate, your face warming. 

“Bold, yes. Quite bold.” You clench your hands together under the table where he cannot see. “But not untrue.” You smile at him.  Dennis is as easy to talk to as ever—perhaps even moreso, now, without the specter of his grandfather’s disapproval hanging over him. The food is delicious, and you find yourself ravenous for it, eating with gusto. 

“If it is not too grim to ask, what will you do now?”

“What do you mean?” Dennis cocks his head at you. 

“Well, I—you said your grandfather would be letting you go, soon,” you reply, dabbing at the corners of your mouth with a napkin. “I thought you might travel.” 

Dennis chuckles. “Why would I do that? I’ve everything I need right here.” I would let it crumble into the sea. He reaches for your hand, and you let him hold it. “In fact, I… I thought I might ask you to stay with me. Here, at the manor.” You cannot help the look of distaste that flickers across your face, and Dennis laughs. “I know, I know. But it’s mine, now, you see? We can do whatever we like within these walls.” 

“Firstly, we shall take down those horrid portraits,” you reply, and he laughs. 

“See? You’ll make an excellent lady of the house yet.” 

There is a weight to his words that brings prickling heat to your cheeks. 

He sweeps away the plates, uncaring when one of them tips onto the floor, spilling half eaten food onto the rug. Dennis pulls you close and you gasp, your palms flat against his chest. You don’t push him away, though, no, your fingers tangle in his lapels, clinging to him desperately as he stares longingly down into your eyes. 

Dennis kisses you then, softly brushing his lips against your own. You can taste the hunger on his skin. 

“You care for me,” the words are hushed. “And I you.” You grip the edge of the table behind you so hard you feel the blood drain from your knuckles. His mouth is fierce against yours, his teeth tugging at your bottom lip until you gasp. The swift pecks you have been given pale in comparison to the way Dennis seems to want to consume you, the hungry way he drinks down each weak little mewl you make. 

When you imagined Dennis’ hands on your body, you had thought perhaps that his fingers would tremble as they undid the buttons of your dress—but instead they are sure, steady. He parts the layers of fabric until your cheeks burn with the indecency of it all, but you cannot bring yourself to ask him to stop. Instead, it is your voice that trembles as you mumble against his mouth. 

“T-the servants, someone will see—” 

“They don’t stay after dark,” Dennis pushes the two halves of your dress from your shoulders and it pools at your hips as he scoots your hips backward until you are seated firmly on the table. “You know that.” His soft blue eyes are hard and ravenous, now as he looks at you. Your cotton under-dress offers little decency, the dark circles of your nipples poking up through the fabric. Dennis drags his thumb across one of them, glorying in your muted whine.

Your head spins, buoyed by the sweet wine still on your tongue. God in heaven, you want—you want to touch him too, and you do, cupping his face as he devours you. That is what he’s doing, you realize as Dennis’ teeth tug hard at your lower lip. He drinks down each breathy cry as if he has been desperate for them all this time, and you gasp as he drags his mouth down your jaw, nipping at your throat before pulling away to admire the indecent bruise you know is forming at your throat. 

“D-Dennis—!” His gaze does not waver, as if you had not called his name. He fills every moment, so that no space remains for your uncertainties. “W-wait, we should—” 

“We should have each other as we desire.” Eagerly, Dennis drinks in every inch of exposed skin as he pulls aside your collar, licking his lips. He takes his time to with each button, undoing them one by one until he reaches bare skin. “Don’t you think, my Sweet?” He looses the tie at his throat, dragging a thumb across your parted lips as he works loose the buttons on his own shirt. You falter as you reach for him, your brows drawing together in confusion.

You aren’t sure why his words have given you pause, why they set warning bells ringing in the recesses of your mind. You think of your dream again, that horrible, hungry flesh, and for an instant, Dennis’ lips taste of copper. He gropes at your bare breasts, breathing heavily against your mouth as he moans. You push at his chest, suddenly finding him heavier than you’d thought he’d be, and so much more solid. 

“Dennis, Dennis wait—” There is annoyance on his face when he pulls away, an emotion you’ve not yet seen him express, not with you. 

“For what?” He snaps, his eyes hard. “The vicar, so that I may place a useless trinket on your finger?” He holds your hand up, dragging his lips along the back of it. “Oh, but you’re a proper lady, aren’t you, Sweet?”A proper lady. Dennis nips at your fingers with sharp teeth. “I promise I’ll keep you,” he says, grinning darkly as you stare at him. “Forever.” 

Dennis peels away the last vestiges of your clothing, leaving you bare before him. 

“Beautiful.” You’ve had no touch other than your own, and your eyes go wide as Dennis’ cups your warm center with a groan. He slides his fingers along the seam of your lips, parting them to reveal your slick folds. He smiles. “Not such a proper lady, then.” 

Perhaps it is the way he says it, the way he turns his head just so, the smile on his lips turning just a tiny bit cruel. The knowledge passes from your mind and leaves your lips in an instant, his true name falling from your tongue in shock and horror. 

“Ransom?”

The smile widens, curling at the edges of his lips and spreading until it is so wide it threatens to split his skull in two—

“Dennis!” 

“He’s not here, Love,” Ransom’s mouth has too many teeth in it. “I ate him all to pieces.” His eyes are empty black holes when he looks at you, that horrible purple light leaking from his mouth. Warmth leaks from your nose as you push fruitlessly at his chest. “They always did say the resemblance was uncanny,” he says, clucking his tongue at you. “Don’t you think so, Sweet?”

You scream. 

#cevans fanfiction #cevans fandom #chris evans fic #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom x reader #ransom x you #horror #darkfic #dubcon #ransom drysdale x OFC #monsterfucking #dark!fic #dark mc #eldritch horror #boxofbonesfic #kinktober 2023 #kinktober

[candycandy00]

This is the Welcome Post and the Fanfic Masterlist!

Requests for full fanfics are closed indefinitely! Choose Your Own Price Commissions are currently open! See info about commissioning me here.

Requests for Headcanons are currently open!

Headcanons are just my opinions on things, like how I think the characters would react to certain things or how they would behave in certain situations. Examples: “How would Shigaraki react to his girlfriend naming her pet cat after him?” Or “How would the JJK guys behave if you dragged them to a Denny’s at 3am?”

About Me

I’m currently 39 😱 I’m obsessed with the color pink and I’m a country girl (born, raised, and currently live in the Appalachian mountains). I speak with a thick southern accent. I collect figures. I’m a huge nerd in every way. I love comic books (both manga and American comics), video games (mostly JRPG’s, Otome/Dating Sims, and Survival Horror), Star Wars, Kaiju/Tokusatsu, and all things Horror. I read a lot, mostly fantasy and horror. I grew up in a conservative religious household and I’m still trying to unlearn a lot of bullshit, so please bear with me.

I write for two fandoms currently: Boku no Hero Academia and Jujutsu Kaisen. I might write for others at some point and I’ve written tons for other fandoms over the years. I also write original fiction. I would deeply appreciate any support (reblogs/comments/likes) for my original stuff because that’s where my true passion lies. I’m somewhat slow with posting updates to my fics but I promise I’m trying. I tag my x Reader fics with the x reader tag so that people who hate x reader can filter it out easily. I haven’t always done this so I’m in the process of going back and properly tagging everything.

I mostly post my writings here. It’s mostly fanfiction but there are some headcanons and opinionated rants here and there. I’m trying to go back and tag them all. You can look for the tags “Jjk headcanons” and “bnha headcanons” (that’s what I’ll be tagging them). Otherwise I mostly just reblog fanart and gif sets. I reblog fanfiction over on @candycandyreblogs. Consider it a curated library of excellent stories. Feel free to follow it! Every fanfic on there is amazing!

I’m always up for making friends! So feel free to message me and chat!

Boku no Hero Academia:

Shigaraki, Dabi, Mr. Compress, Twice, Spinner, Hawks.

Jujutsu Kaisen:

Sukuna, Gojo, Geto, Toji, Nanami, Choso.

No minors, no animals, no scat/pee/vomit.

I’m fine with dark content/rape/horror/gore/etc. I can do NSFW or SFW. Please specify if it’s not clear in your request.

Please specify the gender of the Reader (any gender is fine, no gender is fine).

That’s it! Anon is always on!

Feel free to ask me questions, give me suggestions, or just chat!

Headers by @kuroov

Just a list of the fics I've written so far so you can easily find what you'd like to read! If I've missed a fic or have a bad link or anything, please let me know!

All fics are arranged newest to oldest! All fics are 18+ and contain smut, as well as have Fem Readers, unless stated otherwise!

Shigaraki x Reader

Shower Duty (Prison AU, Noncon/Dubcon)

Office Life (Gender Neutral Reader, Dub Con, Violent Fantasies)

The Scarecrow Walks at Night (Halloween fic, Shig as a Scarecrow)

Tentacle Tomura (Tentacles, Anal)

The Pirate and the Mermaid (AU) (Three Parts!)

Too Intense For you? (BDSM)

Reader Uses Mind Control Quirk on Shig

Dark Carnival Chapter 1 (Whips, Blood, Death)

Playing a Fighting Game - Loser has to Strip

Shy Reader Giving Shig a Christmas Present

Sitting on Shig's Lap While he Plays Games

Exhibitionism

Shig Corrupts Shy Hero's Sidekick Reader

Size Kink - Shig With Short Reader

Mommy Kink

Breath Play/Choking

Break Time (Reader is a Waitress with a Crush on Shig)

Dabi x Reader

Waxwork (Dabi as a Vampire + Werewolf)

The Visitors (Post Ending, Touya in Prison) NO SMUT

Zombie Apocalypse AU (Four Parts!)

Dabi Under a Lust Quirk

Dabi with Innocent Nun Reader

Piercing/Torture

Teasing that Leads to Rape/Non-Con

Trending Topics (Dabi Sees Reader's Pervy Tweets About Him)

Lazy Sex

Breeding Kink

Mr. Compress X Reader

The Experiment (Horror, Gore, Halloween Fic, Compress as a mad scientist)

Dark Carnival Chapter 2 (Blood, Gore, Death)

Mr. Compress x Reader With Bunny Quirk

Twice x Reader

Dark Carnival Chapter 3 (Horror, Blood, Gender Neutral Reader) (Three Parts!)

Non-X Reader

League of Villains Heroes (Set after the end of the manga, the League has split up and are in therapy, but a new threat turns them into reluctant heroes.) Multi-Chapter. NO SMUT. (In Progress!)

Unmerry Christmases (Platonic ShigaDabi) NO SMUT

AFO x All Might Aladdin AU Master/Slave Dub-Con

Sukuna X Reader

Father Sukuna’s Discipline (AU, Sukuna as a priest, spanking, rough sex, reader as a nun)

The Doll House (AU, BDSM, Erotic Torture, Needles, Clamps, etc.) (Four Parts!)

Breaking You (Rape/Noncon, Blood, Torture, Humiliation, Double Penetration)

Serve Me, Save Me (Reader is a Rape Victim who joins Sukuna’s Harem after he inadvertently saves her) Part 1 | Part 2

The Offering (Dark, Dubcon, Blood, Rough) Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Gojo x Reader

The Doll House (AU, Dubcon, Chubby Reader, Pet Play, Anal, Bullying) (Four Parts!)

In The Library (College AU, Gojo and Geto bully Reader, Rape, Dark)

Promotion (Power Dynamics, Reader wants Gojo to promote her to Grade 1)

Christmas Past (Fluff, Drabble, Gojo x Geto in flashback) NO SMUT

Pick Me Up (Gojo x Reader x Geto, Halloween fic, Serial Killer AU) (Five Parts!)

Human (Rape, Torture, Blood, Dark, Reader is a cursed spirit) (Two Parts!)

Little Miss Nobody (Plot, Rough Sex, Gojo is an asshole) Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Geto x Reader

In The Library (College AU, Gojo and Geto bully Reader, Rape, Dark)

The Doll House (Dubcon, Humiliation, Public Nudity, Dom/Sub Dynamics, AU) (Four Parts!)

Pick Me Up (Gojo x Reader x Geto, Halloween fic, Serial Killer AU) (Five Parts!)

Toji x Reader

Forest Guide (Toji as a Werewolf, Rape, Breeding)

His Favorite Target (Toji is hired to kill you)

The Doll House (AU, Size Difference, Age Difference, Cock Drunkenness, Use of Aphrodisiacs) (Four Parts!)

Nanami x Reader

The Doll House (AU, Daddy Kink, Spanking, Hair Pulling, Reader is afraid of men.) (Four Parts!)

Choso x Reader

The Doll House (AU, Dom!Reader, Sub Choso, Teasing, Collars, Pegging) (Four Parts!)

Multi-Character

JJK Men as Pervy Mall Santas

Original X Reader

Roses in the Sky (Alien x Reader, Sci-Fi, Novel Length, Romance) (In Progress!)

#shigaraki x reader #dabi x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #Toji x reader #bnha x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #league of villains x reader

[landhoehoehoe]

across the line - Logan Sargeant

Part 2 to blur the line

I'm sorry, I know you've waited a long time for this, but I just had sm stuff to do this last week 🫠

I am officially handing out holy water to anyone who reads this!🫣

Also this probably is my favorite part out of the 3 parts :)

Song recs:

The Monster - Eminem feat. Rihanna

High for this - The Weeknd (for the smut part)

Warnings: smut smut smut!, unprotected sex (do not do this pls), Dennis the menace, stupid Liam lol

Logan Sargeant x reader; A drunk night changes things between the two of you

Obviously the victorious weekend in Austria had to be celebrated, so later that night you found yourself in a way too revealing dress on the dance floor of an Austrian club, dancing to generic pop songs with Dennis. 

He spun you around, occasionally colliding with you due to both your high alcohol levels. 

Even though you wished your friends from home could be here with you, you felt at ease around your teammate and Fred, who made everyone laugh regardless of how well he knew them. 

You would have felt the same way about Logan, too, if it weren’t for the champagne incident earlier today. 

It had thrown all your thoughts on the wildest roller coaster ride. 

There was only one thing about Logan you were absolutely certain of: He made you nervous in an inexplicable way while, strangely, at the same time, calming you down. 

But right now you were having the time of your life, celebrating your third place like you’d just won the race. 

Because frankly it felt like you’d won: You’d finally shown everyone that you belonged in F2, you’d finally silenced your critics. 

Dennis twirled you around, making you laugh about his not very graceful drunk movements. 

The Norwegian laughed, too, but this time he accidentally spun you around too fast.

He lost control over you and you crashed right into the person coming up behind you. 

Hands found your waist, holding you close to the person’s chest to stop you from spinning. 

Before your drunk self had even realized who you’d bumped into, you almost lost your balance again, leaning even further into the guy holding you. 

He laughed. 

You knew that laugh. 

“Y/nnnn! The driver of the day!”, Logan exclaimed, tripping over some of his words because he probably was even more drunk than you were. 

“Loooogaaannn!!”, you replied with equal enthusiasm, hugging him like you hadn’t seen each other in a long time. 

You had met all of the guys at the club, but Dennis and you had lost Fred and Logan halfway through the night. 

“Where’s Fred?”, you laughed, your hands wandering around Logan's neck when he started swaying to the music with his arms still wrapped around your waist. 

“Don’t know! He wanted to talk to some Danish girl!”, Logan shouted over the loud music.

When you went to answer, he lowered his head towards your face so that he could hear you better. 

You stood on your tiptoes, your lips softly brushing his ear when you spoke.

“And you didn’t find an American girl to hook up with?”, you asked teasingly, watching as he rolled his eyes. 

He mumbled something, but the music was too loud for you to understand. 

“What?”

He laughed, his signature smirk back on his face. 

“Nothing, I just thought I’d be a gentleman and save you from Dennis’ dance moves.”

That’s when you noticed you’d completely forgotten about Dennis.

“Oh shit. Dennis!”, you turned around abruptly in Logan’s arms, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach when Logan pulled you back against his chest. 

Dennis wasn’t where you’d left him anymore. 

You scanned the dark room for your teammate, but he was nowhere to be found. 

With panic in your eyes, you turned back around to Logan. 

“We have to go looking for Dennis! He’s way too drunk, he could barely even talk straight.”

Logan nodded.

“Let’s check the bar first, then. Follow me.”

As Logan made his way through the dancing crowd, you tried your best not to lose him, but it was sheer impossible. 

Elbows and shoulders were shoved into your way, sweaty people’s backs bumping into you here and there. 

“Logan!”, you called out as loud as you could when you were about to lose sight of him. 

His head snapped around and searched the crowd for you. 

Quickly you waved, shouting his name again. 

When he spotted you, he fought his way through the crowd again. 

“Take my hand!”, he shouted over the deafening music, reaching out for you. 

Gratefully you took the hand he offered you, letting him guide you through the club. 

It took you and Logan a few tries until you finally found Dennis almost an hour later, sitting on the sidewalk outside of the club. 

A nice group of girls had called you from his phone, letting you know where they’d sat the Norwegian down because he couldn’t really stand on his own anymore.

“Dennis!”, you exclaimed, so relieved that he was okay. 

He lifted his head from his hands, smiling drunkenly when he recognized you.

“Y/n! So nce t s u!”, he slurred, and you could only guess what he had said. 

You exchanged a helpless look with Logan. “He definitely needs to go home.”, Logan concluded, crouching down next to Dennis, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Mate, y/n and I are gonna take you home now, alright?”

Dennis pouted. “No home! Party!”, then his head fell into his hands again. “Dennis, don’t you want to sleep?”, you added, hoping Dennis wouldn’t make an even bigger scene out in public, where any of you could easily be recognized. 

“Sleeeeeeeeep!”, he groaned from between his hands. 

Logan sent you an amused smile when you rolled your eyes. “Let’s get a taxi.”

Getting Dennis into the taxi turned out to be more of a challenge than you thought it would be. You put one of Dennis’ arms around your shoulders and Logan did the same on Dennis’ other side. 

Like that you tried to maneuver him to the taxi while he kept telling the people passing by that you were his best friend who had just won a race. 

“He can’t go back like this to the Prema apartment. René’s first gonna kill him, then kill me.”, you concluded when the three of you finally sat in the taxi, Dennis sitting between you and Logan.

You looked at Logan helplessly across Dennis, making the Carlin driver furrow his brows in contemplation. 

“Let’s go to my apartment then. I’m sharing it with Liam, but there’s a couch and Liam won’t bother. Besides, he’s out partying right now, too.”

“Thank you.”, a small smile crept onto your face, which Logan returned. 

With one last look to Dennis, who was already passed out between you two, you thanked the gods you didn’t have to try and sneak him past René.

Logan told the taxi driver the address and soon enough you started moving.

There was a pleasant silence when you leaned your head against the window, watching the Austrian nightlife rush past you.

“Dennis, wake up. We’re here.”, you whispered, nudging him carefully to not wake him up too abruptly. 

You still sat next to him in the taxi, which was now standing in front of Logan and Liam’s apartment for the race weekend.

Dennis’ eyelids fluttered, but other than that you didn’t get a reaction out of him, so you nudged him a bit harder this time.

 Logan gave the taxi driver an apologetic smile, now gently shaking Dennis’ shoulder on the other side.

“Wake up, Hauger. You can’t sleep here.”

Dennis only leaned away from Logan towards you, still refusing to open his eyes. 

Slowly but surely you were running out of patience. 

“Dennis, get your ass out of this car. Now.”, you slapped his cheek lightly, making sure not to hit him too hard but hard enough that he’d finally wake up. And it worked: Dennis opened his eyes in shock, giving you an accusing look. 

Logan tried to mask his laugh with a cough. 

“Ouchhhhh. What was that for?”, Dennis whined, holding his cheek. 

“We’re here.”, you replied, getting out of the car before turning back to unbuckle Dennis’ seatbelt for him. 

“I think I have to throw up…”, the Norwegian suddenly groaned, climbing out of the car in slow-motion. 

Logan, who had also gotten out of the car gave you a concerned look. 

The last thing you needed was for Dennis to vomit into the taxi. 

“Okay, um…you just…get out and we’ll find you a bucket…”, you answered with slight panic in your voice, beginning to pull on Dennis’ arm. 

When Dennis made it out, you placed Dennis’ arm around your shoulders once again and Logan came to his other side to support him. 

The taxi driver wished you good luck before he took off into the night. 

“I’m gonna throw up.”, Dennis mumbled again and almost made you fall to the ground when he leaned onto you too much. 

Luckily Logan reacted in time and pulled Dennis back off you. 

With more than one stop, the three of you somehow managed to struggle your way upstairs to the apartment. 

“Keys?”, you panted breathlessly, holding Dennis’ arm in place around your shoulder. 

Logan searched his back pocket for the keys and unlocked the door. From the door it wasn’t a long way to the living room anymore and you were more than relieved when you could lie Dennis down on the couch, finally freeing yourself of his bodyweight. 

“Do you have a blanket and a bucket?”, you asked over your shoulder while you stuffed a pillow under Dennis’ head. Logan nodded, then left the room.

Dennis had already closed his eyes, drifting off into his drunken dreams again.

“Thanks, y/n, you’re a great friend.”, he could only mumble, but it still made you smile. “No problem, Den.”

Logan cleared his voice behind you. 

You tucked Dennis in with the blanket Logan gave you and put the bucket next to the couch. 

“Good night, Dennis.”, you whispered, before leaving the living room behind Logan. 

When you’d closed the door, you let yourself fall against it, the exhaustion of the trip getting the better of you. After all, you were still pretty drunk yourself. 

Your eyes fell closed for a second as you focussed on taking deep breaths. 

Only after a few moments did you remember you were not alone. 

So you opened your eyes again and looked at Logan, who was already looking at you.

“I should probably get going.”

Logan shook his head. 

“No way you’re going home by yourself drunk in a foreign country.”

“I’m a big girl. I can handle myself. But thanks, Logan, for all of this.”, you gestured towards the living room while already making your way to the door of the apartment. 

“You’re not leaving, y/n.”, Logan retorted, stepping in front of you quickly. 

His head tilted to the side, a mischievous expression on his face now. 

“Besides, I still have to take you up on that grilled cheese offer.”

You couldn’t help but crack a smile. 

You liked that he’d remembered your conversation even though it had already been a few months since then.

Maybe you could stay a little while longer?

“You really wanna test my drunk talent theory?”, you replied with a smirk.

 Logan shrugged, still smiling. 

“Why not? I could use some food now, and I wanna see how talented you really are.”

“Challenge accepted, Sargeant.”

Once Logan had given you all the ingredients you needed for a grilled cheese sandwich, you got to cooking in the small kitchen of the apartment. 

You stood in front of the stove, flipping the sandwich in the pan while he leaned against the counter, watching your movements intently.

“You know, you are a really good friend to Dennis, with the way you look after him and everything.”, Logan suddenly said, making you turn your head to look at him. 

“Because I didn’t leave him wasted at the club all alone?”, you replied sarcastically, avoiding his gaze to stop the butterflies in your stomach.

“Well, yes, but…you always take care of everyone. You always want to make sure everyone else is comfortable, but you forget about yourself sometimes, it seems.”, he answered and you were almost taken aback by how accurate his observation was. 

So you focussed on the grilled cheese in the pan in front of you, shaking your head. 

“Nonsense. I just…want what’s best for the people I love.”

You could hear Logan stepping closer behind you. 

“So you love Dennis now?”, he asked, watching your reaction closely. 

“Well..I wouldn’t go that far..but yes, he’s like a brother to me.”, you gulped nervously, looking at him over your shoulder.

Logan nodded, stepping even closer to inspect the grilled cheese in the pan. 

You could basically feel his chest against your back now. 

“I guess it’s true that you’re a good cook when you’re drunk.”

You smiled at him over your shoulder proudly. 

“Want a bite?”

When he nodded, you fished the sandwich out of the pan and put it onto a plate. 

Before you could realize what you were doing though, your drunken mind had already convinced you that it would be a good idea to take the sandwich into your hand and feed him. 

He smiled, his eyes wandering in-between the sandwich and your hand. 

His eyes rested on you the whole time when he took a bite and you almost melted, cursing yourself for your stupid idea. 

You were definitely still too drunk to think straight. 

You swallowed, quickly taking a bite to avoid having to speak. 

Logan chewed in contemplation.

“This is good. Really good.”

“Thanks, I’ve had many drunk nights to perfect the recipe.”, you replied, making him laugh as he licked over his lips. 

You turned off the stove and leaned against the kitchen counter, taking another bite of your heavenly grilled cheese. 

“So…you never told me what your drunk talent is.”

Logan thought about his answer for a second. 

“True….but..I don’t know what my drunk talent is, to be honest.”

“Come on, there has to be something.”, you encouraged, offering him the rest of the sandwich. This time you didn’t even intend to have him eat it out of your hand, but instead of taking the sandwich out of your hand, he leaned forward again and looked at you with the same hungry eyes when he bit into the sandwich. 

You squeezed your thighs together. 

How could a person be so fucking hot?

Once Logan had swallowed, he cleared his throat.

“Well, there is one thing I’m good at….”

You tilted your head.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”, your voice had gotten lower and scratchy now.

Somehow the atmosphere had shifted completely again, the tension getting thicker and thicker by the second, causing the wetness to gather in your underwear.

“I’m a pretty good kisser.”, he answered in the same low voice, a confident grin on his face. 

He took a step closer to you, now being so close that you had to look up at him.

He’d caught you completely off guard, your cheeks turning a bright shade of red instantly. 

Thanks to the dim kitchen light, Logan couldn’t see it though. 

When had the conversation taken this turn? 

“I don’t believe you.”, you faked a confident laugh, crossing your arms over your chest with a challenging look on your face.

“You wanna test that theory?”, he replied cockily, placing his hands on either side of you to trap you against the counter, leaning into you ever so slightly.

“Maybe…”, you whispered, swallowing hard.

You couldn’t even do anything about your gaze falling to his lips, as you sucked in a sharp breath. Logan smirked, his face getting closer to yours inch by inch. 

“Let’s make a deal: If you like my kiss, I get another grilled cheese.”, he suggested, not taking his eyes off of you. 

Subconsciously your body tried to put some space between you and Logan, pushing against the kitchen counter behind you. 

Logan noticed it, his smirk growing even wider. 

You wanted this: 

Him, now. 

“Deal.”, you could only shakily breathe out before you couldn’t help yourself anymore. 

You leaned forward to finally connect your lips, hands automatically wandering into his hair. 

He moaned into the kiss, pressing his body against yours. 

You could already feel his dick getting hard against your core, which only added to your own arousal. 

When the kiss got wilder, Logan’s hands found their way to your thighs, hoisting you up so you could sit on the kitchen counter. 

Then he pushed your legs apart to stand between them while he continued kissing you passionately. 

You arched your back into him, craving his body like you’d been starving for days. 

His hands crept up your thighs to give your ass a quick squeeze, before they moved further upwards to the low-cut back of your dress. 

You whined when you felt his fingers grazing your spine, so you tugged at his hair to make him move faster. 

However, Logan just smirked against your lips. His hands left your back as fast as they’d gone up there and his lips left yours. 

You took a second to breathe, taking in his messed up hair and his slightly swollen lips. 

“So? Did I lie?”, he asked, his voice dripping of confidence. 

“Meh.”, you shrugged, trying to hide how desperate you actually were for his touch. 

“It was mediocre.”

Logan scoffed, jokingly slapping a hand to his chest.

“Mediocre?!”

You laughed loudly, pulling him back to you, resting your arms around his neck. “I’m kidding, come here!”

Logan let you pull his face back down to you, but he turned his head away from you so that you couldn’t kiss him on the lips anymore. 

However, that wasn’t a problem for you: You just started sucking on his neck, pulling a groan from him almost immediately. 

“Y/n…”, he whispered breathlessly, turning back to you, causing you to stop your actions to look at him as well. 

You caressed his neck with your nails while he looked deep into your eyes. Both of you breathed heavily, the desire for the other too big to resist. 

In this moment you would have loved to know what Logan was thinking about right then. 

What was he seeing when he looked at you? A quick hookup? 

The beginning of something serious? A casual friends with benefits situation? 

Quickly you shook your head to snap out of your spiraling thoughts. 

You didn’t want to worry about the consequences of this hookup now, so you decided you’d deal with it tomorrow. 

Maybe you could even blame it on the alcohol…but deep down you knew this wasn’t happening because you were too drunk to control yourself. 

You wanted Logan, no matter if you were drunk or sober. 

You just didn’t know how Logan felt about all of this. 

However you didn’t have much more time to think about it, because Logan’s lips crashed into yours, the excitement in your body taking over again.

Logan leaned into you, grinding against your core, your hips moving impatiently against him in return.

“You’re so sexy in that dress.”, he whispered into your ear, making you shiver.

 His hands gripped the fabric of your dress needily until they got a hold of your ass. 

Then he picked you up and carried you to his bedroom without interrupting the fiery kiss between the two of you.

Your legs wrapped around him, giving you more stability to grind your core against his crotch. 

When he’d reached his room he laid you down on the mattress. 

Instead of following you though, he stood over you and took you in. 

He admired your beauty, lying there on the bed only for him. 

“What is it?”, you asked breathlessly, your mind racing with the wildest thoughts of his lips on your skin. 

“Nothing.”, he shrugged, a smile creeping onto his face. 

“Just think that you’re beautiful.”, he explained, before he crouched down to take off your heels. 

At a loss for words, you sat up on your elbows, watching as he carefully freed you from the uncomfortable shoes. 

Once he’d succeeded, he pulled you towards the edge of the bed by your legs, making you gasp. 

His face was now directly in front of your clothed core. 

You sucked in air loudly in anticipation. 

“Gonna show you that this is not just mediocre..”, he growled, pushing your dress up and pulling your panties down, exposing your core.

“Logan..”, you panted, feeling his breath against your core. 

You were so wet by now that you were desperately craving your release. 

“All in good time, pretty girl.”, he smirked, spreading your legs to give him more room.

His hands slowly crept up your thighs while he kissed his way up from your inner thigh to your core. 

It was so slow and sensual that you couldn’t help but moan again, your hips bucking up in need for some friction. 

“Someone’s impatient today.”, he laughed when you huffed. 

“Don’t worry, baby. You won’t forget this one, I promise.”

His words sent a pleasant shiver down your spine.

Then finally his tongue flicked at your core, making your mouth fall open for a silent moan. 

You writhed under the sensation until his arm came up to your waist to hold you in place while his tongue made you see stars. 

“Logan..”, you moaned again, your mind not able to function properly. 

“Tell me what you want.”, he replied, not stopping. 

“I want..”, you tried to speak, but were interrupted by a pornographic moan falling from your lips. 

“I want..”, you began again, but the rest of your sentence was lost in yet another moan because he started sucking on your clit. 

“If you want my fingers just say so baby.”, he whispered, two of his fingers slipping into you with ease. 

Your hips bucked up uncontrollably, your high building up rather rapidly. 

“I’m gonna cum..“, you whined when he sped up his fingers and curled them inside you perfectly. 

“Good. Want you to make a mess all over my fingers.”, he panted, his tongue circling at your clit continuously.

His words were all you needed to send you over the edge. 

With a few more thrusts from his fingers you clenched around them, coming undone while moaning his name. 

While you were still coming down from your high, Logan freed himself of his shirt and pants before he crawled on top of you. He pulled your dress up and over your head.

“You ready, pretty girl?”, he asked, engaging you into another passionate kiss.

When he moved his hips against you, his dick slid through your folds, leaving you wanting more once again.

“Fuck me, Logan.”, you breathed out, keeping the intense eye contact with him as he aligned himself at your entrance.

Slowly, slowly, he pushed into you, enjoying the way your walls clenched around him. 

You gasped at the feeling of him inside you, filling you up completely.

“You’re so pretty under me.”, he smirked, then picked up his pace. 

His fast and deep thrusts immediately hit all the right spots inside of you, causing a string of curse words to fall from your lips. 

It only spurred him on further, pushing your whole body up and down the mattress with his thrusts. 

Your legs wrapped around his hips and your eyes were screwed shut, simply enjoying his touch. However, he didn’t like that. 

“Look at me when I’m inside you.”, he commanded with a raspy voice, not stopping his movements. 

“I… can’t.”, you replied with a whine, which only made him even more annoyed. 

Quickly his hand came to your neck, squeezing rather harshly. 

You squealed, opening your eyes in shock. Logan smiled, satisfied again.

“Not so hard, is it?”, he asked with a confident grin, leaning down to give you a sloppy kiss. 

His thrusts were still fast and hard, making you go insane. 

You made sure to keep your eyes focussed on him, even though you almost melted under his gaze.

When he filled you up and rested his hips against yours for a second, your mouth hang agape, your mind not able to cope with the sensation. 

He pushed his hips further against yours, pushing you up on the bed. 

“Still mediocre, pretty girl?”

You were quick to shake your head, letting out a loud moan. 

“Fuck no! You fuck me so good!”, you praised, remembering last second that you were supposed to leave your eyes open. 

“Such a good girl for me.” 

Logan continued his thrusts, bringing you to the edge once again. 

“I’m close..”, you gasped between your constant moans. 

“Let go, baby.”, he encouraged, his fingers finding your clit to press down on it.

 It made you clench around his dick, pulling an animalistic groan from him. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

His thrusts got sloppier as he tried not to cum before you. He didn’t need to wait long though, because it only took you a few more thrusts until you came around his dick, moaning his name loudly.

He panted, in desperate need for his own release now.

“Where can I cum, darling?”, he groaned, almost breaking off the eye contact between you two. 

“Inside me. Want to feel you..”, you whispered, riding out your high. 

You didn’t have to tell him twice: He came inside of you within seconds, his sperm painting your walls. 

Then he pulled his dick out of you and let himself fall onto the bed next to you. Both of you were breathing heavily, coming down from your highs slowly. 

Once you felt like you could think straight again, you decided you hadn’t had enough of him yet. 

So you rolled onto your stomach and crawled on top of him. 

He watched you with a lazy smile on his face, letting you take over control. 

After sharing a brief kiss, you peppered his neck with soft kisses, sucking at it every now and then. 

You felt his hands coming up to your ass, squeezing it in appreciation, accompanied by a low moan. 

You worked your way down from his chest to his abs, enjoying the way he twitched slightly under your touch. 

“Y/n…”, he whimpered when you finally reached his already hardening dick. 

“Easy, cowboy..”, you whispered, licking a stripe up his dick, planting a kiss to his tip when you reached the top. 

His hips shifted uncontrollably, making you grin. 

It was your turn to make him writhe now. 

Still amused, you started moving your lips up and down on his length, hollowing out your cheeks. His hands went to your hair to hold it out of your face in a makeshift ponytail.

“Fuck…”, he hissed when you added your hand to jerk him off. 

“You’re so perfect..”, he praised, to which you responded with a moan, your lips still around him. 

Before you could continue though, he suddenly pulled you off of him. 

You looked up at him with a confused expression on your face. 

“Did I do something wrong?”

Logan immediately shook his head. 

“I just.. wanna feel you around me again.”, he explained, before he pulled you up to him, his hands finding your ass again to push your core down against his dick. 

You gasped at the sensation, feeling his dick between your folds, already getting wet again. 

“Feels so good..”, he groaned, moving your hips slowly. 

You couldn’t help but smile as you let him guide you. 

“Desperate for me, Sargeant?”

Logan rolled his eyes and bit down on his lips. 

“Maybe..”

Then he stopped his movements and you understood: You aligned yourself with his dick to sink down on him. 

Both of you groaned, the feeling so incredibly good. 

After adjusting to his size you started moving up and down on him, pulling another moan from the both of you. 

“Fuck. You fill me up so good.”, you cried out, exhaustion making you slow your movements. 

Logan didn’t want to slow down though, so he took matters in his own hands.

He fucked up into you, moving his hips at a steady pace. 

You whined, taking his hands in yours to guide them to your boobs. 

He squeezed them, making you lose your mind. 

“Come on, baby. I know you got a third one in you.”, he spurred you on, which only resulted in you clenching around him, causing a loud groan to escape his mouth. 

“I- oh my god!”, you exclaimed, letting go of his hands to steady yourself on his chest. 

You looked down at him, tits bouncing with each of his thrusts, hair falling into your face. 

He was a sight for sore eyes: abs contorted, eyebrows furrowed, messy hair sticking out in all directions.

His hands wandered back to your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he picked up the pace further. 

You rolled your hips against him, allowing him to hit the deepest spots inside of you.

And for the third time this evening you felt your high approaching again.

“Logan, I’m gonna-“, you tried to warn him, but it was too late: your high washed over you, making you scream in pleasure. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re making me go insane.”, he praised, then he thrust into you one last time before releasing inside of you. 

For a second you worried you might pass out from the overwhelming feeling. 

So you let him slip out of you and wanted to get off of him, but his hands quickly held you in place. 

You frowned at him, curiously waiting for what he was going to say. 

“Stay. Please.”, he whispered softly, all the cockiness from before wiped from his voice. 

You weighed your options for a second: either you could wander through the Austrian nightlife with nothing but your dress and filthy thoughts about Logan on your mind… or you could stay here, spend the night. 

“Okay. I’ll stay, but only because Dennis needs me tomorrow to find his way back.”, you replied, letting out a small laugh when Logan rolled his eyes. 

“I’m sure Hauger would be fine without you..but if it means you’ll stay, then please: stay.”

He sat up with you in his arms, looking at you intently, taking in every feature of your face. 

“Stop staring.”, you whispered, connecting your lips to stop him from inspecting your face.

He sighed into the kiss before he flipped you over so that he was towering above you. 

Then he broke up the kiss, got up from the bed and put on some grey sweatpants. 

Confused, you watched as he disappeared into his connecting bathroom only to appear moments later with a small wet towel. 

He walked back over to you and carefully spread your legs again. 

You let it happen, not knowing what to say. 

When he noticed your dumbfounded look, he tilted his head at you.

“What? You’ve never been cleaned up before?”

You looked away, avoiding his eyes. 

“No…”, you mumbled lowly, suddenly embarrassed to admit it.

Logan tsked, shaking his head disapprovingly. 

“Some guys don’t know how to cherish beauty when it’s lying right in front of them.”, he continued cleaning you with delicate movements, very aware of how sensitive your clit was right now. 

You let yourself fall back into his soft pillows, enjoying the silence and his treatment. 

Suddenly his phone rang next to you, interrupting the peaceful quiet mercilessly. 

Logan groaned, equally as annoyed by the disturbance as you were. “Can you check who it is?”, he asked, bringing back the towel to the bathroom. 

“It’s Liam. You should probably answer it, maybe he pulled a Dennis, too.”, you called after him, which made him laugh out loud. 

“God, I hope not. But you’re right.”

With a few quick steps he was standing by the bed and you handed him his phone. 

“Liam? What’s up?”, he held his phone to his ear and you couldn’t exactly hear the words the Kiwi driver was saying, but you could make out deafening techno music and Liam shouting something at Logan. 

“Liam, Liam, listen!”, Logan tried to gain his teammate’s attention while rolling his eyes at you. You laughed, shamelessly taking in the sight of him: the sweatpants had your mind wandering to all kinds of dirty places in your mind immediately.

 Thankfully Logan didn’t notice your staring since he was too busy with drunk Liam. 

“Where are you? I’m gonna come get you.”, Logan sighed, rubbing his hand over his face.

After a few more tries, Logan finally managed to get Liam’s location and he hung up. 

He sent you an apologetic smile, shaking his head. 

“I’m sorry, Liam’s probably worse than Dennis right now. I have to go get him.”

You nodded, getting up from the bed, too. 

Logan probably didn’t want you to stay in his room all alone. 

“No, no, please. I’ll be right back, don’t go anywhere!”, Logan stepped towards you and softly pushed you back onto the bed. 

He laid a kiss to your lips before he put on his shirt and searched his drawer for a fresh shirt. 

“Here. If you need pants, they’re in the lower drawer.”, he smiled, handing you one of his comfiest Carlin t-shirts. 

You scrunched up your nose and tried to hide your smile when you didn’t take the shirt out of his hands. 

Logan frowned.

“That would be treason though: me wearing Carlin.”

Logan chuckled, then turned back to his drawer once more. 

“That’s a shame because the colors would look great on you.”

“Hm… I think you would look better back in red to be honest.”, you replied with a smirk when he handed you a different, neutral shirt this time. 

He rolled his eyes playfully, admiring the sight of you in one of his shirts. 

“Now go, there’s a Kiwi in need of your help.”, you reminded him of his mission, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

“Are you sure you’ll be fine?”

“Yes! Go, Sargeant, I can cope without you.”, you laughed at his overly dramatic hurt expression. 

Still, he stepped towards you again, leaning down to kiss you. 

“Don’t go anywhere.”, he whispered, then turned around to leave.

Once he was gone the tiredness and exhaustion hit you like a bus. You only managed to lazily pull the sheets halfway up before your eyes already fell closed. 

You woke up from the sun shining directly into your face. 

Slowly you opened your eyes and were about to sit up, when something prevented you from moving. 

Logan’s arm was wrapped around you tightly, pulling you closer to him in his sleep. 

Only then did you realize where you were, the events of last night washing over you. 

You’d had sex with Logan. Amazing sex. 

With Logan!

Thousands of alarm bells rang in your mind all at once as the gravity of the past night sunk in. You’d slept with a driver on the grid. 

A thing you’d sworn yourself to never do because you didn’t want to be judged by the media: The only female Formula 2 driver already sleeping around with other drivers. 

Your whole body tensed up, panic overcoming you. 

Even though you wanted to stay here in his arms, even though you liked the feeling of his body close to yours, you couldn’t breathe right now. 

So you removed his arm from your waist rather ungently, freeing yourself from his blanket to stand up and frantically search his darkened room for your dress. 

Fuck. 

Where did Logan take it off of you? 

It must’ve been here, right?

In your panicked state you didn’t realize that you’d woken Logan up. 

He blinked and stretched, until he noticed you weren’t lying next to him but were currently pacing up and down his room. 

“Y/n?”, he asked with a sleepy voice, running a hand through his hair. 

You froze, cursing yourself for being so loud. 

How the hell were you supposed to explain to Logan what was going on?!

“Um…hi. I…I was just looking for my dress...”, you stumbled over your words in the process of trying to find the right ones. 

Logan looked at you long and hard, like his brain was trying to comprehend the events that got you here, in this situation. 

Suddenly he was very aware again of what had happened last night: The two of you had crossed a line. But you were just too tempting, even now: standing in the middle of his room with messy hair and his oversized t-shirt. 

Logan didn’t want to admit it, but you’d done something to him. 

Something scary. 

Something he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

Apparently you didn’t feel the same way he felt, though, because it was clear to see from your tensed up body language that you didn’t feel comfortable right now. 

So he did the one thing he knew was best for his own heart: he nodded, slowly got up from the bed and handed you your dress wordlessly.

Apparently the panic had made you blind, because the dress had been lying in front of you the whole time. 

“Listen, y/n. About yesterday…”, he started, not looking at you. 

“Can we just skip the awkward part and pretend this never happened?”, he scratched the back of his neck nervously, knowing full well that he was lying to your face. 

Maybe if he hadn’t been so focused on sounding believable, he would have noticed how your face fell for a brief second.

But when he looked at you again, you’d already had enough time to regain your composure. You swallowed. 

“Um…sure. I was about to go now anyway..”, you replied, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice. This was what you’d hoped for, right? 

That Logan would reassure you this was just a one time thing. 

Why did it hurt so much then? 

You stood in front of each other hesitantly, the easiness from last night long gone now. 

“Hello?”, you suddenly heard Dennis mumble in the kitchen. 

Your eyes widened, mirroring Logan’s shocked expression. 

You’d completely forgotten about your teammate. 

“Answer him!”, you whisper-shouted to Logan, unsure whether you wanted Dennis to know you’d spent the night in Logan’s bed. 

Logan went to the door with some quick steps, then he stepped out of his room before closing the door to leave you alone again. 

“Hey, mate. How are you feeling?”, you heard Logan say to Dennis, who answered with a loud groan. 

You would have laughed if you weren’t in such a bizarre situation right now. 

You were unsure about a lot of things but there was one thing you were absolutely certain of: You’d have to forget this night with Logan ever happened. 

Or else it would be impossible for you to move on and to continue racing against him. 

So you changed out of his shirt and slipped back into your dress. Better to start cutting the ties to Logan right away.

“Where’s y/n? Did she get home safely?”, Dennis asked Logan on the other side of the door as you were just about to open the door. 

You took a deep breath: you had to look as composed as possible. 

If Dennis asked, you’d simply slept in Logan’s bed. 

Nothing had happened. 

When you heard Logan stumble over his words, unsure of what to answer, you opened the door and joined the two drivers in the kitchen. 

Dennis’ hungover mind needed a minute to process the meaning of this, but when he finally realized, his eyes went wide and his mouth fell open. 

You hoped he wouldn’t say anything stupid now. 

Logan cleared his throat nervously and quickly turned back to the coffee machine. 

A steaming mug was already placed before Dennis, who sat around the kitchen table. 

“Um….so what does this mean?”, Dennis asked, a cheeky grin tugging on his lips already.

You sat down in front of him, giving him your best death stare. 

“Nothing. You were so blackout drunk that we couldn’t possibly have gone back to our place so Logan offered to let us sleep here.”, you shrugged, hoping you looked unfazed enough even though you were nervous as hell. 

Dennis looked at you intently, trying to see through your facade. 

“I don’t recall sleeping in Logan’s bed.”, he commented, and you knew he was trying to get a reaction out of you. 

That’s when Logan sat another mug down in front of you and took the place next to you.

You narrowed your eyes at Dennis, ignoring Logan’s gaze on you. 

“You probably don’t recall anything from last night.”, you bit back, regretting that you’d ever helped Dennis. 

“Enjoying your headache?”, you asked in an overly sweet tone, smiling at Dennis dangerously. 

Dennis sighed, taking another sip of his mug. 

“Don’t remind me of it.”

Needless to say the morning was awkward. Dennis wallowed in self-pity over his hangover while you tried your best to avoid Logan’s eyes. 

Dennis didn’t ask anymore questions about what had happened yesterday, but you were sure that he would bombard you with them once you’d left the apartment. 

To top it all off, Liam made things even worse when he finally appeared from his room, wearing nothing but his boxers. 

Only when Logan coughed, drawing attention to Dennis and you sitting around the table, did the Carlin driver notice you. 

“Y/n? What are you doing here?”, he asked, obvious confusion in his voice. 

Dennis took the opportunity.

“That’s what I’d like to know as well.”, his gloating smile was directed towards you, making you roll your eyes in annoyance. 

That’s when Logan felt the need to say something. 

“Let it go, Hauger. She needed a place to sleep after you almost threw up in our taxi.”

You stared hard at the coffee in your mug.

Liam laughed, Dennis raised his eyebrows. 

“And that place was your bed?”, he wiggled with his eyebrow suggestively. 

Only then did Liam realize what Dennis was implying. The Kiwi gasped. 

“You slept together?!”

Logan rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed. You just stayed silent, holding your breath.

“No, we did not. We just slept in the same bed, get over yourself.”, Logan snapped, and you took a big sip of your coffee to avoid looking at anyone. 

Dennis grinned like a child on Christmas Eve. 

He’d finally gotten a reaction out of one of you.

“But you slept together in the same bed, correct?”, Dennis exchanged a glance with Liam. The Carlin driver was invested now and leaned onto the kitchen table. 

Logan threw his hands up in the air. “What part of we didn’t sleep with each other did you not understand?” 

“Then why did you make her your favorite coffee?”, Liam shot back, nodding towards the mug in your hands. 

Dennis’ eyebrows almost shot up to his hairline while Logan’s face turned red within seconds. 

You looked at the coffee in your mug, then checked what was in Dennis’ mug: tea. 

Not coffee. 

Liam saw the confusion on your face. 

“He brings his special coffee blend along to every race we go to. Thinks it brings him good luck or something…He never lets anyone else have some, not even me.”, he explained. 

Your heart was beating way too fast by now.

 Logan was a riddle you just couldn’t figure out. 

Now the three of you looked at Logan, whose face got even redder.

“It doesn’t mean anything.”, he tried to defend himself halfheartedly, but Liam laughed and Dennis joined in his laughter. Traitor. 

“Yeah, sure mate. And tomorrow you’ll sign with McLaren.”, Liam didn’t believe a word of what Logan had said. 

You however didn’t know what to believe anymore. The facts were that Logan had told you himself that he wanted to forget about this. 

You couldn’t imagine that he’d lie to you. 

“We didn’t sleep with each other.”, you commented suddenly, making all three of their heads turn in your direction. 

You avoided looking into Logan’s eyes when you spoke. 

“I could never sleep with Logan. You know my type, Dennis.”, maybe you should have chosen your words more carefully, but maybe you just wanted some revenge, to hurt Logan the same way he had hurt you.

Liam failed to hold back a laugh, but at least he patted Logan’s shoulder to console him. 

Dennis nodded in contemplation, then shrugged. 

“Makes sense, I guess.”

When your eyes met Logan’s, you swallowed heavy. 

He looked at you with the same hurt expression you had had on earlier when he told you to forget about everything.

“Thanks again…for letting us stay.”, you said as you stepped out of the apartment, turning around to Logan. 

After Liam had teased Logan about his special coffee for another annoying few minutes, the Kiwi had gone back to bed and you and Dennis had decided it would be best to get back to your own apartment.

“Sure.”, Logan answered with a tight-lipped smile, his demeanor having changed drastically ever since you’d said he wasn’t your type. 

You’d noticed it right way: How closed off he had gotten towards you, not looking at you anymore, instead focussing entirely on making conversation with Dennis. 

But Logan had been the first of the two of you to say something hurtful, and you had simply returned the favor. 

You went to go after Dennis, who was already trotting down the stairs slowly. 

“Y/n..”, Logan stopped you, making you turn around to him again. 

“I..I wanted you to know that-“

“Don’t worry about it. Last night is long forgotten… my lips are sealed. You should rather check to make sure Liam won’t tell anyone though, because he’s definitely figured it out.”, you interrupted him quickly, not wanting to hear whatever he had to say. 

You were already hurt enough that the last night hadn’t meant as much to him as it did to you. 

Logan pressed his lips together, his hand wandering to the back of his neck. 

“Yeah..yeah, you’re probably right…I’ll see you in France then?”

You shrugged, not sure whether you could pretend that nothing had changed between you and Logan in front the dozens of cameras. 

“Maybe. I’ll be pretty busy.”

#formula 1 #formula 2 #formula one imagine #formula 2 imagine #f1 smut #f1 fic #f1 fiction #f1 2022 #f1 #f1 fluff #f1 fanfic #logan sargeant smut #logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant #f1 x y/n #f1 x reader #carlin racing #williams racing #prema racing #dennis hauger #dennis the menace #liam lawson